Hidden in the Stars (Falling Stars #2)

by Sadie Grubor

  "But she's way too skinny," I continue. "Now, Liza, that girl has got an ass you can hold onto." To accentuate my point, I bring my hands up and curl them.

  "And food. Hopefully, it will sober you up." Julia leaves me holding the invisible ass of the woman who's turned me from being the guy cheated on to the other guy.

  Way to bring me full fucking circle, snake charmer. Bravo.

  Liza

  "Okay," Sid clears her throat, "just to recap, Thom sold the club to a member of Corrosive Velocity. The one who looks like a shorter, flesh tone, inked hulk. Not the tatted lumbersexual."

  Gotta appreciate the way Sid breaks it down.

  "You met Hulktoo and Jackson Shaw, agreed to breakfast with the latter, but ended up being the grand slam breakfast to his Denny's."

  "Do you really have to call it—?"

  "Don't interrupt. I'm not finished," she scolds. "By the way, I am so getting more details than you gave me, but for now, let's continue. Then, Tall, Tatted, and Talented acts like an asshole in front of Kel and Lucas. Right?"

  "Yes," I breathe out, heat warming my chest.

  "First, you're a dirty, dirty, whore, Eliza Mae Campbell." Sid's laughter takes the sting out of the insult.

  "Sid! Focus!"

  "Sorry, sorry." She sighs wistfully. "Is he tattooed all over? I gotta know, does his pen have ink, Liza?"

  "Really?" Annoyance drips from my question.

  "Fine," she grumbles. "Let's be all serious and suck the fun out of me vicariously living through your sex life."

  "Great, let's do that." I nod, though she can't see it.

  "Okay, what's your biggest concern right now? Kel knowing you were playing hide the celebrity salami or Lucas being there this morning? 'Cause I think he only witnessed some guy being a douchebag to his mother."

  "Kel doesn't think he really knows what's going on," I confirm.

  "Alright. Well, Kel seems to be acting like a grown up about this and I don't think he really has a say in your sex life."

  "I know. I'm so embarrassed for him." I cover half my face with my hand.

  "So, what is it then? Is it Jackson's girlfriend or that you don't know why he showed up the next morning?"

  I drop my hand, planting it in the worn couch cushion.

  "What?" I choke out the question.

  "You said you don't know why he—”

  "No, not that. The girlfriend thing. I thought he split up with his girlfriend?"

  "Hmm, maybe. Is that what he said?" The familiar click of Sid's keyboard comes through the phone.

  "He didn't say anything." I raise my voice. "But I saw they split a few months back all over the magazine stands. It was like a national tragedy."

  "Oh, that was Laney. They've been broken up for a while."

  I relax and breathe deeply.

  "I'm talking about the model."

  "He has a girlfriend." It's not a question.

  "The internet talks about some conflicts, but I don't see anything officially breaking them up."

  "Oh my God." Face meet palm once more.

  "Hey, listen, that doesn't mean they are together. Shit happens and the media doesn't know. Maybe it just hasn't hit the news yet."

  "Oh my God."

  "Don't start hyperventilating. I'm not there to smack you out of it."

  "I'm an idiot." Groaning, I slouch back into the cushions.

  "Well, yeah, but…"

  "But?" I press. "But what, Sid?"

  "Does his pen have ink?"

  Chapter Eight

  Jackson

  "Jackson." The rattle of the door handle accompanies my name.

  Ha-ha, I locked that shit last night. I don't need any more Kristy visits.

  "Damn."

  Pound.

  "It."

  Pound.

  "Jackson!"

  Pound.

  Well, Julia's pushy this morning.

  "You have forty-five minutes to be at the arena!" she yells through the door.

  "Alright!" I yell back, dragging my naked ass out of bed and to the bathroom.

  Showered and dressed, I emerge from the bedroom.

  "Here." Julia shoves a paper bag into my chest.

  "What, no good morning kiss?" I pucker.

