One Kiss With a Rock Star

by Amber Lin

  Jesus, he’d never complain about his contractual obligations again. The label owned Half-Life, but they didn’t own him.

  “I’ll change my name to an unpronounceable symbol, shave my head, and join a damn cult.”

  “Yes, because you do so well without the creature comforts.”

  “I’ve done without.” Those three words, sharp and clipped, lanced him between the ribs. In that moment he realized that she had done without. Never mind that she’d had terrible times with her family, emotional and financial. She’d done without so much more. Without a childhood. Without real friendship. He’d thought she was spoiled. Nothing could have been farther from the truth.

  “I know, sweetie. So do they. The label owns your mother’s house. They’ll take it if you play hardball.”

  “But that was part of the original agreement. They gave her the house, got me emancipated, and I gave them my fucking soul.”

  He hated how young Maddy sounded. He wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all, but that wouldn’t do any good. His hands curled into ineffectual fists.

  “They gave her the house to live in rent-free. It honored the agreement. I never would’ve allowed such vague language. Maybe on the next round of negotiation we can get them to put it in her name. We’re so close.”

  “Let them take it.”

  Take it all. Take it all. Take it all. The refrain from “Beast” teased at the back of his mind. But that hadn’t been her favorite song. No. She’d wanted “Broken.”

  “We are broken, Maddy,” he whispered, pressing his face into the pillow. “But you aren’t alone.”

  The argument turned softer then, and he couldn’t bring himself to get up and eavesdrop in earnest. He’d heard enough, too much. Nobody could save Maddy from this situation. The dragon at the gate of her beautiful prison gnashed its teeth, mocking him. She’d tried to dismantle the walls from the inside, and all she’d done was crash them down on her head.

  The bedroom door clicked, and Maddy crawled up the length of the bed. She nestled herself into the crook of his arm as if she belonged there. As if all his empty spaces were hers to fill. Her cheek, soft and warm against his chest. Her hand splayed on his belly. Her leg, smooth and unmarked, tangled over his own. All of it felt right in a way he’d never experienced before. Tangled and knotted and right.

  “I don’t know what to do now. I’ve run out of moves,” she whispered.

  “We’ll figure something out.” He brushed a stray curl off her forehead.

  “We? This is the end of the line for you, buddy. You get off this train before it wrecks.”

  “What if I don’t want to? I’m not very good at self-preservation.”

  The flutter of her lashes tightened his nipple as she spoke. “Your grainy little sex tape was never the problem. Tommy Lee dined out on his for years. That’s rock-and-roll legend.”

  “It doesn’t really matter. Their tape fed the beast exactly what it wanted.”

  “And yours didn’t?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair and huffed. How was it possible that she didn’t understand the difference? It wasn’t. She knew. She’d told him as much already. But she wanted this moment. She’d willed it into being with her hip sway and batted false lashes. “You’re asking questions when you already know the answers.”

  “I am.” Her look was knowing.

  He let her lead him. “You want me to say it? I’ll say it. If a blonde with a great rack sucks my dick, they wouldn’t care. They’d high-five me for that and paint her as the devil.”

  “Mhmm.”

  “And you know what else? If some guy was sucking my dick, they wouldn’t care. Much. Because of course I’d let anyone suck me off, I’m a filthy rock star.”

  “Lock was in that video too. It was Hailey who paid the price. And you.”

  “Right, putting my mouth on someone’s cock? That means I’m getting used. It means I’m worthless. It has to be fucking managed with a fake engagement so people will still buy Half-Life’s albums.”

  “It’s not fair, none of it is.” She traced the curve of his lips with the tip of her finger, trailing a heat that made him shiver. Then she pressed against the seam of his mouth and he was helpless to do anything but draw her in, to accept the invasion with a flick of his tongue. He sucked, and she pushed deeper, filling more of his empty spaces. “Welcome to my world. The one where an inserted dick makes you instantly less valuable. Like driving a car off the lot.”

