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

by Diamond, Jaine

  So, while he wasn’t looking to take on another band, he said, he was happy to work with us.

  When something presents and it feels right, you move, he’d told us. And I’m a guy who’ll wait years to make the right move.

  Well, that was fucking true, if you knew how long he’d waited for Jessa Mayes.

  He told us that he’d need some time to figure out a team, which was fine with us. He’d also told us that we couldn’t be second fiddle to Dirty. That he wouldn’t be going on the road with us, but he wanted to make sure we’d have the representation we deserved, in the office, in the studio, on tour, wherever it was needed. That he’d want the right people on the ground with us whenever he couldn’t be.

  Already, we had a better working relationship with him than I’d ever had with my previous managers.

  He’d also had a contract written up between Summer and me. So everything was starting to feel real.

  We were officially a band now.

  Summer and I had both been in touch with Matt these last few weeks, and we’d talked more about him joining the band. He’d seemed pretty keen the more we spoke about it, and today, since we’d all be together in the same room, we’d planned to solidify things.

  We’d chosen five songs, by bands we all liked, and practiced them in advance. Even Dylan and Jesse had the songs nailed. Besides Muse, we played a song from my vortex playlist, Thirty Seconds to Mars’ “The Kill (Bury Me).” We did a song from Summer’s playlist, Highly Suspect’s “My Name is Human,” and one from Matt’s, The Killers’ “All These Things That I’ve Done.” And we even did one from Danica’s playlist, by one of her favorite bands, Panic! At the Disco’s “Golden Days.”

  Five songs that headed in the direction of what we thought we’d be creating together as a band. It was still early days, but the vision Summer and I had for the band and the music was gradually coming together.

  And today, the vibe we’d struck with Matt while we jammed together was nothing short of magical. Like I got tingles from the first few lines of the first song, and they just never went away. The energy was so good, kinda felt like we were playing a show. All we needed was a damn audience.

  It was something like what I’d always felt with Danica.

  Chemistry.

  The natural, undeniable kind you couldn’t even ignore if you tried. It was just there.

  We fit.

  We felt like a band, already.

  Definitely boded well for our potential. All we needed to do was commit to it, hone this shit into some songs of your own… and get a killer drummer and a guitarist to join us.

  The talents of Dylan and Jesse helped, of course, but Matt held his own and then some. He was in this to win. He’d slayed it on bass.

  “Can I just have you all?” I asked into my mic, and Jesse laughed. The point was to hear Matt today, but shit, we’d all sounded great together.

  Too bad Jesse Mayes and Dylan Cope weren’t exactly up for grabs. Zane would find a way to smother me in my sleep if I even tried.

  One thing playing with Jesse proved to me, though? I especially liked having a wicked-strong guitarist in the lineup besides myself. Janner was never the world’s most outstanding guitarist to begin with, and he’d never played any lead with the Pushers. In reality, I probably would’ve preferred someone who could trade up lead parts with me.

  So maybe that was what I’d just have to go out and look for, going forward.

  No more compromises.

  Which was why we needed Matt Brohmer on bass.

  I’d never really had any doubts about him as a bandmate, musically or professionally. And getting together to play with him like this only backed up what we’d hoped: that he was the right bassist for us.

  Shitty thing, then, that I’d never quite shaken that other thing.

  Maybe I’d been trying to forget about it… But being in a room with him again only made it uncomfortably obvious to me that I was never gonna forget that time Matt kissed me.

  I glanced over at him. He wasn’t looking at me. All day, he’d been nothing but professional. No awkward vibes or weird glances at all.

  But I knew he wasn’t exactly gonna forget that I’d kissed him back.

  Or that I’d turned him down.

  I looked over at Dylan as he came out from behind his drums. He gave Summer a sweaty hug, and she smiled at me over his shoulder. Then he swept Matt up in a hug. “Well done, man.”

  “I’ll step out so you guys can talk,” Jesse said, giving Matt a little fist tap on the shoulder.

