Lost For You: Rockstar Romance (Sixth Street Bands Book 4)

by Jayne Frost

My leg bobbed uncontrollably as the cheers from the crowd filtered to the green room. “You okay, bro?” Cameron asked, looking me over with concern.

  I wasn’t really sure of anything except the knot in my stomach and the lump in my throat, but I played it off well. “Worry about your own show. You’ve got a tough act to follow.”

  He laughed. “I’m going to go find Logan and make sure he’s not stuck in a closet somewhere with …” He scratched his head. “Who knows?”

  Distracted, I thumbed through my sheet music. “Yeah, see you out there.”

  In an hour. I glanced at the clock above Cameron’s head. One hour and I’d be in front of the largest crowd of my career. Playing Austin City Limits was a dream come true for most. It just wasn’t my dream. Once it was my father’s. Now it was my brother’s.

  But never mine.

  That’s what rehab and six months of therapy will get you. A whole lot of self-awareness. I loved music. Loved the feel of the crowd. And hated just about everything else associated with the business.

  I only hoped that once the studio opened, Cameron would stop trying to provide a “safe environment” for me to exercise my talent. The kid went to a few therapy sessions, and now he thought he was Dr. Fucking Phil. He’d been badgering me to help him with arrangements. Dragging me to band practice to “sit in.” And then he went and surprised me with an invitation to perform as Caged’s opener at the festival.

  I get it. My life was a dichotomy. Living above the bar, but not working in the bar.

  Really, it was just convenience. A way to stay on top of the construction project. But there was no use trying to convince my brother. And just because I was in recovery didn’t mean I needed to leave Sixth. I could live anywhere, but that little strip of asphalt was the only place I felt truly at home.

  “Knock knock,” came a voice.

  And when I turned, Tori hovered at the door. She stepped inside, and my eyes widened.

  “Hey … Tori …?” Intellectually, I knew it was my business partner. She was in there. Behind heavy eye makeup, tousled black hair … and the outfit. Ripped jeans, riding low enough to send any man under forty, hell fifty, into cardiac arrest, knee-high boots, and a shirt that hit her just below … don’t look at her tits. I locked our gazes and kept my eyes north of her neck. “You look … um … good. What are you doing here?”

  And why do you look like you just stepped off the set of an MTV video shoot?

  I was hoping the answer to the first question would give me some insight into the second. She walked into the dressing room, sidling to the catering table to peruse the items.

  “Same as everyone else,” she said casually as she loaded a couple of appetizers on a paper plate. “Just catching some shows. Mingling.”

  “Alone?” Logan’s gruff voice sounded from the door.

  She paused, then walked to a folding chair and took a seat. “Not that it’s any of your business. But, no.”

  He grabbed a beer from the bucket. “I’m guessing Dylan’s around?” He eyed her with a feral gaze as he took a slow pull from his bottle.

  “Nope.” She nibbled on a cheese stick. “Leveraged is doing some interviews at Twin Souls for the press junket.”

  Logan’s arm fell to his side, spilling beer onto the floor. “So who’s the lucky guy?” He didn’t even try to hide the edge in his voice.

  She rose, then sauntered toward the plastic trash bin to deposit her plate. Fluffing her hair in the mirror, she met his gaze in the reflection.

  “I’d say by your reaction, every guy here.” She chuckled. “You’re a jackass, Logan. But you’re good for a girl’s ego.”

  The frost in his eyes didn’t thaw. “Glad to be of service.” He did a slow sweep of her body, starting at the back of her head and ending at the spiked heels on her boots. “But you really shouldn’t be walking around like that, sweetheart.”

  “If you think I look good, you should see my friend.” After a beat, she shifted her focus to Logan. “You’re not really her type though, Cage.”

  Logan took her comment as a challenge. “I’m every woman’s type, Grayson.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged. “I guess I’m not every woman then.” Smiling, she brushed her hands on her jeans. “Anyway, I just wanted to wish you luck, Chase.”