  Julia's blush is the only thing revealing her embarrassment. Latching her tiny hand onto my arm, she pulls me behind her and through the hotel like a disobedient child. As we step out of the hotel, I'm blinded by the California sun.

  "Fuck, I need to get my—”

  She shoves black Ray-Bans on my face and my body into a limo. Climbing in after me, Julia collapses back into the seat as the driver closes the door.

  "Rough morning?"

  My smirk is met by her glare.

  "You are a massive pain in the ass," she grumbles, motioning to the paper bag still clenched in my hand. "Eat," she orders. "I'm sure you need it."

  Opening the bag, I find hash browns, a breakfast sandwich, and orange juice.

  Grinning, I look up from the bag.

  "I might have to marry you, Julia." Pulling the sandwich out of the bag, I take a large bite.

  "And I might have to break your heart with a big fat no, Jackson." She forces a grin before looking down at her iPad.

  I clench my chest with my free hand, feigning hurt.

  Shaking her head, she fights a smile.

  The girl finally shows some claws.

  "I'm glad you could finally join us, Mr. Shaw," Mrs. Pierson, the show’s producer, says, welcoming my late entrance.

  I bow before taking a seat next to Gemma.

  "As I was saying, the online semi-finalists have been contacted. We have a few still being confirmed, but by next week, we should have new song submissions. You each have a binder with some contestant information—training, current profession, but minimal personal information, and no pictures. They will be identified by contestant numbers for the time being. You'll need to start going through them now to get an idea of each person's tone, style, and sound. Figure out how you want to mentor and critique. And, if you look at the final section, you will see our guest performers and those who will also mentor."

  Flipping through the pages, I stop on Hushed Mentality. Mrs. Pierson continues to speak, but all I can think about is my and Laney’s first publicized appearance together.

  "Are there any questions?" The producer's voice pulls me from my anxious thoughts.

  Without waiting more than thirty seconds, she excuses herself from the room. The production assistant arrives moments later, leading us to a soundproof area to listen through contestants.

  "God help me." I rub my eyes.

  "You look as if you need Jesus," Gemma comments from my left.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I raise a brow.

  "You're pale, eyes bloodshot, and if you sniff one more time in my ear, I'm going to shove a marker up your nose." Gemma's faint smile holds a touch of sadness.

  "I must be getting sick." I shrug, relaxing back into the chair.

  "Yeah," she says, disbelieving, "that must be it."

  Shaking her head, she turns her chair to face me.

  "I know you've dealt with a lot of shit lately, Jack. Really, I get it. And I'm the last person to lecture someone for having a good time, but you worry me."

  "You don't have anything to worry about," I assure with a smile. "I was out too late last night with some friends and got carried away."

  "Oh, really? What friends?" Leaning on the armrest of her chair, she purses her lips.

  "Jack D and Captain," I answer.

  Gemma shakes her head again.

  "Don't get lost, Jackson," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

  "Get lost?" I ask, but she's already facing the table again.

  "How many more do we need to get through tonight?" she asks the table.

  "As many as it takes, sweetheart." Zarek slips into an empty chair on the other side of her. "You could be stuck with me…I mean, us, all night long." He wiggles
his brows.

  "I swear to God." Gemma's voice is tight, jaw clenched, and hands balled into fists on the table.

  Zarek slides his chair closer, leaning into her side. Whatever he whispers results in Gemma's water bottle being dumped over his head.

  "Babe, you don't have to get me all wet to see me strip." Standing, he pulls the soaked T-shirt over his head.

  "Will you just shut up?" she yells, her face reddening—though, I'm not sure whether it's from anger or his stripping.

  "Okay, you two, let's separate and get this done." Grabbing Gemma's chair, I slide her over and put myself between the two of them.

  Christ, this can't end soon enough. Patting my pocket, I find the small brown vial and relax.

  Days of half-listening to the initial submissions have me on edge.

  Liza

  "You submitted the papers on Monday, right?" Sid questions.

  "Yes. I took them in when I recorded the next song for submission," I answer, stepping onto the bus and finding a seat.

