“What’s up, boss?” Brutal asked before taking a sip of water from a tall glass.
“What did you say to Lily?”
If the question startled Brutal, or surprised him, he didn’t show it. “The truth.”
Samuel raised his eyesbrows. “And what the fuck is the truth?”
With moves far more fluid than a guy his size should have, Brutal placed the glass on the bar behind him and rose to his feet. “That you’re in love with her and she needed to be prepared for what that meant.”
Samuel didn’t think it possible to be more stunned.
Brutal swiped at his nose with the back of his hand. “She’s the best thing that’s happened to you, boss. I’ve never seen you happier and more happy to let someone see the real you. Look, I know I’m speaking out of place, and this is not what you pay me for, but I don’t want to see her scared off by what it means to be your girlfriend, your partner—shit, hopefully one day your wife. But she needed to understand what being with you meant for her, and the week of pretending you weren’t who you are—a famous rock star—was only lulling her into a false sense of security. As wonderful as it was, it was a lie, and you and I know it. And Ms. Pearce did too. I just had to point it out, is all.”
Samuel stared at his bodyguard, his head roaring. Fury rolled through him. Fury and disbelief.
Brutal shrugged his massive shoulders. “I like Ms. Pearce and I hope to be guarding her with my life for a long time to come. It’s up to you pair if that’s going to happen.”
“I hope it does,” a soft voice behind Samuel said. A soft woman’s voice with a delicious American accent he was totally addicted to.
He spun on his heel, every fiber and nerve ending in his body thrumming at the sight of Lily standing a few feet away from him dressed head to toe in black leather.
“Sandy?” he croaked.
She rolled her eyes, mimicking Olivia Newton-John’s mannerisms with perfection. “Tell me about it, stud.”
He laughed and then swept her into his arms, off her feet. He spun her around and kissed her.
“Put that woman down and get your arse over here, Strings,” Jax called from the stage.
Samuel ignored the ridiculous order. Put her down? Never. He held her tight. Made love to her mouth with his. Worshipped her lips, her tongue. Shared her breath and melted into her heat.
Fuck, he was never ever letting her go. Ever.
“Samuel,” another woman’s voice—Pepper this time—called. “We need our lead guitarist on stage now for the final sound check.”
Samuel slowly lowered her feet to the floor. But stop kissing her? Fuck off. No way.
“Gibson!” Noah bellowed. The crash of a cymbal shattered the bar’s quiet.
Lily flinched in his arms and then chuckled into his mouth, and he reluctantly dragged his lips from hers.
“I love you, Lily,” he told her, the words more important than any he’d uttered. “I’m a rock star, I’m famous and I come with a whole lot of baggage, but I love you. Can you deal with that?”
Lily smiled up at him. “I’ll deal with the fame and the baggage because I love you too. I’ll even deal with the leather, although God only knows how you wear this stuff all the time. It’s so goddamn uncomfortable.”
Samuel’s heart pulsed like a cannon in his ears. His body thrummed. “Reckon you want to try spending the rest of your life with me?”
She pulled a pensive face, long enough for Samuel’s gut to drop. And then grinned. “I reckon I could give it a go.”
He laughed. “Now that was very Australian.”
She dipped her head. “Crikey, mate.”
He grinned. “Let’s work on it later.”
“Finished with the sucky face, Strings?” Jax called.
Samuel pulled away from Lily and stuck his middle finger up at the keyboard player. “Bite me, Liberace.”
“No, he’s right,” Lily said at his side. “You need to go do what you have to do.”
He smoothed his hands over her hips and pulled her back to his body. “What I have to do is kiss you.”
“Samuel.”
At Pepper’s stern voice he let out a ragged sigh.
Lily chuckled, placed her palms on his chest and gave him a shove. “Go. Be awesome.”
Dropping his hands from her arse, he tossed Brutal a quick look. “Remind me to give you a raise, Maurice.”
Brutal tapped his forehead. “I shall, boss.”
