Manaconda 2: The Second Coming: A Rock Star Romantic Comedy Series

by Taryn Elliott

  Hunter paced away, his fingers white with how hard he was gripping the back of his head.

  “You loved Victoria. You almost married her and she hurt you.”

  “I walked in to see her banging her co-star in my fucking house!”

  I covered my mouth. The anger leaking out of him made me want to go to him. Because I knew under the anger was hurt. So much hurt. “I’m sorry, Hunter.”

  “You don’t come back from that, Kenny.” He dropped his arms, his shoulders defeated. “There’s nothing but ashes. I can’t watch Reed go through that too. He might be batshit crazy a lot of the time, but he’s a big softie too. He collects strays. She’ll use that against him.”

  What could I say to that?

  I understood that he wanted to protect his friend, but at the same time, how could I trust that it wasn’t more? Down deep, it felt like so much more.

  My nails dug into my sides. I wanted to open up my arms and hug him. I didn’t coddle. It wasn’t my way at all, but Hunter brought out that need and it scared the hell out of me. Just another level of danger.

  “Then be there for Reed. Don’t keep screaming at him, and definitely stop swinging instruments at each other, for God’s sake. My phone is full of tweets and clips and gifs, and fuck-all else of this debacle you guys called a promotional show.” I laughed harshly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was all a publicity stunt.”

  “You know goddamn well it isn’t.”

  “Of course I do,” I snapped out.

  “You can believe that, but not the rest.” He blew out a breath. “Awesome.”

  “Reed wouldn’t do something like that…” I hedged.

  “God, no. I wish I could say Bats did half his insane antics on purpose.” At my raised eyebrow, Hunter rolled his eyes. “Some of it is—he’s a born attention whore.”

  “Could the Victoria sightings be just that? A way to increase attention on the band?”

  “Vic wouldn’t do that. If it doesn’t put her in the limelight, then she’s not interested.”

  “Well, it would, wouldn’t it? She’s the one between you two. It makes good copy.”

  The hope blooming inside me was ridiculous. The reasons behind Reed’s actions didn’t make Hunter’s explosive reactions any less disheartening. Victoria obviously incited passion within him.

  That was the part I was having such a hard time with. She’d always be there in the shadows. I needed someone who would put me first. No part of Hunter Jordan facilitated that. Between his career and my own, there wasn’t much room left to start. Add in his ex-fiancée and it was a recipe for disaster.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know, Kenny. If you asked me ten days ago if Bats would hook up with someone like Vic, let alone Victoria herself, I’d have said no. Now, I’m just as in the dark as you are about it.”

  “Here’s a novel idea. Talk to him.”

  “He avoids me.”

  “Probably because he doesn’t want another trip to oh, I don’t know…jail.”

  “If you took a look at his rap sheet, you’d see that is not exactly a deterrent.”

  I rolled my eyes. “All I know is that each and every one of these stupid stunts—”

  “They’re not stunts.”

  I blew out an exasperated sigh. “They look like stunts to anyone except us. I have clients asking me if I have a set-up for this kind of thing, for God’s sake.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. I have half a dozen inquiries about how I can make headlines like this. Do you have any idea what it’s doing to my reputation?”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Save it. You might be getting astronomical sales and social media exposure, but I’ve lost credibility with a lot of people.”

  “That wasn’t my intention.”

  “No, it might not be, but I’m the one who has to deal with the fallout when you’re done with me.”

  Hunter stalked over to me. “I’m not the one who wants to be done here, woman.”

  “Woman?”

  “That’s what you are, aren’t you?”

  I closed my eyes for a second and counted to five, then opened them again. “I’m not going down that rabbit hole with you.”

  He stood right in front of me. I could feel the warmth of his chest from where I was standing. Just one step and I’d be in his arms.

  “I don’t want us to be over. I thought we were just starting.”

  Resist.

  You can do it.

  He’s just a man.

