Kiss the Stars

by Jackson, A. L.

  Coming here nothing but reckless.

  A death wish.

  Yet here I was.

  I glanced back at the girl who stood there fidgeting, that dress hugging her slim curves that I was itching to memorize, face so damned pretty I was having a hell of a time looking away.

  She was nothing but temptation.

  Sweet motherfucking temptation.

  I tucked my phone back into my pocket. “Have to go.”

  Her eyes squeezed close for a beat as she said, “I get it.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Thing was, I didn’t want her to. Because this girl was looking at me like she might actually be able to see through all of the bullshit, and that was not a place I could let her go.

  I moved for the door. Energy stretched tight, a connection I didn’t anticipate flying frantic around the room. The hollowness carved out at the center of me teased and taunted.

  Another penalty.

  Fact it was always gonna be there and there was no way to make amends.

  No way to fill it.

  At the double doors, I twisted the lock. Halfway out, I paused and looked back at her from over my shoulder.

  Her arms were crossed over her chest, girl standing beneath the massive stained-glass window with her face tipped up to the sky. Moonlight streamed in and covered her in a silvery hue.

  A black river of hair cascaded down her back, brushing over her skin that was close to white in the halo of murky light.

  Angel.

  But I didn’t get a savior.

  Not when I was the devil.

  She cut those sable eyes my direction.

  “Wish I was him,” I told her, words grating up my throat, unable to stop the betrayal before it was out.

  But if it were a different lifetime, if this past didn’t exist, I’d want to be him.

  The kind of guy who could ask her for her name and her number like a normal-fucking-human being.

  Maybe date her. Kiss her and hold her and treat her the way she clearly deserved to be.

  Way she wanted to be.

  No.

  I didn’t know her.

  But like I’d told her, she was easy to read.

  She cast a gentle smile. “I guess it makes me a fool that I wish you were, too.”

  I gave a tight nod. “Lock this door behind me.”

  Because God knew I wasn’t the only monster roaming this place.

  Four

  Leif

  “Holy shit, it’s the Leif Godwin, in the flesh.” Ash Evans, Sunder’s bassist, pulled me in for a tight hug the second I walked through the door.

  The office was tucked at the end of a cavernous hall, the walls made up of ornate dark woods and the ceilings adorned with heavy crown molding where it cut through a private wing on the first floor. Sounds of the party echoed through the thick walls and vibrated the floors, strains of music filtering to our ears.

  Shocks of laughter spiked through the middle of it.

  Vibe was different here than when I’d been hiding out upstairs, though.

  Up in that attic, it was like I hadn’t been a part of the chaos roaring through the house.

  Like I’d gotten lost and had fallen into a dream.

  Hallucinating.

  Had to have been.

  That girl’s stunning face strobed through my mind, the feel of her tight, sweet body against mine still lingering on my flesh, the scent of her still overwhelming and flooding my senses.

  Cocoa and cream.

  Fuck. I had to have been dreaming. Losing my mind. Losing my grip on reality.

  Ash clapped me on the shoulder before he edged back, but he only stepped far enough away so he could grab me by the upper arms, like some kind of old aunt who hadn’t seen their nephew in twenty years and was wanting to get a good look.

  If I wasn’t careful, asshole was liable to pinch my cheeks.

  “Dude, how the hell have you been?” he asked. “Haven’t seen you in years.”

  “Can’t complain,” I told him, fighting the rush of unease.

  Fuck, what was I thinking, coming here? Could feel two worlds getting ready to collide.

  “It’s been too damned long.” Could see the undercurrent of amusement riding through his expression, like he was all the way back to those days when our paths had first crossed. Back when Sunder hadn’t yet been discovered, and I was still banging away with a heavy metal band in the slums of L.A.

  Wishing I was different then, too. Faking a life. Pretending to be someone I was not. I hadn’t known them all that well considering I never allowed myself to get too close.