  “Me too.” Dylan slapped my back as he followed Jesse offstage. Then the two of them disappeared out the front of the church.

  I took off my guitar, laid it down in its case, and turned to Matt and Summer. Of course, we’d already talked. A lot. The three of us had hung out for hours today before we’d even gone near the stage.

  Matt set down his bass. Summer was still standing behind her keys, hands on hips, as she beamed her smile at us.

  “Happy?” I asked her.

  “Very.”

  “Yeah?” Matt said. “So am I in or what?”

  “Uh, yeah, you’re in,” Summer said. She came around to perch on one of the tall stools on the stage. “As far as we’re concerned…” She looked at me for confirmation, and I nodded. “You’re already in.”

  “This isn’t really an audition, Matt,” I said. “We want you in the band.”

  “Cool.” He smiled. “And I want to be wanted, so…”

  “You’re fucking ace on that bass,” Summer said. “We already knew that. And we like your style, obviously.”

  “Summer did some serious research,” I told him. “Think we listened to every recording you’ve ever played bass on.”

  “Wow,” he said. “That’s a commitment.”

  “Yeah, we’re thorough like that,” she said. “The first thing I thought after I’d listened to all those songs, plus that playlist you made for us? ‘This dude’s a fucking deviant, for sure.’”

  Matt laughed. “Same thing I thought about your playlist,” he poked back.

  “True story,” I told him. “Those were the exact first words out of her mouth.”

  “We’re gonna crack your code, Matt Brohmer,” she told him. “I don’t buy this ‘nice guy’ act.”

  “Crack away,” he said.

  “I gotta tell you, though,” she added, “you really impressed Ash with that playlist of yours.”

  “You had me at Rob Zombie and James Brown,” I admitted.

  “Me too. Shit, that would be amazing…” Summer wandered off into her DJ brain. “Like a Rob Zombie and James Brown mashup… I’m gonna work on that.”

  “Shit, woman,” Matt said, “you had me at ‘Super Freak.’”

  “Me too,” I said.

  Summer grinned, pleased with herself.

  Matt looked at me. “And you? Judas Priest and Snoop Dogg? Yes-to-the-fuckin’-please.”

  I chuckled. “We should start a garage band and just play parties, old-school style.”

  “Seriously, Matt,” Summer said, “we’re thrilled to have you. And by the way, I expect you at my show Sunday night, before you slip back out of town. I’ll even play you some James Brown.”

  “Then I think I can swing by,” he said.

  We made it semi-official with a round of handshakes and hugs. The contract would come, too, but as far as I was concerned, the deal was sealed.

  Matty Brohmer was joining our band.

  He’d be ours, officially, when he came off tour with Dirty in ten months.

  “I hope you guys are okay with waiting,” he said. “I’d be with you today if I could. I’m looking forward to starting something new. Love Dirty, but can’t wait to get going on something that’s my own.”

  “Us, too,” Summer said.

  “We’re good with June,” I assured him. “We don’t need to rush this. Summer has a bunch of DJ gigs to play throughout this year anyway, and meanwhile, we’ll keep looking t
o complete the lineup.” We’d already filled him in on our efforts so far.

  Fruitless efforts.

  “Any movement on that?” he asked. “Xander coming around?”

  “Maybe. Slowly.”

  “He’s coming around,” Summer said. “He’s making Ash work for it, but I can respect that.”

  Matt chuckled. “Sure. As long as he’s not gonna be a prima donna on every point.”

  “He won’t be,” Summer said firmly. “I won’t allow it. There’s only room for one queen in this band.”

  I snickered.

  “I’m talking about you, Ashley Player,” she teased, and I tossed my sweaty towel at her.

  “We’ll hold out for the right fit,” I said. “No compromises. So it’ll be Xander or it’ll be someone else just as good. And I definitely want someone else on guitar. Would love a second lead, if we can get it. Someone really strong to vibe off of. We’ll see what pans out.”

