Granite was the place to be in Manhattan, with clear glass awnings above allowing you to see the night sky. The side facing the elevators was a wall of glass that treated guests to a spectacular view of the Empire State Building and everything south of it.
A stage adorned with instruments spread against the wall to the left, and a long glass modern bar faced the stage to the right. Scattered, tiny tables and red-leather booths surrounded a large square dance floor in the center of the room. Heaters ran around the perimeter for nights when the weather was cooler.
When I lived in New York, I loved hanging there. I knew Cannon would love it too. This entire trip was good for Cannon, and most importantly the time we were spending with Jack and Leila was just what I had hoped it to be for him. Being driven in an Escalade, with security detail in tow, wouldn’t be too far of a scenario in his life less than a year from now.
Secretly, I also hoped every human with a vagina acted predictably once he played on stage. My motive was to give him an accurate taste of that side of stardom and hopefully derail what he thought he wanted.
But fifteen minutes after arriving, the attention Cannon received came from being in the presence of Jack and Leila. Regardless, it only managed to up his game. He brazenly took my hand as we were escorted to our private table. From afar, it looked like we were a couple with the way he possessively laid his arm on the back of the leather booth. Even when he and Jack performed “Better” on stage for the crowd, his eyes never wavered from my face.
Once they sauntered off the stage, security had to step in to keep the hordes of females from mauling both Jack and Cannon. Leila and I watched amused from the safety of our corner. Jack handled it like the pro he was, and Cannon handled it just as calmly.
“What a rush,” he said, sliding into the booth beside me.
“It is addicting,” Jack replied loudly with a huge grin.
The place was mobbed. No doubt word had gotten out special guests were popping in tonight. Waitresses sporting black short-shorts and matching vests carried trays of Jell-O shots, beer, and the night’s special drink. One bouncer who worked at Granite stood guard in front of our tiny table, while another held post a few feet away near the bar. And then there was Jack and Leila’s security that held their posts by the elevator doors.
“Unlike my attention-whore of a husband, it took time for me to get used to it,” Leila said, scowling at Jack. “Even after all these years, I feel like a circus animal whenever we’re out in public.”
As she admitted that, girls blatantly took shot after shot on their phones of Jack, and even Cannon, giggling if either smiled or acknowledged the intrusion.
“Fuck, this is crazy,” Cannon exclaimed, smiling through the chaos. Leaning closer to me, he then said just for me to hear, “This is why you need to tour with me. For my protection.”
I quickly sliced my gaze to Leila, who watched us with an annoying smile. “I can’t do shit to protect you,” I grumbled, and the ire in my tone only caused him to chuckle. The sound of it hit me smack between the legs.
Who would protect me?
Chapter 22
Cannon
“Thank you! Thank you so much!” The noise was so loud I barely heard myself say the words and had no confidence they heard them either.
I gave one last wave to the standing-room-only crowd before sauntering off the stage. Word had most definitely gotten out among The Green Rabbit regulars that I had been signed. With Dallas, and then New York, and all the time I had spent in the studio keeping me busy, it’d been weeks since I’d last performed there.
I should have known when Bobby had called me this morning to confirm I would still be playing tonight that there was a reason for it. Bobby rarely called.
The applause went on even after the stage went dark and I opened the door to Bobby’s office. My eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room to see him grinning from ear to ear behind the dilapidated piece of furniture he used as a desk.
“Hear that?” He cupped his ear in an exaggerated manner. “Damn, boy. How am I ever going to replace ya?”
“You can’t,” I touted arrogantly with a smirk. “I’ll visit, though.”
“Ya betta.” He stood, and I swear I heard every bone in his old body cracking from the effort. “I can still kick ya ass, ya know,” Bobby teased before pulling out a dented tin box from a drawer and dropping it with a thump.
When he began counting out my pay for the evening, I stopped him. “Not tonight, old man. It’s on me. Consider it a parting gift.”
One salt-and-pepper eyebrow rose in question. “Well, at least lemme buy ya a drink, boy.”
“Actually, I was going to ask if you could let me leave through the back. It’s crazy out there.”
Lori wanted me to avoid situations where my safety could be an issue. Once we’d gotten back from New York, my face had appeared on many entertainment sites thanks to being spotted with the Lairs. News was spreading quick on who this Cannon Davis dude was, and because of it the label was ready to drop the announcement of my tour sooner rather than later.
“Look at ya… already needin’ to dodge ya fans. Afraid a broad will grab ya junk?”
“Safety first,” I said with a grin.
“Aye. The ones that grab at ya are the ones worth holdin’ on ta, boy. I wish I had ya on my Wall of Grá.”
“I’m too busy for grá,” I quipped.
“Always time for some good grá, me friend.” He came around the desk and clapped a firm hand on my shoulder. “I’m honored to know ya, Cannon. You’re on ya way to great things.” The atypical emotion written all over his face shocked me silent. Who knew that Bobby O’Neill had a heart somewhere in there? “Just don’t forget where ya come from. It’s when that happens that shit hits the fan. We Irish say, It is more difficult to maintain honor than to become prosperous.”
His message was clear. “No worries, old man. My momma raised me right.”
