Reckless Reunion (The Reckless Rockstar Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

  “You look great, Reece, but sad. And thin.”

  “I’ve always been thin.”

  He picks up the menu. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” I laugh when he suggests the supersized pasta plate.

  “I don’t mean to be a downer. I’m lonely. Garrett and I were only together for three months, and already I can’t remember what I used to do with my free time before him.”

  “I know how hard this must be on you.”

  “The hardest part is knowing it’s not hard on him.”

  “It is. Trust me.”

  I casually run a finger over the top of my glass. “He talks to you about it?”

  “Yes.”

  “From what he told me about their schedule, he doesn’t even have time to miss me, except maybe on Sundays. He said they go sightseeing. What if he meets someone? I’ll bet Australian women are really pretty. And with those accents—”

  “He loves you, Reece. Think of everything you have in common.”

  “But there’s a lot we don’t.”

  “You’re talking about how you grew up? You know he doesn’t care about that, right?”

  “So he says.”

  He pushes his beer toward me. “Looks like you need this more than I do. Relax, Mancini. My brother is head-over-heels for you. That’s not going to change.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Before I take a sip, I glance around to make sure nobody will see me, an underage girl, take a drink. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound so pathetic.”

  “You need a hobby.”

  “You mean other than playing guitar five hours a day?”

  He looks sad. “I imagine that only makes you think of him.”

  “What kinds of hobbies do you have?”

  “Me? I don’t have time for hobbies. Studying for the bar exam is a full-time job.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “Okay, I guess. Living at home makes it harder. All the study groups are back at school.”

  “I could help.”

  “You want to help me study?”

  “Sure, why not?” His silence answers the question. “Don’t look at me like that. Just because I’m a waitress doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “I can read. Give me the material, and I’ll quiz you on it or whatever.”

  “If you’re serious, that would be a big help.”

  “It would get my mind off things.”

  “When’s your next day off?”

  “Tuesday.”

  “I’ll bring coffee and donuts. Eight o’clock too early?”

  “Eight will be fine.”

  He spends the rest of dinner telling me about Joanna. I try not to close my eyes, because when I do, I hear Garrett, not Rob. They even use the same cologne.

  “Sounds like you’re still hung up on her, even though she used you.”

  “I guess that makes me pathetic, too, huh? Do you think it’s possible to love and hate someone at the same time?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t hate Garrett for going to Australia, do you?”

  “No. It was some other guy.”

  “You’ve been in love before?”

  “A few times.”

  He’s surprised. “But you’re only eighteen.” When I give him the stink-eye, he apologizes. “Sorry. Tell me about this other love-hate guy.”

  I absentmindedly rub my left forearm, the one he twisted so hard, it broke. “There’s not much to tell. He hit me.”

  “Oh, shit, really?”

  “I grew up in the system, Rob, not with a silver spoon in my mouth.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair.”

  I take another sip of his beer. “Stop feeling sorry for me.”

  “How old were you when your parents died?”

  “Six.”

  “That’s a tough break. Do you ever think about what your life would be like if they were still around?”

  “Nobody has ever asked me that question before.”

  “I don’t mean to pry.”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s strange, because I’m sure my life would be different in so many ways. I’m not even sure I’d be playing guitar. As far as I can remember, my parents weren’t into that sort of thing. It wasn’t until I was put in my second foster home that I saw one. One of the older kids had a guitar. He let me play it sometimes. When I was nine, I stole one from a yard sale. When I was fourteen, I did odd jobs for the neighbors and saved every penny to buy my first Gibson. It was secondhand, but it was the nicest thing I’d ever owned.”

  “Would you trade your talent to have your parents back?”

  I cock my head. “Wow, you don’t pull any punches, do you?”

  “Sometimes I wonder what things would be like if my dad wasn’t who he is. I often wonder if I’d trade my life for something else.”

  “Do you like studying law?”

  “Surprisingly, I do.”

  “Then why would you want to change anything?”

  “Maybe I’m tired of always doing what’s expected of me. My whole life I’ve been the good son, pleasing my dad and following in his footsteps. I envy Garrett. He’s always been this carefree soul I know I could never be. Look at what he’s doing now, halfway across the world. I could never take the chances he does. I’ve always done the safe thing. The right thing.”

  “Is that why you’re here tonight, because you’re doing the right thing?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Because you don’t have to worry about me, Rob. I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse things.”

  “I’ll bet it’s what makes you such a great musician. Have you written any new songs lately?”

  “A few.”

  “Are they all sad country songs about your man leaving so you get a dog or something?”

  I chuckle. “No.”

  “Will you play one for me?”

  “After Tuesday’s study session.”

  “So you’ll still help me, even though I’m a pathetic loser who always does the right thing?”

  “You’re not pathetic.”

  “Neither are you.”

  “The question you asked about trading my talent to get my parents back? Ask me again in ten years.”

  He pulls out his phone. “Just let me put that on my calendar.”

