Rock Mayhem: 8 Complete Rock Star Romance Novels

by Candy J. Starr

  I'd seen it enough with Savage. His mother had problems. Boy, did she have problems. She made the regular stage mother look like a shrinking violet. With Fiona, it was different. I'd never seen her parents, not once. Not even when we were younger. She never mentioned them. The way she avoided any discussion of her childhood was an art in itself. She'd turn the talk to the other person without them even realizing she'd avoided their questions until much later.

  I was the exact opposite. I'd had the stable home. As far as parents went, I'd won the lottery really. They supported whatever did. When I'd auditioned for StarX they'd been a bit dubious but they'd been totally behind me.

  Then I got through the audition and had those years of craziness. At least I could go home and escape it all.

  It'd been a strange time. All I'd really wanted to do was play guitar. I had no idea what I was letting myself in for, joining a boy band. They even gave us these stage names. Asher became Savage, I was known as Matty Wilde. I think that was meant to be a joke because I was the complete opposite to wild. Those names stuck even now.

  It was something I'd never push, but I wanted Fiona to know if she ever wanted to talk to someone about things, I'd never judge her or push her away. I just didn't know how to bridge that gap. I'd never known. I'd floated around the edges of her life, scared to get too close because I wasn't the one she wanted, scared to go too far in case she needed me.

  "Time to go soon," I told her.

  Her face dropped.

  "Can I come with you again?"

  "Sure, if Maxine at the front desk is okay with it."

  Fiona smiled.

  We took the dogs back to their enclosures and I went to say a final goodbye to Jo-Jo. Then I sorted out Fiona's next visit with Maxine.

  We were both quiet in the car ride home. Exhausted from the dogs.

  "Thanks, Matty. For taking me with you," Fiona said. "It was so much fun."

  I grinned at her. If the general public saw her right now, they'd never recognize the glamorous model. Her clothes were covered in mud and paw prints. Her hair had half-fallen from her pony tail and hung in strands around her face. She actually had a paw print on her cheek.

  I'd never seen her look more beautiful.

  Fiona

  THE DAY AT THE DOG kennel had been perfect, too perfect. Matt was too perfect. I needed to get back to earth. I wasn't this person who played with puppies and went out with no makeup on.

  I called Madeline that night.

  "I need to get working," I told her. "I can't sit around all day, doing nothing."

  "It's just over a week. Surely you can hold out that long. It's not like I can book anything on such short notice."

  I hadn't expected much else but I'd hoped.

  "It'd be therapeutic for me if you could."

  "Because work has been so good for you so far. Learn to rest."

  "Rest? I've binge-watched about ten dramas on Netflix. I've been going to the gym in Matt's building every day. I've answered every email I've ever received. I have nothing left to do."

  Madeline sighed. "I do have one thing but it's not a modeling job."

  "If it's work, I'll do it."

  "It's writing a piece for a fashion column. How do you feel about that?"

  I'd never written anything in my life but I was sure I could put together something not too terrible. Those places have editors. They'd be able to fix up anything that I screwed up, surely.

  "I'll do it."

  "They don't pay much. It's just a short piece."

  "If it's work, I'll do it."

  Anything to keep myself busy. The boredom had become overwhelming. Matt was always willing to hang out but that took him away from his own work. Also, the more I kept out of his way, the better.

  "Do you even have a computer?" Madeline asked.

  "I have my phone, and Matt has a laptop I can borrow. I don't need more than that, do I?"

  "Okay, I'll send the details over."

  After I got off the phone, I wondered what I'd gotten myself into. A fashion column piece. I had no idea about writing something like that. I got on my phone and looked up other fashion columns, so I had an idea of what to do. Madeline forwarded the email to me. It looked pretty simple. I just had to give my opinion on a trend. Around a thousand words. Due in a weeks' time.

  What trend though? I never had opinions on clothes. I just wore them. For a model, I knew pretty much nothing about fashion.

  I got out a notepad and started making ideas. What was even in fashion at the moment? I scrolled through social media.

  A few hours later, I had about twenty screwed up pieces of paper and still no ideas. Maybe I needed to sleep on this. I was tempted to call Madeline back and tell her I'd been wrong. I was no writer. But then, I'd been so determined to work. Maybe, sometime in the next week, I'd get an idea.

  The next day I had to go for my counseling session at the hospital. The whole thing was a pain in the butt. They wanted me to open up and talk. The woman kept telling me it was a safe space. I'd learned young that there were no safe spaces. You open up and tell people things and they'll use those things against you. It was the only useful thing my mother ever taught me. When my modeling career had taken off, I saw other young models get sucked into thinking people in the press were their friends. They'd say something in confidence and the next day it'd be all over the papers. I'd never had that kind of naivety, so I'd never had to learn that the hard way.

  "I just like drinking and taking drugs," I told the woman.

  This would be much easier if she stopped staring at me with those overly intense eyes. Surely, that would be something you learn at shrink school.

  I stared out the window. I really hoped I'd run into Nurse Bridget while I was here. She should be the counselor, not this woman. This woman annoyed me. She had a really long hair on her upper lip. It almost hit her chin. I didn't want to judge other people's grooming habits but how could that not annoy her? It would tickle her lip when she spoke. I could hardly focus on my personal problems with that hair facing me.

