Rock All Night (The Rock Star's Seduction #2)

by Olivia Thorne

  Ryan grinned. “I thought we weren’t going to speak of that.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to speak of you and me,” I said mischievously. “I didn’t realize that extended to… other parties.”

  Killian perked up. “What other parties?”

  “No other parties,” Ryan said hastily, then looked at me. “I decided it was a bad idea and hit the hay early. Well… earlier. Sit down,” he said, gesturing at a chair beside him.

  I sat and started loading up my plate. “Thanks.”

  “Orange juice? Freshly-squeezed,” he said, holding up a glass pitcher.

  “Sure.”

  “We’ve got some champagne if you want a mimosa.”

  Mmm. “Tempting, but I better not.” I looked around. “Are they still sleeping?”

  “Who, Derek and Riley? Riley probably isn’t sleeping, exactly. Derek didn’t stay up here.”

  I stared at him. “What do you mean? He didn’t come back last night?”

  “He sleeps in another room somewhere in the hotel,” Ryan explained. “Always has, no matter where we stay.”

  “Oh,” I said, and wondered just how worried I should be. “What did you mean about Riley, though?”

  Right on cue, one of the giant penthouse’s bedroom doors banged open and a girl stepped out.

  She was college age. Definitely cute – and incredibly disheveled. Her black skirt was slightly askew, and her green top was untucked and wrinkled. Her hair looked like she’d been in a wind tunnel. Her makeup was smudged, especially her lipstick. She held her high heels and purse in her arms.

  As soon as she saw us, she froze like a deer in headlights.

  Ryan and Killian both waved politely.

  “Hello.”

  “Mornin’, luv.”

  I looked from one guy to the other, then followed their leads and hesitantly raised my own arm and waved.

  The girl smiled – though it was a sick sort of Oh my GOD I’M SO EMBARRASSED grimace.

  Then Riley walked out and slapped the girl on the ass.

  More like stumbled out, actually. She was barefoot and dressed in a grey sleeveless t-shirt and ripped jeans. Her eyes were swollen shut and her raccoon eyes were even worse than before. Her mohawk was flattened horizontally over one side of her head, with hairsprayed sections jutting stiffly every which way.

  As soon as Riley smacked her ass, the girl jerked and then blushed furiously.

  “G’wan… I got… band… stuff…” Riley mumbled as she shuffled over towards the table like a blind zombie.

  The girl raced past us, over to the penthouse door – and then paused before she let herself out.

  “Call me,” she said piteously.

  Riley waved her arm like Yeah, yeah without looking over at her.

  Then the girl disappeared out the door.

  “Uhhhhhhh,” Riley groaned as she plopped down in a chair, her eyes no more than puffy slits in her face.

  “You’re such an asshole,” Ryan said amiably.

  “Shu’ fuck up,” Riley mumbled as she held out her arm.

  Killian reached down behind the table and handed her a bottle of Jack Daniels.

  I stared at him.

  “Hair o’ the dog,” Killian said, like whiskey was the most natural thing in the world for breakfast.

  Without a word, Riley unscrewed the cap and took a drink straight from the bottle. A looooong drink.

  “Ew,” I whispered.

  Without looking at me, Riley flipped me a bird with her free hand – and kept guzzling.

  “It’s like her morning coffee,” Ryan explained.

  When she finally stopped drinking, she let the bottle dangle from her hand and leaned her head back against the top of her chair. “UGH I hate straight bitches. They never want to go down on you.”

  EW.

  I put my forkful of eggs back on my plate, uneaten.

  “Good morning to you, too, sunshine,” Ryan teased.

  “Fuck off.” Riley tilted her head up, opened one eye halfway, and looked at me. “What’re you doin’ here, Blondie? I thought you and D woulda been poundin’ it out all mornin’.”

  “Well, you’d be wrong,” I said icily.

  She leaned her head back against the chair. “Guess he’s poundin’ somebody else,” she murmured.

  I wanted to jump across the table and smash the fucking bottle of whiskey over her head.

  But a deep, rumbling voice stopped me.

