Rock Star Romance Ultimate: Volume 1

by Olivia Cunning, Jayne Frost, RB Hilliard, Crystal Kaswell, Michelle Mankin, Emily Snow, Athena Wright

  Instead of taking the direct route to my car, which meant walking back down the hall past the lockers and classrooms, I opted for the side door and a brisk jog across a soccer field to the parking lot. It took a lot of deep breathing, but I managed to make it all the way home before falling apart. As I sat in my mother’s driveway crying for what felt like the millionth time, I thought, screw this. I wanted, NO, I deserved to know why. In a moment of what was either stupidity or bravery, I fished my phone from my purse, scrolled straight to my text thread with Sander, and typed:

  Why didn’t you tell me about Ferris?

  To my surprise, he responded immediately: I am fixing this. I can’t go into detail right now, but just know that I’m going to make this right. Unless he was building a time machine, he couldn’t. The damage was already done, and he still hadn’t answered my question.

  Anger bubbled to the surface as I typed: I don’t need you to fix it. I need for you to answer my question.

  There’s a lot going on right now, more than I can explain in a text. I need you to trust me, he responded. Trust him? Was he kidding? My life had just been blown to hell because of him.

  Gritting my teeth, I replied: Answer my question, Sander.

  He took a moment to respond. Because I thought I had it handled. I need you to trust that I’m going to make this right, he responded for the second time. Didn’t he get it? He couldn’t make it right!

  I lost my job today, because of this. I’m being called horrible names all over social media, because of THIS! Yes, I’d resorted into using shouty caps.

  We both know you aren’t meant to be a teacher, he shot back. You’re a star, Wynne, and I’m going to prove it to you. I just need you to trust me. His words gutted me. As much as I wanted to trust in him, I couldn’t. This wasn’t my career on the line anymore, it was my heart. I was no longer the naïve little contestant waiting for the big bad rock star to come and rescue her. I knew what I had to do. I had to rescue myself.

  My fingers hovered over the keys, as if begging me not to. I was hurt beyond words and so damn angry. Love wasn’t a factor for Sander because it didn’t exist for him. It never had and we both knew this. The knowledge that this so-called relationship was one-sided made me want to lash out, to do something reckless. The thought that I didn’t matter to him when he mattered so much to me . . .

  Dropping my fingers to the keypad, I typed, That’s just it, I don’t trust you. I don’t trust anyone. There’s nothing left to fix. There’s nothing left at all. Good luck with season two. Before he could respond, I scrolled to the top of the thread and pressed the information icon next to his name. When his contact information appeared on the screen, I quickly scrolled to the bottom of the page and pressed Block This Caller. In a fit of anger, I tossed my phone onto the passenger’s seat and burst into tears.

  The next three days were filled with crazy ups and extreme downs. One minute I was okay and the next I was in tears. Carrie thought I’d made the right move, but I wasn’t so sure. I could tell that my mother disapproved, but I couldn’t bring myself to unblock him. Both of them were furious with Bruce and thought I should ask to speak to the school board. The thing was . . . I didn’t want to. Somewhere along the way I’d outgrown that life. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but I knew in my heart of hearts that teaching was no longer it.

  Thursday night, while Mom was at the movies with Walter, Carrie and I tied one on. We talked about the social media shit storm, which hadn’t calmed in the least bit, and I eventually told her everything. I’m talking ev-ery-thing. I wanted her to understand why I was having such a hard time moving past it. That, and as Walter would say, I was drunker than Cooter Brown. Carrie kept pushing the thing with Kazen, who thanks to Mom, I now thought of as Craisin, and by the end of the night, she got me to agree to play at Percussion. She also got me to play guitar while we sang songs at the top of our lungs.

