Cocky Rockstar: Gabriel Cocker (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 10)

by Faleena Hopkins

  “I’ve got another call coming through. Catch you guys later.” Ben hangs up.

  Ethan mutters, “What the fuck was that about?”

  “I have no idea. Oh shit!” Grabbing the phone I take Maggie off hold. “You still there?”

  “I want a raise.”

  PAIGE

  “He’s gotta be loaded,” my brother says while I’m sliding on nude strappy heels. “Wear something tighter.”

  “Bobby!” I snap, glaring at him with a look that tells him I’m not whoring myself out for rent money.

  “I’m kidding!” he laughs.

  Shelby shrugs, “I would wear something sexier, Paige,” as I walk to the mirror hanging from my wall.

  It’s a little warped like a mild version of one of those carnival mirrors. I can never see what I really look like. I think this thing is wearing down my confidence. Maybe they’re right. Should I put something more alluring on? This lavender dress isn’t overtly sexy but I think it’s pretty, and classy. The skirt flows, the sleeves are short and the V-neck isn’t low.

  From my bed she eyes me and shakes her head. “Wear the red mini-dress. You can still rock those nude heels, Paige. But give the guy something to work with here.”

  “I have no intention of sleeping with him, so I don’t want to give him the wrong impression. And look at my arm!” Inspecting the road rash in the mirror I ask my best friend, “Did the gauze really look that bad?”

  She and Bobby both shout, “Yes!”

  “God, you guys! Have I really asked that many times?”

  Shelby sighs, “You look like a hospital victim with gauze. This way it’s almost cool, like a tattoo. A red one.” Under her breath she says, “The one single girl in Atlanta who doesn’t want to sleep with Gabriel and she’s the one who wins.”

  “You won, not me. You’re the one who called in! Why don’t you dump Carter and go out with Gabriel yourself? What time is it?” We all look at my blinking alarm clock. “Now I know why I didn’t wake up. There must have been a power outage with that storm last night.”

  Shelby frowns, trying to recall one. “It wasn’t raining when I went to bed at midnight.”

  Bobby and I exchange a quick look. He covers for us, “It was late. Woke us up around three or something. Isn’t that right?”

  Nodding I glance back to the funky mirror and close my eyes, the knot in my stomach tightening. I hate lying to her, but I can’t have another person dragged into the drama of my brother’s addiction. If I lost Shelby like I did the friendship with my old roommate, it would be like losing a sister. I’m not willing to risk it.

  She digs her phone from her purse, drops it and freaks out. “He’ll be knocking any minute!”

  “Oh God!” I groan. “Just pose as me and you go!”

  She snatches my clutch bag from the dresser and shoves me out of the room. Bobby steps back to make way for us, flattening himself along the wall.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’ll go downstairs now and wait outside while I take pictures from the roof. Bobby, grab my purse from the bed! And make sure you get my phone, too.”

  “Done!” he calls out, disappearing.

  “Shelbs, I don’t feel good.”

  “It’s like two hours max and you’re going to spend it sitting across from a god while eating a delicious meal you don’t have to pay for. You can do this! It’s not life altering. It’s just dinner!” Shoving me out the front door she mutters, “That accident really messed with your head.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper, standing on the doormat staring at her like she might rescue me.

  It’s the nearing eviction not the accident, Shelby. I wish I could tell you that!

  Her arm flies out, index finger stretched to full length. “Go!”

  Shuffling to the elevator I push the button. Her head is poked into our building’s hallway. “That thing takes forever! Stop stalling. Take the stairs.”

  “You take the stairs. These are four inch heels!”

  “Oh, right.” Her severe expression softens into joy as Bobby hands her purse to her. “Oh my God, you’re about to meet Gabriel Cocker! I’m going to take so many pictures! Tell him I’m crazy about his music! Existence is my favorite! Ask him why he doesn’t do country!”

  The elevator opens and I walk inside as they head toward the stairs. “You need to let that go,” I call after her.

  “Never!” she shouts, and in a lower, excited register says, “Hurry, Bobby! I want to get the perfect shot!”

