One Kiss With a Rock Star

by Amber Lin

  Shit. He was the sweet one. All that sweetness turned to acid in his gut.

  Nothing would change, anyway. Not for long. Who he was fucking didn’t change who he was inside. He wasn’t gay when he sucked a dick. He wasn’t straight when Maddy sucked his. He didn’t want to check a box, because the box he needed never seemed to show up on the form. Bisexual wasn’t a gray area somewhere between gay and straight. It wasn’t a murky swamp that lured confused innocents into debauchery or a rest stop before the final destination. It deserved its own box, but who was he to put it there?

  It was easier to go along with the plan. To tell himself he was really doing it for the band. For Maddy. To lie. To hate himself.

  Moe slammed the bottle on the table. “To the victor go the spoils.”

  Krist didn’t feel victorious; he felt vicious. Fuck assumptions. They weren’t helping him anymore. Screw Ward’s demographics. Lucky was right about one thing; he could be more authentic.

  *

  Maddy limped her way to the limo. At least they were in a closed-off section of the parking garage where no one could see her stagger like she was leaving a frat party. But she wasn’t drunk; she was sore. Her workout today had been brutal. Her choreographer and her trainer had busted her ass.

  Jimmy’d had no sympathy. You were the one dicking around with PR bullshit the past few days. Time to pay your dues.

  Five hours. Performance quality. She’d almost thrown up by the end.

  There hadn’t been time for a proper cooldown after. She’d barely had time to shower and stumble into makeup and hair. Meanwhile she could feel her muscles growing stiff and tight, the lactic acid burning with every hitch of her breath.

  At least Paige was there, waiting beside the limo. She frowned. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  “See and be seen,” Maddy said. “I was made for this.”

  She hid her wince as she folded herself through the car door. Jesus, that hurts. She sank into the leather and closed her eyes, ignoring Paige’s worried expression, grateful for the shadows.

  “Am I popping out anywhere?” she asked without looking.

  “In the sexy way,” Paige said. “A very sexy way.”

  Maddy smiled at the appreciative note. Life was good. Even in pain and strapped into the dress from hell, life was good. She straightened her pinafore, hoping it would hold. The dress was a blue gingham pattern with a white apron. Her hair had been styled sleek and straight, with a blue headband. She was Alice in a sexed-up Wonderland, perfectly designed to fit the decor of the new club.

  That was her—décor. Sometimes it grated, that men got to be deep artists while women were relegated to pinups. So she made pinup work for her. She owned it and made it her bitch. She was the pinup, and the press ate her up.

  They were waiting outside the club. Some of the press were inside, those with connections and passes. The horde remained on the steps beside the red carpet, ready for her.

  “Madeline Fox! Look this way!”

  “Ms. Fox, why aren’t you with Krist Mellas? Trouble in paradise?”

  “Who’s playing the queen?”

  That last one was cute. It made her head turn. She smiled at the reporter. “You are, of course.”

  His photographer got the perfect shot, hair falling over her shoulder, wicked glint in her eye, dressed to perfection in her Alice costume. She could feel the rightness of the shot as the flash blinded her. He deserved it for actually noticing her costume instead of rolling out the same tired questions.

  The club was exactly as tripped out as she’d hoped. Purple strobe lights and smoke made it almost impossible to see. Bodies on the dance floor were shadows only, writhing, hands raised. Music pulsed heavy in her bones—too much bass to hear a thing. Just noise.

  Deep breath. A few hours. She had to survive a few hours without tripping or whimpering or falling the fuck down, and then she could go back to the suite. Maybe she could get Krist to massage out some of her tension. She grinned. Then he could massage her muscles too.

  But where was he? He should have already arrived.

  She turned back to ask Paige to text him. But behind her was a sea of people. She recognized some of them, but they weren’t Paige. They weren’t Krist.

  Crap. The skintight dress hadn’t had room for a phone.

  A pair of bubbly teenagers accosted her. “Oh my God, Madeline Fox. We love you. You’re even skinnier in person.”

  Maddy put on her smile. “Aww, thank you. Aren’t you two on KidMania? I remember you from the reunion episode.”

