Hot Mess: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players #1)

by Diamond, Jaine

  Tell her.

  I knew I had to. It was pretty much a now-or-never situation. It wasn’t like there would be a better time to bring it up. If I didn’t tell her now… it would just get weird.

  Wrong weird.

  So why was I afraid to bring it up?

  Because you’re afraid that if you mention him to her, he’ll never be yours.

  God, that was pathetic.

  So I forced the words out of my mouth.

  “I saw Ashley Player last night.”

  Daniella just stood there, propping the door open with her foot. She stared at me for a moment, kind of blankly. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but I knew she hadn’t forgotten who Ashley Player was.

  “I mean, I ran into him,” I clarified.

  “Oh. That’s weird.”

  “Not really. He saw me on the street and thought I was you.”

  “Really,” she said, but not like it was a question.

  Maybe some twins could read each other’s minds. Maybe sometimes I felt like I could read hers.

  This was not one of those times.

  When it came to men, I rarely knew what my sister was thinking. Because when it came to men, Daniella Vola never played her hand. Anymore. For the last decade, even I couldn’t get her to admit her interest in a guy—even after she’d slept with him. She could’ve been head-over-heels in love with a dude and I wouldn’t have known it. Not unless she expressly told me.

  “You talked to him?” she said.

  “Not really. He said something incoherent about the roses I was buying, then I took off.”

  Dani took a bite of her bagel and chewed, her eyes narrowing as she studied me. “You want him.” That wasn’t a question, either.

  “No,” I said quickly.

  Too quickly.

  Dani’s eyebrow rose. Unfortunately, even though I had a hard time reading my sister when it came to men, the illiteracy did not go both ways.

  “Obviously not,” I added. “I just wondered… He seemed like he really wanted to talk to you. He was, uh, pretty drunk, though.”

  She made a little snorting sound, like, Big surprise. “So?”

  “So… How badly did you screw him?”

  “I didn’t screw him at all,” she said. “I told you that. I considered it briefly, but as wasted as he was, he probably couldn’t have gotten it up anyway.”

  “Really? That’s your story?”

  Maybe if she’d told me that before last night, I might’ve believed her.

  But now I’d met the man—the rock star—in person. I mean, I didn’t make out with him or anything, but Ashley Player definitely didn’t strike me as a guy who’d have any difficulties in the erection department. He was fit, hot… and the look he’d given me last night in the rain had way too much smolder on it for a dude whose equipment wasn’t working.

  “Men like that,” my sister said evenly, “are used to being catered to. I don’t cater.”

  This, I knew.

  But still…

  “Men like what? Rock stars?”

  “Yes, rock stars. And pretty rock stars…?” She shuddered, like it was the grossest combo imaginable. “Can you imagine?”

  Yeah. I could imagine.

  Though clearly what I was imagining, where Ashley Player’s sexual performance was concerned, was the exact opposite of what she was imagining.

  “So you’re telling me you’re not the least bit interested in him?” I challenged.

  “I never said I was.”

  “You said he asked you to marry him. Was that true?”

  “I told you, he was wasted.” She glanced at her watch, reminding me she was short on time. “So was I. Who can remember exactly who asked who to do what? It was four years ago.”

  “And the tattoo, the one of your name on his body?” I pressed.

  “I don’t know. His friend said he got one, but how would I know? Look, I’ve gotta go.”

  “This doesn’t bother you?” I called after her as she tried to disappear out the door. “That he wanted to talk to you? That he possibly has a tattoo of your name, and you won’t talk to him?”

  She paused again, her hand on the doorknob. “Don’t be dramatic, Dani. It’s not like I’m dodging his calls or something. I met him once. I haven’t heard from him in four years.”

  “Because you gave him a fake phone number!”

  “Honestly, Danica, I have nothing to say to Ashley Player. And some drunken tattoo he got, if he did get it, has a lot more to do with him and whatever issues he’s got than it does with me. The guy was a hot mess when I met him.”