  Too involved.

  A philosophy I’d applied to everything.

  Until I’d fucked up worse than ever before.

  Taken what never should have been mine.

  Selfish.

  Disgust swilled and warbled, and I pinned on a fake smile, convincing myself to sit tight and not bolt out the door.

  Apparently, being in Los Angeles was fucking with my brain.

  “Years,” I told him.

  “You haven’t aged a day.” He patted my cheek, grinning like an asshole, sarcasm riding free.

  “Fuck you, old man,” I said with a laugh. “Last I checked, you were older than me.”

  Truth was, he looked better than he had back in the day. Healthier. Happier. Whole ton sappier, too. Guessed that was what love and marriage and all that bullshit did to you.

  Didn’t negate the fact the guy was a badass.

  A legend.

  I mean, fuck, I was in a room full of them.

  I let my gaze slide across the faces filling the posh office. Room decorated with oversized, dark furniture. The entirety of Sunder had gathered there and were waiting for me while the party raged in the main rooms of the house.

  Sebastian Stone, or Baz, like everyone called him, and his younger brother, Austin.

  Ash Evans.

  Zachary Kennedy.

  Last but not least, Lyrik West. My chest tightened when my attention landed on the guy, wondering what this was and what I’d gotten myself into.

  I lifted my chin in a casual gesture. “What’s up?”

  Lyrik pushed to standing from where he was sitting on the edge of the desk. “Glad you could make it on such short notice.”

  He shook my hand and pulled me in for a clap to the shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You, too. So, what was so important that you needed to get me out to L.A.?”

  Couldn’t imagine my invite to this party came without ulterior motives. Not to mention the fact they’d sent a private jet to South Carolina to get me and had a chauffeur waiting to pick me up at the airport.

  Pretty damned sure they wanted something out of this.

  Lyrik angled his head to an empty chair. I took it, started drumming my fingers on the top of my thigh because I didn’t know much of anything else.

  Sunder’s drummer, Zachary, better known as Zee, stood up from where he was hunkered in the corner. “Saw you playing with your band back in Savannah a couple months ago.”

  I itched, glancing around, nothing but eyes on me. Whole point of taking up as the drummer of an unknown country band that only played dives in the south was the fact that no one would notice me. That I’d be an ocean away from those who might recognize me.

  But then Carolina George had begun its rise.

  “Have to say, your performance blew my mind. Not a whole lot of people can drum like you. Lyrik said he knew you, so we were able to track you down to bring you here. Truth is, drummers tend to take a backseat, blend in and just become a part of the background, and you might as well have been set up at the front of the stage.”

  Unease churned through my being. Dude thought he was complimenting me when he wasn’t being anything but the bearer of bad news.

  “Thanks,” I forced out.

  Because what the fuck?

  Sure, I knew most of the guys from way back when.

  But we’d been
little more than acquaintances.

  Running the same circles.

  The same backstage parties.

  Bodies riddled with the garbage we pumped in our veins and snorted up our noses.

  Then Sunder had hit it big. Their backstage parties no longer hosted in the dank, disgusting holes I’d been assigned.

  When I’d fled Los Angeles three years ago, I’d never thought I’d see any of them again. Had nearly shit myself when I’d caught Lyrik’s eye in that small bar that night six months ago, and I’d been gone before he had the chance to track me down.

  Like I could just pretend that he was hallucinating.

  Making that shit up. Guessed Zee had noticed me at the same time.

  I never should have gone to that audition. Never should have answered that fucking ad for a drummer. Thinking it would be cool. A cover. An outlet. One place to exorcise my demons. Or maybe where I could just let them come out to play.

  Richard, the lead of Carolina George, had been all over the fact that I had a heavy metal background.

  Loved my style.

  Loved the vicious way I attacked the drums. Said he was searching for a drummer who could bring a different element to his band, and he thought that guy was me.

  He had a vision of meshing country and rock in a way that had never been done before.