  A man who knows exactly how to touch you, and the words to say that will make you melt.

  I dropped my gaze to my feet. “I think it’s better if we just let it be what it was. A fling.”

  “You know it was more than that.”

  I swallowed against the need to say yes. Because it had become way more to me, way too fast.

  “Look at me if you’re going to say this stupid shit,” he demanded.

  I tore my hands out of my sleeves and poked him in the chest. “You’re not all to blame. I’m a big girl. I knew what I was doing, but now I have to worry about clean-up.”

  He fisted his hands at his sides. “So that’s what we are now? Collateral damage.”

  “You’re damn right.”

  He covered my hand, pressing it flat to his chest. “You’re wrong, Kenny.”

  Be strong.

  Strong, independent woman.

  “I’m going to prove it to you.” He curled his fingers into the loose ponytail at the nape of my neck.

  I braced myself for the onslaught of his kiss, but what I wasn’t prepared for was the gentle brush of his lips. They whispered over my mouth before he pressed his forehead to mine. “I don’t care how long it takes.”

  “Hunter…”

  He coasted his fingers down my ponytail before stepping back. “Goodnight, Kenny.”

  I couldn’t even get my thoughts back together before he was at the door and gone.

  Sammy came up beside me and bumped my fisted hand. I immediately relaxed my hand and pushed my fingers into his soft fur. “It’s all right, boy.”

  But I really wasn’t sure it was going to be all right at all.

  4

  Hunter

  My fingers ached by the time I pulled up my driveway. The drive had been a haze. Hell, the whole damn night had been a haze of anger and confusion. Between Bats and his dumb shit moves, and my fight with Kenny, I was more than ready to find oblivion with a bottle.

  Because there was no way I was sleeping tonight without a sleep aid. And my favorite reason for going to bed had tried to dismiss me like a bartender at last call. That wasn’t happening, no matter what she thought. I’d finally met someone who made me believe that relationships weren’t the road to misery.

  Just my luck that she thought there was something holding me back. I didn’t know how I was going to prove it to her, but I definitely had to figure out a plan.

  I unlocked my front door to country music blaring from my living room. The next thing to hit me was onions and the pervasive punch of chili powder. “One good thing today,” I muttered.

  I couldn’t even bitch about the country music. Not when Noah was making his famous chili. I walked into the kitchen.

  “Did you call, ma?”

  “Ah, shit.” I’d seen the messages, but I’d been a little distracted. I pulled my phone out and shot a text to my mom. I should have called, but I just didn’t have the fortitude for that kind of conversation.

  “Are you really texting her?” Noah asked over his shoulder.

  “It’s a bit late.”

  “Yeah, if you’re ninety.”

  “Shut up, Noah. I’ve had the shittiest night in the history of shit.”

  “Well, if you’d stop acting like a fuck up, then maybe you’d have a better ending to your night. Glad you didn’t call me for bail money again though. I’d have left your ass.”

  “I didn’t get arrested.”

&
nbsp; “Oh, how’d you manage that? Last I saw, the two of you were going at it on Entertainment Tonight. I was pretty sure you’d get arrested for swinging the guitar at Reed’s head like a damn baseball bat.” I opened my mouth to plead my case, but shut my mouth at my brother’s dry look. “That’s right, you better keep your mouth shut. Dumb shit.” He pulled a red towel out of his back pocket. “Make yourself useful and cut up those shallots.”

  I sighed and pulled a chef’s knife out of my block, then started dicing on my flexible cutting board. Without another word, I went to the fridge and pulled out the sour cream.

  Noah’s chili was the kind that would burn your guts out in the best way possible. I ladled a huge portion into a bowl with cheese, sour cream, and a sprinkle of onions.

  “Pussy,” Noah muttered and only added cheese and onions to his.

  “I don’t need heartburn at ten at night, asshat.”

  “Pussy,” he said again.

  I rolled my eyes and brought my bowl to the table. “What, no work tonight?”