  She kept her tone light, but there was an edge of pain underneath the teasing that sliced him to the quick. He caught her hand and squeezed, pulling her slick finger free of his mouth. “That’s bullshit, Maddy. We’re not used cars.”

  She tore loose of his grip and rolled on top of him, pressing her pelvis hard against his. “They drive us like we are.”

  He couldn’t even argue because it was the truth. All of it.

  He grabbed her hips, careful to avoid the fresh ink on her belly, and held her down as he pressed up. “And if they weren’t driving, where would you go?”

  The wry smile teasing at the corners of her lips faltered, and her eyes darkened. She rocked her hips against him. “I thought I knew.”

  “I’m not talking about fucking.” But he was. He was asking with the lift of his hips and the grip of his hands on her ass. Even if he didn’t say the words. He didn’t have to. His body said all the things he couldn’t speak out loud. It always had.

  “Aren’t you? Wouldn’t you like to just fuck Lock and Hailey and not have to worry about someone catching it on tape and using it against you?”

  “No. I mean, yes. Not having shit used against me would be nice. But I don’t want to be with them like that. Not anymore.”

  “You had your fun?”

  He turned away from her, pressing the side of his face deep into the pillows. “Don’t make it cheap.”

  She leaned down, pressing her lips to his ear, teasing the lobe with her teeth. “I just want to understand.”

  “You and me both.”

  “Do you love him?” Not them. Him. The question was naked and raw, whispered into the skin of his neck. And he knew in that moment if he said yes, she’d leave. She wouldn’t just take whatever scraps of affection he gave her and be happy to have them. It hurt and felt immeasurably good all at the same time. Bleeding fingers on a soaring riff.

  He didn’t want her to leave.

  He cupped the back of her head, smoothing silky blonde strands with his thumb, over and over. “I love him, Maddy. I’ll always love him. He’s my best friend. My brother. But I’m not in love with him. I never was. I was just too fucked up to know the difference.”

  “But you know now?”

  The hope in her voice nearly killed him. “I think so. I’m learning. You can’t always fuck your friends and have it mean nothing. You can’t really be in love with someone that doesn’t love you back the same. That isn’t love. It’s infatuation, a crush.”

  The sound she made, half sob, half laugh, shuddered through him. “Fans.”

  “Something like that.” He guided her lips to his. “I can’t save you, princess. But I can be with you while it all falls down. I can hold your hand and stand with you in the rubble. Broken but not alone.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maddy woke up knowing exactly what she needed to do, and it didn’t involve cuddling against a warm, sleeping rocker. But that didn’t stop her from lying there, her palm spread over his heart, feeling the beats steady and true.

  She stole these moments like a jewel thief, relishing the shape of him, the cut of him. Admiring the predawn glow on his skin.

  His eyes were closed, dark lashes against his cheeks. He looked innocent like this—and strong. Sleep didn’t make him vulnerable; it was waking that did. But asleep, he wouldn’t feel her kiss against his cheek. Wouldn’t feel her slip out of bed and out of his life.

  “Good-bye,” she whispered, but he didn’t stir.

  This was their last n
ight together, and they hadn’t spent it with high-charged sex or wild threesomes. They’d spent it curled in each other’s arms, tangled up, skin to skin. Breaking apart felt like ripping off a piece of herself, as if she’d become physically attached to him overnight.

  Though if she were honest, she knew it had been happening longer than that. During their fake engagement, and even before that, watching him from afar. When he hadn’t liked her or respected her work, there had been a barrier between them. But when that had come down, so had all her protection, and she was left raw and abraded.

  She went through her standard two-hour workout like that, panting harder than usual. Feeling an ache in her chest that had nothing to do with crunches.

  After that came rehearsals.

  “What’s with you?” Jimmy asked when she’d stumbled a basic pirouette.

  She headed to the side of the room and took a deep drink of water. “Got a lot on my mind.”

  He smirked. “Trouble in paradise?”

  Maddy stuck out her tongue.

  Jimmy shrugged. “The way I hear it, your troubles are almost over. Now focus.”

