Declan smiled. Hell if he was going to let anyone see him sweat. “I’ll still have you.”
Malcolm shook his head. “The only person you’re going have left is dipshit Vaughn.”
He’d cut his dick off before he got stuck with that assmunch. “I’ll go solo first.”
Malcolm laughed. “It won’t work. There only eight people in the world that can put up with your ego and three of them are in this room.”
What made Malcolm think Declan could stand himself? He didn’t have any illusions about the type of man he was. He smiled, hoping he looked cool. This had to work. He needed this to work. Or he’d be lost. Not just because the band ended, but he’d lose his only friends. “I’m not worried.” But he was, more than he could ever admit to anyone, even himself.
Chapter Eight
Charlotte speared a chunk of honeydew melon and lifted it to her mouth as she read an article on agricultural stocks. Gentle sunlight filtered into the spacious kitchen. This was the only room in the house that had an ultra-modern feel, with its stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. She’d been at the house for three days now. It was almost eight in the morning and she had to leave for the office soon.
She heard the front door open and wondered who was coming home from a night of tomcatting. Or who was leaving. She smiled. It was certainly interesting, spending time with a bunch of single men. Actually, more like an education. She had learned more about men in three days than she had in her entire twenty-six years. And they were fascinating. If she had this opportunity at sixteen she’d be ruling the world by now.
“Oh hello.”
Charlotte turned at the husky female voice and smiled. “Hello.”
The woman put a brown and gold Fendi tote bag on the floor next to the breakfast table. She was older, in her mid-to-late-forties. She had on black jeans and a Ramones T-shirt. Her sleek red hair was perfect and she wasn’t wearing a lot of makeup, but she looked incredible. “And you are?”
“Charlotte Lambert. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held out her hand.
The woman stared at her hand for a second, puzzled, and then took it. “Jocelyn Murray. Declan let you stay the night?”
Why did everyone think that? “I’m not with Declan.”
“Malcolm?”
“I’m a friend of Travis’s.”
“Shut the front door!” She pulled out a chair and sat down and just stared at her.
What did that mean? The woman just kept gawking at her and Charlotte felt as if she were a bug under a microscope. She didn’t sense the woman meant to be mean, but she was making her uncomfortable. “Why does everyone think I’m with Declan?”
Jocelyn raised her perfectly groomed eyebrows. “Victoria Beckham dress, Yves St Laurent Tribute pumps, Prada Bowler bag. This means not only do you have money, you have taste. This usually equals Declan, sometimes Malcolm, but never Travis.”
Did she want to know what Travis usually liked if it was nothing like her? Charlotte leaned forward. “What does Travis prefer?”
“He’s a three Bs man. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and big boobs.” She tapped her forehead. “And not too complicated upstairs.”
Well she was none of those things. Her heart sank; she wasn’t really what he liked at all. “Oh.”
Jocelyn got up and grabbed the pot of coffee and a cup from the cup tree. She poured herself a cup of coffee. “Boys grow up.”
“I could be a twit,” she said as if that were a positive thing.
Jocelyn shook her head and sat down. “You’re no twit.”
“How can you tell?”
She laughed. “You’re reading a newspaper. Hell, you’re just reading period.” She took a sip of coffee and looked transported. “This coffee is incredible.”
That did not speak well of the men, but then again, she had met a few of the women that had floated in and out of this house over the last few days. They seemed a bit –– causal –– was the best word she could come up. She didn’t want to be judgmental. “It’s the chicory.”
“Had I known they had coffee like this, I would have missed my grandnephew’s birth and been here.”
“Congratulations.” Charlotte gave her best ‘tell me everything’ smile. “So what do you do?”
“Thank you. I’m officially the band’s manager, but I’m really the other mother.”
What did that mean exactly and did she want to know? “What does the other mother do?” she asked anyway.
“Keep them in beer, keep track of the girls, and make sure everyone wears a condom.”
