The Complete Rockstar Series

by Heather C. Leigh

  “Rachel wanted you to know that there’s a mandatory appearance tonight after the show at a club ten minutes from here.”

  “Kind of late notice, don’t you think?” Adam growls from where he’s slumped on one of the plush recliners backstage at the United Center in Chicago.

  Rachel is in charge of promotions for the band, appearances, media events, interviews… all the crap that comes with celebrity. I continue ignoring Lila as she argues with Adam, thankful for the stupid bastard. I’m lucky to have him running interference for me.

  After a minute of everyone ignoring her, she huffs in annoyance. “You have to be there. That’s all I can say. You don’t like it, take it up with Rachel.” I can hear the impatience in her voice, waiting for me to acknowledge her. When I don’t, she huffs again and stomps out the door.

  I wait until I hear the door slam shut before I speak to Adam. “You got her to leave you fucking brilliant bastard!” We burst out laughing, so overcome with hilarity at Lila’s fury that even Gavin and Hawke join in the fun. Suddenly it feels like we’re back in the U.K. hanging in a dark, dusty basement, just a bunch of kids with a dream.

  “I gotta look out for my best mate,” Adam quips.

  We exchange a look and I know that in his own way, he’s thanking me for being there after the whole Ellie thing happened and he fell to pieces. I nod, smiling before returning to my guitar.

  The concert is a blast and after a quick check-in with Kate, we’re whisked away in a massive SUV to a party at some club called Whipped.

  “Ever been to Chicago before?” Lila asks everyone while she directs her unwavering gaze at me—well, at my crotch.

  “Can’t say I have,” Adam answers, once again playing defense for me.

  Lila purses her lips, annoyed by Adam as usual.

  “I have,” Gavin quips. A quick glance shows the bass player hiding his mouth with his hand. Even though it’s dark in here, I can still see him squelching a laugh.

  Bloody arseholes. They think Lila’s obsession with me is so fucking hilarious. Adam doesn’t, but Gavin and Hawke… they have a laugh at my expense whenever they can.

  “Here we are!” Lila chirps in that damn screechy voice.

  One look out the window and I’m flabbergasted. Paparazzi line the sidewalk in front of the club, swarming the car as we pull up. I am not ready for this.

  “What the fuck, Lila!” I snap.

  “Daxey, you’re a star now. This is how it is.” She flutters her eyelashes and acts all innocent, but I know her. There’s evil shining in those soulless eyes of hers. Something isn’t right with this situation.

  “C’mon Dax.” Adam tugs at my arm, pulling me back in my seat. I hadn’t realized how close I had gotten to Lila, snarling right in her face.

  Jesus. I have got to control my temper around this girl. I find it so easy to fall back on dad’s rules around everyone but Lila and Kate. Breaking them for good reasons… and bad reasons.

  “Fine.” I unclench my hand and breathe deep, returning to my icy exterior. Adam looks at me oddly. “I’m fine,” I snarl. “Let’s go.”

  “You look like you’re going to pop a blood vessel,” he mutters.

  Lila grins. “Your fans await boys!”

  The driver hops out and opens the door, holding back the paparazzi as he helps Lila down to the walkway. The rest of us pile out behind her, Adam, Gavin, and Hawke smiling and chatting with the fans who line the sidewalk in front of the club.

  Me? I remain unapproachable. I’ve been bottling it up for so long, it’s second nature. I’m not about to let these parasites see me lose it.

  Lila trips and I smack into her back, grabbing her arm to keep from flat out knocking her arse over tit in front of the media.

  “Thanks Daxey.” She grins like I hung the moon and I have to refrain from rolling my eyes.

  “Let’s get inside, okay?”

  “Sure thing, Daxey.” She pats my chest with her free arm.

  Fuck it. The second we get past the cameras, I roll my eyes and damned if it doesn’t feel great.

  Kate

  “Shannon, can you grab my gloves?”

  My teammate slams the locker next to mine, tossing a pair of thick gloves over my head to Bridget, our keeper.

  The locker room is in complete chaos as I lace up my own shoes and pull my socks over my shin guards. Quickly, I whip my hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of my face. Today’s game is pivotal. We’re playing Oregon, one of our biggest rivals, and it’s our first conference game this year.

