Playing At Love: A Rogue Series Novel

by Lara Ward Cosio

  Felicity’s joke that it was so hard to be such a ladies’ man was only right to the extent that he was coming to understand that his heart had the ability to twist and turn based on who was in front of him. Was he that shallow, he wondered? Or were his emotions that complex?

  If he could be brutally honest with himself, he knew that the true answer was somewhere in the middle.

  ~

  Stepping out of the bathroom, Colette found Conor where she had left him on the bed. He was lost in thought as he stared out at the sea view and she was taken by the vision of him lying there naked against stark white sheets. His face was turned to one side, his muscular arms encircling the pillow. He had the body of a soccer player, lean with compact, defined muscles. She surreptitiously retrieved her cell phone and took a photo of him, cropping it teasingly so that it cut off at the rise of his buttocks and clearly conveyed the fact that he wasn’t wearing anything. Without thinking twice, she loaded the photo onto her Instagram account with the hashtags, #ConorQuinn, #RockStar, #MineAllMine.

  Colette wouldn’t ask him where he had been the night before or with whom. To do so would show a kind of possessiveness she wasn’t comfortable with. She always thought women who expected one hundred percent loyalty from their men were naïve. She prided herself on understanding the baser instincts of men, crediting the permissive attitude both to what her French Canadian mother had instilled in her about the other sex and to her own experiences ever since puberty had made her an object of desire. It wasn’t in the male nature to be monogamous. And she didn’t understand what it took away from a relationship if one person strayed as long as they came back to their partner in the end. But she was smart enough not to vocalize these sentiments. It was one thing to tolerate the behavior and another to encourage it.

  The only exception to this line of thought was Sophie. There was no way she would allow Conor to sleep with her again. Because she knew that it would never be a simple dalliance with her. Despite what he had tried to claim when wooing her back, she knew he had been in love with Sophie when he was with her before. But until he had broken their engagement with the excuse of needing to get someone else out of his system, she had thought she was winning the battle for his heart. To find out after the fact that his version of getting Sophie out of his system had been to fuck her was a slap in the face.

  But she knew that Sophie had not been the one Conor spent the night with. It was clear, despite that episode in the garden, that Sophie and Gavin were genuinely committed to a new start with each other. Conor had returned to her unshowered and without any trace of sex on him. She assumed he had met up with Shay or Randy, his guitar tech, for more drinking before crashing somewhere.

  And so, she wasn’t posting the photo to assert her claim over Conor for the world to see, nor to specifically reach the person he had spent the night with. No, she had shared the photo on her account simply because she knew it would annoy the hell out of him. She thought it a small price for him to pay for having left her alone the night before.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  The four-million-plus followers of Colette's Instagram account devoured her post. It was traded around fast and furiously before it circled back to Conor via a text from James with the note: "Hey #RockStar, try keeping your trousers on. Some of your fans are underage."

  This was followed, as if orchestrated, with a quick succession of several other texts.

  "I'm heartbroken," Shay said. "I always thought you were #MineAllMine!"

  Martin texted: "I prefer my #RockStars clothed, thank you very much! #coveritup!"

  Conor was astounded to get a text from Christian Hale, singer of the Australian group Scandal and long-time friend of the band, as that meant the photo had gone viral worldwide.

  Christian’s text was simple and to the point: “#CockStar”

  It made Conor laugh but then Gavin’s text appeared next on his phone.

  “You’re a beautiful, beautiful man. Get ready to talk this shit up on our media tour. Better you than me.”

  That brought Conor back to reality as he started to think about the ramifications of Colette’s little stunt. The one thing he hated most was attention being taken away from the band when they had an album out. He was fine with doing photo shoots with Colette when Rogue had nothing to promote, but when the band had their music to sell, he didn’t want anything to get in the way.

  ~

  Felicity was leaving Euro Spar with groceries and a subpar latte from the Insomnia coffee shop conveniently located within the store when she saw Conor was calling her cell. Renewed anger rose up in her and she decided to let it ring.

  But she reminded herself just before the call went to voicemail that she worked for the man and scrambled to be responsible and answer.

  “Yes, hello?”

  “Hey, you,” he said. “How are you?”

  She pulled the phone from her ear so she could sigh at his nonchalant tone. So he was going to play as if nothing had happened when he stayed the night.

  “Good, fine. What can I do for you?”

  “Em, right. I’m guessing you saw Colette’s photo?”

  “You mean the beefcake one of you?” she asked with a laugh and he couldn’t help but join her.

  “That’d be the one. Just wondering how big of a deal you think this is.”

  “Not that big,” she said.

  There was a lengthy silence on the line. She bit her lip, regretting her attempt at a dig. The slight wasn't even true as she remembered him as being nicely endowed. But more than that, she didn't like the feeling of being petty with him, despite how poorly he had treated her. She knew she had no claim on him. Regardless of his flirting and the way he touched her so familiarly, he had always been clear on his intention to marry Colette.

  “Oh, you know what to expect, don’t you?” she said. “Haven’t you seen Gavin and Sophie’s playbook on what makes for real controversy? This is a blip. You’ll take some ribbing and laugh at yourself and it will all be well in the end.”

