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

by Diamond, Jaine

  “Hi,” I said, breathless. I smoothed my hands over my hair, which I hadn’t brushed yet, and smiled. “Great timing. We’re totally ready.”

  Dani shut the door and smirked at me from behind his back.

  “You… uh… remember Daniella,” I said, awkwardly.

  Ashley turned to look at her, and Dani gave him a little wave. “’Sup.”

  “Hey,” he said. Then his gaze swept over her.

  She was wearing a fashionably holey T-shirt with a chick in a bikini on it, and the words Swim, Drink, Sleep, with a white miniskirt and wedge sandals that made her legs look about ten miles long, her hair all beachy-perfect waves.

  And seeing her standing there next to him? Kind of made me want to barf.

  On paper, my sister was probably the perfect match for Ashley Player.

  And I hadn’t even looked in a mirror yet today. Or brushed my teeth.

  He looked around my place. “You like flowers, I take it?”

  I did like flowers. I had fresh ones in about five different vases, and about twenty images of them, framed photos and paintings, all over my walls. He was studying one of my favorites, hung just inside the door; a print of one of Imogen Cunningham’s sensual black-and-white studies of calla lilies from the 1920s.

  “I kind of collect them,” I explained. Then I tossed my sweats and the panties I’d slept in under the bed, quickly, when he wasn’t looking. “I got my first one when I was a little girl, and then I just kept getting more…”

  “Fascinating,” my sister said.

  I tossed her a set of eye-daggers, then smiled at Ashley as he turned back to me. “If you’ll excuse me, I just need to do a super-quick hair brushing.”

  I didn’t really want to leave the two of them alone together, but I forced myself into the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth, threw on some makeup and brushed my hair in record time.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my sister. I did, of course.

  We’d both obeyed the Cardinal Rule, religiously, since adulthood. I was pretty damn sure she’d never touch what was mine, or even what she suspected I wanted to be mine.

  However. Just because she wouldn’t touch didn’t mean she couldn’t have feelings. And feelings had a way of wreaking havoc on things… Even on the most solid sister relationship.

  I would know.

  If Daniella and Ashley hit it off—like the way they seemed to the first night they met—and he decided he still liked her, I’d just have to die a little bit (or a lot)… But I’d have to bow out.

  I knew that.

  Fortunately the walls were thin, and I could hear them talking. I didn’t exactly press my ear up against the door, but I listened.

  Small talk. In fact… she was asking him if he thought it was going to rain. I happened to know that Daniella Vola hated small talk. She had a strict policy of never talking about the weather.

  Which meant only one thing. She had zero personal interest in Ashley Player, and she wanted me to know it.

  She knew I was listening.

  And now I knew for sure she had my back.

  * * *

  Did she have my back?

  With Dani, sometimes it was really hard to tell.

  It was also pretty difficult to read her intentions over brunch.

  Ashley had never eaten at my neighborhood greasy spoon, so I gave him some recommendations. He went with my favorite frittata—spinach and chorizo—and we ordered a round of drinks. Mimosas for me and Dani, beer for him.

  His bodyguard guy, Haz, who I’d met briefly after dinner the other night, hung out at a nearby table.

  Ashley had a black ball cap on. I wasn’t sure how effective a disguise that could possibly be on someone so strikingly good-looking and unicorn-level special, but hey, whatever made him comfortable. Plus, it was sexy on him.

  As we ate, I really had no way to know what he was thinking. He was on what had to be his best behavior, I supposed. He didn’t even flirt with me.

  He also didn’t seem to be doing the compare/contrast thing as he looked from me to my sister, like so many men did. Or if he was, I didn’t pick up on it.

  He listened, rather politely and patiently, to everything my sister had to say.

  And my sister had a lot to say.

  One thing was definitely made clear to him: Daniella Vola had an opinion. About everything. Including the neighborhood, the restaurant, the menu and the decor, to name a few.

  And Ashley.

  His career, specifically, which she’d obviously researched.

  It was like he was at a job interview.

  “So tell me about your band situation,” she said, as we were finishing our meals. “You guys broke up?”

  He looked at me, and I hoped he didn’t think I’d told her what he’d told me in confidence, about his new band. This was just Dani’s way. She’d taken it upon herself to dig around.

  “I didn’t tell her anything,” I blurted, just to be sure. It was the first time I’d said anything in at least five minutes.

  “Tell me what?” she asked. Or rather, demanded.

  Ashley smiled at me, kind of halfway, and looked at her again. “I’m putting together a new band.” He glanced at me after he said it, and I got the feeling he’d told her because of me. Because he trusted me, and he was extending trust to her because of me.

  I was pretty sure it wasn’t because of that drunken night they’d shared in Alaska four years ago.

  “Cool,” Dani said. “What kind of band? Musical genre? Who’s in it? When’s the album coming out? Et cetera.”

  Ashley smirked at me a little, like, Is she always this nosy?

  I raised my eyebrows and sipped my drink, like, Yep.

  “It’ll be a rock band with mixed influences,” he said, kind of vaguely. “Don’t know who’s in it yet. Et cetera.”