“Glad ta hear it. Go make ya escape. Be well… and may ya get all ya wishes but one, so ya always have something to strive for. Unless it’s a lady… then ya be out of luck.” We exchanged a chuckle and a hug before he practically shoved me out the door.
A quick glance up and down the back alley indicated my wingman was late. I leaned against the weathered brick building, thinking of Bobby’s parting words. He had no idea how close his advice had hit to home. Lately, I’d had luck in spades, and all my wishes were coming true, except one.
It’d been a few days since I’d last spoken to her. She’d shown up at the studio looking hot as fuck with more paperwork that I needed to sign. I swear she’d worn those skintight black pants and sheer white blouse to torture me. And with her hair up in a ponytail, it had taken all I had not to mark her neck with an adolescent hickey.
Like a sap, I had followed her into the conference room, needing to adjust my growing cock when she wasn’t looking. As I signed the documents, she went on to say the label felt we were chasing the wrong fan base. I guess Jen had reported back to the LRV suits with details of my wardrobe changes before the photo shoot. They still believed my success would come from female millennials and my brand should cater to that demographic.
Fuck that.
My frustration with their mentality came through as I slammed a fist on the conference room table. Lori was quick to settle me down, half joking this was a typical power play and my cherry was now popped. She then said we needed to pick our battles. It sounded like they had gotten to her, or rather Jen had gotten to her. And although I understood who signed her checks, it still irritated me. If she believed as they did, I might as well give up being me and transform into the pop-star puppet LRV clearly wanted me to be.
I convinced her to come up to the biker bar in Glendale with me the next time I played. Those badass dudes loved my music, and if that wouldn’t prove my point, nothing would. Surprisingly, she’d agreed. But before I had the chance to ask how she’d been, she gathered the documents I had signed and gave a quick go
odbye, leaving me sitting at the table and feeling the gap between us spreading further apart.
As incredible as our trip to New York had been, our return to LA was equally uneventful. Gone was the easy conversation, the teasing, the sizzle that happened if our eyes merely connected. It was like the moment the jet’s wheels went up the real Lori, which I’d caught glimpses of, had been left on the runway below us.
Liam rolling up in his Mustang and coming dangerously close to my toes interrupted my thoughts. “Hey, rock star,” he said when I slid in.
I took out my obvious pent-up frustrations on him when I barked, “You’re late.”
“For someone who should consider himself a lucky bastard, you sure do have a stick up your ass these days.”
Crap. He was right. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Seriously, dude, what’s going on? Is that record label jerking your dick? Give me their number, I’ll straighten them out.”
“Calm down, Rambo. They’re not jerking my dick.”
“Then what who is?” He chose that moment to look away from the dark road and witness my hand scrubbing over my face. “Wait, is the redhead jerking your dick?”
I wish. “No jackass.”
“Is that the problem? You want her to?” When I didn’t respond, he huffed. “Jesus, we haven’t hung out in weeks. Soon you’ll be on the road and these therapeutic nights we love so much will be but a memory. I wanted to have a good time tonight… grab a drink or two, catch up, bang a hottie.”
Maybe I should bang a hottie. Maybe that was the problem… I needed to get laid. My dick probably wondered what was happening north of my equator.
During my silence, Liam kept twisting his head to look at me. “So are we bailing on our date night? I put on cologne for you.”
“Are you gonna stop yappin’ and drive?”
Liam drove back to our apartment building to ditch his precious convertible. Without delay, we immediately walked around the corner to the sports bar we at one time lived at before my life had taken a sharp right turn.
We settled into a corner booth facing the one TV showing a baseball game and ordered our beers. I couldn’t care less what was on; sports didn’t do it for me. It was loud, dark, and perfect for the inconspicuous night I needed.
“Here you go, boys.” Our favorite waitress, Ellen, placed a frosted mug filled with our favorite draft before us. “Where’ve you two been?”
When Liam opened his mouth to speak, I quickly said, “Out of town. Just got back.”
“Hope it was a good trip.” She put a bowl of peanuts between us and cracked her gum once before adding, “Call me over if you need anything else.”
Liam dove right into the bowl and out with the third degree. “Why didn’t you come clean with Ellen?”
“I’m not ready to have everyone around here know yet.” Although exciting, getting even a small taste of being a celebrity was enough to make me want to keep my anonymity for a while.
“Okay, out with it. Seriously, dude. You’re not yourself. Are you in trouble?”
Am I ever.
Maybe if I talked about the one part of my life that wasn’t perfect, it would alleviate the tight pressure I felt smack in the middle of my chest. My tactics weren’t working with her. I thought my persistence would eventually cause a crack in the professional wall she hid behind. By forcing the issue, I thought I’d wear her down and not push her further away. It pissed me the fuck off. I knew she felt the same as me.
I wasn’t the type of person who could ignore gut instinct. I’d had it with Holly in that I never felt I was enough for her. I’d ignored it and gotten burned. How was it any different to ignore this gravitational pull we had, only to regret it years from now? Ignoring your gut only caused regret.