  She tried. But the worst part was, he was right. Her time with Krist would end at dinner tonight. The hours of rehearsal seemed to go faster and faster, snowballing, until she couldn’t stop to catch her breath. She was panting through every move, her mouth dry, body slick with sweat.

  “Performance quality,” Jimmy said. “Do you not know what that means, or do you just plan to perform like shit?”

  Asshole. “Start the track over. I’ll get it right.”

  But instead of hitting play, he shut the music off. Silence rushed into the empty dance room as if she’d put a shell to her ear.

  His look was pitying. “Maddy.”

  “I said play the fucking music,” she shouted. She was being a diva. No, she was being a princess, but she didn’t care. “If you’re going to give me shit, at least let me do it over.”

  He nodded toward the back of the room, where a clock showed six o’clock. “You’re out of time.”

  Yeah. That about summed it up.

  *

  Krist watched Colt wail on Lock’s backup guitar while the other roadies and sound guys milled around him, setting the stage for tomorrow night’s show. Usually they didn’t have the luxury of an early setup, but an ice-skating extravaganza lost a day to food poisoning on the road, leaving the civic center with a dark night on the calendar.

  He caught Colt’s eye, and the kid sheepishly untangled himself from the slick instrument before trotting over. “You need something?”

  “Nothing you can help me with, kid.” Colt couldn’t get him a do-over with Maddy. Colt couldn’t rewind that awful night at the club opening. The tattoo shop was his fucked up way of apologizing for what he’d said in the club to Moe, but it couldn’t fix their entire relationship. Or lack of relationship.

  “Try me. Paige was helping me get the hang of that assistant shit.”

  Fuck. Colt standing there, hopeful and earnest, wrecked him. He’d been so busy trying to be something he wasn’t, he’d forgotten he was damn lucky to be who he was. Colt would give a testicle and a kidney to be in his shoes.

  “Being my assistant is not your job. Music is your job. When you aren’t hauling amps, focus on that.” Colt winced like Krist had swatted him with a rolled-up newspaper, and Krist regretted his sharp tone. He didn’t want to get sucked into a mentoring session, but the kid deserved a little reassurance. He softened and squeezed Colt’s shoulder. “You were looking pretty good up there.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. Fuck. Here’s a pro tip, if someone gives you a compliment, don’t make them second-guess themselves. Half the time people will do that on their own. You don’t need to help them along.”

  “Thanks.”

  He didn’t think he had to worry about Ward signing him up to do motivational speeches anytime soon, but Colt seemed happy to receive his nugget of half-assed wisdom. Maybe he should apply some of that wisdom to himself.

  No. He was too pissed to be smart about anything for more than a few seconds at a time. Intelligence would only get in the way of what he needed to do.

  “Have you seen Moe around?” Krist scanned the stage for the shit-starting bastard. He hadn’t answered for the dick move he’d pulled at the club opening yet.

  “He’s entertaining guests on the crew bus. I think he had the guys bring a couple of girls up from Tampa with them.”

  Fucking Moe. There weren’t enough escorts in NYC for him? He had to import? Blood pounded at Krist’s temples. “You seen Lock?”

  “Him and Hailey were here earlier, but they uh, uh…” Colt blushed, and Krist knew what uh uh meant.

  “They got off and got out?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Of course. He’d have to face Moe alone. He left Colt to finish the sound checks and headed deeper backstage. He followed a sliver of light to loading doors someone had propped open with paint cans. Thank fucking God the giant tour bus blocked the alley or they’d have a serious security issue to deal with. He slipped through the opening, careful not to nudge the cans in case the doors locked automatically, and stormed onto the bus.

  Krist waved at the haze of smoke filling the bus. He’d expected debauchery. Moe banging a couple of prostitutes, maybe a sex swing.

  There was no sex swing.

  Along with the prostitutes, there were a handful of the guys from the crew. Moe sat in the middle of it, a cigar clamped between his teeth, dealing cards.

  “Hey, Teen Idol. Want me to deal you in?”