  “Kate! Get your butt out here!”

  Whoops! Coach’s angry shout from the locker room door has me moving. I must have been lost in thought longer than I realized.

  “Sorry Coach Russo.” I jog past him to join the team at the entrance to the pitch.

  “As long as your head’s in the game out there,” he points towards the stadium, “I don’t care what you do otherwise. You ready?”

  I nod.

  “Alright ladies! Let’s get out there and kick some ass!”

  Amid the hollers and cheers of my teammates and the fans, we run out onto the pitch. After the preliminaries, everyone gets into place. I inhale the scent of fresh cut grass, loving the cool breeze, the clapping from the stands… everything about this game. With Dax gone and my parents far away, this is what keeps me grounded. I’d be lost without the sport I love.

  I catch the sight of Mateo and some of the other men’s footy players in the stands. They’re standing up cheering for us. We support each other when we can, the men’s and women’s teams. When we can, a bunch of us girls go to their matches. Football doesn’t get the same massive crowds that the American gridiron team pulls in.

  The referee blows her whistle, I tense up for the drop, and the game begins.

  * * *

  “Get up!”

  My head is so groggy with sleep it takes me a minute to realize that Abby is in my bedroom.

  “Go away!” I pull the covers over my head to block out the bright morning sun.

  “Kate. Get up.”

  The impatience in my flatmate’s voice is obvious, but I’m shattered. “Abby. I’ve had a late night. We went to a frat party to celebrate after our win and I didn’t get home until three. I’m having a lie-in, so sod off.”

  Of course, the men’s footy team joined us at the party, since some of them are members of the frat. I chatted with blokes when appropriate and got a few lustful stares from several of them. They left me alone for the most part. I must have been giving off unapproachable vibes or something.

  One or two of my teammates were caught snogging a few of the blokes in different back corners of the frat house. That’s par for the course at university. Especially around a bunch of horny athletes.

  My duvet is suddenly ripped off of the bed, exposing me to both the chill of the room and the ever-present L.A. sun.

  “Christ, Abby! What the hell is it?” I snap, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

  “This! That’s what!” A magazine lands on my lap, the pages fanning open.

  “So? What is it? A gossip mag?” I glance at the cover. Hmmm, that Andrew Forrester bloke from that new movie. I run my finger down hi picture. “He’s quite the hottie, yeah?” Frowning, I feel as if he looks familiar, but can’t remember where I’ve seen him before.

  Abby huffs. “Not him.” She flicks the pages to one that is folded down and stabs at a picture with her finger. “Right here.”

  My brain hasn’t woken up yet, so I process the information slowly. But once I figure out exactly what I’m looking at, I’m most definitely awake.

  “What in the bloody fucking hell is this?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” Abby says. She flops down on my bed next to me, waiting for me to say something.

  My mouth opens and closes like a fish, unable to come up with anything more than a few creative curses. “I knew it! That stupid cow and that lying, cheating bastard!”

  “You don’t kn
ow that he’s cheating, Kate. It’s only a picture.”

  I stare at Abby in disbelief. “You’re the one who brought me the sodding magazine, Abby! It’s right here in print, plain as day!”

  On the “Who’s Out and About” page of CelebWeekly is a large color photo of Dax and Lila, looking quite cozy at a dance club in Chicago where they went to a party a few days ago. Dax’s usual icy expression is gone, and in its place is someone who is laughing and smiling and having a fantastic time.

  Lila, the whore, is wearing the skimpiest white dress I’ve ever laid eyes on and has her arm threaded through Dax’s elbow, her pouty face looking right at the camera.

  Abby reads the caption out loud. “Lila Griffin, gorgeous socialite daughter of Sebastian Griffin, Hollywood mogul and producer for Sphere of Irony’s first album, is seen out on the town with Dax Davies, lead guitarist for the band. The couple has been spotted together on various stops along the band’s U.S. tour with U2, which kicked off last month in New York City.”

  One photo. Two sentences. That’s how little it took to rip away every shred of confidence I had built over the last five months with Dax.

