Misadventures with a Rockstar

by HELEN HARDT

  But that wouldn’t happen. Heather wasn’t like most women. I had essentially kicked her out of my bed this morning, and no way would she come running back. She was better than that. A class act.

  “Hey, J.” Zane sauntered by me to his keyboard. “Where are the other guys?”

  I fiddled with a few more chords. “Don’t know. I’m sure they’ll be here in a few.”

  “Have you heard anything new about the bomb threat last night?” Zane asked.

  I shook my head. “Nope. Probably just a hoax, like most of them are.”

  “Yeah. At least no one was hurt.” Zane sat down at his keyboard, flipping some buttons. “I had an amazing time last night. Four women at once, man. We sure as hell weren’t getting laid like this when we were doing the classical shit.”

  Four women at once. I’d had four women at once. Hell, Zane and I had had four women together. We’d done the group thing, the orgy thing, everything. Zane obviously hadn’t had his fill yet.

  “Do you ever regret it?” I asked.

  “Regret what?”

  “Letting Alicia take us to the top?”

  “Nope. This is the life, man. More money and more women than we ever thought possible. What’s to regret?”

  “We’re not doing what we set out to do.”

  “Man, I’m playing piano. So it’s a great big electric number and not a nine-foot Steinway. I can live with that. You’re singing. You’re a fucking sensation, J. You live in a mansion. You have everything you could possibly want.”

  I couldn’t fault his words. Except that there were some things money couldn’t buy.

  I’d made a deal to get to the top.

  And I had regrets.

  “So how’d it go with you last night?” Zane asked. “Did you get inside that cute little redhead’s pants?”

  Normally I would’ve said yes. But Heather wasn’t a woman that men talked about. I didn’t want to talk about her in that way, not even with my best friend.

  So I shook my head. “Turns out she’s not interested.”

  “Not interested how? Or maybe you were the one who ended up not being interested.”

  I could easily agree. Could easily say she wasn’t my thing. She was bad in bed. Yada yada yada. But it would be a big fat lie.

  I owed Heather more than that.

  “I was surprised too. But I guess rock stars just aren’t her thing.”

  “Sorry, dude. If I’d known you went home alone…”

  “What? You would’ve given up one of your four women for me?” I laughed. “Good one, Z.”

  “Yeah.” He laughed as well. “I was wondering if you would buy that one.”

  Tony and the rest of the guys arrived, the techs did our sound check, and we started our rehearsal.

  But my heart wasn’t in it.

  The fact wasn’t lost on the guys. When we took our first break, Tony said, “What’s up with you, J? Something bothering you today?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “You’re not in the game. Where’s your brain?”

  “I think it’s with a cute little redhead,” Zane said. “A cute little redhead who apparently doesn’t dig rock stars.”

  “I’m cool, guys. There’s no redhead.”

  “You jumped off stage for her,” Tony said. “It’s going to be all over the tabloids today. You do know that, don’t you?”

  I sighed. Yes, I did know that. Heather didn’t deserve any of this. She didn’t deserve any of the fallout it would create. So it was better for the world to think she had turned me down. I could take it. There were ten women at any time who wanted to be in my bed.

  I couldn’t pursue Heather Myles. I couldn’t fall in love.

  The only answer was to never see her again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Heather

  I put my phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Is this Heather Myles?” a female voice said.

  My heart fell. My head had known Jett wouldn’t be calling me. My heart, however, had been hoping. Just like that, my hopes were dashed.

  “Yes, this is Heather.”

  “Hi there, Heather. My name is Alicia Hopkins.”

  Alicia Hopkins? The hotel heiress? Why was she calling me? Maybe it was a different Alicia Hopkins.

  “Yes, hello.”

  “I was wondering if you would be able to meet with me sometime.”

  “Regarding what?”

  “We have a mutual friend. Jett Draconis.”

  Of course. Perhaps she was looking for a screenwriter. What had Jett put her up to? Sure, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t see straight, and then to ease my own guilty conscience, I’m going to set you up on a bunch of potential projects.

  “Jett and I aren’t exactly friends,” I said. “What is it that I can help you with, Ms. Hopkins?”

  “Call me Alicia. I just have some information I thought you might be interested in.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “Nothing that I want to discuss over the phone. Are you free for dinner this evening?”

  Free? It was Sunday, and I didn’t have a shift at the diner. Why not? “Sure. Just tell me where you’ll be.”

  “You seem to have caught Jett’s attention.” Alicia Hopkins, her frosted tips held perfectly in place with what must have been shellac, smiled and took a sip of what appeared to be a dirty martini with extra olives.

  Way to get right to the point. I’d barely sat down. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. But first, why don’t you tell me why you asked me here?”

  “We’ll get to that. First, tell me about your relationship with Jett.”

  What relationship? We’d had a fuck. It had been amazing. Why would she care anyway? “I don’t have a relationship with Jett.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m not naïve. I know you’ve been with him.”

  “Look. I don’t mean to be rude, but I fail to see what business any of this is of yours.”

  “You have a bitchy side.” She laughed. “I can see why he has a thing for you.”