Charlotte giggled. “That’s an interesting job description.”
She took another sip of coffee and put the cup down on the inlaid blue tile table. “It’s harder than herding cats, but I knew the job was dangerous before I took it.”
Now that was interesting. “How did you get this job?”
Jocelyn held up her hand. “First let me say, I can tell you are a first class interrogator. All sweet and nice, I’m impressed. I was Malcolm’s, Gavin’s, and Lana’s nanny back in the day. And if I could survive Lana’s drama, Gavin’s shitty diapers, and Malcolm and Declan’s puberty, it was all the on the job training I needed to do this.”
Touché, Charlotte thought, liking this plain spoken woman already. “You are very perceptive.”
Jocelyn lifted her coffee cup. “Go ahead and ask.”
Charlotte raised her eyebrows hoping she didn’t seem too nosey. “What question?”
“The girl question.” Jocelyn smirked.
This woman was smart and tough. Charlotte had the feeling she was going to like her. She just had to get Jocelyn to like her. “I’ll bite, what do they like?’
“Declan’s worked his way through every blonde waif in L.A. Malcolm likes them smart, but not always a lot of common sense. Vaughn could find the trashy girl in a convent; Shane is still in his stripper phase, anything that doesn’t remind him of the corn queen--”
“Corn queen?”
Jocelyn rolled her eyes. “His ex, Olivia, the farmer’s daughter. He’s from Iowa.”
As if that explained anything. “And Gavin?”
“God Bless him, he loves the kooky ones.”
“No one has a steady girlfriend?”
“Well Gavin has Gwyn, but they are very free range. She’s some kind industrial artist and they see each other when there in the same city, but aren’t exclusive. And we talked about Travis.”
“Hmm very interesting.” She pushed around her last piece of honeydew as she considered Jocelyn’s answer.
She leaned across the table. “So how are my boys doing? I heard the mini-concert went great, but is anybody writing? Have they touched their instruments since?”
These men played like five-year-olds on the first day of summer. “They seem to be doing a lot of playing, but Travis is doing some writing in this black leather notebook.”
A look of relief came over her and she raised her hands to the heavens. “Thank you, Jesus. I’ve been very worried about him.” She picked up her phone and texted a quick message.
“He’s very secretive about it, though.”
Jocelyn put down her phone and picked up her cup of coffee again. “That’s his process.”
“From what I’ve been able to gather, he and Andy were friends for a long time.”
“Since kindergarten. Andy brought the band together.”
“How so?” Charlotte was glad she finally going to get to the mystery that was Andy.
“Andy taught Travis how to play guitar and then dragged him out to L.A. after high school to look for a band. Travis gave up a free ride to an Ivy League school to be the next Jimi Hendrix.”
She knew Travis was a smart one. “I am impressed.”
“Andy met Shane at his job in the music store and brought him and Olivia home to sleep on the couch. Then he met Gavin when he wanted to learn to surf. Then Malcolm and Declan –– hell, if it weren’t for Andy, Declan might have ended up in some boy
band, but Andy convinced him he was lead singer material. Then he convinced Malcolm and Travis they could write lyrics and Shane could write music.”
That was it. No wonder they were so broken. “That explains everything.”
“What?”
“Andy was the lynchpin.”
“What do you mean?”
Charlotte pushed aside her bowl of melon and leaned over. “I’ve only been here for a few days, but they all seem so sad. Andy wasn’t just a friend or a member of the band, he was the reason they are a band. No wonder they are all so lost.”
Jocelyn let out a long sigh. “That’s why Cherry sent them here, hoping if they were out of L.A. they would be forced to rely on each other again.”
“Who’s Cherry?” Another woman she had to compete with? Stop being jealous, Charlotte, she commanded herself.
“She’s the band’s agent and Malcolm and Gavin’s mom. And for a while, Declan’s legal guardian.”
That’s right, Gavin and Malcolm were brothers. “But Malcolm and Gavin don’t have the same father?”