  I should have known better.

  But if I didn’t have music, I didn’t have anything, so what the fuck did I have to lose when I’d already lost it all?

  A disturbance rumbled through the middle of me.

  Truth of what I did have to lose.

  What was on the line.

  “So why am I here?” I finally asked, cutting a glance around at each of them, calculating just how quickly I could bolt.

  Zee gave me a slight nod. “We’re slated to hit the studio next week.”

  I edged back, defenses coming up. “And what’s that got to do with me?”

  “Would like you to stand in for me,” Zee said.

  Disbelief had my brow shooting to the sky. “You want me to step in for you? Got my own band, man. Things are moving for us. Not about to do something that will threaten that.”

  And the last thing I needed was something that would expose me.

  Put me in the limelight.

  Was already balancing a quickly fraying tightrope.

  Zee tossed a glance at Lyrik, but it was Ash who was piping in. “Now don’t go and worry yourself about that. My boy Lyrik here gets all kinds of raw and bitter when broaching the subject of poaching, don’t you, dude?” he asked, sidling up to Lyrik’s side and slinging a casual arm around his neck. Ash squeezed him. “You remember it, Lyrik? Those hacks who thought they could actually lure you away from us? Could you imagine? Like you’d ever step away from all this greatness.”

  Ash held his arms out at the sides. “We make magic, baby. Nothing can touch us. Nothing ever will.”

  Lyrik scoffed with the tug of a smile, and he crossed his tattooed arms over his chest. “If you can’t be loyal to your crew, who the hell are you going to be loyal to?”

  My head shook, agitation eating me alive. “Then why am I sitting here?”

  “Wearing jeans and a tee in the middle of the damn fanciest party I’ve ever been to, mind you? How is this fair?” Ash tugged at the bowtie of his tux, tossing the razzing out, nothing but a joke. Like he could feel the tension radiating from me and he was doing everything to rid the room of it. “Asshole gets to wear what he wants and you made me put on this shit?”

  He gestured at me.

  If I possessed the ability, I would have laughed.

  Dude had always been a nut.

  Anxiously, I drummed my fingers on my thigh, feeling naked without the drumsticks that I took everywhere I went.

  “Sorry. Last minute, like you said. Didn’t have time to rent something more appropriate,” I told him.

  Not that I would have, anyway. Not exactly my style.

  Lyrik pushed out a heavy sigh. “Listen, man. This is coming out wrong. It’s really not a big deal. Zee here has no intention of leaving the band. His son Liam is some kind of soccer prodigy and has the chance to play this summer for this big-ass kids’ league, and he wants to be there for the games, which means there’s a scheduling conflict. You’re the only one we know who is good enough to take his place on the tracks. Simple as that. And you’ll still have the time to meet all your obligations with your own band. Know you don’t have any shows for a handful of weeks, and we were hoping you’d be willing to spend those weeks in the studio with us.”

  “That’s it,” Sebastian added from where he was sitting behind the desk, arms tucked behind his head and rocked back in the chair.

  Sebastian Stone was Sunder’s original lead singer. He’d relinquished the mic a handful of years back to be closer to his family, and he’d started a recording label of his own, Stone Industries.

  Now his baby brother, Austin, had taken the lead, though it seemed Baz hadn’t really taken that far of a step back from the band.

  You hardly saw a picture in the tabloids or music mags without all five of them together.

  “Honestly not a big deal, but there’s a ton of money in it for you.” Baz cocked a wry grin.

  “Probably could have just shot me a text rather than dragging me out to L.A. to ask me.” I eyed them, defenses lowering, but still, this was over-the top.

  Zee shook his head. “Nah. Needed to invite you face-to-face. Let you know what it will mean to me, considering you’re the only person who can do it, and I need to be there for my son.”

  “Sorry, you could have saved yourself some time because I can’t stay in L.A. Plan on getting the hell out of here tonight.”