  “Well, you’d be wrong again,” Derek said as he closed the penthouse door behind him.

  27

  He was dressed in jeans, boots, a black t-shirt that hugged his chest, and his customary sunglasses.

  My heart leapt. I was so happy to see him that my whole body buzzed with anticipation –

  But a second after my heart jumped in my chest, it seized with fear.

  Our previous encounter last night in my room – temporarily forgotten because of Riley’s antics – reared up in my memory like some monstrous shadow.

  Derek seemed to have no such qualms, though. He just ambled over to the table, sat down between Riley and Ryan, and reached for a plate.

  He didn’t even look at me.

  It was like a punch to the gut.

  “I’m assuming that chick out in the hallway was yours, Riley,” he said as he piled on eggs and bacon.

  “Whose else would it be?” she snorted. “Nobody else in here gets any pussy.”

  “Jesus, Riley,” Ryan groaned, “I’m eating.”

  “See? He’s too much of a pussy to even talk about pussy. And don’t even get me started on Mary Jane over there.”

  She was obviously referring to Killian. He ignored her and kept strumming his chords with one hand and eating toast with the other.

  Riley flopped her head towards Derek and grinned. “Broke another one in last night.”

  “Just a second ago you were groaning about her being straight,” Ryan reminded her.

  She just flipped him off. Apparently that was her preferred method of communication.

  “Stick with the lesbians, Riley,” Derek said in a bored voice, like this was an all-too-common topic of conversation. “Or real switch hitters. Bi-curious does not equal bisexual.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she groaned. “But straight girls are so… I dunno. Guess I like the challenge.”

  “You must not like getting reciprocation.”

  “Fuck off,” Riley grinned again – and then the grin turned evil as she looked at me. “Hey, what’s this I hear about you and Blondie not doin’ it?”

  Derek looked up at me for the first time, though I couldn’t tell anything because the sunglasses shielded his eyes.

  “You heard right,” he said neutrally, and gave me a half-smile before returning to his breakfast.

  “Why do you keep hittin’ on her if she doesn’t put out?” Riley taunted.

  “I dunno. Guess I like the challenge.”

  That wasn’t what you said last night, I thought.

  But I had sense enough not to say it out loud.

  “Guess you must not like reciprocation,” Riley joked.

  “Mm,” he said, bobbing his head like You got me as he chewed a mouthful of eggs.

  At that point, Miles strode into the room.

  “Alright, gents and rabid animals,” he said with a pointed look at Riley. She flipped him off, as usual. “The bus will be here at 3 o’clock. You will be ready by 3 o’clock, or I will kick your ass all the way from here down to the lobby. Show’s in Irvine. With the abominable state of Los Angeles traffic, that’s two hours at least. Do whatever you want before 3 o’clock, and do whatever you want on the bus, but you will be on the bus at 3:05 or you will NOT enjoy the consequences.”

  “Are we staying in Irvine?” Ryan asked.

  “No, we’re continuing on down to San Diego for tomorrow night’s show.”

  “After-party on the bus,” Derek grinned, and looked at me as he said it.

  I glowered a
t him, then looked at Miles and raised my hand.

  “This isn’t primary school,” Miles said tersely. “What?”

  “I’m going on the bus, right?”

  “If you’re on it by 3:05, yes. If not, sod off.”

  Riley raised her hand, obviously mocking me.

  “What,” Miles snapped.

  Riley slowly folded down all her fingers except the middle one, grinning as she did it.

  “Fuck off, you little slag,” Miles growled. “Three o’clock. No exceptions.”

  Then he walked away.

  Ryan looked around the table. “I had some ideas I wanted to work on before tonight.”

  “Fine by me,” Killian agreed.

  Derek just nodded.

  “Fuck no, I gotta get some sleep,” Riley yawned.

  “No, you gotta get a shower,” Derek said. “You stink.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Ha! You’d be lucky to get it, seein’ as Blondie’s not puttin’ out.”