Samuel was halfway across the small dance floor when Lily’s voice stopped him. “Where’s Gene?”
He looked at the rest of the band, already at their instruments, waiting. They looked at him. Pepper shot her watch a glance.
“Samuel?”
He turned to face Lily.
She frowned at him. “Where’s my brother?”
Samuel rubbed at the back of his neck. “He’s—”
“Here, sister of mine,” a loud voice reverberated around the bar. “I’m fucking here and I’m fucking ready to rock out with my fucking cock out like the fucking rock star I am!”
Eugene slammed into his sister, knocking her sideways with a wild hug.
Lily staggered under the lurching force of his embrace, stunned horror etching her face. As Samuel watched, Eugene slapped his hands on either side of her face, even as she continued to stumble, and pressed a noisy kiss on her lips. “You’re fucking a rock star, Ly!” The words were a shouted slur. “And I’m going to be a fucking rock star!” He wrapped her in a bear hug, tripping over his feet and almost driving her to the ground. It was only Lily’s reflexes that saved them both as she hooked her hands into her brother’s arms to halt his fall. “Aren’t we the best fucking brother and sister team anywhere?”
Samuel’s gut sank. His breath stuck in his throat. Crap, this is not good.
“Jesus, Gene,” Lily ground out, “what are you on?”
Eugene threw an arm around her neck. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Had to celebrate, didn’t I?”
His head lolled to the left, gaze both glazed and insanely bright sliding over Samuel. And then Eugene jolted against his sister, pointing at Samuel as he squinted at him. “Strings!” he crowed. “My main main. Fuck, I mean man man.” He threw back his head and laughed, dragging Lily over to where Samuel stood, watching him. “My main man!” he shouted, slapping his hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “That’s it. My main man. Fucking my sister. Good for you. Bet she goes off in bed. She got good tits? You suck—”
Samuel smashed his fist into Eugene’s jaw before he knew he was doing it.
Someone let out a cry. Feet pounded on the floor behind him.
Eugene staggered sideways, laughing even as blood trickled over his chin. “Fucking hell, dude.” He rubbed at his jaw and spat at the floor. “Touchy touchy.” Swinging his unfocused gaze past Samuel’s shoulder, he held his arms wide. “The band! Hey guys, ready to fucking play with me?”
He stumbled past Samuel, swiping a hand at him as he went.
Samuel turned, numb. Eugene was trying to slap his palm against Levi’s, smirking at the bass player. “I know about you, faggot. You’re not going to try and come on to me, are you?”
He brayed with laughter, stomping his feet on the floor before waving a finger at Pepper who still stood on the stage. “You, pretty lady…”
From the corner of his eye, Samuel saw Noah stride across the dance floor. He saw the drummer ball his fists. Knew Noah would kill Lily’s brother if Eugene said anything distasteful or repugnant to Pepper.
However, Eugene saved his own life by swinging his stare from their manager and running for the stage. He threw himself at it, belly first, his arms and legs flailing about as he scrambled completely up onto its floor.
“Fuck yeah!” he cried, leaping to his feet in a clumsy star jump. “I’m here. I’m ready. You guys ready? Let’s fucking make some music! Am I right?” He swiped his arm at the microphone stand on his left. Missed it.
He spun on his heel, complet
ely off-balance, and fell off the stage.
“Gene!”
Lily ran past Samuel just as Eugene hit the dance floor shoulder first. He let out a wet ooph, rolled onto his back and, laughing, waved his hands in the air as if he were shooing flies. “I’m okay, Ly. I’m o—”
He twisted onto his side and threw up.
All over Lily now kneeling beside him.
Samuel ran for her but stopped when she looked up at him.
“This,” she said, her voice cold, flat. “This is why I should never have let you into our lives. Why I shouldn’t have…”
She broke off whatever she was going to say and swung back to her brother lying at her knees, wiping his hands at the vomit on her black leather vest.
“Sorry, Ly.” He wiped at her chest. “I got some on you.”
