DOUBLE TREBLE (A TWIN ROCKSTAR ROMANCE)

by Nikki Wild

  I’d never seen so much fucking blood. Liam appeared out of nowhere, knocking Rocket to the floor and breaking the bottle in his hand as they landed. The cut on his hand was huge and while I was incredibly worried about him, I had no idea how to respond. Luckily, Ian jumped into action and took charge of the situation before I had to do anything at all. Which is good, because all I could do was stare dumbfounded at the chaos in front of me.

  The aftermath was not pretty. Blood from Liam’s hand was all over the kitchen, and Rocket’s eye was swelling quickly. Rhys put ice on it, and sat him down on a couch in the living room, while Rhone cleaned him off. He wasn’t cut at all, which meant all of the blood was Liam’s. Once we’d figured that out, my worry for Liam grew.

  I wanted to run to him, to make sure he was okay, but after his behavior this afternoon - the way he had shut me out so quickly - I knew I needed to just stay away. Ian was his family, and he would take care of him. It was not my place.

  At this point, I had no idea what my place was. I was incredibly confused. Everything was going amazing, and then in a flash, he’d changed and grown cold. At first, I thought he just needed some space, but then with every hour that passed where he wouldn’t even meet my eye, I knew something was terribly wrong. I tried to chalk it up to pre-performance nerves, but he didn’t talk to me after the show either. By the time we’d gotten to the party, I’d given up trying to figure out what to do.

  He’d have to come to me, I wasn’t going to chase him, no matter how I felt about him.

  And now he pulls this? He was like a ticking time bomb ready to go off at any moment. Rocket was the target this time, for whatever reason. Liam hadn’t given any warning, he didn’t say a word, he just attacked.

  Who would be his target next time?

  I didn’t want to stick around to find out. There were just a few more days left of the week, and then I’d be gone. Back to my quiet life. Back to my friends and my apartment in New York. Back to peace and quiet.

  After everything had calmed down in the suite, I made my way back to my room for the night and crawled into bed. I was exhausted, and even though it had all been so amazing with Liam, I was reminded of why I shied away from relationships. Who had the stamina for all this drama?

  I’d been lying there for over an hour, unable to get to sleep despite everything, when I heard a knock at the door and Liam whispering my name.

  “Catherine, are you in there? Open the door, luv. I want to talk to you.” His voice was slurred and my heart broke as I lay there quietly. It would be so easy to just open the door and pull him into my room. It would be so easy to open up my legs and pull him back into my body. It would be so easy to open my heart, and let him inside.

  But that would be like inviting a tornado into my life. If I wasn’t careful, he’d sweep me up into his lifestyle and never put me back down.

  If he was anyone else, I’d have flung open the door in a second. But he wasn’t. He was chained to this life and he’d never change. I’d never survive in this whirlwind.

  I lay there quietly, listening to him knocking with tears running down my face. It took all my strength, and I had to fight against every instinct I had, but the door stayed firmly closed between us.

  ***

  Of course, I felt like shit the next morning, and I tried to call him to check in with him. He didn’t answer his cell phone, though.

  I’d woken up with a renewed sense of purpose, vowing to finish out the tour and get the story done and be on my way. Sleeping with Liam, while absolutely mind-blowing, was a huge mistake. I was determined to classify it as research for the story and move on, in order to pretend he hadn’t gotten into my heart and under my skin.

  I’d focus on the story, and nothing else. I had an hour before we had to be downstairs and I was not looking forward to the flight to San Francisco today. It was sure to be an awkward piss-fest after last night. I was looking forward to getting through the next few days and moving on.

  But first I had a story to write.

  I picked up the phone and called Callum again. I had several questions for him and was hoping to be able to draw something out of him that would be useful for the story. Liam still hadn’t expressly asked me not to use the story about Ally. I didn’t want to, because it wasn’t a flattering story at all. But the charity was, and if I could play that part up enough, maybe I could leave out the reason for his connection to Callum.