  The very next morning, two things happened: Sander James made a formal statement declaring that he would not be returning to Million Dollar Musician for a second season and I received an email from Happenstance, one of the most sought-after labels in the music industry. They wanted to talk to me about my music and the possibility of signing me to their label. By the end of the day, three more labels had reached out to me, all wanting to discuss my music and a possible contract. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry, so I did both.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  * * *

  “WHEN I COME AROUND”

  Sander

  Years ago, right when Indigo Road was beginning to climb the charts, I met a woman. Her name was Olivia Marshall. She was our road manager, and for a brief period of time, she was my everything.

  When the band hit it big and we started to sell out stadiums and arenas, the pressure was on. We went from barely being able to pay our bar tabs each night to making a fuck pile of money. With success came responsibilities. I knew nothing about being responsible. None of us did. In a matter of months, the pressure shot from manageable to unbearable. Each show had to top the previous one. We were doing crazy shit on stage, shit that could have easily landed us in the hospital. I was in a constant state of physical exhaustion and pushing myself to the point that my voice began to suffer. This was the turning point; when the drug use shifted from recreational to vocational. Getting fucked up was no longer just for fun. It was my number one coping mechanism. Instead of slowing down, we pushed harder. Being in the top one hundred wasn’t good enough. We wanted it all. We wanted number one. My obsession to obtain this ate at me. It was all I could think about. It was all I could focus on. I began to make poor choices, to make mistakes. The worst of these, was Gio.

  I met Gio Rizzini in my early twenties. At the time, I was singing for a band called Dirty Bad. About three months in, our drummer decided he wanted to go to college. At his suggestion, we took on his buddy, Gio. Over the next year, the two of us became tight. When Dirty Bad split up, Gio and I decided to form Indigo Road. I knew he had a thing for me, but I chose not to capitalize on it. That is, until I discovered cocaine. With just a few lines, I went from being a mediocre singer to a damn good front man. I was able to shed all of my worries, set the pressure aside, and just fucking sing. With a few more lines, I became invincible, an animal on stage.

  The high was unbeatable, but the comedown caused some pretty wicked side-effects. First, I would rage. Anyone near me was fair game. Fuck knows how many hotel rooms I destroyed. After the rage came what I call “permacock.” Nothing screams “needs help” louder than wanting to beat the shit out of someone while getting sucked off at the same time. Normally, I could offset the anger by fucking my way through a few groupies, but on the nights the groupies were scarce, there was Gio. We fought, we fucked, he loved me, and I used him—in that exact order. The more I let it happen, the worse I felt about myself. The worse I felt, the angrier I became. It was vicious, out of control . . . until Olivia stepped in and broke the cycle.

  Olivia didn’t stop the madness entirely, but she made it better. When I was with her, I felt good about myself. It was as if she saw through the man I was trying to be and simply loved the man that I was. I fell hard. We both did. She made me see life in a different light, a healthier way. Because of her, I felt something I’d never felt before; I felt complete. Her love gave me a sense of balance. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. The stress slowly began to creep back in. With Meltdown in the picture, the pressure to succeed was greater than ever. I started using again. And again, Gio was there. Gio was always fucking there. In my mind it wasn’t cheating. I was doing Olivia a favor. She didn’t need to see me like that. She wouldn’t understand. I was right. She didn’t understand.

  The day she disappeared from my life, our manager, Frank, gave me some bullshit story about how she wanted out. Of course, Gio backed it. Her desertion left me at a complete loss. I tried to contact her, but she wouldn’t respond. I even flew across country, rented a car, and drove to her house. Her parents threatened to call the
police if I didn’t leave. I begged them for answers, but they weren’t talking. No one was. I thought she left because she found out about the drugs. It took me two stints in rehab and a mini tour with Meltdown before the truth finally came out. Gio set it up so she would find us together. Why? Because he was a jealous, self-serving prick. Olivia turned to Frank, and instead of fixing the situation, he had her sign a non-disclosure agreement before letting her walk away. What Gio and Frank knew but didn’t tell me, was that she was pregnant. Gio wanted her out because he wanted me all to himself, and Frank wanted her gone because he knew I would choose both her and my child over Indigo Road. He was right.

