Twilight Rumba (Dances With The Rock Star Book 3)

by Cynthia Dane

  “You should tell him eventually.”

  “Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. He’s lived fine without knowing I’m his father. It can probably stay that way.” Olivia thought Thomas was going to take his leave, but instead he stepped closer to her, letting her see every worry line on his face. “As for you, I have to know why you care so much. You barely knew the guy. Certainly not enough to be concerned with me being his father. Still not sure if you think you’re going to blackmail me or not.”

  “I’m not.” Olivia had more integrity than that. Not a whole lot sometimes, but she had nothing to gain – not even monetarily – from screwing Thomas over like that. “Like I said, I only wanted to know.” It had been gnawing at her for weeks. Sometimes when she was finished fuming at Rick while she tried to sleep at night, she would think of that picture in his mother’s old studio, think of Thomas, and then put it together. How could Rick be so blind? So deaf? Or did he know and was in denial for the sake of his own sanity? Rick seemed like the kind of guy who would put it all aside and go about his business, pretending nothing was the matter. That pisses me off. “And now I do know. Thanks.”

  Thomas studied her with those shallow eyes that searched many people’s faces every single day, looking for lies and sundered stories that didn’t mean a damn thing. What was he seeing in Olivia now? “You’re kidding me. You actually love the guy.”

  “What? That has nothing to do with anything.”

  “I’m sorry he was so callous to you. He can be irresponsible with people’s feelings like that. Can be still quite a kid. Well, maybe I should have been there when he was growing up anyway, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. And you…” he pointed to Olivia but did not dare touch her, “It’s best for you to move on from all of this. You weren’t the first dancer he dallied with, and you won’t be the last. I’ll try to talk some sense into him for the future. That’s all I can do. Sorry. Now that you’ve embarrassed me…” he turned, his back resolute to Olivia. “I must be going. Have a good day, Ms. Owens.”

  Olivia let him walk away without another word. As soon as he turned the corner into the street, she held a scream inside her throat. For every moment she felt vindicated in her suspicions, she felt another moment in which she even had to question what the purpose of it all was.

  2

  The most frustrating part of being a music sensation wasn’t the obnoxious fans, the getting up early in the morning to do promotions, or even answering banal questions from interviewers who knew nothing about him until five minutes ago. No, for Rick Rodriguez, the most annoying thing about being a music star was the recording process.

  He was considered a nobody in the production game, so that meant he had to have everyone, from the arranger to the producer, tell him what to do in the studio. Didn’t matter that Rick wrote the lyrics and music by himself. People took one look at his rocket to fame and decided he needed his hand held in the studio. To be fair, Rick didn’t know much about arranging. He preferred to leave that up to the professionals anyway. He hated being treated like a dumb child who didn’t know his ass from his elbow.

  “Okay, Rick,” the producer said from inside his heat controlled studio. “We’re going to start again from the second bridge. This time be sure to enunciate the words. Last time it sounded like you were saying something about somebody’s mother.”

  “Uh huh.” He took another drink from his water bottle and cleared his throat. As soon as the music started in his headphones he would have to be careful about making erroneous sounds around the mic. Those things picked up everything. “Let’s do it.”

  They were recording “Starlight Samba,” which the label finally approved after Rick made a few tweaks to the lyrics. Apparently they were a little too raunchy, even for the modern American public. Worked for him. The old lyrics made me think of Olivia anyway. The label loved the idea of a sequel to “Midnight Tango” but not if it was going to get them censored on the radio and streaming sites. Like I said, they made me think of Olivia anyway.

  He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the day he effectively dumped her. It had happened so suddenly, and he barely knew what he had done until Olivia stormed out and it was over. He thought about calling her sometimes. Apologize, suck up, and attempt to see her again. What was the point, when his situation hadn’t changed? He was still probably going to be a father, and Olivia was none the wiser. Better that way. Last thing he wanted was to try starting a new romantic relationship while he watched Fiona’s stomach grow bigger through the various photo updates she sent him.

  Pretty soon he would be submitting a DNA sample to see if it really was his. It is. Rick knew it, like he knew his heart beat in his chest and the air held just enough oxygen for him. Maybe it was a fatherly instinct kicking in. Did my dad know I had been born? Probably not. Angelina hadn’t come off as the sort of woman who would share that news.

  “Rick! Damnit, you missed your cue!”

  “Sorry.” He took off his headphones. “My mind is elsewhere.”

  “Well, come back to Earth. We want to get this song done by the end of the day.”

  Everything always had to be done by the end of the day. It was a phrase Rick got sick of hearing. The whole reason he met Olivia to begin with was because he needed to get that video filmed by the end of the day. Once, he thought that was a blessing. Getting to know Olivia like that gave him one of the best tour experiences possible. A partner on the stage and in bed! Even if he became more famous, he doubted he would have an experience like that again. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

  A man could only hurt himself so much. What he went through with Olivia? That had hurt him. A lot. He could still see the look of surprise and disappointment on her face when he said it was best for them to cool off for a while. Or break up. He couldn’t remember the exact words now.