  GABRIEL

  I mutter to myself, “Inman Park huh? Nice,” as the driver takes me passed one of those neighborhood-welcoming murals that are all over Atlanta.

  This ride is a little overdone for my taste. It was Maggie’s handiwork, booking this obnoxious ride. She probably did it to impress the contest winner. Either that or she wanted to make me roll my eyes.

  I get driven around all the time.

  But a fucking stretch limo?

  What is this…Prom?

  The car slows in front of a modern apartment building. Out of boredom I check social media and click like on a couple photos that scroll lazily by. I look up as the driver jumps out of the car to come open my door.

  Fuck that shit.

  I climb out and wave him down. “I can get my own door. It’s cool.”

  He looks at something behind me, and reacts.

  Turning around I discover a beautiful, heart-shaped-faced brunette staring at me, biting her bottom lip. My eyes narrow as I feel a punch against my chest.

  “Paige Miller?”

  “Uh huh,” she frowns.

  She’s not dressed how my groupies usually do when trying to catch my eye, and somehow that is shockingly hot to me. She’s stunning in a simple, light purple dress with heels that match her skin and make her legs look chewable. On her wrist is a thin, gold bracelet. There’s a tattoo on her right ankle I can’t quite see from here. Subconsciously I lick my lips as I walk to introduce myself and get a look at that ankle.

  She takes a step back.

  I pause and cock my head. “I’m not going to bite you,” I smirk.

  Her voice is soft and quiet. “I know.”

  “Unless you want me to.” Off her frown I say, “I’m kidding! Trying to make you smile.” I soak in her features. There’s something really vulnerable about her. Hurt. Guarded. Suddenly it occurs to me that she’s probably scared to death about meeting me in person.

  “I’m Gabriel, by the way.”

  “I know who you are.”

  “Right. Sorry.” God, why am I feeling weird? Is this what awkward feels like? I know how to act around women. But my tongue is tied. Running my hand through my hair I ask, “You ready to go?”

  Paige is staring at me like she’s about to run. “Sure.”

  A step closer I lean in.

  She doesn’t pull back, just returns my curious gaze. That’s interesting. So it’s not fear I saw, there’s something else going on.

  “Wow,” I whisper, drinking her in.

  Paige’s voice is barely audible as she asks, “What?”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Her deep brown eyes become even larger, long eyelashes fluttering in surprise. She bites her lip again and I look at it, which makes her look at mine. We lock eyes again and I swear to God I almost kiss the girl. I’m stepping back when I decide, fuck it. Gently cupping her chin I lift her lips to mine and press a kiss onto them. Tingles shoot down my entire body, which has never happened. I don’t move. She doesn’t either. We both pull away at the same time.

  Laying my hand on her lower back I lead her to the car and motion to the driver that I’ll help her in. He strolls to the front seat as Paige and I look at each other. Our eyes remain locked as she slides her fingers onto my palm and gracefully lowers herself onto the seat. When she releases my hand I feel the absence and as she looks down to adjust her dress my head shakes like my brain is trying to remember who I am.

  Cutting a quick glance to th
e sky I mutter, “Fuck you. I’m not ready for this yet.”

  Paige asks, “What?”

  “Nothing.” I swoop inside, reach for the door handle and shut it with finality.

  This night isn’t what I thought it was going to be.

  PAIGE

  Dressed in all black with a sexy wooden cross necklace, Gabriel Cocker is every inch the rockstar I expected. He was on the cover of Vanity Fair two months ago when his sweet ballad launched his album all the way to number one on both the Indie Rock and Pop charts. The photograph was panty-melting — him shirtless in only leather pants and this necklace he’s wearing now. It was an homage to a photo of a singer from the 1960’s or 1970’s named Jim Morrison, except that in Gabriel's photo they'd sprayed him down so he was glistening.

  But in person Gabriel is every bit as full of himself as I imagined he would be.

  Kissing me like that and saying I’m beautiful as if he meant any of it.

  Puh-lease.

  He’s as good an actor as he is a singer, but I’m not fooled.