  They squealed, and Maddy forced herself to talk for a few more minutes. Yes, KidMania was absolutely the best thing that had ever happened to her. Oh, her advice? Be true to yourself, even if that meant fucking your assistant and your fake fiancé at the same time.

  No, wait. She didn’t add that last part. They weren’t even legal yet, although Maddy knew that didn’t matter much. Not to anyone, but especially not in this business. The clinic on set at KidMania handed out condoms like they were candy. Better that than end up with a pregnant teen star.

  She broke away from the two Teen Beats only to meet an agent, a gossip blogger, and a self-proclaimed next Michael Jackson. It was like the start of a bad joke, but Maddy wasn’t laughing.

  “I need to find someone,” she told them with as much apology as she could fake.

  The gossip blogger smirked. “Lovers in love.”

  They were far from in love, but she needed to find him just the same. Needed to see him. Today had been rough for several reasons, but most of all because of how much she’d missed him. Still missed him, even though he could be a few feet away from her.

  She looked at the club with a critical eye. Krist didn’t like the limelight. He shied away, always, but especially since the sex video. He wouldn’t be on the floor or near the bar where everyone else packed themselves in. He’d have found a quiet corner, maybe in one of the alcoves on the side with glittery curtains.

  She peeked inside one. “Oh, I’m sorry!”

  The couple didn’t even stop what they were doing. It wasn’t completely private, but it must have felt that way to them, blocked off from the noise and the lights.

  A little more cautious, she squinted through the curtains of each nook, trying to get a feel for who was inside. There was a lot of making out and more than a few lines of coke. The sweet smell of pot mingled with sweat and sex—a potent mix that drew her in with its familiarity. Other kids might savor chicken soup or cookies from the oven, but she didn’t have those memories. She only had this.

  In the last set of chairs, she could see a man with wide shoulders and dreadlocks. Definitely not Krist, but actually it looked like Moe, his Half-Life bandmate. Which meant Krist could be in there with him.

  But she didn’t want to interrupt if Moe was in there with someone else. She took a step forward, tilting her head to listen…

  “When the fuck did you have time to wine and dine Madeline Fox anyway?” said a low male voice, faintly mocking.

  “Who said I wined and dined her?” Krist.

  “A girl like that, that’s what it takes. A lot of work and a lot of trouble.”

  A snort. “You think anything more than writing a check is work.”

  “Hell no. Cash is the way to go.”

  Prostitutes? Guess the rumors about Half-Life’s drummer were true.

  Maddy shifted on her feet, legs aching. She leaned against the pole that separated each alcove and pressed her forehead to metal. She shouldn’t be listening to this. It was a private conversation. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to walk away.

  Yeah, blame it on the sore muscles.

  “Well, I’m not paying Madeline Fox a cent,” Krist said.

  “No? That ring looked fucking expensive on the news. Engaged. Fuck. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me first. I can understand not telling Lock after all that shit went down, but me?”

  “Because it isn’t real.”

  Maddy
sucked in a breath. So he was telling his bandmate. That was fair. They were close.

  “You gave Madeline Fox a fake diamond?” Moe asked.

  “No, dumb-ass. The diamond is real, but I didn’t pay for it. Our agent did.”

  There was a pause. “Come again.”

  “The engagement is a fucking hoax. A PR stunt. I didn’t tell you and Lock because it’s not for real. We’re just doing it so this whole video thing cools down. I know you and Lock have been stressed about that, so you can take a load off, okay? I’ve got it under control.”

  Moe was laughing now. “Under control? No, bro. This right here is the opposite of under control. Does she know it’s fake?”

  “Of course she knows. How can you ask that? She’s in on it too. She has her own shit to handle.”

  “I guess she does. At least it makes sense now. I thought you didn’t even like her.”

  Silence. Maddy stared at the ground, trying to imagine Krist’s expression.

  He didn’t deny it. Her pulse beat faster. This was exactly why she shouldn’t be listening to a private conversation. Didn’t she already know this? He hadn’t exactly hidden his opinion of her. So why should she stand here listening?