  "What does it make you feel?"

  "Good. That's why people drink and take drugs." I'd have thought that was obvious.

  "That's not why people overindulge."

  "Maybe I like it more than other people. But look at me. It's been over two weeks now. Not even a glass of wine. I haven't even craved it. So, I don't think I really have a problem."

  There had been a few times I'd craved a drink but I'd fought it. The cravings hadn't been too strong. But then I'd been on the wagon before, many times without a problem. It was just once I had one drink, one pill, one line of powder, it opened the floodgates. I wanted more. I wanted to keep hold of the good feelings. And I never knew when to stop.

  As she glared at me, that long hair wobbled on her face. My fingers ached to reach over and pull it out.

  "If you wound up in here, you have a problem. People don't come here for no reason."

  "It was a mistake."

  "And how do you feel about that?"

  I hated that question. I hated that question the most. Talking about my feelings was not exactly top of my list of things I wanted to do, ever. I wasn't even sure how I felt. I'd definitely felt good there for a while. Then it went black. There wasn't a point where I felt bad, until I woke up. Then I only felt bad because I was in rehab. It's not like anyone would feel good about that. If I'd woken up in my own bed, or someone else's bed even, I'd have forgotten about the whole incident within hours.

  "I'm fine with it," I said. "Everyone I know takes drugs. In my world, it's not such a big deal."

  Finally, our session was over.

  "Before next week, I want you to think about what you want to get out of these sessions. It's pointless for us to continue if you're not invested."

  I knew what I wanted out of them. I wanted the hospital off my back. Why was she even asking that? She knew it was a compulsory part of my release. I wouldn't set foot in her office otherwise.

/>   Still, I made it through the session without making one comment on her facial hair. That was a win.

  As I walked back to the foyer, I ran into Nurse Bridget.

  "How are things?" I asked.

  "Same old. I bet you're glad to be out."

  I shrugged. "Being out of here but not working has made me realize how boring my life really is."

  "Oh, come on. There must be things you want to do. I can think of a million things I'd do if I had a few weeks off. Starting with cleaning out my junk cupboards." She laughed. "That's how lame my life is."

  To be honest, cleaning out my junk cupboards seemed like a great alternative to doing nothing.

  "Ha, I should do that. I have a massive wardrobe full of things I've never touched. I have no idea what to do with them."

  "If you have anything decent, my kid's school is having a fundraiser soon. We'd take it off your hands."

  Nurse Bridget's daughter went to a school that integrated autistic kids into regular schooling but they were always struggling with funding. I thought about that. It might be a good idea. I could get rid of all that clutter and do a good deed.

  "If you think a bunch of designer handbags and other stuff like that will do any good, you're welcome to it. It's all a few years out of date though."

  Her eyes widened. "You'd give that away?"

  "It's just clutter to me. How many handbags does a person need?"

  She pursed her lips. "That kind of thing could be too good for a junk stall but I have an idea. We could do a whole auction. A charity auction where people would pay a lot more than a few bucks."

  She kept thanking me but really it wasn't such a big deal. It made me wonder why people made such a fuss over designer stuff. Just because a bag or a dress had some name on it, meant nothing. Half the time, the quality wasn't that great.

  That would make an awesome topic for my column but, even if I dared to write it, would they publish it? No one likes to bite the hand that feeds them. That's what the whole industry was based on - selling a lifestyle everyone aspired to but could never have.

  Matt

  FIONA SEEMED MUCH HAPPIER when she got home from the hospital. She sat in the kitchen, making a list in her notebook.

  "Therapy went well?" I asked her.

  "Oh God, no. It was awful. But I ran into Nurse Bridget and got chatting to her. I'm helping her organize a charity auction for her daughter's school. That means clearing out all my old crap and hopefully making a bunch of money for the school."

  I smiled. That sounded like the perfect project for Fiona. It'd give her something to think about that wasn't her own problems.

  "If you need help with anything, let me know. I might have a few things to donate. I'm sure you'll find a lot of people do."

  She tilted her head, thinking. "You're right. I should phone around and see what other people can contribute. A few celebrity donations could really raise the profile of the event."

  I handed her a coffee. "I assumed you wanted one."

  She nodded and took a sip. "Thanks, Matt. What have you been doing today?"

  "Not much really. Writing some songs. Thinking about life. I'll go check out my stuff and see if I have anything worth donating."

  She looked up from her notebook. "If you have any stuff from your old StarX days, people would love that."

  I think I had some tour merchandise stored away at home.

  "Fancy a drive to the country?" I asked her. "I haven't been home for a visit for ages and I could grab some stuff while I'm there." I told her about the stuff I had in the garage.

  "When?"

  "How about now? It's only a bit over an hour's drive. We'll get there before dark. It's not like I'm doing anything important."

  She nodded. "Let's do it. Road trip."

  I rang my parents to let them know we were coming, and we jumped in the car.

  "You've never met my parents before, right? They want us to stay for dinner."