  “Okay,” Derek said simply, like That’s it. He stood up, slipped behind Riley’s chair, and got her in a full nelson headlock. His arms looped under hers and over her shoulders, and his hands locked behind her head. He pulled her backwards off the chair, tipping it over backwards. It clattered on the floor as he dragged her to her feet.

  She immediately started screaming like a tomcat in a back alley fight, kicking and clawing and flailing and spitting.

  “LET GO OF ME, YOU STUPID COCKSUCKING SON OF A BITCH!”

  “I’m throwing her in the shower,” Derek announced calmly to the group. “Be back in five.”

  “Thank you,” Ryan said.

  “No problem.”

  “I’M GONNA KILL ALL ‘A YOU FUCKIN’ MOTHERFUCKERS – ”

  “Bye, luv,” Killian waved at her.

  “FUCK YOU, YOU LIMEY FUCK – LET GO OF ME, YOU GODDAMN ASSHOLE!”

  Derek dragged her back into her bedroom, kicking and screaming all the way.

  A little shaken, I looked over at Ryan. “Is that… normal?”

  “At least once a week,” Ryan said, completely blasé about the whole thing. “Or whenever she needs a bath. More orange juice?”

  I let him fill up my glass again, and gradually went back to eating my breakfast.

  28

  Once breakfast was over, Killian went to another bedroom in the penthouse, apparently to get dressed. Ryan fiddled with the wires to all the instruments and microphones sitting out in the middle of the penthouse. Derek came back from Riley’s bedroom dripping wet.

  “Be back in a minute,” he said, and left the penthouse.

  Ten minutes later, Killian was back outside in his customary black shirt, black pants, and black shoes – and with a freshly-lit joint. Ryan was warming up on his bass. And Derek walked in wearing a dry outfit.

  As they all took their places, Riley shuffled out in soccer shorts and a wifebeater, her face freshly scrubbed and pink. Without the fright mask of mascara, it was a lot easier to see how pretty her features actually were. All the dried styling gunk was gone from her mohawk, too, leaving her hair a limp, wet mass hanging down one side of her head.

  “You guys suck,” she grumbled as she sat down at her drums and picked up her drumsticks, but that was all she said.

  For the next two hours, I got a peek behind the curtain of one of the world’s most famous bands.

  It started off with Ryan. He played a slapping kind of beat on his bass, and Killian suggested, “How about this?” and dropped in a chugging guitar riff. Riley joined in on the drums – not loud or overpowering, just counting out time and throwing in a combination of snares and cymbals here and there. Derek pulled out a notebook and made some marks in it, then interrupted. “Yeah, when you did that – ” here he sang a few wordless notes – “I was thinking of dropping in, ‘I’m over what you told me when you told me it was through.’”

  My mind raced – Is he talking about us? – but within seconds it was past, and they were onto something else.

  It continued like that, with them going back and forth with suggestions and additions, until finally Ryan asked, “Should we try it?”

  Derek nodded, and Riley counted it out on her drumsticks, click click click click –

  And over the next three minutes, a new Bigger song unfolded – one that no one else in the world had ever heard before.

  I was the first.

  The song was good – definitely rough, but good. I was enjoying it by the midpoint, and was disappointed when it ended.

  “Well, that sucked,” Riley muttered after it was all over.

  That shocked me.

  “No, it was good,” I burst out.

  The entire group turned around and looked at me. Apparently they’d forgotten I was even there.

  “You liked it?” Ryan asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Which part?”

  “Well – all of it. I mean… I don’t know… I didn’t like the middle part as much, where it slows down and Derek sings about walking away?”

  “The bridge,” Ryan said.

  “Is that what it’s called?”

  “Yeah, the bridge.”

  “I told you,” Killian said. “B minor and faster.”

  “Yeah, yeah, okay, okay,” Ryan said grudgingly.

  “I didn’t say it was bad, it just – it didn’t click for me.”

  “What else?”

  “Um…” I looked over hesitantly at Derek. “I didn’t like the second and third verses as much as the first.”

  His face darkened a little.

  “It’s just the first verse is really strong, that’s all,” I added quickly.