  “Thanks,” I nodded, glancing at the clock for the hundredth time. “Are you sticking around for the show?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” she said

  “Blink and you might. I’m only doing a half set. Six songs.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you after,” she chirped. “You never know.” She slid past Logan, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “See y’all.”

  Logan whipped his head to me. “What was that about? Are you two …?”

  Closing my eyes, I shook my head. “You were there last week, right? When she stormed in and accused me of the hit-and-run on her best friend?”

  Logan started to grumble, but I tuned him out. I had fifteen minutes to get my shit together. The nerves fluttering in my belly were not only uncomfortable, but disconcerting. I’d been on a stage before I could walk. The size of the crowd didn’t matter. You couldn’t see shit when you were under the lights. Which is why I never understood stage fright. You were alone up there.

  Hands clammy, I recalled the half-ass pep talks my old man used to offer. It didn’t help. My chest hadn’t felt this tight since, well, since I barged into Taryn’s beach house. But that didn’t count.

  I glanced at the beer in Logan’s hand. And I cursed inwardly. My counselor told me that my mind would always go there. It always had. Even when I was clean, I had dirty thoughts. The difference was, now I admitted to them.

  “I gotta make a call,” I said as I shot to my feet.

  Locking myself in the bathroom, I pulled the tattered piece of paper from my wallet. And then I called my sponsor.

  Chapter 45

  Taryn

  I huddled in my seat near the stage, cursing my best friend’s existence. A group of guys passed as they trudged by, slowing their pace to give me the once-over. I smiled tightly as I discreetly pulled on the neck of my low-cut blouse. Low cut was a nice way of saying there was nothing but skin between my neck and my navel.

  Why did you let her talk you into this?

  Not only did Tori wear me down at dinner the other night, convincing me to accompany her to the concert, but when I arrived at the lake house to get ready, she vetoed my skinny jeans and simple black button-down blouse. If I was truly serious about giving Austin a last hurrah, she’d quipped, I might as well go out in style.

  Her style. Her old style, at least, judging by the amount of skin I had on display. She paired the barely there blouse with a short mini that made me glad I waxed. Yeah, it was that short.

  I was about to dive under the seat when Tori teetered up, a big smile on her face and two plastic cups in hand.

  “Where have you been?” I hissed, grabbing the extra-large frozen margarita.

  She plopped into the seat next to me. “Long line at the concession stand.” She took a drink, then smacked her lips. I gulped the frozen concoction like I hadn’t had any liquid in days. “Chill out, T-Rex. You’re going to get a …”

  “Ouch … fuck!” I pressed my palm to my forehead.

  “… brain freeze.”

  With my eyes screwed shut, I couldn’t see her smile. But I heard it in her voice.

  I gave her a sidelong glance while I continued to rub my forehead. “I’m plenty chilly, thanks to your fashion advice.”

  She settled into the chair, hooking the heel of her boot on the back of the seat in front of her. “Relax, you look hot.”

  Honestly, she looked hot. I’d seen the jeans before, ripped to show skin in all the right places. But she paired them with a tight shirt that showed a nice expanse of midriff. And the boots. God, I hadn’t seen them in years. Black suede with four-inch heels.

  Surprisingly, Tori wasn’t getting the usual amo
unt of “Belle Grayson” attention. She looked like every other twenty-something-year-old fan tonight.

  I glanced over my shoulder, giving the bodyguard I’d hired on the down low a small smile. At Tori’s insistence, we’d kept our plans for tonight completely secret. But I didn’t want to end up on the wrong side of a mob, or something worse, if things got real. Don’t get me wrong, this little adventure was fun. But she was her, and I was me, it was our band about to take the stage, and we were trying to blend in like tourists.

  Tori sipped her drink, looking down her nose at her phone when Dylan’s name lit the screen. She hit ignore, then fixed her gaze on the stage.

  “Why didn’t you tell Dylan where we were going?”

  She shrugged. “He’s with Beckett. Didn’t want either of them to hulk out and ruin our fun.”

  Hiding my skepticism, I stared into my drink. “We’re at the Caged show. You don’t think they’re going to find out?”