  Never should have come in the first place.

  Had no clue what that compulsion had been.

  The fiery blaze that had me tapping out an acceptance.

  Like coming here might bring me closer to vindication.

  But I had to chill the fuck out. Wait. Bide my time. Do it right.

  Baz rocked forward in the chair and tapped his fingers on the desk. “Not going down in L.A. We’ll be recording at my studio near Savannah, Georgia out on Tybee Island. Puts you in a good spot to go back and forth when your band needs you since you’re predominantly in the south.”

  “You aren’t going to catch my ass hanging out in L.A. for any length of time, either.” Ash added. “Most of us are raising our families back in Savannah. Only one of us who even has a place here any longer is Lyrik. This fucker is the only reason any of us dragged our asses across the country in the first place.”

  Lyrik grunted. “I share custody with my son’s mother,” he clarified, like I needed to know all the intricacies that made up their lives. Like they needed to lay it all out to gain my trust. “Brendon will be spending the entire summer with us in Savannah, so it works out.”

  I hesitated. Only good thing I’d ever learned from my pile-of-shit mother was if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was.

  And why the hell did I want this, anyway?

  But it was there . . . the thirst to play.

  The thing I’d kept for myself.

  My one love when the rest of it had been ripped from me.

  I bounced my knee. “How long do you plan on being in the studio?”

  Sebastian rubbed his hand over his face, contemplating. “Six weeks . . . two months tops.”

  “And we all have places there . . . you’re welcome to stay with any one of us.” Austin Stone seemed to be the most reserved of the group. Something deeply thoughtful about him. “Or we can put you up in your own apartment if you’re more comfortable with that. I mean, basically whatever it takes for you to agree.” There was the tug of a smile from him at that.

  Lyrik stretched his long legs out in front of him and rocked farther back against the desk. “My wife and I actually have a guest house on our property. At the risk of soundin’ cocky, it’s pretty damn sick. Yours if you want it.”r />
  “You? Cocky? Never.” Ash smacked him on the back. Probably a little harder than necessary.

  “Fuck off, dude, you want me to take you out?” Lyrik threw an aimless punch at him. Ash jumped back and returned the favor, laughing hard. “Try it, fucker.”

  Two were acting like they were thirteen and hanging at a graffitied skate park rather than in a multi-million-dollar mansion.

  “So that’s it? Play some music with you, and then I go on my merry way? No questions? No attachments?”

  “That’s it,” Baz said, elbows on the desk, angling my direction. “It’s great exposure. Know Carolina George has been in talks with Mylton Records about a possible deal. This can only help you.”

  Disbelief pulled at my brow as a chuckle ripped free. “Last time I checked, you and the CEO of Mylton records weren’t exactly friends.”

  Their band had almost fallen apart because of the pressure from their old label, which was the reason Sebastian had started his own.

  Didn’t necessarily like the head of Mylton Records myself. Karl Fitzgerald was a fucking scumbag. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t do great things for our band.

  “How much?” I asked.

  “Thirty K a week . . . plus royalties.” Sebastian lifted his chin.

  Like he was daring me to pass it up.

  Holy shit.

  That was a lot of change, and I couldn’t help but think that might finally get me where I needed to be.

  Enough cash to make it happen.

  To pay and swindle and bribe myself in through the backdoor.

  That prick unaware before it was too late.

  “I’ve got one requirement.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Need you to use my stage name. Don’t want anyone tying me back to the old days.”

  Didn’t that sound pretentious as fuck?

  They didn’t need to know the actual reason.

  He shrugged. “No biggie. Tons of people do. Par for the course in this game.”

  “My band needs me? I go,” I added.

  If I was going to do this, they needed to know Carolina George had to be my first priority.

  “Not a problem.” Lyrik gave a tight nod. Relief pulsed through his demeanor, right before his expression hardened. “One more thing you need to know before we all agree to this.”