  “I assure you that Jett doesn’t have any type of thing for me.” No shit. He’d basically kicked me out of his bed this morning. Not that I was going to volunteer that information.

  “I’ve known Jett a long time, Heather,” she said, her tone serious. “He has an angle with everything he does.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” And I didn’t.

  “So you do know him, then.”

  “That’s not what I said. But I know how celebrities are. I’ve been living here for five years.”

  “I feel there’s something I need to tell you, woman to woman,” she said.

  “What might that be?”

  Before she could answer, the waiter appeared at our table. “Would you like something to drink, ma’am?” he asked me, and then nodded to Alicia’s nearly empty martini glass. “Can I get you another?”

  Alicia drained what was left of her drink. “Yes, please.” She popped the remaining two olives into her mouth.

  He turned back to me. “And for you?”

  “Bring me what she’s having.” It was definitely going to be a martini kind of evening.

  After he left, Alicia said, “Now, where were we?”

  “There’s something you wanted to tell me. Woman to woman,” I couldn’t resist adding.

  “Yes, of course. I’ve known Jett a long time. He and I are… How can I put this? More than friends.”

  So the rock star was sleeping with the heiress. I couldn’t say I was surprised. Even though, my heart broke just a little bit. Okay, a lot. I had fallen in love with a womanizer. I strained my face to remain nonchalant, wishing I had my martini in front of me.

  “Oh? He didn’t mention you.” That wasn’t even a lie. I didn’t doubt anything she was telling me, but I wanted to smack myself silly for letting on that I had spent more than just a passing moment with him.

  “Jett is usually very discreet. And so am I.”

 
“You are? Then why are you telling me about your relationship?”

  Her painted cheeks flushed a slightly darker crimson than the blush she’d apparently applied with a palette knife. Other than that giveaway, though, she maintained her composure.

  “I can tell, just from the short time we’ve been talking, that you are also a very discreet person, Heather.”

  “Really? From spending all of three minutes with me?”

  She reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “Come now. Let’s just have some girl talk. Get to know each other.”

  I snatched my hand away. This was getting creepy. “Why? I don’t mean to be rude, but what possible interest could you have in me? I’m just a struggling screenwriter.”

  “You don’t have to be struggling.”

  I saw where this was going. “If you intend to offer to have some big producer read my work in exchange for staying away from Jett, you don’t need to bother. Jett and I mean nothing to each other. I won’t be seeing him again.”

  “I can see you have the wrong idea about me. But I would advise you not to burn any bridges. You don’t want me as an enemy.”

  “What bridge could I possibly burn? You don’t know anything about me, and there’s no need to try to get me to stay away from Jett. I’ll do that all on my own. Of course I don’t want you as an enemy. I don’t want anyone as an enemy. Why would that even be on the table? I’m just saying that…” What was I saying? I had really jumped the gun, and she was right about burning bridges. She knew everyone in LA, and she was probably a good person to have on my side. “I apologize, Alicia. I guess I’m just used to everyone in Hollywood wanting to make a deal, you know?”

  She smiled and nodded, taking a sip of the new martini the waiter had placed in front of her. “I accept your apology, of course.” She flagged the waiter before he left. “Could you take a photo of us?” She turned back to me. “For my Instagram account. My followers love knowing my every move.”

  “Uh…sure.” Showing up on Alicia Hopkins’s Instagram certainly couldn’t hurt a struggling screenwriter.

  She leaned across the table and put her arm around me as if we were besties. I forced a smile.

  The waiter handed Alicia her phone and then strode off.

  The whole act felt really strange. Something was definitely up. I just had no idea what it could possibly be.

  “So there is a reason why I asked you here,” she said.

  “And that is?” I took a sip of my own drink, wincing at its strength. This was a real martini. Gin, not vodka. It burned my throat, but in a good way.

  “Like I said, I’ve known Jett a long time, and I recognize his MO. What I’m about to tell you won’t make the news, but it’s the truth. The alleged bomb threat at the Emerald Phoenix concert was a hoax.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” I said.

  “Of course not. But what may surprise you is who orchestrated it.”

  “Oh? Do you know who did?”

  “Yes. Jett did.” She fiddled with her phone.

  I arched my eyebrows and my heart quickened. “Why would he stage a fake bomb threat at his own concert? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Oh, it does, and it’s not the first time he’s done something like this. He did it because he wanted to fuck you, Heather.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jett

  After rehearsal, I joined the guys and others close to the band for an early dinner at Zane’s place. Of course he’d also invited several groupies to join us. I cornered our agent, Miranda Carson, to find out news.

  “Anything on the bomb threat?”

  She shook her head. “The bomb squad swept the place and didn’t uncover anything. It was obviously a hoax, but we don’t have any idea who perpetrated it.”

  My heart thumped. This wasn’t the first bomb hoax we’d dealt with, but this time had affected me differently.

  Heather had been there.

  I wanted to know who had done this, who had made me think Heather was in danger. I wanted to know so I could make him pay and pay dearly. I’d start by kicking the shit out of him.

  Janet must have been busy because Lindy was getting busy with a redhead on Zane’s leather couch.

  Redhead.