  We joke around for the rest of dinner. He’s more like his brother than he thinks he is—the shape of his nose, the color of his eyes, the way he laughs. By the time the check arrives, I realize I had fun for the first time in over two weeks.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Garrett

  Why the hell do I feel like a kid on Christmas morning? It’s been three days since I’ve seen her, and she’s about to come down the airport escalator. Liam is the one who should be nervous. He dragged us here for some elaborate scheme. Jeremy is off to one side, waiting to video the whole thing. Crew has a guitar slung over his shoulder—he’s a good enough player to pull this off. Bria and I are standing in front of Liam, who’s crouched down so Ella won’t see him. Iggy—well, Iggy is where he usually is, in a drug-induced sleep at the hotel. All of us have on hats to help disguise our identity. The last thing we want is a fan ruining Liam’s big moment.

  “Are they coming yet?” Liam asks. “My knee is killing me.”

  “Reece just texted that they’re off the plane,” Bria says. “Should be any second now. Oh, there they are! Jeremy, start recording.”

  I glance down at Liam behind me. “You ready for this?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Reece has a huge smile on her face. She’s obviously in on it, but when our eyes meet, her smile gets even bigger. Did she miss me too?

  Ella recognizes us but her face falls when she doesn’t see Liam. When they are halfway down the escalator, Crew strums “Here Comes the Bride,” and the three of us move aside to reveal Liam, down o
n a knee, holding a sign that reads MRS. CAMPBELL.

  It’s a long-standing joke that they both have the same last name. He often calls her Mrs. Campbell, but this time he really means it. In his other hand, he’s holding up a ring.

  Tears stream down her face.

  A crowd is gathering by the time Reece and Ella reach the bottom of the escalator. Despite the cast on her left arm, Ella runs to Liam. “Are you serious?”

  He laughs nervously. “Are you going to let me finish?”

  She nods.

  People swarm around us. To see the proposal? Or have they figured out Reckless Alibi is in the airport? Maybe it’s a little of both.

  “I’m not very good with words,” Liam says. “That’s why Crew and Bria write the lyrics. But I know a good thing when I see it. Ella, from the moment you fell into my life, you’ve been my inspiration. You took a chance on me when you probably shouldn’t have. You were persistent when most women would have walked away in disgust. You were empathetic without feeling sorry for me. I never thought I’d meet anyone I’d want to spend the rest of my life with, but now I’m thinking the rest of my life isn’t nearly long enough. I want so much more. Ella Campbell, will you be my more? The mother of my children? My wife?”

  She falls to her knees. “Yes!”

  Cheers erupt from the onlookers, and Crew plays the “Wedding March” on his guitar.

  Reece’s eyes fill with tears, but she’s not looking at Liam and Ella. She’s looking at me. Are those happy tears? Because she looks sad. Guilty even. It makes me wonder how Rob proposed. Did he make a big deal of it? Did he get down on a knee? Buy her flowers? Sing a song?

  Thinking of them together makes me angry. Every time I think about his hands on her, I want to kill him.

  “Liam, I’ll marry you!” a woman shouts.

  “I’ll marry any of you,” says another.

  Tom makes sure space remains open around Liam and Ella as they gush about how much they love each other while he tries to slip the ring on her finger.

  “Damn,” Liam says. “I was sure I got the right size.”

  “My fingers are swollen.” Ella holds out her right hand. “Put it on this one for now.”

  He slips the ring on her right ring finger. “I don’t care if you wear it on your toe as long as you marry me.”

  Airport security shows up, which is probably a good thing as we’re surrounded by fans. Reece gets pushed out of the way and falls down. I help her up, and we run behind Tom, who blazes a trail to the limo waiting outside.

  Ella admires her ring once we’re all seated. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it.”

  “Believe it, Mrs. Campbell. And we’re not having a long engagement, like those two.” He points to Crew and Bria. “We’re getting hitched as soon as possible.”

  “Eighteen months is not that long of an engagement,” Bria says.

  “Have you picked a date?” Ella asks.

  Bria gazes at Crew like he’s her whole goddamn world. “We were thinking November, right before Thanksgiving. The tour will be long over, and we’ll have another album and several more music videos under our belt. We can take a long honeymoon over the holidays.”

  “That sounds heavenly,” Ella says.

  Liam kisses the back of her hand. “So let’s do it then.”

  “Get married in November? No way. We’re not stealing their thunder.”

  “Nobody would be stealing anyone’s thunder,” Bria says, then she gets all excited. “Why don’t we do it together? Have a double wedding?”

  “Makes sense,” Crew says. “We pretty much know all the same people. It could be fun.”

  Liam looks at Ella. “What do you say?”

  “I say yes. Again.” She laughs.

  “Well then,” Jeremy says, “let’s pop the champagne. We have a lot to celebrate.”

  By the time we reach the hotel, Ella looks exhausted.

  Reece says to me, “I’m glad you have the night off. Ella needs a little TLC after her day.”

  “How about you?”

  “Me?”

  I look into her eyes. “Do you need a little TLC?” I mentally punch myself. I don’t know how to do this shit.

  “You know, I could use some. Maybe I’ll book a massage with the hotel. Thanks, Garrett.”