  “So?”

  “What do you mean, ‘so’? Why does this bother you?”

  “I don’t know. He seemed… nice.” Lame choice of word, definitely. I really wasn’t sure if he seemed nice.

  He seemed drunk.

  Beautiful.

  Broken, somehow. I wasn’t sure why I got that impression, but I did.

  And yes, he seemed like a hot mess.

  “Nice?” My sister barely resisted rolling her eyes. “That’s all you’ve got?”

  “You really don’t care?”

  Daniella groaned in exasperation. “Care about what? This isn’t even about me. This is about you caring too much, about things you shouldn’t. Just like you always do. It was a drunken party four years ago, okay? People do stupid crap when they’re drunk.” She held my gaze for just a little too long as that statement echoed in my head.

  Then she left. The door finally closed.

  And I knew she was right.

  I cared.

  I cared, too much, already, about something that wasn’t even my business.

  I just had to stop caring. That was all.

  Just forget about it.

  Forget about him.

  Which meant I had to stop thinking about him, stat. And seeing his black hair, his angsty eyebrows, the smolder in his blue, blue eyes and that broken look on his face… every time I closed my eyes.

  … And wondering how big his dick was. And what kinds of things he liked to do with it.

  Because oh yes, I’d been wondering about that.

  Since he walked up to me last night in the rain, I’d been wondering a lot of things.

  But it didn’t matter anyway.

  It was my sister he wanted, not me.

  And she didn’t even care.

  Or so she said. Knowing Dani… I wasn’t even quite sure if I believed her.

  Damn, but life could kick a girl in the crotch.

  I glanced around my kitchen, wondering if I had any barbecue chips to go with the ranch dip in my fridge.

  Chapter Three

  Ash

  Fuuuck. There was something wet on my back.

  Sliding around.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Slimy. And hairy…

  It was the unmistakable feeling of an animal licking me.

  I managed to crack an eye open and peer under my arm at the black lab.

  Thump. Thump.

  His tail was wagging so hard it was thumping against the coffee table.

  “Hrng,” I grunted, slowly pushing myself up, blinking all the way. My leather jacket was on the floor. My shirt was gone and my jeans were open… but at least my dick wasn’t out.

  No idea how I’d ended up on this couch last night.

  Sunshine was pouring over me. Too much sunshine. And too much noise. There were voices in the kitchen, and I blinked in that direction.

  Jesse was sitting at the kitchen island and his pregnant wife, Katie, was buzzing around pouring coffee. The dog, Max, was theirs. When or where we’d picked up Katie and Max last night was a mystery to me.

  But here they were, in Dylan’s house.

  So at least we’d made it to the island in one piece.

  “He’s alive!” Katie said cheerily when she noticed I was vertical.

  “Oh, good,” Amber said, coming down the stairs. She was dressed and looking perky, wide awake. “Coffee?�
� Actually, they were all looking too perky for my liking.

  Wasn’t anyone as drunk as I was for the last two days?

  “Ungh.” I couldn’t make words, and I had to close my eyes for a second. Headache. Definitely waaay too much to drink. Really should’ve called it after the grocery store—

  Danny.

  I opened my eyes and looked around. Who knew what I expected to find, though. My dream girl having a bowl of cereal in Dylan’s kitchen?

  She wasn’t here. Obviously.

  Because I lost her.

  Again.

  Fuck. Me.

  It all came back in a flood of discomfort. Seeing her buying roses in the rain. Talking to her. Drunkenly.

  Losing her in the grocery store.

  Getting back in the limo and drinking—way too much. I was already wasted. Why did I keep drinking?

  Because you were wasted.

  I remembered Def Leppard.

  And sambuca shots. Lots of sambuca shots. I shivered; so fucking disgusting.

  Couldn’t remember much past that point.

  I looked around again as my eyes adjusted to the light. “Where is everyone?”