“Gavin’s dad is Jay Nash. He owns CMA, an artists’ agency that Cherry works for. Malcolm’s father is Fox Elliot.”
She’d heard of him. He was always drunk and in the news a few years back. “The rock star?”
A look of pure disgust marred Jocelyn’s pretty face. “And all-around drunk prick bastard.”
“This is confusing. Cherry was also Declan’s legal guardian?”
“You are not your typical Scorned groupie. All this is pretty easy information to get.”
Charlotte leaned closer. She’d almost stopped being embarrassed that she didn’t know anything about Travis’s life. “I’m not a big rock and roll fan.”
Jocelyn smiled, her tone amused. “I couldn’t tell. Here’s the quick and dirty version. Cherry had a hot and heavy with Fox, which resulted in Malcolm, but Mr. Morals of an Alley Cat dumped her. She met Jay when she got a job at CMA and Jay fell madly in love. Then Cherry brought Fox into the CMA family, because she always tried to keep a civil relationship with Fox for Malcolm’s sake and to keep track of money so he didn’t piss it away. Jay made her an agent then married her. She had Gavin and Lana. Malcolm and Declan were friends from school. Declan’s father was, and is, a total nut bag. When Declan decided to get himself emancipated he ran to Cherry and Jay who were always more parents to him than his ass of dad.”
“Why did Declan get emancipated from his father?”
“He’s never confirmed it, but his dad used to beat the crap out of him if he didn’t get a role. Until Cherry stepped in, he was draining his bank account.”
She thought for a moment. “Declan was a child actor right?”
“A very busy one. His dad thought Declan was his retirement plan.”
That explained Declan’s behavior. No wonder he was such a jerk at times –– the man had been through a lot. He was entirely to blame for his current state, but she would have to work on that. “I’m going to help them.”
“What?”
Charlotte stabbed her nail on the table top. “They need help. I’m going to help.”
“I’m still lost.” Jocelyn held up a hand.
“No wonder they are on the verge of falling apart. They were broken before Andy died. We’re going to fix this.”
“Why do you care?”
She cared for Travis and she found herself liking most of the band more and more. Maybe that’s why she had ended up in this house; she had a job to do. It was fate. “I’m a Southern woman. I can’t abide by other people’s unhappiness unless I want them to be unhappy.”
Jocelyn sat back and gave her a hard stare. “You look like a sweet fluffy thing, but I think you have a spine of steel.”
“I run one of the biggest charitable foundations in this country. I can get money from a rock if I put my mind to it.”
“I like you, Charlotte. And you make incredible coffee.”
She had an ally. Good. “You give me all the information I need and I will introduce you to the beignet.”
“I’m in.”
Charlotte looked at her watch. She wished she had more time to talk. She and Jocelyn were going to get along great.
Charlotte parked her car at the valet station and handed the man her keys as she thanked him. She stepped through the doors of Max’s Bistro and was greeted by the owner. “Ms. Lambert, you look exquisite today.”
High praise indeed. The yellow Victoria Beckham sheath dress had garnered her some positive attention. Again thanks to Viv. “Thank you, Max. Is Henry here?”
Max raised his eyebrows. “Mrs. Lambert is never late.”
But apparently Charlotte almost was. He escorted her to their table and her sister-in-law stood and embraced her. “Ducks, you look absolutely divine.” Her cultured English accent made everything sound so proper.
Charlotte smiled. “Thank you and you are as audacious as ever.” Henry popped a quick pose in her body-hugging black dress. Henry was the sexiest woman Charlotte had ever known. She was a bleached blonde bombshell who flaunted her glorious curves and her sex appeal every chance she got. She and Everett had been married for ten years and had two sons, Ian and Colin.
“Well, then it’s a good thing your mother isn’t here, isn’t it.”
Charlotte cringed. Her mother didn’t particularly care for Henry even though she was an English earl’s daughter. Henry’s mother was a brash, new moneyed New Yorker. “You are so bad.”