  “Rick.” It was Thomas’s voice, breaking through the line from the control room. “You okay in there? Need to take a break and get some air?”

  Yes, air. Rick was always taking breaks for air lately. He told Thomas he thought he might be claustrophobic. When his manager suggested he go to a doctor to find out what was really going on, Rick suddenly felt better. Not because he really did feel better, but because he knew what was causing him to feel this way. Women. Always women.

  Next time the music started in his headphones, Rick was ready to sing. Only problem was that his heart was not into his amorous lyrics at all. Sure, he could fake it. It was easy to fake it during performances when he didn’t feel his hottest. Then again, for a performance they could always use a backing track. Couldn’t use a backing track for the real thing.

  Thomas was the first one to tell him that he needed to get more sleep after they finished for the day. “Sure you don’t want me to take you to the doctor?” He clapped a hand on Rick’s shoulder as they waited for the elevator. “Might need some help going to sleep. If you’re going to be recording and promoting, it’s a good idea to be rested.”

  The elevator dinged open. Rick couldn’t get in it fast enough. “I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind. That’s all.”

  No look sent chills down his spine faster than that look from Thomas. Rick had no idea what he had done, but his manager was looking at him like his mother used to whenever he came home from school sick. “You say you’re fine, but you look a bit pale. You sure you’re doing okay?”

  How many times was he going to ask? “I don’t want to talk about it,” Rick finally said.

  “Fine. Next time you make yourself heartsick, though, try to do it in your off time. It’s work time now.”

  The elevator started to make Rick sick. “What makes you say that? I’m seeing nobody.”

  “Not now. I couldn’t help but notice that Olivia disappeared shortly after the tour finished. Thought I would see her hanging around your place for at least a few weeks after.”

  “I see.”

  “What happened with her?” Thomas opened his briefcase and pulled out some of
ficial documents from the office. Boring stuff. “You two seemed pretty heavy. She break it off?” Now the look Thomas gave him was disbelieving. Because not even he believes it. “Or did you do something stupid?”

  Rick knew how Olivia must have felt in that Miami hotel elevator that one night… because it was not moving fast enough, and freakin’ Thomas had the captive audience of his life. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. She was a tour fling. We agreed to end it after the tour was over.”

  “Uh huh. You might as well tell me that the sky is green and you’re quitting rock to become a priest. You were smitten with her, and she was quite fond of you. You don’t want to record that song because it’s making you think of her and whatever stupid thing you did.”

  “Why does it have to be me who did something?”

  Rick had no words for the look he got this time.

  “I’m not lovesick. I didn’t do something stupid. Who are you, my father?”

  They reached their floor and the door opened. Thomas stepped out first, the edges of his mouth twitching. Apparently Rick had struck a nerve.

  Does he even have kids? As far as he knew, Thomas had never married. Probably would’ve been good for him if he did. God knew that man could use some love in his life. That’s why he gives me such a hard time. He’s jealous!

  They climbed into the van in the parking garage, Thomas clicking his seatbelt into place while Rick gazed out the window en route to his apartment. His phone buzzed the moment they pulled out of the garage.

  “Hey.” Fiona. “Did you get the DNA kit yet? I sent it straight to your place. If anyone asks, you’re having your ancestry checked. Anyway, need you to send it to the doctor. I left the address inside the package. Make sure you do it right!”

  Rick couldn’t look at the message anymore. It only reminded him that he needed to send Fiona more money so she could go to the doctor. Even if it weren’t his kid, he had made the decision to pay for the pregnancy costs. Least he could do. Too bad every time he paid a doctor bill here or a pharmacy tab there he was reminded of what was going on in his personal life.

  “Do you have any kids?” he asked Thomas.

  It seemed that his manager slammed on the brakes a bit too hard when they got to a red light. “Told you I never married.”

  “Doesn’t mean you don’t have kids. I don’t believe for a second you’re as pure as Mother Mary would have me believe.”

  Thomas kept his eyes on the road as the lights turned green again. “Keeping track of you is close enough to having a kid for me.”

  “So I’ll take it as a no.”

  “Take it however you want.”

  Between Thomas’s mood and the message on his phone, Rick was ready to take a nap. Maybe when he woke up… nah, he knew things would be exactly the same as they were before. Fiona would still be pregnant, and Thomas would still be sour over Rick’s invasive, personal questions.

  Rick stared at his phone for another minute. His fingers took him to his contact list. Industry people. Talent he often worked with. A few actual friends. Somewhere down in the middle of the list, beneath the big round O, was Olivia’s number. Rick hovered over it for much too long. One day he might have the will to call her again and try to smooth things over, but it was not the day.

  3

  Olivia hated nightclubs. She especially hated any and all nightclubs that were dark, dingy, probably full of people doing drugs, and definitely reeked of body odor. So of course that’s where she ended up that Friday night after dance practice.