  “Went home,” Amber said. “Con and Hayden took them back to the city on the boat.”

  Hayden. Haz. My bodyguard.

  Apparently he’d decided he wouldn’t be needed now that I was unconscious.

  “It’s like one in the afternoon,” Jesse informed me. “In case you were wondering.”

  “Please tell me I didn’t fuck any of you last night,” I muttered, just as Jude and Roni walked in from outside.

  “Not me,” Katie said brightly.

  “You kissed me a couple times,” Jesse said. “But I didn’t put out.”

  I groaned.

  “Me either,” Amber said, giving me a nice, sympathetic smile.

  “You absolutely put out,” Roni said—to Amber. “We all heard you.” She raised an eyebrow at Dylan as he sauntered down the stairs. “Both of you.”

  Amber shot an embarrassed look at Katie, then hid her face behind her teacup.

  Yeah, really glad I didn’t remember that.

  But even though Amber and I had been lovers, not so long ago, I wasn’t too worried about getting wasted and accidentally ending up in her panties. I was cool with leaving that to Dylan these days.

  I was a little more worried about ending up in Summer’s panties last night. Not that I could remember that happening, but I definitely remembered grabbing her ass a few times.

  Hopefully I’d just annoyed her. Then I could apologize and smooth it over.

  If I screwed her, it would get a hell of a lot more complicated.

  “Did I screw Summer?” I asked Dylan as he strolled past me, into the kitchen.

  “Don’t think so,” he said. “She crashed over at your place. You slept here.”

  “With my dog,” Katie said.

  I gave Max a little pat on the side and got up, my body creaking. Truth be told, drinking that much booze, while fun when I was twenty-one, wasn’t so enjoyable now that I was thirty-one.

  I stumbled over to the kitchen island and managed to put my ass on a stool. Didn’t even bother doing up my jeans. Too much effort.

  “D’you believe in karma?” I asked no one in particular, reaching for the mug of coffee Katie poured me.

  “Yes,” Amber said, at the exact same time Katie said, “No.” They glanced at each other.

  “Why?” Amber asked me.

  “I think I may have done something really, really bad in another life,” I said.

  Jude chuckled. Katie frowned a little.

  Amber’s shoulders kinda dropped, but she said nothing. I knew she was tired of me feeling sorry for myself or punishing myself or whatever the fuck I’d been doing these last six months.

  “How bad?” Dylan asked. He studied me through narrowed eyes as he sipped his coffee.

  “Seriously bad,” I said. “Like murdering puppies bad.”

  “Why would you think that?” Katie asked gently.

  “’Cause I keep meeting this girl.” I sipped my coffee and twirled my finger vaguely in the air, which was maybe supposed to mimic an umbrella. “She has yellow boots. She knows about roses. I think she’s the one…”

  “I think you’re still drunk, man.” That was Jesse. I swung my gaze over to him; he was sitting right next to me. Kinda forgot he was there.

  Did I really try to kiss him last night?

  Christ.

  Why didn’t any of these assholes cut me off?

  “What one?” Amber asked.

  “Huh?” I tried to refocus on her.

  “You said she’s the one,” Amber said. “But last night you said Summer was the one.” She sipped her tea as I processed that.

  Right. Summer.

  The “one” I was celebrating my breakup from four years ago, when I had that other breakup party. The party where I threw back a shot of bourbon with Johnny O’Reilly… and then shit really fell the fuck apart.

  And fate took its weird-ass course.

  I was just kinda piecing it all together now…

  Breakup with Summer. Breakup party. Shots with Johnny.

  Danny.

  Roses in the rain.

  Was Danny the one…?

  True enough, Summer was the one, in some ways, and in the past. But maybe I didn’t clarify that part last night?

  Did I say that shit in front of Summer?

  Couldn’t even remember.

  Yup. Really should’ve stopped drinking sooner. Said stupid shit when I was drunk. Not wrong shit. Not untrue shit. Just stupid shit.