  “Exactly what I needed to hear. You’re the best.”

  Yes, I’m the best, she thought. “Anything else, then?”

  “Are you all right? What are you up to?”

  “I’ve got loads of things to do, CQ. I’ll see you next week for the trip to London.”

  “Em, yeah. Take care then, Fee.”

  She could hear the disappointment in his voice at being dismissed and her first instinct was to try to smooth it over and make it easy for him. But she fought to stay firm with the line she was drawing. The suggestion she had made to have more of a business relationship had been a good one. But she knew it was all on her to make it happen, especially with the chemistry they had reawakened in her bed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Felicity watched from the side of the soundstage as Gavin and Conor did their best to charm the irreverent and popular chat show host Graham Norton during a taping of his London show. Conor had fidgeted and groused during the entirety of their chartered flight over, anxious to get the appearance over with.

  Felicity had elected to travel with Gavin and Conor to this appearance so that she could establish a relationship with the key production staff. And she was glad she did because while the boys were in the green room prior to their appearance, she was making nice with the producer and suggesting a comic take on the photograph Conor was so agitated about.

  It turned out that Graham had a different photo he wanted to showcase first. After greeting Gavin and Conor, he began his setup.

  “So, I must say you’re both looking fit,” he said and the audience howled appreciatively.

  He wasn’t sucking up to them as both men looked striking in their own ways. Conor, always able to pull off mixing styles, wore a white button-up shirt with a black and white striped tie under a Spidi Track black and red leather motorcycle jacket. He paired this with faded blue jeans and patent leather dress shoes. Gavin wore a black shirt that was turned almost sheer under the lights, expos
ing his muscular chest. His black Dickies pants were slim-fit and he wore electric blue Dr. Marten boots. They sat together on the iconic red sofa, the orange and purple set background glowing under the heat of the production lights. They each had a pint of Helvick Gold Irish blonde Ale set before them on a low coffee table.

  “And so are you,” Gavin said with a flirty smile.

  “Oh, you,” Graham said, fawning. “You’ve always been my favorite, Gavin. In fact, not too long ago, I was terribly worried for you.”

  “Really? Why’s that?”

  “Well, here, I’ll show you. Take a look at the screen.”

  Gavin was confronted then with a photo of himself on a monitor to the host’s right. It was from when he was deep into his drug abuse. He was on the set of another chat show, his shirt pulled off to display the Sophie tattoo he had gotten on his chest. But what was striking was how thin he looked, with ribs pushing against pale skin.

  “Tell us the truth now,” Graham said. “It was an eating disorder, wasn’t it?”

  The audience tittered, as it was public knowledge what the real cause of Gavin’s recent unhealthy state had been.

  “No, no. It was all the coke I was doing,” Gavin said to the astonished laughter of audience.

  Felicity threw her hands over her face, trying to think how this could possibly turn out well.

  “Ah, that explains it!” Graham said with a grin. “But, you’re here to tell me all that’s done and over with, yes?”

  “It is. But looks like I’ll never be allowed in Coldplay now,” he said, referring to the notoriously clean living band.

  Conor tried to hold back a smile as half the audience laughed and the other half oohed reproachfully.

  Graham tsked. “Don’t be cheeky, Gavin.”

  Gavin shook his head and put on his best innocent face. “I’m just saying, with their band policy of ditching anyone who does drugs, I’m out of the running.”

  “A shame for you, since I’m sure you were looking for a new band to lead.”

  “Nah, I guess it wasn’t meant to be. Anyway, I got that rock cliché out of my system, thanks very much.”

  “And you’re on again with the lovely Sophie?”

  At the mention of Sophie’s name, Gavin’s face transformed with a beatific smile. “Yes, it’s true.”

  “Which explains the turnabout, I’d say. Every paparazzi photo I see of you these days includes that very same dopey smile on your face. Look at these.”

  The screen displayed a series of photos taken on the sly of Gavin with Sophie in recent weeks, starting with their reunion in Sydney and leading up to just days previously when they had been at the Dalkey Farmers Market together. Their happiness and contentment in each other’s company was obvious.

  “They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered,” Gavin murmured, staring at the screen.

  “What’s that? Lyrics?”

  Gavin shook his head. “Em, sorry. This is why I should stop doing interviews. I can’t help but spew at the most inopportune times the words that rattle around in my head.”

  “What was it from?”

  “It’s a line by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It reminds me of Sophie and me. I guess that’s what falling in love all over again will do for you,” Gavin said with a smile, and the audience practically sighed in pleasure as one.

  “Ah, so you’ll keep on with the rock cliché of being with a supermodel.”

  “It’s sort of a happy accident that she’s a model. You know she wasn’t a model when we met—just a gorgeous schoolgirl. But, yes, I’m glad to keep up that cliché. ‘Cause, I love that woman with all that I am.”