  “Nah. CEO Fucktwat is having an evening in with his mistress.”

  “Which one is he?”

  “App developer rich dude.”

  I nodded. “It’s kinda nice having you around.”

  “I miss Colorado. LA is a cesspool.”

  I grunted my agreement. This week that certainly was the case. “How long do you have to look after him?”

  “Just this week. Quinn comes in to take over. He’s better at dealing with the needy ones.”

  I frowned. “Isn’t Quinn the one who barely speaks?”

  “Yep. He just ignores them and gets the job done. Marcus knows I can only deal with the bullshit for so long. I like my job most of the time. I just prefer the guys that have more for me to do than hang out by the car while they spend money they won’t have in two months.”

  “Nice outlook you have there, buddy.”

  Noah shrugged. “You know it’s true. Can’t give these idiots money. They do a lot of stupid shit with it in record time, then cry about it when the funds dry up.”

  This was the same lament my brother made when I started making money with my music. Instead of rolling my eyes and ignoring him, I learned how to invest. And I wasn’t scraping by during the days that Beyoncé was ruling the charts instead of rock. I was still more comfortable than most—even my bandmates.

  Hammered was luckier than most bands. And as ridiculous as the last ten days had been, it had secured us platinum status with our new album, Bronze. Not the easiest to do in a world plagued by illegal downloads and streaming music. No one bought anymore. We understood that most of our money was made with merchandise and touring.

  But Donovan’s number crunchers were pleased with us.

  In fact, we were asked to do a Spotify session, as well as an iTunes exclusive show. In fact, BBC One wanted to fly us out in two weeks.

  These were the things we’d dreamed of.

  If only me and Bats could control ourselves in a room together.

  The only sounds in the room was Dierks Bentley and our spoons clicking against our bowls.

  Noah pushed his empty bowl away. “Are you going to make me ask?”

  “About what?”

  “Don’t be an asshole.”

  I sighed and lifted my napkin to my mouth. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Obviously it is since you are usually getting in the fights beside Bats, not trading swings with him. And they definitely don’t include one of your precious Les Paul’s.”

  “It’s the only way he’ll listen evidently.”

  “Oh, really? Is that what he’s been doing?”

  “Noah—”

  “No, seriously.” He stood and took both our bowls with him back into the kitchen. “I get it. He’s dipping his wick where it definitely shouldn’t be, and that deserves a beating. One. Not this tantrum shit. You’re thirty-two fucking years old, not twenty-two.”

  “Am I the only one who sees what a bad idea this is? Reed is a magnet for strays and Vic is the master at burrowing under your skin and getting what she wants.”

  “Just because she did it to you?”

  “Yes, goddammit.”

  Noah rested a hip on the kitchen island and crossed his arms. “So, I’d say this was more your problem than Reed spending time with her.”

  Christ, that was the same thing Kenny had said. I’d gotten over Vic ages ago. Almost scary fast to tell the truth. In fact, she hadn’t even stayed with that guy more than a month before she’d moved onto some executive at ABC.

  But the seething anger that crawled up my spine couldn’t be denied.

  “Pride, little brother.”

  “What?” I got out of my own damn head and met Noah’s gaze.

  “Not only did she cheat on you with a no-dick actor, but she’s wading into the band waters. The problem I have with this whole situation is that Reed isn’t this dumb.”

  “Thank you!”

  Noah held up a hand. “No, I’m not condoning your adolescent behavior, but one has to wonder if there’s something else going on. And you’re too in your head about this whole situation. All you see is Victoria’s past history. What you should be worried about is what she’s up to now, not that she’s banging Reed.”

  I growled.

  “Just put your pride and your dick aside and think, man.”

  I crossed my arms. He was right. I was so fucked up about the entire situation, I was simply reacting, and not in any way that was helpful. I was the lead of the band—yes, the singer, but I’d always been the one who they looked to. I’d put together the band, I’d helped Wyatt through his accident that took his racing away, and I’d dragged Bats out of his self-destructive partying phase. Owen and Zach had their share of headaches, and Keys had family issues that we’d talked through over the years—everyone was used to me running the show most of the time.