  He answered on the third ring.

  “Callum, it’s Catherine, is this a good time?” I asked.

  “Sure, I guess so,” he replied.

  “Great. So, Liam told me a little about the charity and your involvement with it.”

  “Yeah? I’m sure he didn’t tell you everything,” he replied, to my surprise.

  “Well, if you mean Ally, he did tell me about her. I’m sorry about the loss of your sister.”

  “Thanks,” he muttered. “She was a great kid. She just went down the wrong path. Had a lot of pain in her life.”

  “Yes, I understand. Liam had nothing but wonderful things to say about her.”

  “Is that so?” he replied, and I detected a slight thread of anger in his voice.

  “Yes, I think he has a lot of regrets about that time in his life.”

  “Well he should,” he replied curtly.

  “So, I mainly wanted to talk to you about the charity. Can you give me a list of organizations you’ve donated to?”

  “Yeah, sure. I can email you a list, if you want.”

  “That would be great, thank you. And an amount donated, as well, please? I think this will be a main part of the story, and a great opportunity to show the world Liam’s charitable side.”

  “Right, uh huh,” he replied, hesitantly.

  “Do you see a lot of promising progress going on with the research organizations?”

  “I guess so. I just give them the money and then let them do their thing. I don’t like to interfere with their work too much.”

  “So, you basically just donate and sit back, waiting for a cure? I’m assuming you actively seek out new, cutting edge researchers?”

  “Yeah, we have a person who does that.”

  “Oh, okay,” I replied, wondering exactly what Callum’s actual job was other than doling out the checks. He was obviously very hands off.

  “When did the charity start?”

  “It’s been almost a year.”

  “And how much has been raised and donated?”

  “Look, I’ll email you all the info this afternoon, okay? This is too much to go into right now.”

  “Oh, sure, that’s fine,” I replied. I rattled off my email address and he ended the call quickly.

  I put the phone down, having not learned one thing from that call. Hopefully, his email would shed a little more light on the situation, or this was going to be one very short story.

  Unless I wrote about all the sex. As fun as that sound, I was sure that wouldn’t fly with the folks at Rolling Stone. To my surprise, my computer notified me five minutes later that I’d received an email from Callum.

  I opened up the attachment and my whistle echoed through my hotel room. Millions of dollars were listed, going to at least a dozen charities. I was impressed. Liam and Ian were not stingy when it came to their charity, and I was happy to see so much money being funneled into such a good cause.

  I forwarded the email to my office for verification and packed up, bracing myself for the shit storm I was about to enter for the next few hours. Hell, the next few days, actually.

  I took a deep breath, repeated my vow to just focus on the story, and headed downstairs. If I could get through the day without fucking Liam, everything would be just fine. Considering his behavior yesterday, I was feeling pretty confident about achieving that goal for the first time.

  Chapter 30

  LIAM

  Matt had to bang on the door forever to get me out of bed. Sharp pangs of brutal throbbing pain shot through my head and my hand, an
d as the memories started flooding in, I tried to turn them off. After I’d punched Rocket and fallen on the bottle, Ian had taken me to his room, and called the medic we kept on staff to stitch me up. It hadn’t hurt last night, but it was screaming this morning. Ian had allowed me to leave, after promising to go right to my room. Instead, I’d stumbled to Catherine’s room and then back to my own room when she didn’t answer.

  But I didn’t want to remember any of it. I didn’t want to see it all play out in my head over and over. I didn’t want to feel like such a fuckin’ prick, but I just was, for fuck’s sake. If everyone didn’t piss me off so much, maybe I wouldn’t have to lose my shit all the time.

  Rage raced through my veins as I showered and dressed. I tried to avoid getting the stitches wet, but it wasn’t easy, which just pissed me off even more. Rage had been my closest companion since Lennon had died and had continued throughout losing Ally and now this huge responsibility of constant touring - sometimes it’s all too much to fuckin’ handle.