  That look of concern flickered over her face again but then she smiled. "Sounds great."

  It didn't take long for us to get out of the city. I'd put some music on but Fiona changed it over to The Freaks CD I'd given her. Listening back to it, it really did sound awesome. Those guys had something special.

  "Was it fun working with them?" she asked.

  "I didn't really work with them. I did a few sessions in the recording studio, mostly on my own. I met Damo twice, mainly business talk. It wasn't like we were hanging out together or any of that."

  "And you haven't heard from them since?"

  "Nope, I'm not even sure what it was all about. They could've gotten someone local or I could've put the tracks down somewhere here."

  I didn't want to say it to Fiona but I knew full well why they'd wanted me to fly out for the recording. The tour. It'd been a test run to see how I worked with them before they offered me the tour opp. But I didn't regret turning it down. Touring is hell and I'd done enough of that in my life. I liked having a stable home life, sleeping in my own bed, eating in my own kitchen.

  Actually, breakfast in my kitchen had become a bit too comfortable. Seeing Fiona's face every morning sure added an extra buzz to my day but I couldn't let myself become too familiar with that. It'd only ever be temporary.

  After a while, Fiona turned the music down.

  "I should make some calls about this auction," she said. "May as well do it now, if you don't mind having me jabber on the phone while you drive."

  "Nope, go ahead."

  People seemed only too happy to help. It wasn't a huge ask. Get rid of your old stuff in return for looking good. Charities for kids always got a good response. Fiona had a real skill at asking, too. Making people feel like they were doing something important.

  She marked everything in her notebook.

  The next call she made, she actually laughed. I hadn't heard her laugh properly many times since she'd been released from hospital.

  "Ash says hello," she said.

  She'd called Savage? Made sense but the way he'd brightened her up caused a little stab of pain in my heart. She'd always respond to him, no matter what. And Savage never overthought things.

  "It doesn't have to be anything huge or expensive," she told him. "Just something belonging to Ash Savage, something that people will bid on at the auction. I'm sure you have plenty of stuff sitting around."

  He said something. A mumble of words. She squealed.

  "Oh my God, you'd do that? Sounds brilliant but I'll run it by Nurse Bridget and get her approval."

  She hung up. "Ash has volunteered to be MC for the auction. That will take it up to a whole new level."

  She rang Nurse Bridget and the two of them conferred.

  "We can do this as a major event," she told the nurse. "Sell tickets, include dinner. I can set up the venue if you're okay with things."

  She smiled when she got off the phone then called Savage back to let him know it was on.

  "What have I taken on?" she asked me when she got off the phone. "I've gone from donating a few things to organizing the whole event. I hope Bridget doesn't think I'm too pushy. I don't want to step on people's toes, but I really think I can raise a whole heap of money with this auction. Way more than just having a few stalls."

  She glowed. This organizing thing was really her forte.

  "I'm sure she's happy to let you do it. She's a busy woman. We're almost there. Wow, you've really achieved a lot on this road trip."

  I pulled into my parents' street.

  Fiona

  IT WAS ONLY WHEN WE got to the house, I began questioning my decision to visit Matty's parents. They'd think we were dating and that there was a whole lot more going on between us than there ever would be. But it was way too late to ever back out.

  I sat in the car staring up at the solid brick house, the kind of house I always wished I've lived in when I was a kid. Nothing about it suggesting wealth or excess, just comfortably middle class. You could imagine a kid growing up in a house
like that, discussing things like which university to apply to and the results of their exams. They'd have the kind of parents who drove them to sports matches on weekends and made sure they ate their vegetables. Nothing exciting but secure and predictable. I'd craved that so much.

  "Come on, can't sit in the car all day," Matt said.

  I took a deep breath. I guess I had to go in.

  Matt's mother came out to meet us. She looked like Matt. Same hair, same eyes.

  "Fiona, lovely to meet you," she said. She didn't hug me but she looked like she was thinking about it.

  We followed her inside. The place had a real charm. Photos of the family lined the walls of the hallway. And that smell.

  "That smells amazing," I said. I didn't know what she'd cooked for dinner but it sent my stomach crazy. I was almost drooling.

  "It's just a simple stew, nothing fancy."

  "Sounds perfect."

  I didn't know if I'd ever had a homemade stew before.

  She turned around to me. "Is that okay? I didn't think that you might need special food. It's probably packed with calories."

  "Just this once, let's not worry about that."

  She laughed. "Well, we'll have dessert too. You are way too thin."

  I thought so too but then, I had no say in it. If I put on even a kilogram, Madeline noticed, and she'd give me the lecture. My body was never my own.

  Matt's dad came home and the two of them went into the garage to look for the tour merchandise. I followed Matt's mother into the kitchen.

  "Do you need a hand with anything?" I asked. "I have no cooking skills but, if it's something simple, I can help."

  Mrs. Kinnett gave me an appraising look.

  "You never helped your mother with the cooking?"

  "My mother never cooked." That wasn't technically true but the kind of cooking my mother did usually involved a teaspoon and a syringe. No way was I going to mention that.

  "It's not so difficult. The stew's cooking but I'm about to make dessert."