by Kylie Walker
“Hey, um, Emelia. I didn’t get a chance to apologize to you for my behavior the night of our first show.”
She waved him off. “Nope. Don’t even think twice about it.”
He touched her shoulder, little warm shocks going down her arm. “I’ve thought about a hundred times about it. And I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
She faced him, lingered her gaze onto his. “Of course, Trevor. I can’t imagine you’d do anything that I couldn’t forgive you for.”
That crestfallen look was back on his face. He paused in filling his plate, suddenly turned and tossed what little he’d had on there in the trash.
“Anyway,” he said and broke the awkward silence between them. “I need to get to band practice.” He nudged his thumb in the direction of the lobby.
“Did I do something wrong?” Emelia reached for her toast, paused mid-air. His hot and cold attitude was confusing.
“Of course not. I just don’t want to keep them waiting. Colton can get kind of fussy.” He grinned, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
“No problem.” Why did she already feel an empty pang and Trevor hadn’t even left yet? “Have a good time jamming out.”
He gave her a slow once-over. Every inch of her body warmed beneath his gaze. “You’re free to come to watch us practice if you want.”
She wasn’t going to tell him that she had already been doing that, high up in the stands. Invisible. She glanced at Grant who was immersed in his cellphone. He was smiling, laughing to himself. Probably watching cat videos again.
“Or,” Trevor’s voice pulled her back. “You can be right up front in the pit tonight. Right there where I can see you all night long.”
All. Night. Long. Her lips parted, her body aching to press against his and find out what kind of invitation those words really were.
“Oh, really? Maybe I will.” Her nipples perked inside her bra. “Maybe I’ll be right there for you to see.”
“Hey, Em, you coming back over here or what?” Grant’s voice was laced with irritation.
“Coming.”
Flicking a gaze to Trevor, she grabbed her dry toast and turned to leave. “See you...” she whispered and trailed off as she walked away.
Something glimmered in her heart, lingered, revived each time she saw him. It was hard to explain. But the one thing she knew for sure is that it frightened her and thrilled her, all at the same time.
Chapter Nine
“Can we do that set again guys?” Trevor glanced around at his fellow band members.
“Come on dude.” Roman groaned behind the drums and then clashed his drumstick into the snare with frustration. “We’ve done this song twelve times in a row now.”
“Yeah,” Asher agreed. “I think we’ve got this one in the bag.”
“No, we don’t.” Trevor shook his head. The odds were against him, and he wasn’t going to win this battle. As the front man, he had some authority over them. “One more time.”
“Fine,” the gang groaned and began the set all over again.
Trevor was distracted. He kept picturing Emelia eyes, staring a hole through his soul. Her questions today had rocked him to the core. She’d found a picture of himself with her brother. Jesus! He shuddered.
He wanted to go back to other fantasies about her, the ones where her legs were wrapped around him, and she’s kissing the hell out of him — not the dark, sinister memories that were now clouding his mind.
He had to shake it off and get his shit together. Four hours until show time and he was messing up his vocals big time. He needed to wrap himself up in the music and envelop himself in a zone where he was the ultimate rock god, and nothing could stop him. It was a state of mind and being that made Trevor feel alive, and he craved that sensation. On a whim, he grabbed the electric guitar and strummed a different tune.
His subconscious took over, and he began singing the first words that erupted from his throat and were birthed from his heart.
“Sha-la-la-la-la, la-te-da,” he sang. “Brown Eyed Girl.”
Colton was the first one to stop playing, then Roman, then Asher. Finally, Lucas stopped and stared at Trevor as if he had lost his mind.
“Dude, are you okay?” Lucas called out, shouting over the noise of Trevor’s guitar. “This isn’t part of the set.”
“It’s not even our song,” Colton mentioned and rolled his eyes.
He ignored his band and kept on strumming, singing louder and playing longer than before. It centered him, focused him so, the hell with it.
Eventually, Roman caved and began drumming along to the song with Trevor. Then they all played together until the song was carried out with perfection. It ended, and his brain was more on target. So they started their song, the real one, again. And he nailed up, finally.
Several hours later, Trevor found himself standing under the glow of the spotlight. The crowd noise roared through his ears. The sense of unbalance came back like a brewing storm cloud, hovering over him, waiting to unleash. Once the music started, he settled into character, letting what he knew and loved seep into him. He went through the motions, lost himself in the songs and the sounds, all while realizing that Emelia wasn’t front and center. She wasn’t there.
And why should she be? She belonged to another man.
Three hours passed in a blink, and before he knew it, Trevor was backstage willing his heart to slow down and his body to cool. He was soaked with sweat, as usual, high on adrenaline after yet another show. He had missed a couple lyrics, had some bad timing. Nothing the fans noticed with all their screaming and jumping around. Even if they did, he doubted they cared. It bothered him, though. He had never been this distracted before.
Well, maybe once and that was after something really terrible had happened.
They wrapped things up and headed to a local bar. He hoped Emelia would be there, but honestly, he hadn’t seen her so how would she know where to find him?