  My goddamn heart feels stomped on when she walks in the direction of the concierge desk, but then she stops and turns, laughing. My jaw drops. “You were joking?”

  “I have been known to from time to time. I need to drop off my bag and get something to eat.” We get on an elevator. “What floor are we on?”

  “Six. Want company? I hear they make a good burger here.”

  “Are you asking me on a date?”

  “I, uh, no.” Pussy. Just say it. “Well, maybe. If you want. I don’t know. Whatever.”

  “That was decisive. Garrett, if you want to go on a date with me, you’re going to have to ask.”

  “Are you sure? I thought you only wanted to be friends.”

  “I thought you only wanted to be friends.”

  The elevator doors open. There’s some kind of commotion. Crew and Bria run over. “It’s Iggy. The housekeeper found him having a seizure. She called 911.”

  “Shit.” People are coming out of their rooms. “Tom, damage control. Get hotel security on the floor before the ambulance gets here. We need to keep this off the internet.”

  “I’m on it,” he says.

  “Jeremy, call IRL. We’re going to need another bassist, fast. We play tomorrow night.”

  “You,” I say to a hotel employee. “We’ll have to take him down in the service elevator. He can’t go through the lobby. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Minutes later, the paramedics are lifting Iggy onto a gurney, administering oxygen, and giving him activated charcoal and other medications for a meth overdose. Iggy wakes and struggles to break free. One paramedic holds him down, and the other says, “Easy, man. Looks like you OD’d. We’re taking you to the hospital.”

  “No,” he says under the oxygen mask.

  “Do you know what a meth overdose can do to you?” the paramedic says. “It can cause internal bleeding, high blood pressure, liver failure. Even multiple organ failure. Believe me, you want to go to the hospital.”

  Bria takes his hand. “Iggy, go. We’ll take care of everything.”

  He starts to protest but goes into convulsions as he has another seizure.

  “Move aside,” a paramedic says.

  The hotel manager guides us to the service elevator. “There’s security at the back entrance. You can exit there.”

  “Our rig is out front.”

  “Then move it,” I say.

  “He needs medical attention.”

  “And he’s getting it. It’ll take you two minutes to move the ambulance. He seems stable now. We have to control the situation.”

  “Fine,” he says. “I’ll run for the rig, the rest of you have him waiting out back.”

  Five minutes later, Iggy is on his way to the hospital with Jeremy. The rest of us stand at the back exit, staring at each other.

  “What the fuck?” Liam says. “If he screwed this up for the rest of us, we should sue his ass.”

  “Sue him for what?” I ask. “The sixty grand we’re paying him to tour with us? Like that’s going make any difference.”

  “What are you going to do?” Ella asks.

  “Get a bassist on the next flight out from New York.”

  Reece looks confused. “One who knows all your songs?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “She’s right. We’re fucked.”

  “Unless … ” Bria says.

  “Unless what?”

  “What if we ask Brad to do it?”

  “He specifically quit because he didn’t want to go on tour,” Crew says.

  “We’re more than halfway through,” Liam says. “If Iggy gets his stomach pumped or whatever, he could be back in a few days.”

 
; I shake my head. “Iggy’s not coming back. We can’t take the chance of this happening again.”

  “He’s right,” Crew says. “Iggy’s done.”

  “We have to ask Brad,” Bria says. “We can’t cancel the rest of the tour.”

  I consider other options and come up with nothing. “You do it, Bria. Call him. He won’t be able to turn you down. Beg if you have to. Tell him we’ll fly him out. Fly the whole family out. Whatever he needs.”

  I turn to Reece. “Want to get those burgers and find a bottle of whiskey while we wait to see if our fucking tour just imploded?”

  “Lead the way.” She steps on the elevator. “For the first time in my life, I wish I played bass.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I’ve heard the way you guys talk about Brad. He sounds like a nice person. I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to cancel the tour.”

  “He’s got a baby, about five months old, I think. He won’t want to leave her, and Katie, his wife, hates us. She might not allow it.”

  “What did you do to her?”

  “Nothing. She doesn’t like rock music.”

  Reece’s eyes go wide. “Who doesn’t like rock?”

  I throw up my arms. “Exactly.”

  “It’ll be okay. Sometimes you find yourself in a situation where you feel like you have absolutely no control and then things work out in the end.”

  “Are we still talking about our bassist?”

  She shrugs. “Come on. Let’s go find that whiskey.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Reece

  Garrett seems nervous as he finishes his burger, but I don’t know if it’s because we’re in my hotel room or because of what’s happening with the band.

  He picks up his phone and stares at the screen. “Do you think she’s called him yet?”

  “I’m sure she has. Maybe he’s thinking about it. He probably has to talk it over with his wife.”

  Garrett sips his whiskey. “What if he won’t do it? We’ll have to cancel fifteen shows. Do you know what that will do to us?”

  His phone pings with a text. I hold my breath as he reads it. “It’s from Jeremy. Iggy is being kept overnight for observation. They are recommending he go directly to a rehab facility.”