  In the end, we all lost. Olivia lost the baby. Gio lost me. Frank lost his job, and the band split up. I got what I deserved, but at what cost? Because of me, Olivia lost everything. I’d loved her to the best of my ability, which I now knew didn’t amount to very much. I knew this because of my feelings for Wynne. Olivia was a light in a time of darkness, but Wynne, Wynne was the entire sun. She lit up my world, filling me layer by layer with her warmth. I missed her smile and the sound of her laughter. I missed the way I felt when I was with her. I just plain missed her. I may not have been able to change what happened with Olivia, but I sure as hell could with Wynne, or at least I could try.

  Ironically, the only person I trusted to help me now was the one whose life I’d ruined. Olivia had forgiven me, but that didn’t mean she would be willing to grant me any favors, especially when that favor concerned her fiancé, Chaz Jones. Chaz was Meltdown’s drummer and part owner of the record label, Happenstance. He was also a fucking dick.

  The phone rang three times before Olivia picked up. “You’ve got Olivia,” she said in a sing-song voice. A voice that still made me want to smile.

  “Hello, Olivia, it’s Sander.” Please don’t hang up, I thought.

  “Well what do you know? Chaz and I were just talking about you. Is your head itching, or is it ears ringing? Maybe it’s ears itching?” Chaz said something in the background and she laughed. “Chaz says it’s ass itching, but I know that’s not it.” She didn’t wait for me to answer, which was good because I had no fucking clue what she was talking about. “Man-oh-man have you got the whole industry in an uproar right now. I mean, seriously! One minute you’re telling the world that you’re a giant swinging you-know-what and can do what you want, when you want, and the next you up and quit the biggest show on network television. Are you high?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “For once, I can honestly answer no to that question.”

  “Then what gives?” she shot back at me.

  I decided to come right out and say it. “I’m in a bind and need a favor.”

  “Are we talking you-got-a-girl-pregnant kind of bind?”

  “Or is it a dick-in-the-ass kind of bind?” Chaz shouted over her. Olivia tried to shush him, but it was too late.

  “You know what? This is a bad idea. I’m sorry—”

  She cut me off. “Ignore him and tell me what happened.” I wasn’t planning on telling her the full story, but once I got started, I couldn’t seem to stop. I told her how Wynne and I had gotten involved, about Ferris’s blackmail stunt and how I’d called his bluff, and about the recording, which she already knew about. I then went on to tell what happened with Jayne and Greg.

  When I was done, and Chaz muttered, “That’s fucked up,” I realized that Olivia had me on speaker. Fucking hell.

  “Is Wynne with you now?” she asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  “She dumped him,” Chaz stated in his usual dickish tone of voice.

  “Let’s just say that Wynne is less than thrilled with me right now, which is why I’m calling you. If not for me, she would have won. If you watched the show then you know she’s beyond talented. She needs to be in a place that allows her the freedom to grow as an artist. Happenstance would be a perfect fit.”

  “I won’t deny that she’s talented, but we’re looking for bands, not single artists,” Chaz chimed in. Shit, I hadn’t considered that.

  “We both know she’s going to make whoever signs her a fuck load of money,” I reasoned.

  “She just got cheated out of a million dollars and a contract, bro. I’m not about to offer her anywhere near that amount, so there’s really no point in discussing it any further.” Could the guy be any more of an ass clown?

  It took a minute for me to unhinge my jaw, and ask, “What are you willing to offer?”

  “No more than two hundred k.” The fucker knew she was worth way more than that.

  “How about six hundred?” I challenged.

  “Are you crazy? We’re not paying her six hundred thousand dollars, Sander,” Olivia interjected.

  “Not even if I provide four hundred thousand of it?”

  “You’d do that?” Her shocked tone made me smile.

  “In case you haven’t realized it, I kind of like her.” It felt good to finally admit it, as if a huge weight had been lifted.

  “Pussy whipped sounds more like it.” Chaz’s comment was followed by what sounded like a hand smacking against flesh. “Not the nuts!” he exclaimed through a bout of laughter. I jerked the phone from my ear when Olivia started shrieking, and didn’t return it until the line fell silent.