“I know. How are you?”
Charlotte sat. “Well thank you.”
“You’re glowing. Have you finally started taking advantage of living alone and having some real fun?”
Charlotte blushed. “Well I’ve …” How did she tell her about Travis? Not that Henry would judge, but she did like having a secret. She really didn’t want her family to know she’d gone mad with lust and was having an affair with a rock star. They’d probably lock her up until she came to her senses.
Henry shook her finger at her. “You are up to something. Talk quickly, your brother will be here any moment.”
“Everett is coming?” She’d forgotten. Now, she couldn’t talk about Travis. Her brother sometimes treated her as if she were still ten and in pigtails.
Henry inclined her head. “And speak of the devil.”
Everett bent over and kissed his wife on the cheek. “So now I’m the devil.” He pulled out a chair and sat. “Baby Sister, how are you?”
“Fine.”
Everett tilted his head. “You look different. Have you changed your hair?”
“No.”
Henry patted his hand. “I think Charlotte met a man.”
“You have?”
“Is that so strange?” Yes, it was, but Charlotte wasn’t going to admit to it.
Everett shrugged and picked up his menu. “No. I just wanted to see how you were after your brush with crime.”
This was news to her. “Brush with crime?”
He set down his menu and took his napkin off the table. He unfolded it and placed it on his lap. “According to our mother you were practically robbed, raped, and murdered the other day.”
“Oh heavens.” And she hoped that was all she had to explain about her situation, because anything else would lead to questions she didn’t want to answer.
“I understand that mother was verbally abused by a foul-mouthed lout.”
“I misplaced my phone. That’s all. It was returned to me.”
Henry raised her hand. “So, who is this man and how did you meet?”
“His name is Travis.” Don’t ask more, she wanted to scream.
“How did you meet?” Everett pinned her with a stare.
Would they chase her down if she just got up and walked away? “We met at a rock concert.”
Henry’s dark eyebrows hit her hairline. “You went to a rock concert?”
“I’m trying new things.”
Everett leaned forward. “Who did you see?”
Wha
t happened to her nice quiet lunch with her family? She waved her hand as if to dismiss the question. “You wouldn’t have heard of them. How are the boys?”
“I have been off the farm a time or two.” Everett wasn’t to be dismissed.
Henry smiled. “He has, you know. Who did you go see?”
Well at least she knew they hadn’t heard of the band. “A band called Scorned.”
Everett stared at her for moment before he spoke. “You went to a Scorned concert?”
Charlotte lowered her head and fiddled with her snowy white table napkin. “Yes.” She took a deep breath hoping she didn’t look panicked.
Henry grabbed her wrist. “Wait a second. Did you meet Travis Rexford?”
“Yes.”
Everett’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God. You’re seeing Travis Rexford?”
This was not what she expected. That blatant look of admiration on her brother’s face. “You like Scorned, but you play the French Horn. How do you know about rock and roll?”
Henry started laughing. “Ducks, we met at a Scorned concert in New York. It was their first tour.”
They had lied to her mother. “I thought you met at the opera.”
Henry snorted. “That’s what your mother assumed, she already believed I was leading him down the path of sin, so I let her believe I have some redeeming qualities beside money and a titled father.”
“This is so not about us. This is about my sister dating a rock god.” Everett leaned forward. “Tell me everything.”
He wanted to gossip like they were girlfriends? Charlotte wanted to ask who this man was and what had he done with her brother. “There isn’t much to tell. I lost my phone. We met.”
Everett got this strange gleam in his eye. “At the concert?”
“It was actually Gavin who found my phone.”
Everett took a shuttering breath. “Your phone was held by the greatest drummer since Jon Bonham and he cussed out our mother?”
“It seems so.” What else could she say?
He held out his hand. “I want to touch it.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. Was he mad? “Everett, are you insane?”
You Shook Me All Night Long Page 9