Jack had picked up the strain the insane attraction between us created, two sides of the same coin. He admitted Lori had changed since leaving New York. Through a brief summary of her breakup with Matt, and how Trey’s unfortunate circumstances had drained her during that breakup, he managed to give me a bit of insight as to why she was acting the way she was.
I needed to hear it all from her mouth. Because despite knowing she wanted me as much as I wanted her, if it was purely physical, if her heart was still with one of those two men, then I was wasting my fucking time. I wasn’t concerned that her breakup wounds could still be fresh. It was Trey Taylor’s disappearance that worried me. If she was still in love with him, then I’d walk away in a heartbeat.
But something told me she wasn’t.
Liam continued to crunch nut after nut, waiting for me to come clean. Knowing he’d wait all night, I gave in. “Look, this stays between us, okay?”
“Crap, do I need to help bury a body? I’m not wearing the right clothes for that.”
“Shut up,” I said, fighting a grin. I had to hand it to the jackass; he could lighten the mood. “It’s Lori.” He rolled his eyes while snapping into another peanut shell. “What?”
“I knew it.”
“You knew what?” He was so full of shit.
“I saw it all over your face. I was hoping it would pass—the novelty of having a hot agent wearing off once you spent more time together. But shit, man, you need to forget that. You’re about to indulge in a pussy buffet, dammit.” His fist pounded the table, sending peanut shrapnel flying toward me. “You are about to tour the country as a rock star. Dude. Seriously? Do I have to spell it out for you?” One point five seconds passed when he lost patience and rambled, “You’ll be able to have anyone you want… and you need to take advantage of that.” The saddest pout twisted his lips as he gripped his polo shirt between clenched fingers. “For me.”
“I’m not interested in a pussy buffet.” While I calmly sipped my beer, Liam stared at me like a cock had just sprouted off my forehead.
“I can’t.” He shakes his head. “I can’t be friends with you anymore. Our friendship is built on a mountain of lies.”
“Ask me if I give a fuck.” My irritation spiked. “Be serious. This isn’t a joke.” The livid expression on my face drove my point.
“I was being serious,” he said without humor.
A tiny part of me felt bad. Liam couldn’t help how he was wired. But I wasn’t in the mood to pretend the whole thing wasn’t wrecking me. Yet another reason I was so damn angry with her. This angst trapped in my chest didn’t need to be there, not when I should’ve been shitting rainbows from joy.
“You’re being a prick, man.”
“Okay, I’m sorry.” Apparently the accusation helped Liam come to his senses. “I saw the way she looks at you, like she wants to eat you for lunch. So what’s the problem?”
“She’s fighting me.”
“Fight back.” His words seemed genuine, but again, that was Liam.
“I don’t think that’s working for me. She refuses to acknowledge the chemistry between us, said we can’t be together. But she’s never told me why she feels that way.”
“You love her.” It wasn’t a question.
“I really like her.” No way in hell I’d admit that to him before I admitted it to myself, or to Lori.
“That’s beautiful, man,” he deadpanned before pretending to wipe away an invisible tear.
“Asshole.”
“Ouch.”
“Can you please be serious?”
“Okay, I’m sorry. Talk to me.”
What I did admit was, “I think it could be more. She’s on my mind day and night. That has to mean something. I never felt that before. And yeah, I only had one serious relationship so far, but still. I just know. I see her with me five years from now… ten.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling so frustrated over the whole thing. “Maybe not having two parents growing up, seeing my mom hide her loneliness through sad smiles, not knowing I could hear her crying in her bed at night… I don’t know. Maybe it made me want the opposite, a partner beside me. Would it have been someone else if I hadn’t
met Lori? Yeah… no fucking doubt. But I met her.” The look on his face immediately put me on the defense. “Forget all that. I’ll figure it out.”
As my friend studied me long and hard, I regretted telling him. I didn’t expect him to understand any of it. But when he shook his head and sighed, he surprised the shit out of me and said, “Fight harder.”
Chapter 23
Lori
A professor once said, “Silence is not the absence of something but the presence of everything.”
It had stuck with me only because that went against everything that I believed in. Chatty Lori had been my nickname from the moment I learned to speak.
But now, sitting in the cab of his truck with nothing to say, I got it. In our silence, the presence of the impasse between us may as well have been a third passenger. Because of it, the drive to Glendale seemed to take forever, and it had nothing to do with the rain.
Since returning from New York two weeks ago, our relationship had been strained, and that was all on me. I had to take a huge step back and reestablish the boundaries between us. It seemed to work. Gone was the cockiness that spurred his touches, his innuendoes.
Mission accomplished.
Then why did I feel sick to my stomach every time I had to see him? And, as his agent, that was often. The virus that was Cannon Davis twisted my insides no differently than a stomach flu.
A heartfelt conversation with Leila had only confused me more. She really didn’t understand my issue. My mistake had been mentioning Jen, and her feelings regarding crossing professional and personal lines. Leila didn’t give a shit what my boss thought, or would think, if things were to progress with Cannon in that way. This exact situation had created a huge divide early on for Leila and Jen, and once Leila realized her feelings for Jack were real, she no longer gave a crap what their agent wanted.
Liner Notes Page 16