  Another shrug. “You’ll be on a plane in the morning. And Dylan …” She blew out a breath. “He won’t say anything. He might get angry, but he won’t show it.”

  I wondered if that’s the reason she’d never let their relationship blossom. Tori liked to fight. She preferred to win. But she never minded the battle. And her and Rhenn? God, they could battle.

  The crowd milled around while we sipped our drinks in relative peace and companionable silence. It’d been years since I’d attended an event like this from the audience side. It was … thrilling.

  Tucked in a corner to the right of the stage, our seats provided an optimal view. To my surprise, we were basically alone. Nobody around us. This was an open-air concert, so any seat was a premium.

  I finished the margarita, a buzz tingling through me. “Wonder where everyone is?”

  “These are industry seats. I called in a favor. I want to experience the show, not fight off a mob.”

  Suddenly, someone appeared at our side, holding two drinks. I gaped as Tori reached past me, handing the dude a twenty in exchange for the beverages. “What?” She cocked a brow. “I got mad skills, or did you forget?”

  She chuckled to herself as a single spot hit the stage. I whipped my head to Tori, smiling around her straw.

  “How …?” I croaked, as I turned my attention to the black Fender propped against the stool.

  If she answered, I didn’t hear. The crowd jumped to their feet, stomping, and clapping. And then he was there. Chase. Striding to his guitar, that victory grin on his face. And I couldn’t think at all.

  Chapter 46

  Chase

  My fingers slid across the frets, my sweaty palm gripping the neck of the Fender. The crowd settled enough to hear my voice in the earpiece. As I prepared for the last song, I glanced down at the set list taped to my guitar.

  Sweet Taryn.

  Appropriate, since she was every song. And every lyric. Everything I’d ever wanted.

  Adjusting the mic, I raised a hand and then waited for the applause to fade to a dull roar. “Hope y’all enjoyed the warm up. Before we get on to the main event …” The crowd cheered and I glanced to the wings where Caged waited to take the stage. For all my resistance, I was grateful to my brother for this moment. Maybe the kid actually learned something in those therapy sessions. Something about me that even I didn’t know.

  “I’d like to play a song for someone special. This song is called “Blue-Eyed Summer.”

  My fingers glided through the chords as I began to sing.

  “Can you take my broken soul? Were you sent to make me whole?

  Take me, baby, make me your own. Don’t believe what you can’t be shown.

  Thoughts they scatter, twisting and turning. Blue eyed summer’s got me burning.

  Always in my head, every song I sing.

  Tied me up and tied me down, hanging on a string.

  Thoughts they scatter, twisting turning. Blue eyed baby, you’ve got me burning.”

  My eyes fluttered open as the last lyric floated to the rafters. It took me a minute to process the tiny flickers of light glowing in the abyss beyond the stage as faceless strangers held their lighters and cell phones to the sky. The roar that followed nearly cracked me in half. I was right. The song I’d written for the girl with the sad blue eyes was my best. Soft, but with a hard edge. Like us.

  I wobbled to my feet, then waved. Even if I had another song to play I wouldn’t. And I knew in that instant, I’d never be here again, on stage. And I was fine with it. At peace, finally.

  Slinging the Fender behind my back, I strode toward Cameron with a wide smile. He wrapped me in a hug the minute I stepped behind the curtain. Not a bro hug … well, technically it was, since he was my brother. But this embrace was much more. He held on as I let go … of everything. Jealousy I’d never known I carried. Resentment. All of it.

  “Fuck … that was awesome,” he croaked as he pulled away.

  I wasn’t going to give him shit for the tears that glistened in his eyes. Hell, I was misty myself.

  “Like I said, you better bring your ‘A’ game tonight.”

  I patted Logan, Sean, and Christian on the back, stepping outside the circle before things got any heavier. The announcer’s voice echoed in the deserted maze as I made my way back to the tent serving as a green room.

  Rounding the corner, my steps faltered. Considering my history with drugs, I thought for a moment that maybe it was all in my head. A flashback. Because there was no way that Taryn was six feet in front of me, tears streaking her face. There was no way she was running toward me on impossibly high heels. And there was no way her lips were pressed against mine.