  She didn’t move.

  Moe snorted. “At least tell me you’re getting the perks. This is a fake engagement with benefits, right?”

  “So what if it is?”

  “Hey, you’ll get no judgment from me. If she’s got one thing to offer, may as well use it.”

  “Oh no, she has a lot more than one thing to offer. And I’m sampling every last one.”

  Direct hit. Maddy pressed her fist to her chest—her very exposed chest in the stupid Alice in Wonderland dress. Suddenly she felt exposed everywhere, naked. And falling.

  “There’s the Krist I know. She’s good, isn’t she? Fuck, I knew it. Of course she’s good. You don’t dance like that and not know how to fuck. We saw her at the VMAs last year, remember?”

  “That’s exactly how she is. Like a goddamn machine.”

  Moe laughed. “Does she sound like that too? Does she moan in Auto-Tune?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. No no no. She waited for Krist to deny it. Or at the very least tell him not to say that. Defend her.

  “No,” Krist said, and for a brief second she felt pure relief. And something else, an ache inside her that grew and grew. Then he added, “She fucks great. Not at all like she sings.”

  *

  Krist squirmed in the booth. He felt itchy and raw under the skin, scabbed over, like he’d been tattooed on the inside. And talking shit about Maddy with Moe? It scratched.

  He tossed back a shot from the bottle of Jack. The fiery liquid burned his throat and landed hot in his belly. Another way to scratch. He wanted to tell Moe to shut the fuck up, to defend her, but he didn’t want to be the sweet one. How pathetic would it be to admit he’d let their agent saddle him with a beard, and then he’d gone and fallen in love with her? He pressed the bottle to his lips, fuck a glass, and tilted it up. Eyes closed, he sucked back what had to be a double. Not nearly enough.

  Moe whistled. “Off the leash tonight, huh? It’s about time. You’ve had your head up your ass for days.”

  “Piss off.”

  Moe’s grin turned wicked. “You want your phone back so you can check on the little woman?”

  “Keep the damn thing. I don’t care.” Krist snarled at Moe. He held on to the anger bubbling just beneath the surface like it was a life preserver. If he stayed angry, he didn’t need to deal with any of the other feelings floating around.

  “Suuuure you don’t.” Moe’s heavy boot made contact with Krist’s shin. “It’s not like we could miss her arrival. Madeline Fox makes an entrance.”

  “You’re right. It’ll be choreographed with pyrotechnics and glitter cannons. She’ll ride in here on a pink pony with an army of backup dancers.”

  Moe snorted. “Keep digging, buddy.”

  “Didn’t you hear? I am. I’ve got a golden shovel around here somewhere. The pony shits number-one singles. They look like rainbow sprinkle Pop Tarts.”

  Moe’s laugh died in his throat, and his eyes shuttered. The skin-crawling sensation of being watched crept up the back of his neck.

  “I left my pony at home, Krist. I thought I’d ride you tonight.” Her tone was all candy and venom. He knew if he turned around, he’d see that stage smile, the one that was big enough to hide a breaking heart. Or rage. Instead she slid into the booth beside him, wrapped her arm around his waist and pressed a kiss into the air beside his cheek.

  “Fuck you and your stupid cock rock,” she whispered.

  Krist’s heart stopped. How long had she been there? How long had Moe known? Why the fuck hadn’t Moe told him she was standing there? He’d liberate Moe’s goddamn teeth. He took another swig from the bottle and blew out a breath.

  “Madeline Fox, allow me to introduce Moe Turner, esteemed asshole drummer of Half-Life.”

  Maddy, always so damn professional, shook Moe’s hand. “A pleasure.”

  “Likewise. As much as I’d love to stay for the fireworks, I think I better go look for Lock. Go easy on his face, okay? We need him pretty for the tour.”

  Moe ducked out of the alcove as Krist hissed. “Coward.”

  Before the curtain stopped swinging, Maddy pulled away, putting enough space between them to keep any part of her body from touching his. He deserved that.

  “I don’t know how much you heard—”

  “Enough.”