Samuel stood motionless, staring at Lily. At the woman he loved covered in vomit, kneeling on the floor beside her giggling, fucked-up, inebriated brother.
“Lily?” he said, his chest tight.
She shook her head, cradling Eugene’s head in her lap, her hair a curtain falling around her face hiding her from him. “Please don’t, Samuel.”
He sucked in a breath, the stench of vomit heavy on the air, unable to look at anyone but Lily.
When she climbed to her feet, helping Eugene to his, Samuel stepped towards her.
He stopped again when she held up a hand, palm out. “I said don’t.”
She hooked her arm around her brother’s back, hitched him closer to her body and began walking away from the stage, towards the bar’s main doors.
Past Samuel.
“We going away, Ly?” Samuel heard Eugene mumble, the words a slurred mess.
“We are, Gene,” Lily murmured in return.
She didn’t look at Samuel. She didn’t stop until she was at the door, and that was only to say something to the owner as he hurried over to her.
The man nodded, once, twice and then, with a glance to where Samuel and the rest of the band stood, pushed the door opened for her.
The sounds of the crowd waiting on the sidewalk to enter swelled into the bar. Loud and jubilant and happy. They were cut silent again when the door swung shut behind Lily.
Samuel stared at the door. Waited for her to come back in.
But she didn’t.
Not alone or with her brother.
And for the first time in their career together, the band did not perform at a scheduled gig.
Channing Tatum’s Left Nipple silenced before they could ever play a note.
Once again, Lily switched her cell off. She’d instructed the staff at Hopeton Rehab Centre to call her landline if they needed to talk to her about Eugene. She doubted they would. His stay this time was classified high-supervision restricted. In other words, he was one step away from being a prisoner of the clinic.
He’d been a prisoner of his own addictions for many years now.
Anguish sheared through her, bitter and inescapable.
She should have known this was going to be the outcome. The second he was released from the clinic last week, she should have stuck to him like glue. Should have been his shadow. Should have goddamn followed him into the bathroom whenever he entered. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen his genitals. Only a few weeks ago she’d seen them, along with everything else including a drumstick where it shouldn’t have been. Watching her brother pee would be a walk in the park next to that.
Especially as he would be peeing stone-cold sober.
But no. Instead of being with her brother during a period she knew was dangerous for him—the lead up to a performance—she’d spent it playing make-believe with a goddamn rock star. She pretended she was going to have a goddamn Cinderella future with a man who’d once made Eugene’s wild ways seem tame in comparison.
Yeah, she was a wonderful sister, all right. All about putting her selfish wants in front of Gene’s. Go, Ly.
Walking through her home, she refused to let her gaze linger on anything. Everything in the place made her think of Samuel, and when she thought of Gibson, dull, hot self-contempt made it hard to breathe.
Instead, she’d spent the last two hours since returning from the clinic watching her feet as she paced the rooms. Which was stupid and cowardly and pathetic. At some point she was going to need to raise her head and look at the space where she and Samuel had existed for six days.
Just not…now.
She walked into the kitchen, rammed her elbows against the counter’s granite surface and pressed her forehead between them, locking her fingers above her head.
Maybe she should call her parents? Let them know what was going on with their son?
Her heart thumped like a sledgehammer in her throat and she stared at the black and gray stone only an inch from her eyes. The last time Eugene had been in rehab their father had informed her, via a text message from Vegas where he was performing, that Eugene’s mess was his own to sort out and he needed to learn to cut it if he wanted to be successful. Lily hadn’t shared that little piece of advice with her twin. What was the point?
When she had driven to her and Eugene’s childhood home in the Mission District that afternoon to tell their mom, Lola Pearce had looked at Lily with those desperately hopeful eyes Lily remembered so well and described in minute detail a patron of the dinner theatre who was, she was sure, a producer from Broadway on the lookout for fresh talent. Lily may as well have been speaking Yugoslavian for all the response she got from her mom about Eugene’s situation.