  “You still in college?” he asks, legs spread with total confidence.

  Staring ahead I answer, “No.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m a yoga teacher.”

  “Is that how you got this?” He reaches over to glide his fingertips along the soft underbelly of my arm just below my exposed wound. The sensual touch tickles and sends a shiver into parts of me that were sleeping.

  My eyelashes rise and I stare at him.

  His lips…I can still feel them.

  That was a dirty trick he played.

  Bringing my arm closer to me I mumble, “This is from a car accident. You didn’t hear about it?”

  He cocks his head, long strands of black hair hanging free over his perfect forehead. “No, did you tell my publicist about it or something? She didn’t say anything.”

  “Your cousin hit me on the way to work.”

  Gabriel’s blinks in sexy confusion. I swear he could sniff his armpit and it would be hot. “Which one?”

  “Ben. Why? How many do you have?”

  His jaw grinds as anger flashes across his gorgeous face. He glares out the window and starts tapping the armrest, fingers growing more agitated. This is the first time I’ve spotted the black leather rope around his right wrist. Something about a man in masculine jewelry makes me think of vikings or gladiators. Either are enough to make my belly warm.

  “Sneaky motherfucker,” he mutters.

  “Sorry?”

  He glances back to me and holds. Leaning over so quickly I have no time to react he tries to kiss me again, his fingers wrapping around my head. I push him off and put distance between us as I cry out, “Stop it! What are you doing?”

  Those pouty lips of his make an O and he leans way back, staring ahead. “I uh, wow, sorry. Don’t know what came over me.” Under his breath he groans, “Shit.”

  “You swear a lot. From your music I wouldn’t think you’d do that.”

  He locks eyes with me and starts ironically laughing. “Listen, Namaste Chick, you know nothing about me. I’m not the good guy you think I am.”

  “Who said I thought you were good?”

  “You just did. From my lyrics you think I’m a pussy.”

  “Swearing doesn’t make you a man.”

  “Wow,” he mutters.

  “It doesn’t. And your songs are beautiful. That doesn’t make you a pussy if you write poetry. I just thought…”

  “So you’re a prude. I’m on a date with a girl who won’t say the words shit, fuck, damn, cock. Wait, do you say hell or do you think that’s a swearword, too?”

  “I think you’re an arrogant and conceited jerk, that’s what I think! And Namaste is a term of respect so that’s not an insult, Gabriel Cocker!”

  He glares at me, a million expressions crossing over his face as he tries to figure out what to make of me. “I was wrong.”

  “About?!”

  He sneers, “This night is going to be exactly how I thought it would be.” Swiping lint off his stylish, black blazer he adds in a lower, bored voice, “A fucking pain in my ass.”

  “That makes two of us who think this was a terrible idea. I don’t want to be here!”

  He chuckles while raking that fantastic hair of his, “No shit! I’m pretty clear on that now. Got it. Why don’t we just take you home.” He leans forward and growls, “Unbelievable.”

  I look out the windows, too, searching for what he sees. We’re driving up to the restaurant. “We can still turn back around.”

  “Oh no, we’re going in. I can’t wait to see this.” Gabriel swings the door open before the limo comes to a complete stop. He jumps out while the car is still moving except when he does it it’s smooth and super-heroesque.

  Rolling my eyes I shoot over to get out, legs dangling as the driver chooses the perfect place to park. “Just stop the car!” His eyes meet mine in the rearview and he hits the brakes. Rocking in my seat I mutter to myself, “What a nightmare.”

  Gabriel does not help me out of the car and when I stand up I see him walking to his cousin Ben, nearly shouting, “Well, what a surprise! Didn’t expect you here! Oh wait, yeah I fuckin’ did. Come on! Let’s eat!”

  Ben locks eyes with me as Gabriel walks on ahead of us without looking back. His furious swagger says he’s committed to making this the worst evening of my life.

  Staring after him I tell Ben, “Your cousin is worse than you!”

  He offers me a sexy smirk. “Way worse. Lucky I showed up, huh? You look very nice tonight, Paige.”