  And then they push me. Over and over.

  But that was no excuse for my fuckin’ violent outbursts. I felt like shit for hitting Rocket. I hadn’t hit an actual person in a long bloody time. Fuck, if I was him, I wouldn’t put up with this shit, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he had bailed on the tour by now. Who could blame him? I have no idea why any of them stay.

  Oh, wait. Yes, I do.

  The bloody money.

  It’s always about the fuckin’ money.

  Gotta sell tickets. Gotta keep moving. Gotta sling the merch. Gotta sell the records.

  I always thought once we’d gotten this big, I wouldn’t have to worry about the money, that it would just flow in and I’d get to sail the Caribbean in my yacht or something. But it wasn’t like that. Not at all. It was a lot to take, it exhausted you, the constant traveling, and partying and then leaving every physical ounce of energy you have on the stage every night.

  For fuck’s sake. I sounded like a pussy, but whatever. That’s just how it was. I sucked it up, I did my best and I was grateful, dammit, but it was hard. The booze just made me lose it now and then.

  And now there was Catherine, who probably hated me by now, so I probably didn’t need to worry about it anyway, but I was. When she didn’t answer the door last night, I was stunned. I’d never been turned down by anyone, and my pride was taking a beating.

  Maybe that’s just what I bloody needed, though. Every fuckin’ morning I woke up and vowed not to be an asshole that day and every fuckin’ day I managed to break it.

  When I finally made my way down to the waiting crowd, I was a little surprised to see everyone there. Including Rocket. Including Catherine.

  Even so, it was just as I’d expected.

  Stony glares and icy silence. Rocket wouldn’t look my way at all, and I winced when I saw his swollen black eye. Catherine was the only one who would look at me. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled, but it didn’t make me feel any better. She looked at me with fuckin’ pity, and that was the last thing I wanted to see when she was looking at me.

  Why had I fucked everything up so much?

  “Alright, let’s go,” Ian said, and we all piled into the limo. For the first time, I wished we were in the buses today instead of flying. At least then I wouldn’t have to face their anger. Luckily, traffic was light, and the ride to the airport went quickly.

  After boarding the plane, I went right to the back to avoid everyone. It was easier this way. If I didn’t have to talk to anyone, then I couldn’t be a prick.

  To my surprise, Catherine followed me and sat down beside me.

  “Hey,” she whispered. “How’s the hand?”

  “It’s fine” I shrugged.

  “Will it interfere with your playing?”

  “No, I missed my fingers. I should be fine if I keep it covered.”

  “That’s good,” she added.

  “Yeah, I guess…” I had no idea what to say to her. I knew what I wanted to say to her. I wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell her that I really wasn’t such a fuckin’ bullheaded prick. I wanted to ask her to fuckin’ help me escape this hellish existence. But all those words were pointless. She’d still be looking at me with pity in her eyes. She’d still look at me like a fuckin’ puppy dog she felt sorry for. I didn’t want that. I wanted her to look at me like I was a fuckin’ man. The way she had yesterday, and the day before that. Before I’d fucked everything up beyond belief.

  “Can we talk? Somewhere more private?” she asked. I knew I’d confused her. I knew I’d hurt her. But I’d pulled away to save her from getting her heart broken. And yet, here she was looking at me like there was still some kind of hope for something between us.

  “Maybe later,” I said, standing up and walking back to the bedroom of the plane. I couldn’t bear looking at her. I couldn’t handle seeing what I’d done to her reflected in her eyes. I already knew what a selfish prick I was, I didn’t need to look in the mirror.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she said to my back.

  I closed the door without meeting her eyes.

  Chapter 31

  CATHERINE

  A deep sigh escaped my lips as I watched Liam close the door, shutting himself off from everyone once again. I had no idea what he was going through, but it was heavy. It hurt to see the way everyone shunned him, but I didn’t blame them. Hell, I’d only been hanging around a few days, and it was too much to take. I couldn’t imagine what they went through if he was like this all the time.