  “Princess, I—”

  “Don’t. Do not call me that. Not now.”

  “Maddy. We were screwing around and…”

  “You meant what you said.”

  He wouldn’t lie to her and say he didn’t. Moe hadn’t held a gun to his head. But that didn’t make all of it true. Not deep down. Not anymore. Possibly not ever. “Let me make it up to you?”

  As soon as the request passed his lips, he flashed on the alley and her thighs hooked over his shoulders, the heat of her sloppy sweetness against his face, and his whole body went warm at the thought. Warm like whiskey and so damn hollow. Hollow because nothing ever changed.

  Judging from the flush in her cheeks, she’d thought of the alley too, or maybe she was just that pissed. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I already know how you apologize, and I’m not interested.”

  Her tone might still be candy and venom, but her thoughts were right back in that alley with his. If he reached across the space between them and touched his thumb to the pulse point behind her ear, he knew he’d find her heartbeat pounding staccato beneath the delicate skin. Maybe he could salvage this. “You mean I can’t just lick you to orgasm every time I do something stupid? That seemed like a good plan to me.”

  “Stupid I can work with. Not hateful. You—”

  You? You idiot. You hypocrite. You fuck-nut asshole. You slutty bastard. You absolute waste of flesh. He braced for a string of curses, all the foul names she should call him, a torrent of nastiness to match what he’d said about her. Instead she yanked the headband out of her hair, letting it fall like a curtain around her face, and sighed.

  Her sigh lashed him. It didn’t hurt enough.

  “You?” he prodded. He needed to hear it, to pay for his sins.

  She didn’t look at him, just shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. We need to go work the room.”

  He reached for her and skimmed his hand down her arm. When she didn’t shrug away from his touch, he pulled her close. He’d wanted her to hurt him, to make things even, but this kind of hurting didn’t get the job done. This kind of hurting swallowed him up. “Maddy, please. Give me a chance.”

  She twisted to face him, thunking her palm against his chest but not breaking free. She whacked him twice, not hard, just enough to send a vibration through him that shuddered straight to his cock. Yes. Good. She could hate him and smack him and call him names. Anything as long as she wasn’t sad while she did it. Her eyes filled with
tears that threatened to roll right off her long lashes and down her cheeks. Fuck. “Because you’re always giving me chances? Oh, wait. You aren’t. You think I get paid with Skittles. That they trot me out like a show dog, and I twirl for a treat. We have the same damn job, Krist. I’m a professional. Just like you.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “You said enough. Let’s go do our job.”

  “You’re nothing like me.” It slipped out like a prayer. It was every good thing he felt about her, but the exact worst thing he could say.

  And then the tears did burst free, a watery swirl of mascara and salt. A shuddering flood of awful. She climbed into his lap and straddled him. “I won’t let you do this to me. I can’t. Now kiss me so when we crawl out of this alcove, people think you were in here fucking me, not breaking my fucking heart.”

  He kissed her, and it was nothing like the alley. Nothing like an apology. He dug his fingers into her hair and kissed her deeply, desperately, tasting the salt of her tears clinging to her lips. He swallowed her sorrow and used it to wash down his own.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It would be easier for Krist if Maddy froze him out, but she never did the easy thing.

  She’d turned up the volume on her act at the opening and never turned it back down. Instead of the cold shoulder, he got the caricature, the cartoon. Her celebrity persona stood between them like a battlement.

  And he was naked behind enemy lines. He needed to patch up his armor. Literally.

  Zen’s tattoo shop smelled like antiseptic and jasmine incense, at once sharp and seductive. Just like getting inked. Krist inhaled deeply and unclenched his jaw as he stepped inside the shop, a shocking relief after the tense ride over.

  Some people got massages; Krist spent an hour or two under the needle. And he needed it after spending the night sleeping on the sofa in the hotel suite. He was looking forward to the bite of the needle and the hum of the machine. Zen would settle him down and mark him up. By the time his appointment ended, he’d float back to the hotel on a cloud of endorphins and the sunburned soreness of a fresh tattoo. Ready for battle.