  “I’ll let you know if I think of anyone,” Matt said.

  “Thanks. I’ve already tried everyone I know and respect who might be available,” I said. “No luck, though.”

  “I’m also pretty bent on the right producer for our debut album,” Summer put in. “I have high hopes.” She threw me a glance. “We can see, once we get writing, but I want to make sure we work with someone hot.”

  “Summer has ulterior motives,” I informed him. “She wants someone she can learn from. She wants to produce, in the future, and Summer doesn’t do shit halfway.”

  “As long as she doesn’t leave us in the dust too soon,” Matt said.

  “No chance. I’ll drag you right along with me to the top of the charts, kicking and screaming if I have to.” Summer smiled at him, then threw me a quick, pointed look and conspicuously got up, pulling out her phone. “I have to make a call. You guys hang out.” Then she jumped down from the stage and headed for the door.

  Subtle.

  She’d already told me, about a thousand times, that I needed to talk to Matt, face-to-face, asap, and clear the air about that drunken kiss.

  I knew she was right.

  Didn’t mean I was eager to do it.

  “It’s been an honor, DJ Summer,” he called after her.

  “Thank you, Matty!” she sang back. I watched her walk out and the heavy door close behind her.

  Then I looked at Matt, and he looked at me. And all at once, the vibe changed.

  He was definitely looking at me differently now than he had been all day, when other people were around.

  It wasn’t exactly the look, but it was… something.

  “So—”

  “So about what happened in England…” he started, kinda drifting off.

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  “Is it?”

  “Yeah. We’re cool.”

  At least, I definitely wanted us to be cool. This wasn’t exactly familiar territory for me, though. One, being attracted to someone in my band. And two, turning down a guy I was attracted to.

  But I’d definitely been attracted to people I couldn’t be with before and had to deal with it, so there was hope for me not fucking this up, right?

  “That girl I told you about?” I said. “Danica… We’re together.”

  “Right.”

  “So…”

  “I’m sorry if I—”

  “No apology necessary,” I said. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong. The whole drama of this moment just felt awkward to me; I was probably more uncomfortable about it than he was. “But you should know, Summer’s pretty serious about us all having a no-band-members-messing-around policy.”

  I had trouble holding his gaze when I said that. Maybe I felt like a dick putting it on Summer. Or Danica.

  Like it was their fault we couldn’t hook up or something.

  But I was committed to Danica.

  And Summer was definitely right about that policy. I agreed with it.

  Matt needed to agree with it too, or this just wasn’t gonna work.

  “Got it,” he said.

  I met his eyes again and nodded.

  Air cleared. More or less.

  But shit, he was cute. All beautiful boy-next-door-turned-rock-star… with those bedroom eyes of his…

  “So, how’s your girl?” he asked, tentatively. “Danica.”

  “She’s great.” I really didn’t mean to get obnoxious about it, but hearing her name always kinda did me in. I couldn’t help smiling a bit. “You’ll meet her at the wedding tomorrow.”

  “Cool.” Matt packed his bass in its case and snapped it shut, then looked at me again. “So. What’s next for our band?”

  “We let management know about the update to the lineup,” I said. “And get a contract drafted for your approval.”

  “Good day,” he mused, with a slow smile.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s a fucking great day.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Ash

  It was a great night, too.

  Our new manager was pretty drunk, but it was his bachelor party, so that was to be expected. He seemed incredibly happy when I let him know that Summer and I had invited Matt to join the band. Like happier than Brody usually ever got, in my experience. Big hugs—a bunch of them—and a big, sloppy smile.

  Brody Mason didn’t usually do sloppy.

  But hey, he was marrying the girl he’d been in love with since he was a kid, tomorrow, so he had a lot of reasons to be stupid-happy.