  “Well, make sure it’s the right lineup,” my sister said, with authority, as if she was some kind of expert in the music industry. “You need the right people, and of course, the right wardrobe.”

  “Wardrobe, huh? A lot of people would agree with you,” he said. “I’m not sure I’m one of them. I never really wanted it to be about what we wore.”

  “That’s sweet,” Dani said, “but naive. Please tell me you’ve thought this through a little more than that.”

  “Uh… Yeah. I’ve had some thoughts.” Ashley flashed me a small smile again. I just hoped my sister’s brand of directness was entertaining him instead of annoying him. Or worse, offending him. “All I know right now, though, is that it’s gonna be a supergroup.”

  “I love that,” my sister announced, like her opinion truly mattered. In her mind, it totally did. “It’s a great angle.”

  “Maybe. It’s not a guaranteed win, though. Not every group of rock stars who get together to form a band make a real success of it.”

  “Then make sure you get the right rock stars,” Dani said simply. “Fame begets fame. It’s the best multiplier. Take the right two celebrities and put them together, you make them both ten times more famous. It’s simple math.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m always right.”

  Ashley threw me another look. Definitely amused.

  I grinned a little and sipped my mimosa. The truth was, my sister amused me, too. She made me smile, she made me laugh, she made me roll my eyes. Her confidence, her quickness with words and, honestly, her sly prettiness had always charmed me. I could listen to her bullshit for hours.

  And I could see why men fell for her.

  Daniella Vola never stopped for you to catch up with her. She just expected you to keep up if you were worth her time. And if you didn’t? You’d be left by the wayside, no great loss to her.

  I was pretty sure she truly believed every word that came out of her mouth with great conviction, but I admired that about her.

  Was I uneasy about her and Ashley hitting it off? For sure.

  I wasn’t exactly sure if they were hitting it off
, though.

  He was being polite, like really polite, listening to her opinions. And she was being pretty talkative and direct, but not brutal. She could’ve really torn into him if she wanted to. She’d done that to men before. Men she didn’t think were good enough for me.

  Men she thought she could scare away.

  Which meant she either approved of this one, in her way, or she didn’t actually think she could scare him away and was just biding her time. Feeling him out, sniffing for any weaknesses.

  Absolute worst case scenario, she liked him and was simply enjoying his attention.

  Regardless… I could feel myself mentally easing back out of the way, taking a backseat to her as she talked to him.

  Just in case.

  In case… What?

  In case she changed her mind?

  In case she decided she did want him, and she was gonna claim first dibs because of the Alaska thing?

  And what if she did?

  What was I gonna do about it?

  Nothing, I supposed.

  But the more I considered that possibility and the longer I watched her talking to Ashley—practically forgetting I was at the table, as she so often did when a hot man was around… the more uncomfortable it made me feel.

  And the more I pulled back.

  Like I was preparing to pull myself right out of the running.

  * * *

  After brunch, Ashley walked us the two blocks back to my place. Daniella dominated most of that conversation, too. When we reached the door to my building, Ashley took hold of my elbow, trying to draw me aside. I stopped and just stood there next to my sister.

  He looked from me to her and back.

  “When will I see you next?” he asked me.

  “Next week,” I told him, in my pleasant-professional voice. My non-personal voice. “When the rest of your new furniture is delivered. I’ll be there to help get everything set up properly. I’ll be in touch about dates and times.”

  “Good. I hope the new bed comes in by then,” he said, never taking his eyes off mine—and turning it personal? Flirting with me…? Right in front of my sister.

  Reminding me that he’d never actually agreed to being “just friends”?

  “It will,” I said, as my whole body heated with discomfort… and something else. “Have a nice day, Ashley.”

  “You, too,” he said, just standing there, staring at me.

  I gave him a weird, awkward wave, then turned and bolted for the door.

  I could practically hear my sister’s eyes roll behind me as I worked the key into the lock. “See ya,” she told Ashley.

  I didn’t wait to hear his response.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ash

  The next night, I headed down to the Back Door. Dirty little hole in the wall rock ’n’ roll bar, about a ten minute walk from my place. The Back Door had been an institution in the local rock scene for years, since long before I was sneaking in, back in high school, to see bands.

  Xander was back in town, and I’d asked him to meet me there around nine.

  I got there right on time, but I didn’t see him when I walked in with Haz. It was a Monday night. Some local band was playing to a room that was half-full and half-interested.

  And for a moment, I felt crazy grateful to Summer for saving me from ending up there with them. Because there was a part of me that was afraid that was exactly where I was headed, no joke—until she reminded me that I was a rock star.

  Like if Dylan Cope or Zane Traynor were the north star, I’d be one of those other stars on the little dipper—the ones you can barely see but pretend you can. But still.

  A star is star.

  I wasn’t about to backslide from where I’d climbed. I’d rocked my way up here, and I wasn’t letting go so easily.

  I texted Xander and put back a beer while I watched the band. But after the manager, Snake, swung by to check on me, he told me where to find Xander.

  He was downstairs, at Misty’s—the strip club.

  Shoulda known.