  “Fuck you, Moe.”

  “Hit a nerve, huh?”

  “We need to have a talk.”

  Dottie, a burly guy with a grizzly gray beard who’d been on three tours with them, whistled through his teeth and studied his cards. “Think you’re in trouble, man.”

  “No shit.” Moe handed the deck to the pretty redhead perched in his lap. “You take care of these for me, honey. I’m just going to step into my office for a few. Don’t worry, Krist is all bark and no bite.”

  He slapped her thigh, urging her up, and climbed over Dottie.

  Once they were outside the bus, in the relative privacy of the uninhabited loading-dock area behind the civic center, Krist let all the anger he’d barely been holding in check boil over.

  He grabbed Moe by the shoulders and slammed him against the brick wall, baring his teeth like he might actually sink them into Moe’s skin. He felt rabid. “You think I don’t bite?”

  “Jesus, man. It was a joke. You aren’t usually this easy to rile up.” Moe’s eyes were wide with fear and something else that Krist couldn’t quite name. He squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to look at his friend in this moment. It didn’t matter.

  “Your jokes aren’t funny anymore. Maybe they never were,” Krist said.

  “Oh, I’m hilarious. I think your girl just fucked the sense of humor out of you.”

  “Do not talk about her. Do not fucking talk about her. You knew she was standing right there, and you let me keep going. On purpose.” Stomach acid burned at the back of his throat as he pounded the wall on either side of Moe with the palms of his hands.

  “You need my permission now? Am I your keeper this week?” Moe’s eyes flared, his face a terrifying grin. “I didn’t let you do anything.”

  “What is wrong with you? Do you want me to kick your ass?”

  Moe’s muscles were tense under his grip. “I want you to wake up and take some fucking responsibility. I want you to do something on your own.”

  “I’ve been on my own this whole leg of the tour.”

  “On a motherfucking leash.” Moe spit.

  Krist let him go and took two steps backward. The truth, punching him in the gut harder than any fist ever could. “Maddy doesn’t control me.”

  Moe cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders like the few minutes spent pinned to the wall had his whole body out of alignment. “Not just her.
I’m talking about the label. Ward. The fucking press. I thought you just had your head up your ass, but you were on a mission. Who wasn’t pulling your strings? Do you even know what’s going on with Lock right now?”

  “Are you actually calling me out on my relationships? You’ve never had a relationship that didn’t require a platinum card.”

  “Cash, man. Always cash. But I’m uniquely positioned on the outside to have an objective opinion. And my objective opinion is that you are a sad, stupid bastard.”

  “Coming from you, that really hurts. I’ll dry my eyes on the receipts from your last fucking transaction.” Krist choked on a laugh at his own dumb joke.

  Moe rolled his eyes and held his hands up. “I’m not standing around for the fallout this time. I’m not going to wait for shit to get bad.”

  “I think shit’s already bad.”

  “From bad to worse. Lock’s been in the studio.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “He’s been in the studio”—Moe poked Krist in the chest, his thick, callused finger like a drumstick to the solar plexus, pounding out an undeniable beat—“alone. He’s recording as Keaton Shaw. You want to cry on my shoulder now? Because we should both be fucking terrified at that prospect.”

  “I’m not—” Not what? Not going to cry on Moe’s shoulder? Except, that was exactly what he was doing. Only with his fists instead of tears. And only about all the wrong things.

  It couldn’t be true. An overwhelming sadness crashed down on him as the puzzle pieces started clicking into place. “He won’t leave us.”

  Krist knew it was a lie even as he said it. Four small words, full of so much sadness and regret they tasted bitter in his mouth. But he had to say them. He had to try and make them true.

  “He’s already fucking gone.” Moe’s voice, rough with anger, took on a frantic edge. “Do you see him anywhere? He did his PR spots like a good boy. But he’s done. I saw a draft of the press release; we’re canceling the European leg of the tour. He’s not the same man he was, and you’re not either. Shit. I wish I could just knock your fucking heads and tie you up in the back of the tour bus.”