  And now I was making everyone look bad, including Kenny.

  “The gears are finally moving under all that hair.”

  “Shut up.”

  Noah grinned. “Someday you’ll be a real boy.”

  “I almost married her, brother.”

  “I know. And believe me, I had to bite my tongue every single time you brought her around.”

  “You never liked her? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because you’re you.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Am I lying?” Noah reached up into the cupboard above the fridge and pulled down a bottle of Stranahan. He pulled down two juice glasses with a side-eye.

  “The bar is downstairs, you know.”

  “And yet, here’s a bottle.”

  I shrugged. I knew what my brother liked and kept a bottle in the house. Unfortunately, I also had three guys in my band who would drink any whiskey or bourbon in the house. So far they hadn’t found my backup.

  He took the bottle and the glasses to the table and poured a healthy three fingers for both of us. “Let me give you a little advice.”

  “Here we go.”

  Noah dropped into a chair. “And you wonder why we don’t have these discussions.”

  I tossed back the glass and poured another, picking at the crooked label that Stranahan’s was known for. Listening to the Eagles scrawled in their distinctive script in the comments portion. The reason I’d bought this particular bottle.

  “I’m not here to bust your balls.”

  I looked over the rim of my glass.

  “Okay, so that’s a side benefit, but not the purpose of my visit.”

  “Get to the point, will ya?”

  Noah twirled his glass. “I usually let you come around to the right way of thinking. It took longer with Victoria the terror than I’d like, but you came around to it.”

  “Only when another dude stuck his dick in her.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not crazy about that part, but we’ll let it go.”

  I took care of people. It was what I did. And I liked having a woman who n
eeded me in my life. Vic was very good at making a man feel like he was the center of her universe, but I don’t think it had been actual love.

  “What you are is a white knight.”

  I put my glass down without taking a drink. “Excuse me?”

  “White knight. You like to save people. Which is weird since you chose to be a wannabe rockstar, not a fireman or some shit, but there you go.”

  “And what would you be?”

  Noah knocked back his glass. “I’m a good lieutenant. Always have been. I don’t want to lead, because that’s too much work, but I’m good at keeping order.”

  “Accurate,” I said with a nod. Noah had always been the one to keep things in order, but he’d never been the guy to ride herd. We’d knocked heads as kids a lot, but mostly because we were only two years apart. He didn’t mind reminding me he was older, and I’d tried a little too hard to show I was just as good as he was at sports.

  We’d both played lacrosse, but Noah had been a guard where I’d longed for captain. I was always reaching whereas Noah had always been happy where he was.

  “So, here comes a blonde with her eyes set on the next step toward her particular evolution—and there you are. The perfect mark.”

  My fingers tightened on my glass.

  “It’s true, brother. She told you exactly what you wanted to hear, was just helpless enough to hook you, and knew not too be too needy or you’d be gone. Acting is definitely her God given talent.”

  I sipped from my glass. I couldn’t really dispute anything he was saying. After the fact, I’d figured that out, but I’d definitely been blind to it for way too long.

  “So, you feel dumb, you let it twist you up, write an album about it or some shit, and then you think it’s over.”

  “It is.”

  “Nope.” Noah refilled both our glasses, and I dragged the bottle back over to me. “Not even close.”

  “Oh, and why’s that?”

  “Because she hit you in the worst place.”

  “I don’t love her, Noah. I don’t know that I ever did.”

  “I didn’t say your heart. Do I look like the guy who’s going to pick around in the hearts and flowers shit?”

  I laughed. “No.”

  “Where she hit you is the pride. And pride is where anger mixes with stupid decisions. Like today, like earlier in the week, like right now when you’re peeling a perfectly good label off a superb bottle of bourbon.”