  52

  Dax

  “I’m not kidding, Liam. There’s a fucking international cunt circus following around us all the time now.”

  My brother’s chuckle comes through the phone, reminding me of home and family. I never thought I’d miss them, but I do—even Shaun, the mean bastard.

  “Gotta be fun though, touring with such a popular band. The crowds must be amazing!”

  “It is amazing, Liam. It’s unreal. Like every night is the biggest fight of your life, on a stage in front of the entire world. It’s such a fucking rush.” I catch myself, holding back on the gushing. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to prattle on.”

  “Dax, I’m not dad. You can be excited, yeah? Don’t hide your feelings. It’s not healthy. The old goat was wrong about a lot of stuff.”

  I sigh, knowing Liam is right. “I know. It’s just hard to change, you know? I—fuck, I hate talking about this shit.” Cringing, I rub a hand over my scruffy chin. Randomly, I think about how I’ll have to shave before tonight’s show. “All those rules he forced on us, my mind and body react automatically. I can’t help it.”

  “You mean shutting down into an emotionally stunted ape? Or do you mean getting a stiffy whenever you’re about to do something huge? Like going on stage, maybe?”

  My mouth hangs open. “How did you know? Do you—?”

  “No. Not me. Shaun. It happens to him all the time. Although, he really is an emotionally stunted ape,” Liam jokes.

  A knock on my hotel room door interrupts our laughing. “Look, I gotta go.”

  “Anytime, Dax.”

  “Give my love to mum. Cheers.”

  I open the door to a, thankfully, sober Adam. He pushes past me and flops down on my sofa.

  “Why don’t you just make yourself at home?” I quip.

  “Heard from Kate?”

  “Huh?” I narrow my eyes. “Why are you asking about Kate?”

  When Adam’s face turns bright red, I know I’m not going to like the answer.

  “Adam—” I say threateningly.

  “Here mate. Don’t get all puffed up. We know it’s bollocks. But, ummmm—”

  He tosses me a magazine, which I snatch mid-air. “What’s this?” I growl, not sure I like whatever is going on here.

  “Fuck, just remember mate… like I said, it’s complete crap.”

  I open the magazine to where it’s been folded back and skim the page. What. The. Fuck.

  My first instinct is to punch the hell out of something… anything, whatever will make the sharp pain in my chest go away. Adam must notice, because he jumps up from his seat and guides me to a chair, pushing me back into it.

  “Don’t fuck up your hand, Dax. Not over this. It’s not worth it.”

  “Not worth it?” I snarl, staring up at him. “Kate’s gonna—” I suck in a sharp breath, “She’s gonna see this and think. Oh no. Fuck no. That bitch isn’t doing this to me again. Bloody Lila Griffin!”

  Leaping to my feet, I shove him out of the way and head for the door.

  “Dax! Don’t!” he calls out. Adam grabs my arm and I instinctually swing, grazing his chin with the edge of my fist.

  He stumbles back, stunned, while I stand there horrified.

  “Jesus, mate. I’m sorry.” The blinding rage takes a backseat to the fact that I just punched my best mate.

  “No worries.” Adam rubs his jaw. “Huh. Honestly, I always wondered what it was like to fight you. I thought you’d hit much harder than that, actually.”

  I’m shocked into silence for a moment, then burst out laughing. “If I had actually hit you, like full-on for real hit you, you’d have a broken jaw, mate.”

  “No doubt. No doubt,” he chuckles. “So. Let’s go grab a cold one before we have to be at the arena, like the good old days.”

  My eyebrows fly up. “The good old days? We’re only twenty. Do we even have good old days yet?”

  “Yeah. We do. Feels much older sometimes, doesn’t it?”

  I take a good look at Adam, a man I’ve known for most of my life. He’s right. He does seem older, worn down by life and its never-ending bullshit. The booze doesn’t do him any favors either. Yet despite all that, his public persona is captivating. People fucking love him.

  “Yeah, sometimes it does,” I admit. Growing up in Hackney won’t keep you youthful looking, that’s for damn sure. “Fine.” I chuck the magazine on the sofa. “Let’s go. But I’m not going to forget what Lila’s done.”