  I looked around at the others, and they were all lost in their own thoughts. Rocket was staring at his phone, Rhys and Slade were in a corner looking out the window. Ian and Rhone were snuggled up together and talking quietly. None of them had said much to me at all, and I felt like a huge outsider today. They were probably all wondering if I was going to write about last night’s antics in my story.

  Hell, I was wondering the same thing.

  At this point, I was so confused, I had no idea what to write. But our flight today was almost two hours, so I figured now was just as good a time as any to start. I pulled out my laptop, hoping the words would come.

  I checked my email before I got started, and saw there was a message from my assistant, Lydia.

  “Catherine, I’ve begun verifying the information you sent me about The Lennon Foundation’s charity contributions. I’ve called three of the recipients on the list, and the amounts aren’t matching up. According to them, The Lennon Foundation has only donated $500 to each of them, not the millions listed. It’s a large discrepancy, so I thought I’d give you a heads-up right away. I will check the rest and get back to you.”

  “Let me know right away,” I replied, staring out at the clouds we’d ascended above.

  That is so weird, I thought, there must be some mistake. I contemplated if I should tell Liam or Ian right away, but since the tension was so thick in the air you could cut in with a knife, I decided to keep my mouth shut until I knew more. Callum probably just sent me the wrong information.

  I opened a blank word document and stared at the blinking cursor. Where should I start? What words could ever be accurate enough to describe Liam? I started typing, hoping something would work.

  “Liam Mercury is abrasive, arrogant, and stubborn…”…No, that’s not right.

  “Charismatic, confident and cocky, Liam Mercury has all the characteristics of your typical rock star…” No, that’s awful, too.

  “His cock is even bigger than you’d imagine. When it slides into you, his skillful strokes will make you think you’ve died and gone to heaven…” I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I remembered the feel of Liam on top of me, moving inside of me, his magical cock putting me under its spell.

  I slammed the laptop closed. Maybe later I’d be more inspired.

  Although the thought of his cock was very inspiring, I was writing for Rolling Stone, not the Penthouse Forums.

  I looked out the window again, and let my thoughts drift away, my mi
nd and body both remembering how it’d felt to have Liam’s hands on me. I wasn’t sure what happened to make him pull away. I wasn’t sure if it would ever happen again.

  But I was sure I would never forget it.

  ***

  The show in San Francisco went off without a hitch. No violent outbursts. No changed lyrics. No surprising kisses after the show, either. Just a lot of people left loving them even more and wanting them to go on all night long.

  Just as well, I thought, as I watched Liam leave the stage and head towards his dressing room.

  Rhone and I walked together back to the dressing rooms.

  “How’s the story going?” she asked.

  “It’s not,” I replied, with a sigh. “Things kind of went awry, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Liam is a hard nut to crack,” she replied. “You got closer than most women do.”

  “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”

  “Yeah, I understand. It’s a compliment, though. I can tell he cares about you, Catherine. Maybe that’s the problem. He doesn’t usually let people under his skin.”

  “I was beginning to think he did, but his behavior the last twenty-four hours begs to differ.”

  “Hang in there. Maybe he’ll come around. He’s a moody bastard, just like his brother.”

  “How do you live like this?” I asked.

  “You get to used to it,” she replied, with a smile. “It’s not so bad. After awhile, the fights don’t faze you. They fight all the time, but they make up just as quickly. They’ve been like this all their lives. And I guess the other bandmates have gotten used to it over the years, too. Although, I’ve never seen Liam hit anyone, so that was a surprise last night.”

  “I have no idea why he did that,” I replied. “Did he tell Ian?”

  “You don’t know?” she asked.

  “No…”

  “He did it because he was jealous. He saw Rocket touch you, he was drunk, and he freaked out.”