  The bachelor party was at Jesse’s house, and since Brody had insisted on no strippers, no topless cocktail waitresses, and generally no naked females of any kind, it was a straight-up sausage party. About three-dozen guys piled into Jesse’s living room and adjoining games room—mostly rock stars, some of Brody’s business contacts, Dirty’s security team and other assorted friends—along with a few catering dudes.

  Brody’s best friends, Jesse, Zane and Jude, had already taken him up the coast for a couple of days for some kind of four-way bro-time thing involving fishing or some other boring shit, so all there was left to do was hang out, drink, and enjoy each other’s company. We played pool, played video games, smoked cigars and weed, and generally acted like a bunch of boys let loose without wives and girlfriends to bear witness. Which meant lots of trash talk, belching and good-natured bravado.

  Felt good to have my friends back, the ones who’d been away from me so much lately.

  I hung with Dylan most of the night, because that felt good, too. Just hanging with him when Amber wasn’t around.

  I didn’t begrudge him any of the happiness he had with her. I never would. But these moments were rare and precious now, and I wasn’t gonna take them for granted.

  Definitely felt like he was happy to hang with me, too—and it was kind of a relief. Maybe I was still waiting for him to start acting differently, to look at me differently or make things awkward between us because of what I did last November.

  Because I kissed him and told him I loved him, put my heart on my sleeve and finally let him in on the truth: that I’d hoped we were gonna be a serious thing, long term… that I thought he and I could be together the way he and Amber were.

  Even though that turned out not to be the case.

  But he never did make it awkward.

  Dylan never shut me out or pushed me away, or criticized me or shamed me, or even questioned me about what the fuck I was thinking—or any of the other millions of reactions I’d feared.

  He just kept being my friend.

  The best friend I’d ever had.

  So why had I still not told him about Danica?

  He knew she existed, sure. But I really hadn’t told him anything substantial about her, or let on how serious about her I was.

  I kept telling myself that was because he was so far away. That if we were in the same place, I would’ve told him right away. That once we were in the same place again, I’d fill him in.

  But now that he was standing right in front of me in Jesse’
s games room, shooting pool, I knew that wasn’t true.

  I was avoiding telling him, because telling him about Danica and how I felt about her, how serious I was about her and what we were building together, felt like the final nail in the coffin. The shutting of the door on any possibility of a deeper relationship between Dylan and me.

  That was bullshit, of course.

  There was never any possibility of a deeper relationship between Dylan and me.

  But telling him about Danica still felt like an ending, somehow. An official ending of one dream, however far-fetched, and the official beginning of something else.

  Something I wanted bad.

  Which was why I had to grow a pair and tell him.

  He came over to me as soon as he’d finished kicking Zane’s ass at pool. Everyone kicked Zane’s ass at pool. Zane Traynor loved pool, owned his own pool table, and still sucked at it, so at least I wasn’t the only one with a failed dream.

  Zane took a water off the bar and chugged it like he’d just run a marathon. “Rematch later, Cope.” He pointed at Dylan across the room.

  “Anytime,” Dylan said with a chuckle.

  Jesse came over and handed Dylan a fresh beer. “Well played,” he said. “You know I live to see that man fail.”

  “I do my best.”

  “So,” Jesse said, “how do you think the girls are doing?”

  “I think the girls are probably shoving their hard-earned dollars into some dude’s g-string right now,” I answered.

  “Mmm, don’t think so,” Dylan said. “According to Amber, Jessa enforced the same no-strippers rule as Brody did.”

  “Yeah. That’s just what chicks tell guys so they won’t get strippers,” I informed him. “Then they turn around and sneak out to the nearest sausage factory.”

  Dylan’s mouth hung open for a beat while he considered that. “Nah. Amber couldn’t pull that off with a straight face. I’d see through it.”

  “Neither could Katie,” Jesse said.

  “Maybe.” They were right, probably; knew their women better than I did. But I liked making them wonder. I chuckled.

  Jesse tossed me a dirty look. “Your girl, Danica. She’s there, too?”