  Felicity listened to the audience coo as they clearly fell in love with Gavin and his love story with Sophie once more. And just like that he had glossed over the drug use and gotten back into the public’s good graces. Throwing in that gentle dig at Coldplay would ensure media chatter on a supposed band rivalry to further distract from anything else of substance. She wondered how calculated it had been on Gavin’s part. He had to know people always craved a happy ending and he was now capable of giving it to them. At the same time, she knew he was also being completely honest and that this was the perfect way to connect with any audience. And what really sealed the deal was that Gavin was the kind of person others wanted to like. They rooted for his success and forgave him his sins, just as Sophie always had.

  “I have to say that the new album is brilliant,” Graham said and the audience applauded wildly. “It’s a great mix of uplifting songs and some really intense songs. Are you happy with it? Anything you would want to change now that you and Sophie are together?”

  Gavin laughed and shook his head. “No, man, that’s not how it works. You can’t rewrite after the fact. I poured my heart and soul into those songs. They stand on their own.”

  “I found it interesting that the song you’ll be playing for us a bit later, an acoustic version of “I Can’t Stay Here” is listed as the only song the two of you wrote together this time around. Do we need to be worried about the legendary partnership of McManus and Quinn?”

  He had asked with a melodramatic tone for comic effect, but the point was valid and Felicity found herself holding her breath once again to see how the boys would spin this. The lack of a true collaboration on the songwriting was a departure from their earlier albums and it was only a matter of time before the press dug for explanations.

  “Nah, no worries,” Gavin said dismissively as he put his arm around Conor’s neck. “This pretty bastard has been my best mate since age seven. Believe me when I say it’s been definitively proven that nothing will ever change that.”

  “You agree with that?” Graham asked Conor who was smiling and pushing Gavin off of him.

  “Yes, of course,” Conor said without hesitation. “Especially the pretty part.”

  “Pretty only gets you so far,” Gavin said with a laugh. “Always remember that Paul Simonon was voted ‘hunkiest man’ in Playgirl magazine.”

  “The bassist for The Clash, you mean?” Graham asked, aghast at the comparison of the gapped toothed and now grizzled veteran with the youthful and handsome Conor.

  “The very one.”

  “Gavin, you are a wealth of knowledge, as usual. And you, sir,” he said, looking at Conor, “You’ve got your own model girlfriend, haven’t you?”

  “Fiancée, in fact,” Conor said. “Colette Devereaux.”

  “Congratulations. Especially because I know her to be not only beautiful but quite the photographer.”

  There were some whistles from the audience and Conor tried his best to not react.

  “Yes, you see,” Graham continued, “she was kind enough to take a few shots of me.”

  The crowd laughed as the photo of Conor was put on screen. Graham’s maniacally smiling face had been superimposed over Conor’s. The trick Felicity had devised with the show’s producer was a success and took the pressure off of Conor. The photo became an instant meme as people everywhere inserted the face of other famous people, politicians, and their ordinary friends to have a laugh. And it thereafter almost lost all connection to Conor.

  ~

  "Oh, I could kiss you for that performance!" Felicity told Gavin at the end of the taping. "In fact, I think I will if you don't mind."

  Before he could reply, Felicity touched his cheek and leaned in for a triumphant kiss on the lips.

  "All right, enough of that," Conor said. He was surprised by how quickly the heat of jealousy had risen up in his chest. The kiss had been quick, over before he had even spoken. But it definitely had an effect.

  "You did good, too, CQ," she said. "But what Gav did just now was brilliant. We're done with the speculation about drugs and your marriage and doubting the band's future. You made my job so much easier."

  Gavin laughed. "Glad to help. I actually didn't have any idea this was such a concern."

  "If you came to the media meetings, you would," Conor said.

 
; "Oh, that. Well, I always assumed the music, the performances would speak for themselves. Didn't realize we were getting so calculated about things."

  Conor exchanged a look with Felicity, making it clear he didn’t believe the pretense Gavin was putting on. Gavin had manipulated that performance perfectly. He would just never admit it.

  "A little calculation at this stage is a good thing, believe me," Felicity said, happily giving him the out.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  As they were in London, a visit with Jackson Armstrong, was inevitable. They were invited to attend a party at the actor’s home that evening but Conor wasn’t exactly eager for the event.

  There had long been an undercurrent of tension within Conor and Jackson’s friendship. Jackson had been the unwitting reason Conor and Colette went from a previous one-night stand to dating when both were invited to one of the actor’s movie premieres. It was only after Conor had taken Colette directly from the red carpet to his bed that he found out Jackson had intended for her to be his date that night. Jackson had brushed off the awkward incident with a warning to Conor that Colette was “slippery” and likely to move on to the next fellow quickly.

  Just the opposite had occurred, as Conor and Colette quickly became exclusive, though admittedly with a few splits, over the course of the next two years. Conor thought Jackson’s cavalier dismissal at being jealous over the loss of Colette was a matter of acting. Jackson had not only disparaged their relationship in the guise of jokes over the years, but had also seized the opportunity to date Colette every chance he got.

  Jackson was also the one who had introduced Gavin to cocaine, actually suggesting it would relieve his depression. Conor had been so wrapped up in chasing his volatile girlfriend that he hadn’t known about Gavin’s drug use until it had gone well beyond recreational. In the end, Jackson had also been the one to help Gavin kick it, but Conor would always hold him responsible for fucking up his friend’s life.