  This woman’s hair was clearly out of a bottle, and her tits looked like two cereal bowls sticking straight out. Yup, fake.

  The only redhead I wanted was Heather’s natural auburn. Her tits sure weren’t fake. They were fucking perfect.

  I looked over at Zane. Man, the dude was never going to grow up. Hard to believe that this was actually Zeb Frankfurter, classical pianist and notorious nerdy introvert who five years ago had been afraid of women. Alicia had remade him. Turned out that with a gym regimen, Lasik surgery, and a blond dye job, Z was a pretty boy chick magnet. He no longer had to fear women. Hell, they flocked to him in gaggles.

  All she’d done for me was add some hair extensions. They’d grown out long ago. I’d always had a muscular physique, and now, with three workouts a week and the physical activity of rehearsal and performing, I maintained it easily. There was a lot more of Jeremy in me than Zeb in Zane. Whether that was good or bad? I didn’t know.

  But Alicia had done a lot more than change our appearances. She’d initiated our spiral to the top.

  It had come at a cost.

  Much more for me than for Zane.

  My phone vibrated against my hip. I grabbed it and looked at the screen.

  Speak of the devil. A text from Alicia, accompanied by a photo.

  Look who came to dinner.

  Alicia…with Heather. And I recognized the restaurant.

  Damn her!

  If she’d told Heather…

  I stood and walked out of Zane’s rec room. No one noticed me leave. They were too busy watching Lindy’s show with the redhead.

  Then another phone buzz.

  I want you in my bed tonight.

  Damn her to hell!

  I looked around Zane’s mansion, which was even bigger and more ridiculous than my own. Z would never go back to being a classical pianist. He was all in and too far gone. This was his life now.

  But me?

  During the last year, I’d begun to wonder if it had all been worth it. I’d sold my soul for fame and fortune. And now?

  I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I’d fallen in love with a woman I could never have. She could never know I loved her, and my chance at true happiness would fade away like the sunset at dusk. All because I’d signed a deal with the devil.

  I didn’t want to go to Alicia’s, but I knew what would happen if I didn’t.

  One thing was for sure. She was going to tell me exactly what she’d been doing with Heather Myles at that restaurant. In fact, I’d go to that restaurant and see for myself. And that would also be the last time she’d ever see Heather.

  Unfortunately, it was probably the last time I’d see Heather as well.

  Chapter Twenty

  Heather

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with your ears, Heather. Jett orchestrated that fake bomb threat so he could rush off the stage, sweep you off your feet, and”—she made air quote marks—“save you.”

  I stared at Alicia, my mouth agape.

  “This isn’t the first time he’s pulled a stunt like this. He’s never resorted to a bomb threat in the past, but he’ll go to any length to get a woman he wants into his bed. Usually all it takes is a couple of fucks in one night to get it out of his system.”

  I forced my lips together. As much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself, Alicia’s words were ringing true. He’d pursued me. I rebuffed him. Then he faked the bomb threat to gain my trust. He fucked me. Then he kicked me out of his bed.

  I’d fallen right into it.

  “I’m sorry, honey. Have I upset you?” She smiled, and saccharine oozed from her pores.

  I cleared my throat and took another sip of my strong drink. “Why would
any of that upset me?” I said, hoping I sounded a lot more indifferent than I felt.

  “Jett is an attractive and successful man. Every woman wants to be his one and only.”

  “I’m not every woman.”

  “No, you’re not. I can tell you’re a lot smarter than the trash he usually lures into his bed.” She smiled again, her teeth so white I nearly had to shield my eyes.

  “I’d like to think so,” I said. “But truly, there’s nothing going on between Jett and me.”

  “It’s good that you have that attitude,” Alicia said. “I’d hate to see him hurt you. A few women have fallen in love with him along the way. He’s broken some hearts. I’d hate to see him break yours.”

  “I assure you that won’t happen.” No, it wouldn’t happen, because it already had. I pushed my drink across the table. “I’m really not hungry, and I’m on deadline. I think it’s best if I leave.”

  “You can’t leave!” she said adamantly, reaching across the table and grasping my hand again.

  Her touch burned, and not in a good way.

  “Let go of me,” I said, my nerves jumping.

  “I’m sorry.” She let go of my hand. “But please, stay. I invited you for a meal, and I always keep my word.”

  I sighed. A girl had to eat. She didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive other than keeping Jett to herself. I wasn’t the least bit hungry—not after the news she’d given me—but I didn’t want to be rude. Alicia Hopkins was not a bridge I wanted to burn. She knew all the top producers in Hollywood.

  I forced a smile. “Of course. Thank you for the invitation. I’m happy to stay and eat.” I picked up my menu. “What’s good here?”

  “The filet mignon is to die for. And the chef’s special of the day is always something unique and delicious.”

  The filet mignon was the most expensive thing on the menu. No way was I ordering it, even though Alicia Hopkins could easily afford it. I looked for something innocuous, something that said I have taste, but I’m also frugal. Also, something that would not stain my shirt when I undoubtedly dropped a bite due to nervousness. “I think I’ll have the penne carbonara, unless the chef’s special is something I can’t live without.”