  Adam puts his arm around my shoulders and gives me a brotherly squeeze. Grinning, he opens the door, waiting for me to grab my wallet. “That’s all bullshit, Dax. We’re fucking rock stars, mate. Let’s go live like it!”

  I glance over at the magazine and realize I’m too tired and too angry to deal with it right now. Maybe Adam is right. I need to loosen up.

  “Let’s go. Lead the way, Mr. Reynolds.”

  * * *

  Why I thought doing anything Adam suggested would be a good idea, I have no bloody clue. The bloke is a walking disaster of epic proportions. Yeah he’s great and brilliant musician, but Adam’s judgment, especially post-Ellie, is total crap.

  One thing I have to credit him with, he knows how to have a good time. We ducked out of the hotel without telling anyone and asked the cabbie to bring us to the nearest college bar. Women and alcohol are Adam’s answer to everything.

  “That’s sooooo interesting,” a too-skinny redhead says, brushing her tits up against my arm as I try to scoot away on my barstool.

  “Right, Dax. Sooooo interesting, isn’t it?” Adam copies with a smirk. He’s lucky we’re in public, or I’d smack that look right off his face. Okay, so I wouldn’t. He is my best mate, after all.

  “What’s it like living in Seattle?” Adam asks a gorgeous blonde that has made herself quite comfortable on his lap. Huh, I guess we’re in Seattle. It gets confusing after a while. Too many cities. Even on a piss up Adam always knows where we are. It’s a talent.

  “It’s not as fun as it must be in London,” she squeals. “Oh! Have you met Prince Harry?”

  The redhead chirps in. “Yeah, he’s hot!”

  “Ummmm, no. I haven’t,” Adam says, hiding his impending laughter behind his pint glass, his shoulders shaking in amusement.

  These girls are idiots. Pretty to look at, but dumb as doornails. Perfect for a quick shag or suck in the loo. I blink hard, wondering why that though popped into my head. I have Kate. Smart, kind, brilliant Kate. I won’t ruin what we have for a nameless shag, no matter how hard my dick is right now.

  “Dax, right?” the redhead asks, throwing her arms around my neck.

  “Right.” I motion to the bartender who comes over straight away. “Can I have another pint?”

  The dark lager slides across the bar into my waiting hand. I need it if I’m expected to deal with Red here
grinding on me and no relief anywhere in my near future.

  “You’re hot,” she says, dragging her painted fingernail down my pecs.

  “Thanks,” I say blandly, keeping my ever-present composure up while my cock hardens in my briefs.

  “Be right back, mate,” Adam says cheerfully, pulling the blonde towards the back of the bar. Fucker. The thought of him getting sucked off while I sit here drinking is depressing. And it makes my cock even harder from frustration.

  Luckily, I’m an expert in self-denial. After years of having my urges controlled by my dad’s schedule, I know how to go without sex for extended periods of time. Six weeks is rough, but I can do it. I have to do it. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Kate.

  * * *

  “Chop chop boys!” Lila’s grating voice burrows right under my skin and starts crawling around like an army of ants.

  I yank up my trousers, spinning around to see her smirking.

  “Fucking hell, Lila! I’ve told you to bloody knock on the fucking door before coming in.” I am so sick to death of her shit. Because I won’t speak to her most of the time, she’s taken to trying to catch me naked or semi-naked before or after shows while I’m changing.

  “Sorry, Daxey,” she pouts, her eyes shining with lust and her skin flushed pink.

  “Lila, get out!” Adam takes her shoulders and spins her towards the door.

  “No. Wait!” I walk over and put myself between Lila and the exit, giving her my best angry scowl.

  “Need something, Daxey? You know what I can give you,” she purrs, sliding closer.

  I hold a hand out to keep her from advancing. Over her shoulder I see Adam’s eyes widen. He knows me well enough to predict what’s about to go down, and he knows it isn’t going to be pretty.

  “Gavin, hand me the magazine.” My hard gaze never leaves Lila’s. She shifts uncomfortably, the dents in her armor showing.

  “Here you are,” Gavin says gleefully, smacking the rolled up magazine into my outstretched hand.