Would they be any different in their attitude now? Unlikely. Obsessed and selfish were perfect words to describe Lola and Murray Pearce.
Words to haunt Lily.
Besides, even if they did want to see their only son, they wouldn’t be allowed. Eugene was now, according to the administering doctor, a high-risk fatality patient.
“It’s tough-love time, Lily,” the doctor had murmured as Eugene was led away to his room a few hours ago. “Which means we have to treat him as hostile. I’m sorry. He’s in the best place now. We were hesitant about releasing him last week but, with the opportunity presented to him, we had hoped it would help his efforts to stay clean.”
The knot in Lily’s stomach—there since Eugene’s arrival at the bar the night before—twisted into a hot mess of tension and pain at the memory of the man’s words.
Hostile.
Tough love.
Words she’d hoped never need be associated with her twin.
Harrowing words. Traumatic words.
Scary words.
Closing her eyes on the blurred counter, she wondered when the words of her life had become so malevolent.
“She smiles and life is born anew. And hope becomes fate and fate becomes her.”
Lily’s throat seized as the memory of Samuel singing “Lily’s Song” played with her sanity.
Like an avalanche of tormenting sensations, the thoughts of him she’d fought so hard to hold at bay crashed over her. Overwhelmed her.
She bit back a sob, stamped her foot and drove her forehead harder to the counter. “Stop it,” she ground out. “Stop it.”
The memories didn’t stop. Instead, they mocked her anger at Samuel and her contempt of everything he stood for.
Instead, they made her relive the way he’d made her laugh at his uncanny John Cusack impersonation. The way he’d held her with tender attention as he’d tried to teach her how to play the guitar.
Instead, they took her through the mirror maze on Pier 39 with him all over again, reminding her how her face had ached from trying not to smile. They gave a repeat performance of his epic air-guitar concert with young Mason Moore.
Lily scrunched up her face and shook her head against the counter. “No, he’s not that guy. He’s a rock musician and his lifestyle is killing Gene.”
Refusing to be denied, the memories welled through her. The carpet picnics they’d eaten on the floor of her living room, the orgasms they’d given each other, the conversations the
y’d shared.
The words he’d spoken to her…
“I love you.”
“I just wanted to have a night with you as Sam. Just Sam, a guy you met and liked.”
“It was wrong, what I did last night with the tour group. I know that. It was wrong and deceitful and I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Just remember. I’m not always this guy.”
“He’s got talent coming out his arse.”
“If it’s in your brother to party, he’ll party, no matter what the surrounding influence.”
Lily’s stomach rolled at the last memory, Samuel’s voice clear in her mind, his accent distinct.
The truth of his words hit her. A cold blow to her impotent fury.
He was right. Eugene would always find a way, a reason, an excuse. She’d tried to deny it to herself when he’d said it to her, tried to justify Eugene’s behavior as pressure from the rock-world lifestyle, but she’d been deluding herself.
If Gene didn’t have the control, the strength to resist the lure of drugs and alcohol and partying when his career, his very future, was at stake, it had nothing to do with an external influence.
Eugene had told her on the way to the clinic, sober and begging her forgiveness, he’d been alone when he’d celebrated. At the time, it had made little difference to her rage at Samuel and everything he stood for. She’d grabbed at the incensed disappointment with her twin and wrapped it around Samuel, making him the embodiment of all her grief for Eugene’s failure. Better to hate the man who represented an ill-informed idea than to be hateful of a brother who didn’t have the courage to fight for his future, yes?
Better to shun the man who’d unlocked her stubborn, prejudiced heart and loved her despite of it than to face her own narrow-minded, dogged obstinacy.
Lily’s knees trembled and she slid to the floor, her blood roaring in her ears.
Oh Christ on a pony, she was stupid. Stupid and mulish and unfair and cruel. She was all these things and more. She’d thrown everything Samuel had done for her, everything he’d given her and shown her, in his face and tarred him with a brush she herself had loaded with resentful ignorance.
Lead Me On Page 16