Roman had been giving him the side-eye since they’d finished the show, but Trevor was ignoring him. He wasn’t in the mood for feelings and shit tonight. He wasn’t going to hide in some private back room, either. When his bandmates headed that way, Trevor stayed out front at the bar. Fuck it. He’d drink where he wanted to. Roman hung back with him.
“Two whiskeys, please.” Roman flagged down the bartender.
“Coming right up.” The bartender gave them a double take but didn’t say anything more.
Trevor gave Roman a sideways glance of horror. “I’m having one; then I’m switching to water.”
“Yeah, right.”
The bartender pushed the glasses of amber liquid in front of Trevor and Roman. Roman turned to face his friend and band members. “Too pretty girls and rocking songs,” he chimed as he raised his glass in the air.
“Here, here,” Trevor yielded and clanked his glass against the side of Roman’s. He took a sip and winced, puckering his lips as the hot liquid burned going down his throat. “Damn, I really am a lightweight.”
“Something tells me you needed that, though. You had a rough time on stage tonight.”
“Ugh.” Trevor groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t remind me.”
Roman cleared his throat and shot Trevor a look that he had been dreading, but expecting, all night.
“What is it?” Trevor propped his elbows on the bar.
Roman bypassed the question. “Can I get a beer man?”
“Sure thing,” the bartender smiled. “You guys are in that band, right? The one that played tonight?”
Trevor and Roman glanced at each other and then back at the bartender. “Yep,” Roman confessed. “Infinity Prism.”
“Sweet.” The bartender threw a clean dishrag over his shoulder. “Do you guys mind if I get your autograph?”
“No problem.”
“You can sign the wall if you want?” The bartender suggested. “That should get some foot traffic in here.”
“You got a wall of fame o
r something?” Roman guessed.
“Yes, sir. Right over there.” The bartender pointed across the room and handed them a permanent marker. “If you both don’t mind?” He sheepishly handed over the pen.
Trevor walked over and scrawled his name, Roman following suit.
The barstool creaked as Trevor straddled it once again. “It just feels good to sit down.”
“I can tell something is up with you. What is it?”
“Just because I had one bad night on stage?” Trevor fired back.
“Just asking.” Roman raised his hands as if to pronounce he meant no harm by the direction where the conversation was headed.
“I’m fine.” Trevor drummed his fingers against the bar top and shook his leg with an anxious jitter.
“No distractions, huh?” Roman pressed.
“Nope.” Trevor refused to make eye contact with him.
“Okay...” Roman trailed off, sounding unconvinced. “If you say so.”
“If something was wrong, I’d tell you,” Trevor lied.
“I would hope so.” Roman took a long sip of his beer, staring off into space.
“You are my best friend,” Trevor promised.
He hated harboring dishonesty with Roman, but he didn’t want to get him involved in the tangled web of emotions he felt regarding Emelia. Everything was confusing and laced with uncertainty. He was attracted to her, but she was already in a relationship with someone else. And the ghosts of his past said he’d never have a chance.
“You, ah, thinking about Emelia’s brother?”
Trevor paused in reaching for his drink. Cold shivers razed down his spine.
“What makes you ask that?”
Roman shrugged. “I don’t know. Because you want to get in touch with a movie producer so badly.”
Fuck. Ok, that brother. He took a hard breath and let it out. Roman didn’t know about that night all those years ago. No one did. Just him, and it was going to stay that way for the rest of his life.
“I mean, we are headed to LA next. Wouldn’t it be a good time to get in touch with this guy? Have our people contact his people?”
“By people, you mean Emelia.”
Roman smiled and took a drink. Trevor’s pulse picked up. Damn, that’s exactly what he fucking meant.
Chapter Ten
“Wow, your brother lives here?” Chloe pointed up at the three-story, cream-colored stucco traditional, decorated with a circular driveway and a stone fountain centered perfectly in the middle.
“Impressive, right?” Emelia put an arm around her friend’s shoulders, so glad she had decided to fly to LA to join them. She would be helping with some marketing efforts for the rest of the tour, mostly, helping Emelia keep up with her freelance work.
“Little Campbell really made it in the world, eh?” Chloe winked at Emelia as she flashed her hot pink manicured hands around in the air. “It’s too bad he’s married now.” She poked out her bottom lip with satire.
“You did not just say that,” Emelia laughed and playfully slapped her friend on the shoulder. “I don’t even want to imagine you and my brother.”
“He’s a wealthy man. What’s not to love?” Chloe feigned innocence.
“He’s not that rich.” Even as she said the words, Emelia knew they weren’t true. Her big brother had done really well for himself.
They were in Los Angeles for three days, and Grant had rented a car for them to share. He had made a disgusted face when she had asked him to join them at Campbell’s for dinner tonight. So she’d left him immersed in something on his phone — no skin off her back. She had Chloe anyway.
“I can’t believe Grant would rather stay in the hotel room rotting away when he could be here at this mansion having free dinner,” Chloe joked as they climbed the stone steps leading up to the front porch.
“Me either,” Emelia pressed the doorbell. “Now calm down. Don’t embarrass me.”
The front door flung open, and a tall, fit Campbell scooped Emelia into his arms.
“Emelia!” He gave her a giant squeeze. “It’s so great to see you,” he crooned.