  GABRIEL

  The paparazzi attack me the second I walk inside. The bastards tricked me. Usually they’re waiting in the bushes. With how small cameras have gotten they can sneak into a fine dining restaurant like this one and the management won’t notice.

  I back up as men and women who were posing as customers in the bar all start calling my name to get me to look into their lens. Hannah described it once as the sounds of seagulls when you’re hung-over, and she nailed it.

  Problem is I know Maggie set photos up on purpose since this contest is a publicity stunt after all, and here I am without my date.

  “Hey,” I smirk, waving slightly as I back pedal and explode out the door, running into Paige and my double-crossing cousin. “Ben, go home.” I grab Ms. Miller’s arm and roughly guide her inside, saying under my breath, “Smile.”

  “No!” she hisses at me. Her eyes widen at the onslaught of cameras and suddenly her teeth are showing.

  She’s hating every second, same as I am.

  Here I thought something had happened between us but boy was I wrong. I look over my shoulder and see Ben peering through the window with his hands in his pockets, trademark family gesture for being unhappy about a situation. Well, he can have her once this night is over. The night before my Atlanta concert I’m not letting it leak that the contest winner hates me. No fucking way. This is my city. I’m not giving it up just because this chick’s in a bad mood.

  We pose for photos and I give the charming smile I inherited from Dad, “Isn’t she beautiful? I lucked out, huh?”

  They nod saying various affirmatives, and the cameras keep clicking until one yells out, “Give her a kiss for Creative Loafing, Gabriel!”

  Paige starts to object but I swoop in, dip her really low and whisper, “If you play along I’ll owe you one.”

  Her eyes are locked with mine and her arms slide around my neck. We kiss and it happens all over again, that crazy sensation I felt the first time. Only this time she really goes for it, slipping her tongue into my mouth. We rise up, lip-locked, making out for the Press. And it is fucking hot, this kiss. So smokin’ that my cock reacts like we’re alone. And we’re not.

  I pull away and slide my blazer off, leaving only my black T-shirt on so I can hide this erection before it goes viral on the web.

  “Okay, we’re hungry.”

  “We saw!” one of the guys jokes.

>   Everyone laughs.

  I stare at him a second.

  “Ha ha!” I call out, nodding that he’s a funny guy as I lead Paige through the throng. “See you guys tomorrow.”

  “We’ll be there!”

  Nodding to the hostess that we’re ready for our table, Paige and I follow the woman to an intimate, tucked away booth.

  I’m subconsciously licking my lips as my reluctant date slides in. She wipes her mouth.

  Under my breath I make a scoffing noise and flop down next to her. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

  What a fucking nightmare this shit is.

  “What?” she demands.

  As if she doesn’t know.

  “You wiped my kiss off. You know how many women would…fuck it. Never mind. Just look at the menu and tell me what you want to order.”

  “I can order for myself.”

  Rolling my eyes I mutter, “Fine. And here I thought you were just being Southern, but forgive me. I’ll be sure to lose my manners.”

  Under her breath and just as annoyed as I am, she says, “Oh you can’t open the door to the restaurant or wait for me to get out of the limo but you’ll order my dinner for me. You’re a gentleman only when you have an audience.”

  Glaring at her I shoot back, “You’re a complete bitch!”

  She slaps my face. Hard. Not a tiny little oh-stop-it-jerk, but one that leaves a mark. I wince and rub the spot as two paparazzi fuckheads jump out, snapping photos. “Did you get that?” One asks the other.

  “No, you?”

  “Yeah! Ha!”

  “Lucky!”

  Paige and I are staring at the guys, and they don’t even acknowledge we’re human and can hear everything they’re saying, until I shout, “Get the fuck out of here!”

  They jump a little, surprised.

  I stand up in the booth and nearly topple our table. “You heard what I said? Get the fuck out of here!”

  They start snapping photos.

  The manager rushes over. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Cocker. We never invite the media here. We’re very discreet with our celebrities. We already asked the others to leave. I didn’t know any had snuck by.”