  “I meant the other one,” I said, brushing it off. “You know…” I glanced at Dylan for help. “The fuck to end all fucks.”

  “Oh,” Amber said.

  Dylan gave me a look, like Stop saying stupid shit. “Before you ask why none of us cut you off,” he said, totally reading my mind, “we did. You kept finding the booze.”

  “You had to hide it from me?”

  “We tried,” Katie said.

  “If it makes you feel any better,” Roni offered, “Janner was drunker than you.”

  “Yup,” Jude said. “You tried to kiss him, too.”

  “Lemme guess,” I muttered, glancing at him. “I tried to kiss you, too?”

  Jesse’s big-ass biker bodyguard raised an eyebrow at me. “You fuckin’ think so?”

  “I’d actually pay money to see that happen,” Jesse said.

  “As would I,” Roni flirted.

  “I’m going back to bed.” I got up, carefully.

  “You never went to bed,” Dylan pointed out.

  I punched him on the shoulder as I went and slammed my way—unsteadily—out the back door. As I stumbled down the path to my house next door, I wondered, vaguely, where the hell my shirt was.

  And who they’d be sending after me to check that I didn’t die on my way over.

  Amber. Definitely Amber.

  She’d bring one of her hippie herbal teas and make sure I didn’t throw up on myself, tuck me into bed.

  That was the thing about friends. Mine, in particular. They were annoying as shit.

  Fuck, but I was gonna miss them when they were gone.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, when I was coherent enough, I posted an online classified ad in the I Saw You section of the Georgia Straight newspaper.

  Because I’d realized something as I started sobering up and my brain actually started working again: I now knew one more thing about Danny the Dream Girl than I did before.

  One really fucking key thing.

  She was right here, in Vancouver.

  For the first time in my life—since my mom abandoned me, maybe—I actually paused to wonder if maybe it was possible that some things really were meant to be. If maybe destiny was a thing, and maybe mine didn’t actually want to fuck me over.

  Maybe I was still just that drunk.

  Maybe I was just that curious. Or unwilling
to accept that I’d fucked up this hard.

  But I wondered if maybe Danny was worth it after all.

  Worth the fucking tattoo.

  If maybe there was a reason I’d wondered about her so much after I first met her… even when things went down the way they did.

  I’d always assumed she was just a fantasy.

  You know—too good to be true.

  That I should’ve forgotten about her the second she ghosted me, even if my dick kept wanting to remember.

  Even if the fucking tattoo would never let me forget.

  But what if, just maybe, she was actually that amazing that the universe wanted me to find her again?

  My I Saw You post went up right between one from some girl who wanted to hook up with some guy she’d been too shy to talk to in a coffee shop, and one from some poor dude who had it bad for some other dude he’d met on the SkyTrain while wearing, of all things, a turtle outfit.

  Roses in the rain

  posted May 27th, 4:22pm

  You: buying roses. Me: drunk idiot who didn’t know the difference between good and bad flowers. You said you’re not who I think you are. Whoever you are, I want to see you again.

  When: May 26th Where: Chinese grocery store in Chinatown

  The location description was kinda tongue-in-cheek. Wasn’t every grocery store in Chinatown Chinese? And there had to be a hundred of them. But if she read the post, she’d know what I was talking about, right?

  Under the post was a Send Private Reply button.

  And yes, I got a few replies.

  None from her.

  I knew, because of all the people who messaged in response to the ad, not one of them could answer my screening question correctly: Where did we first meet?

  Various answers:

  At the grocery store.

  When we were buying roses!

  In Chinatown in the rain :)

  Wrong, assholes.

  What the hell was wrong with people anyway? What kind of dickwad fake-replied to a classified ad?

  “You’re just pissed at yourself because you lost her,” Dylan pointed out. The dude really was all kinds of helpful in situations like this.

  I was lying on his couch in the dark, half-watching It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia on his big screen. Couldn’t get into it. Couldn’t get into anything right now.