“You too!” Emelia’s voice was muffled against his chest.
He let her go, and she introduced Chloe, who shook his hand enthusiastically.
“This is some home you have here.” She gestured around the grand marble-floored foyer in awe.
“Thanks.” Campbell shrugged humbly. “It’s really my wife, Sarah. She’s an Interior Designer. She has a knack for this kind of stuff.”
“Did somebody call my name?”
A petite, well-endowed brunette with shoulder-length straight hair waltzed into the room, a bright smile on her face. She was wearing shorts and a dress shirt displaying tiny little roses all over it.
“Hi, Sarah!” Emelia chimed as the two women embraced in. “This is my friend, Chloe Adams.”
“It’s lovely to meet you. Emelia, where is your male friend?”
Emelia and Chloe shared a glance. “Oh. He uh...” she trailed off and searched for the right words. She didn’t want to make Grant seem like a total ass. “He’s so tired from the tour that he decided to stay at the hotel and rest.”
“That’s too bad.” Campbell’s disappointment was apparent in his voice. “Tell him that we’re sorry we missed him.”
“Will do.”
She tossed Chloe a subtle glance of appreciation for her discretion on keeping the white lie about Grant.
“I thought it might be nice if we enjoyed the meal on the back terrace by the pool,” Sarah suggested.
“Are you kidding?” Chloe all but shrieked. “That sounds amazing.”
Campbell welcomed them inside and gave a brief tour for Chloe’s benefit. Emelia had been here twice before, once when they’d first bought the place and again for their fifth wedding anniversary. The splendid home was flooded with natural light, soothing in cream and beige hues dotted with colorful accents from Sarah’s expert decorating. They exited a pair of French doors to a large patio in the back. Palm trees encased the space, a considerable pergola towering over plush outdoor seating. Despite the heat of the day, two dome-shaped fire pits were lit, flames dancing from opaque and colored stones on the tops.
“You ever miss Chicago winters?” Emelia quipped.
Campbell nodded as he glanced around his deck, pool and mini outdoor kitchen with pride. “Hell. No.”
“You mean you guys don’t miss digging your car out of a foot of snow every morning from October to April?” Chloe joked.
He held up a bottle of Moscato. “Let’s cheer to never shoveling snow, ever, ever again.”
“Easy for you to say. We still live in Chicago!” Emelia accepted a glass and passed it to her friend. She kept the next glass for herself and took a seat.
Her brother gave her a curious glance, one eyebrow raised. “You know sis, my offer always stands. Whenever you’re ready to come to LA, just say the word.”
She cupped her wine glass in her hands and avoided Chloe’s curious glance. She hadn’t mentioned to her bestie that Campbell had offered her a job, multiple times, while welcoming her to stay right here, as long as she wanted. If not for her relationship with Grant, she’d seriously consider it. She could find a lot of social media management work with her brother’s connections and grow her business. Hell, she could probably even hire Chloe full time to help. The thought caused a burst of excitement to go through her.
But she couldn’t. She was tied to Grant, well, connected. Loyal. Devoted.
Except that Trevor and the band were thinking about taking up permanent residence in LA. She had overheard them talking about it. Now that they’d made something of themselves, it was only natural to ditch their crappy studio in Chicago for the real deal here in California. She was devoted to Grant, sure. But—
“Thanks, Campbell. I’ll think about it.”
“What’s to think about, Em?” Chloe nearly fell off her seat with excitement. “Do it and bring me with you!”
They all laughed, but for Emelia, it wasn’t humorous. It was an opportunity for change.
“So, what is for dinner?” She needed to change the subject, badly.
“Salmon, orzo, salad, and tomatoes from my hydroponic garden,” Sarah said proudly.
“Oooh, I’d love to see that.”
“Sure, Chloe, come on. I’ll show you.” Sarah rose from her seat and handed her wine off to her husband. She gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head before walking away.
Emelia smiled. She had always liked Sarah and appreciated how caring and nurturing she was to Campbell. She couldn’t imagine anyone else better suited for her brother. They’d had a decent life, blue-collar parents, that did everything they could to care for them. Campbell had a harder time growing up. He had been Kyle’s protector, his guardian. And each time their brother was picked on for his intellectual and physical disabilities, Campbell had felt it right down to his bones. When a particular group of teenagers made it their life’s mission to ruin Kyle’s life with their constant bullying, Campbell had gone so far as to confront them all and walked away with two black eyes, a broken nose, and a shattered collarbone.
And then Kyle had died. And Campbell fled Chicago and never looked back.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He took a seat beside her and looped his arm over her shoulders.
She traced the rim of her glass with her finger. “Was just thinking about Kyle and that picture you sent me of him and Trevor Jameson together. He would have loved seeing how far Trevor and the band have come.”
“Aside from you, he was their biggest fan. So, does Trevor have any idea the two of you went to school together? It was just a short time, but, does he remember you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Well, how crazy is it that you ended up working for him after all these years? How’s the tour been so far?”
“Surreal! Amazing! It’s just, like another world.”
“He came pretty far for a kid with a past like his. Junkie parents, living in foster care. Being bounced around.”