  "Did you stick with the song we picked?"

  "Yes, I did," I answer with a giggle.

  "Awesome! I love the way you sing I Knew You Were Trouble," Sid sighs dramatically. "It's also entirely fitting."

  "Let's not rehash the subject."

  "No further word from him, huh?"

  "Nope and let's hope it stays that way," I say, but even I'm not convinced.

  "Uh huh." Sid isn't convinced either. "How many times have you thought about that night?"

  "Not that many." I sound like a little kid.

  "Okay," she laughs out the word. "And you don't think about him at all? Not the way he got all up in your face, seducing you and getting you back to his hotel, all so he could have his dirty way with you?"

  "Shut up," I grumble.

  Heat flushes my skin. The memory of him is still fresh and alive in every cell of my body.

  "That's what I thought," she says. "So, how horny are you now that I brought it up?"

  "I hate you," I groan.

  "You love me so much. I'm like the girl you would totally get with if we weren't related."

  "You're sick. And I'm almost to the club, so I gotta go." I end the call, and stand, following two other passengers to the steps.

  As soon as I'm inside the club, Red gathers us backstage for an announcement.

  Standing between Nikki and Jennifer, I can feel them watch me out of the corner of their eyes. They want details from my breakfast with Jackson. Swallowing down the anxiety, I focus on Red.

  "I'd like to try something new. This weekend we will have our first guest performer. She's going to rehearse with Bethany for a couple days before the show. What I would like to do is open up with a small number and then bring out our guest. From there, we will continue on with our show." He scans the room, looking at everyone.

  I take the moment to look for Bethany and find her standing behind Red.

  "Now, with the recent interest in Dominant and sub relationships, like with Fifty Shades, I'd like to design the show this weekend around the theme. Play on the popular idea. Any ideas? Song suggestions?"

  "We could perform Erotica," Bethany suggests. "Most of us know the song and the choreography."

  Red nods in agreement.

  "What about the guest? What is she performing?" Nikki asks.

  "Good question." Red points a finger in her direction. "Kristy will be singing Hanky Panky."

  I almost groan out loud. Really? Could you be more literal?

  "Got something to say, Liza?" Red eyes me, amusement on his face.

  Glancing over his shoulder, I focus on Bethany covering her mouth.

  Fuck, I groaned out loud.

  "I just think maybe we should do something not so literal. Instead, take some songs and interpret them to the theme. There's a lot we could do." I shrug, shrinking back a bit into the crowd.

  "I like it. Let's throw out some songs. Even if you don't know them, we can work on that part." Red starts walking around the open space we’re circling.

  "Wicked Game," Jennifer suggests.

  "Tainted Love or Evidence," I offer.

  "Good." Red claps his hands together, turning to face me. "Liza, pull together some songs and go over them with Nikki, Jennifer, and Bethany. Ladies, I want you guys to put your sets together. Then we will work on staging, choreography, and build this show."

  I fully expect a fist pump when he's done. Instead, he claps once and loud. The girls are on me the minute we're dispersed.

  "So?" Nikki follows close behind into my dressing room.

  "So, what?" I delay answering.

  "Don't play stupid, Liza." Jennifer enters with Bethany at her side.

  "Well, she definitely made an impression on him." Bethany smiles, sitting down in her chair next to mine.

  "Spill it." Nikki plops down on the loveseat in the far side of the room.

  "We have a set to put together." I shove my bag under my table. "He isn't giving us much time to pull this off."

  "Don't change the subject." Jennifer leans against the faded wallpaper next to my table.

  I cover my face with my hands.

  "We ate breakfast and I went home."

  Flashes of inked fingers on my thighs, soft lips on my neck, and penis jewelry enter my mind.

  "Yeah, okay. That's the reason he called Red to get your information the next day?" Bethany purses her lips.

  "What?" I snap my head to her.

  The teasing look fades from her face.

  "He called Red asking where you lived."

  "But Red wouldn't know my address unless he was here and those are private employee records. He can't just give—”

  Bethany's hands come up, stopping me.