  I headed through backstage with Haz and down the back stairs, emerging into the totally different vibe of Misty’s. The shiny room, the shiny girls, some dirty 2Pac song rolling through the room.

  Xander was sitting in a booth against the back wall, facing the stage but about as far from it as you could get. Didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying the show. There was a blonde kneeling on the seat next to him in shorts that were basically panties and a skimpy bra, her silicone tits inches from his face as she talked him up. Trying to sell him on a lap dance or something; he already had a drink in his hand.

  When he saw me coming, he lifted his chin. “What’re you drinking?” were the first words out of his mouth.

  “Canadian,” I told the girl.

  “I’ll send your waitress over, sweetie,” she informed me, letting me know that what she was selling wasn’t alcohol.

  “Tell her I want a Canadian,” I said as I slid into the booth.

  She gave me a fake smile and sauntered away. Haz settled in against the nearby wall.

  “How’s it going?” I asked Xander when we were alone.

  “Good. You?”

  “Never better.”

  He smiled at my sarcasm. “To what do I owe this pleasure, and all that shit.” He narrowed his eyes at me as he sipped his drink.

  “Heard you were back from the road. Tour going good?”

  “Good enough. Heading back out in about a week. Was getting pretty accustomed to the good life, though, touring with Dirty. The summer festival circuit is fun and all, but if I never see another porta potty it’ll be too fucking soon.”

  I snickered. “The four-to-five-star hotel run is over, huh?”

  “Not like I was staying in any five-star hotels to begin with, but it was fun to pretend for a while. You hear from Dylan lately?”

  “Yeah. Think he’s in France right now. I flew out to play DreamWarp last week.”

  “With the Pushers?”

  “No, man. Just joined Dirty onstage for a few songs. They invited me out. Me and Summer.”

  The waitress arrived with my beer. She set it in front of me with a smile, then pretty much raped Xander with her eyes. “You need anything, baby?”

  “You can bring me another one, sweetheart.” He lifted his half-finished drink, vodka or gin. He watched the waitress turn on her high heel and sashay away, his eyes dropping to her ass.

  Then he swung his gaze back to me. A guarded look. “So, the Pushers really broke up, huh? After your breakup party, seeing Janner there with you, kinda figured you guys might kiss and make up.”

  “Nope. We’re done.”

  “Damn. That’s rough.” His tone was sympathetic but the look in his eyes wasn’t.

  “Yeah, it’s rough. But it was time. Summer and I are looking to start up something new now.”

  “Summer? The DJ?

  “Yeah. I mean, she does more than that. She writes and sings, and she’s phenomenal on keys. We’re putting together a band.”

  He sipped his drink. “She’s your ex, though.”

  “She is.”

  “That’s ballsy. Don’t think I could ever play in a band with one of my exes.”

  “Could any of your exes tie her own shoes, much less play a musical instrument?”

  He choked out a laugh. “Jesus. And no, probably not.”

  “So,” I said, getting right to it, “I heard through the rock ’n’ roll grapevine that you might be looking to make a change.”

  His smile faded. “Who told you that? Dylan?”

  “Few people.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Dylan does nothing but sing your praises,” I assured him. “Sounds like you guys really bonded on the tour.”

  “You could say that. Dylan’s always been a good friend.” His eyes held on mine.

  I wasn’t even sure if that was a dig or what. About what kind of friend I’d been?

  I sipped my beer as the waitress drop
ped off his next drink and he checked her out again.

  “So what’s the deal with you and Steel Trap?” I asked him. “I’m a great listener, by the way.”

  Xander snickered. “What do you want to hear? That I’m unhappy with my band? That guitar hero number one and guitar hero number two write all the songs and tell me what to play and how to play and don’t let me contribute creatively and it’s hurting my feelings?”

  “Is that the truth?”

  “I’d love to be in a more collaborative situation, with other musicians who realize what I have to offer.”

  “And what if I could offer you that?”

  He laughed again. And shook his head.

  Maybe I deserved that laughter. We both knew I’d been in a position to offer him exactly that before. That he had been offered that—and I’d taken it away from him.

  He didn’t look pissed about it, exactly, but he definitely wasn’t playing his hand. I had no idea if Dylan was right; if he was seriously looking to step away from Steel Trap. His words, the look on his face, his body language… None of it told me shit.

  Maybe he was never gonna leave his band. Maybe he would, but no way in hell he’d be joining my band.

  Maybe he’d consider joining my band if I just kissed his ass enough, stroked his drummer’s ego.

  “So what’s going on between you and Summer?” he asked, totally changing the subject.

  “Absolutely nothing. Besides what I said… We’re putting together a band.”

  He just smiled like he didn’t believe it and slugged back his drink, then looked away.

  He watched the girls working the poles across the room. It was Monday and it was still early, so it’s not like the pick of the litter was up there. There were maybe a dozen guys in the room, and the half-dozen girls on the floor were really hustling for their attention. But they were definitely holding Xander’s attention.

  Either that or he just didn’t have much to say to me.

  He didn’t trust me. I was pretty sure about that. He was still annoyed about what happened between us, all those years ago. Between him and the Penny Pushers.