  “Hello?” I asked, thinking they’d hung up on me.

  “Olivia is taking a moment to reflect on her actions,” Chaz explained.

  “No, I’m not! He’s sitting on me!” she shouted over him.

  Ignoring her outburst, he continued to talk. “Okay, Sander, let’s say you pony up four hundred thousand dollars. What then? I assume you’ll want a finder’s fee. If you’re her manager, you’ll want more, correct?” I started to answer that I was neither, but stopped short of saying the words. As her manager, I would have access to her. Face-to-face contact on a regular basis. You can’t block or ignore what’s standing right in front of you, can you? As her manager, she would have no choice but to deal with me. Chaz didn’t get it. This wasn’t about money for me. Of course, I didn’t tell him this.

  “What if we make a deal?” I asked.

  “I’m listening.” I couldn’t tell if he was really interested, or if he was just playing me.

  “Hey! I’m the one he’s supposed to be negotiating with,” Olivia grumbled.

  “What kind of deal?” Chaz repeated.

  “If you can get Wynne to sign with Happenstance, I’ll pay the four hundred thousand, but she can never know the money came from me. Also, I’ll not take a penny from the company until she releases her first album.”

  “What’s the catch?” Chaz may be a dick, but he was a smart dick.

  “I want her to sign the contract without knowing that I’m her manager.”

  “What?” Olivia shrieked. “How in the hell are we supposed to accomplish that?”

  “Fine, but I want something in return,” Chaz shot back at me. Shit, I knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Chaz!” Olivia shouted.

  “Name it,” I said.

  “I want you to find us two bands worth signing to the label. You’ll have a year to do this. If you fail, I tell Wynne everything.”

  “Okay. And if I succeed?”

  “I’ll pay you back the four hundred thousand and let you manage all three.”

  “Does it have to be bands or can it be single artists?”

  “It can be either, but they have to be good—we’re talking Wynne Benfield good.”

  “In case you haven’t forgotten, Happenstance has three other owners besides you,” Olivia grumpily informed him.

  “No one in their right mind would turn this down, O,” he countered.

  “I hate you both right now,” she muttered, and I couldn’t help but laugh. She knew she’d been beaten.

  “Do we have a deal?” Chaz asked.

  “What if she refuses?”

  “Leave it to us to see that she doesn’t.” I wasn’t planning on forging a new career path, but something about
the idea of finding and helping to meld new talent interested me. Then again, the knowledge that this could very easily backfire on me, made me hesitate. Was I making a huge mistake?

  “Do we have a deal?” he repeated. It wouldn’t be the first mistake I’d made, and it was damn sure not going to be the last.

  “We’ve got a deal.”

  “Great, Olivia will get it in writing and send you the contract to sign by tomorrow.”

  “Super! I’m so glad you two could work this out,” Olivia dryly commented. “Just so you know, I reached out to Wynne yesterday on behalf of Happenstance. She’s listed to play at Percussion in Palm Beach this coming Saturday and we’re meeting up after for a beer.” A red-hot spike of jealousy rushed through me. I should be the one going to Florida, not Olivia.

  “See? We’re already on it,” Chaz commented.

  Chaz still had to run the details by the other three members of the band, but he assured me it wasn’t going to be an issue. Once the contract was signed and back in their hands, they would move forward with Florida and Wynne. In the meantime, I was going to have a chat with my attorney. It was time that Ferris got what was coming to him . . . .

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  * * *

  “LET ME GO”

  Wynne

  Sander’s abrupt exit from Million Dollar Musician was a shock, not just to me, but to the entire nation. Fans wanted to know why. They weren’t the only ones. Within minutes of the announcement, my phone started ringing. By that night, Paparazzi were camped on the street outside our house. Reporters were on the hunt for answers, but XtBS wasn’t talking. Sander also wasn’t talking, which left everyone speculating. Guess who was right smack in the middle of it all? Yours truly. It was only a matter of time before they discovered the truth. And then what?