  "No, no. I gave him the information." Her eyes widen at the look on my face.

  "You what?" I screech.

  "He said you forgot something and he wanted to return it. I didn't think—”

  "No. You didn't think, Bethany." Angry and needing to get away, I stand and leave the room.

  Bethany and Nikki call after me, but I ignore them and don’t stop until I'm up in the control room going through songs.

  By Friday, I'm feeling anxious, edgy, and stressed. Kel's informed me how sick Sean's grandmother really is, Hidden Star called and confirmed my information, and I'm not too sure the show is going to go smoothly. My stomach is in a knot when I step off the bus and see photographers. Keeping my head down, I slip by them and into the club.

  "What's with the photographers?" I ask, stepping into the dressing room.

  "Our guest performer draws attention," Bethany answers flatly.

  "I never did ask what she's famous for." Settling into my chair, I start pulling out the sponges and brushes. Bethany stays quiet.

  "You okay?" I set down the applicators, twisting to face her.

  "Oh, are you speaking to me now?" She presses a hand to her chest.

  And the Oscar goes to Bethany Hall for dramatic performance.

  "Look, I was pissed, okay? You really have no idea what happened and that's not your fault. I'm sorry for the silent treatment. It really wasn't all about that, either."

  Turning back to my table, I start twisting my hair into curlers.

  Bethany sighs heavily beside me.

  "I'm sorry if you didn't want him to know where you live. I really didn't think it through further than Jackson Shaw wanted your address."

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her smile.

  "I'm sorry."

  Twisting hair around the pink, bendable curler, I meet her gaze in the mirror.

  "It's over now. Let's just forget about it." Giving a smile, I reassure our reconciliation.

  But my mind does anything but forget. My hand pulses, remembering the silky hardness of him fucking my hand. Tingles prickle my fingertips recalling the cool steel of his piercing.

  "Liza?" Nikki says, her tone telling me this isn't the first time she's said my name.

  "Yeah?" I blurt.


  "Geez, girl, where were you?" She laughs and shakes her head. "Never mind. Guess who's here to see you tonight?"

  Wrapping the last of my hair, I turn away from the mirror to face her.

  "I have no—” Oh, yes, I do have an idea.

  "You figured it out," she sings the words.

  "Excuse me." Annoyance laces the sickly sweet female voice.

  Stepping aside, Nikki allows the tall, willowy blonde entrance. Kristyna Molvic: Gucci spokesperson, supermodel, and Jackson Shaw's girlfriend.

  I face my mirror, keeping my eyes on my makeup.

  Why does karma strike so quick?

  "Thanks, sweetie," she coos, obviously insincere.

  "Yeah, sure." Nikki turns her nose up, leaving the room.

  "Red said I could use this dressing room." She bats her long, fake lashes at Bethany and me.

  "Yeah, that table is free. It used to be Jazzmin's." Bethany points to the empty table.

  "Oh," Kristyna pouts. "I thought I'd have the entire room to myself."

  "Sorry, not in this place," Bethany quips, turning back to her mirror.

  A small huff sounds from behind us, but I need to put all my focus on my makeup.

  "Is there a makeup artist?" The sound of her voice sends a sharp twinge of guilt through me.

  "We do our own, but I can give you a hand if you’d like," Bethany offers, pushing up from her chair.

  "Would you?" The chair creaks under the pressure of Kristyna's weight. "I'd really appreciate it."

  "Sure." Bethany moves to assist our special guest performer, the real reason Jackson is here to watch the show tonight. After mistaking Kel for something other than my brother, the sick bastard must love this.

  Chapter Nine

  Jackson

  Before Red called to invite me to a "special night" at Lux, I'd resolved not to return. But the moment his name popped up on my phone, I knew I was a fucking liar.

  "What the hell?" Leaning toward the tinted window, I take in the crowd of paps surrounding the club entrance. I groan as the car pulls to the curb, preparing to exit.

  The flashes, already annoying, intensify from the amount of cocaine surging through my system.