  I buried my hand in her hair, grasping the strands tightly. “You’re here.” My forehead rested against hers, but I’d yet to open my eyes for fear she’d disappear. I just stood there, breathing in her rain shower scent. “Why?”

  Shut the fuck up, you moron.

  It didn’t matter why. It didn’t matter how long. Nothing mattered.

  She brushed my lips again, and I groaned. Loudly. Her mouth curved into a smile. “I didn’t know you were going to be performing. Tori brought me and …”

  I looked down at her chest, rising and falling as her breath evened. “If she’s responsible for this outfit,” I kissed her neck, “thank her for me. Then burn it.” I nuzzled her ear. “But keep the shoes.”

  Music spilled into the hallway along with the roar of the crowd. I had so many questions. But I couldn’t ask them here. “Are you …” I cleared my throat. “Can we go somewhere? Back to your loft?” Her forehead creased, so I tightened my grip reflexively. “Just to talk.”

  “It’s not that.” She tipped her chin. “I sublet my loft. It’s a mess.”

  Pain shot through me, but I kept my composure. “Okay. How about my place, or we could go get something to eat somewhere?”

  “Your place is fine.”

  Desire filled her stormy eyes. But we’d always had that. I pushed aside the knowledge that nothing had changed. In fact, this was worse. She’d subleased her place, solidified her plans.

  But this time, I’d fight. I was up for the fight. All I needed was a chance, and a little sliver of light under the door she’d closed in her heart so I could edge my way inside.

  “Is that so?” I slid my hand to the curve of her ass. “What do you have in mind, baby?”

  “You and me in your bed.” She entwined our fingers. “Naked.” A slow smile crossed my face as she led me to the exit. “Except for the shoes. I’ll keep those on.”

  Cursing, I slid my mouth from Taryn’s as I tried to find the light switch in the narrow stairwell. The single bulb illuminated the space, and she came into focus. Tousled hair, swollen lips, and her blouse askew, the neckline hanging off one shoulder. I thought I’d done a pretty good job holding off on the car ride over. I guess I was wrong.

  She pulled off her shoes, then scurried up the steps with me in hot pursuit. “I thought you were going to keep those on,” I growled, snaking a
n arm around her waist as I pulled her back against my chest, walking us toward the bed.

  She tugged on the zipper of her skirt, and it fell to the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ll put them back on. I never knew you had a thing for heels.”

  “I’ve got a thing for you.” I spun her around, then yanked the blouse—and I used the term loosely, since it barely covered her tits—over her head. “Fuck, baby, I …” Love you. “… Missed you.”

  I tipped her onto her back, and she landed on the mattress. Locking our gazes, she slid her black lace thong over her hips.

  “Show me,” she breathed, her knees falling open.

  I shed my clothes like they were burning my skin while she removed her bra. Dropping to my knees in front of the bed, I looped my arms around her legs. I dragged my tongue up her inner thigh, then placed a kiss on her swollen nub. Her hips shot off the bed.

  “Chase?” Her fingers slid across my scalp.

  “Hmm?” She tugged my hair gently, so I looked up.

  I was ready for some type of disclaimer.

  This is only for one night. This doesn’t change anything. Can you drive me to the airport when we’re finished?

  That last one was a little far-fetched. Still, I went there.

  Reluctantly, I climbed onto the bed. We met in the middle, facing each other.

  “I don’t know if this can work,” she said softly, her fingertips grazing my cheek. “It’s probably a bad idea.”

  Coppery blood trickled from the inside of my lip as I bit down to keep from running her over with my rebuttal.

  She pressed a kiss to my mouth. “I love you, Chase.” A wary smile curved her lips.

  “Then why …”

  The “why” was evident. Betting on me probably made Beckett look like a sure thing.

  “Because I’m scared.” She cringed. “I believe that you love me … now. But …”

  I’d just spent months training myself to live in the now. Now was all we had. It was a rule I had to live by. I blew out a breath, then chuckled. Because I was never good at following the rules.