  The whole troupe was there, which meant she had to make an appearance as well. If she wanted to remain in everyone’s good graces, anyway. And I do. Considering how many issues she and Dan were still having only two weeks before their show began, she needed to stay in some good graces. These were the people who would be giving her fresh references as soon as the show was over. She couldn’t ride on the coattails of her show with Rick for the rest of her life. I don’t even want to think about him. It didn’t help that everyone in the troupe wanted to ask her more questions about her world tour as they got drunker. And boy, did they get drunk. Olivia didn’t. She preferred to stay sober when she was feeling sorry for herself.

  “What was it like dancing with a star like that?” asked a girl with short red hair. Her breath stank of alcohol, which made Olivia turn her head away in the dark shadows of the loud and grungy nightclub. Didn’t help that the music was so loud that the girl had to practically yell over it – and right into Olivia’s ear. “Rick Rodriguez is so damn hot… girl, how did you contain yourself around him? I would have died!”

  Olivia burrowed into her corner of the leather couch. “It was fun, I guess.” That wasn’t a lie. She didn’t want to think about it again. Ever. Ever again.

  “I heard from a girl that used to dance during his performances that he was such a flirt. Slept with everyone… although that was probably hyperbole.” The drunker Dan got, the more brazen he got with his gossip. Usually he was a pretty quiet guy who never said anything more than was necessary for work or to be polite, such as wishing Olivia a safe trip home after practice. “I mean, if I had half the fame that guy has, I would probably go for it too. Just drown in sex.”

  Olivia sat up on the couch, even though that meant coming nose to pit in everyone’s body odor. They had come from their last practice of the week, and no one had showered yet. Crowded all together in a corner of the neighborhood’s biggest nightclub? Yuck. “I don’t know anything about that,” she said, half of the troupe’s eyes on her. “We mostly kept to ourselves. I don’t know a lot about him.”

  “Honey, you danced with him for months. You have to know a lot about him, even if you didn’t talk much.”

  She hopped off the couch, side-stepping Linda, who was halfway to passed out on the coffee table in front of the seats. When that woman drank, she went for it. Olivia, on the other hand, was not drunk enough to deal with these shenanigans. She was better off finding a corner to hide in until it was socially acceptable to go home. Hopefully she could hop a bus before they stopped running for the night. She highly doubted any of her work colleagues would be in shape to drive her home. Or themselves.

  The club wasn’t the busiest she had ever seen it, but it was full enough with young people, most of them from the performance industry. It was a big weekend destination for dancers, backup singers, even stage and daytime TV actors. Last time Olivia was there she bumped into some soap opera woman who had a mini-entourage and bought drinks for everyone within thirty feet of the bar. Who knew soap opera stars made that much money? Well, at least they had steady jobs…

  “Excuse me, Miss.” A large, muscular man Olivia often saw around those parts held up his hand before she could stumble into the wrong hallway. “Private party. We’re not allowing anywhere back here. If you want to use the restroom, you’ll have to use the ones up front.”

  “Great. Fantastic.” Olivia stepped away, tripping over her own feet. Maybe I am drunk? The bouncer shrugged in that “what can you do?” sort of way, and it was all Olivia could do but rail at him and get thrown out of the club.

  Oh hell no. She was drunk. She only had one drink but she was drunk. Because only being drunk could explain suddenly seeing Rick standing in the hallway behind the bouncer.

  He was with groupies. Entourage. Work colleagues. Whatever. Price I pay coming to a common hangout for such types. Behind her, the dance troupe ordered another round of shots to down before the end of the night. Linda dragged her ass off the table, even though Dan and a few others sloppily suggested that she was too drunk to keep going. Olivia looked away again. This time it was the bouncer Olivia got an eye-full of instead of Rick.

  Maybe I made it up. Delusional. Illusions. Time for Olivia to peace out and go home.

  “Rick! Get back here! We’re gonna get a game started!” Olivia didn’t recognize that voice, but she did recognize the name.

  Shit. Shit. She got out of the bouncer’s way, crouching behind a corne
r leading toward the bar and crouching so she got a look of the man wandering the VIP hallway. That’s him. At this point she could not ignore the tall stature, the muscular, athletic frame, the dark stubble, and the Devil-may-care way Rick Rodriguez strutted around. Except he wasn’t strutting. He looked bored, distracted. When a guy stepped out from a room to flag him down again, it took five summons to get Rick’s attention while he was en route to the men’s restroom. After he finally turned around, he said something curt to his workmate and sent the guy back to their VIP room.

  Olivia took a step back. She hadn’t planned on seeing Rick up close like this ever again. Therefore, she had no plan regarding what she might do in such a situation. Like figure out a way to go back and see him.

  ***

  They weren’t having a party for any particular reason, and for that Rick was not at all impressed. After a long week of recording, the last thing he wanted to do was go out, get smashed, and get into who knew what kind of trouble. I want to go home and sleep forever. He felt worse now than he did when he came back home from the tour. If that was even possible.