  “Yeah, the rest was fuckin’ weak,” Riley taunted him.

  “Fuck you,” Derek snapped.

  “Ha haaaaa,” she jeered back at him.

  “But you liked it overall?” Ryan asked.

  “Yeah, it was good.”

  “How good?”

  I shrugged. “Solidly in the middle of everything you’ve ever done.”

  Ryan cringed. “That’s it?”

  I stared at him. “That’s the first time you ever played it, isn’t it?”

  “Well, yeah, but…”

  “And all the other songs you’ve done, you did a ton more work on them before you recorded them, right?”

  He sighed. “Yeah…”

  Then he turned to the rest of the group. “Let’s put it on the back burner for now. Killian, come up with some new ideas for the bridge. Derek – ”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he growled. “If we’re through getting reviews on our shit before it’s even halfway finished, can we get back to work?”

  Ouch.

  I sat down and crossed my arms.

  “It’s good to hear from people,” Ryan protested, giving me a sideways glance to make sure I wasn’t taking it too hard. “It’s good to get feedback.”

  “Yeah, well, now you’ve got it. Let’s work on ‘Gold And Diamonds.’”

  “Okay…”

  Ryan gave me a sympathetic look, and then he turned back to the band.

  “For the bass line, I was thinking of changing it from what I played you guys last time to…”

  29

  Despite my wounded pride at being told to butt out, I was soon captivated by the jam session. In total, they worked on three songs I’d never heard before. Each one was better than the last; the final one could have been good enough to be a single on the radio, even in its rough state.

  I kept that opinion to myself, though.

  Two hours passed, and suddenly Miles walked in. “Twenty minutes. In twenty minutes, you’re on the bus or my foot is up your arse.”

  The band members put up their stuff and retreated to their separate rooms. Derek slipped out before I could say anything to him.

  “He just hates criticism in any way, shape, or form,” a voice said behind me. “Can’t stand it.”

  I looked back. Ryan was standing i
n the doorway of one of the bedrooms.

  “It was actually pretty good, though,” I protested.

  “Yeah, well, for Derek, telling him he’s ‘pretty good’ is a half step above saying he’s awful. It’s amazing – the guy can handle all sorts of stuff getting thrown at him, but he gets bent out of shape at the first mention that his lyrics or singing aren’t absolutely amazing. It’s been that way since the beginning.”

  “Is that why he can’t handle music critics?”

  “That’s pretty much it. Although some of them aren’t exactly evenhanded. There was this one guy at the Red and Black back when we were in Athens – ”

  “He told me about that.”

  Ryan grimaced. “Did he tell you about him sleeping with the guy’s girlfriend for revenge?”

  My stomach turned. “Yeah.”

  “Did he tell you he recorded it and sent it to the paper’s offices?”

  I felt even queasier. “Yes.”

  “Derek’s always been super-mature,” Ryan said sarcastically, then shrugged. “Oh well. Hey, you got whatever stuff you need? Because Miles is one hundred percent not kidding about being on the bus at 3:05.”

  “Oh crap,” I whispered, and ran out of the penthouse as fast as I could.

  30

  I made it out to the bus with five minutes to spare.

  It was waiting outside the main circular drive in front of the hotel. The exterior was black, with ‘BIGGER’ in huge white letters on the side – plus a graphic of the .44 Magnum Smith and Wesson from their first album, only now it was about twenty feet long.

  Subtle.

  Inside, the thing was beautifully decorated. It looked more like a luxurious train car, with tons of soft, plush, black leather seats. There were a couple of giant flatscreen TVs on the wall, areas set up for instruments, a kitchen area with a double-wide steel refrigerator, a full bar, and what looked like sleeping quarters in the back.

  Ryan and Killian were already onboard. Derek showed up a couple minutes late, quite obviously in defiance of the deadline. He waved to the paparazzi and a couple of dozen screaming fans as he entered the bus.

  “Hey – I just wanted you to know, I thought the verses were good,” I said as he walked up the center aisle.

  “Okay,” he said without any emotion, and strolled past me to the bar.

  ASSHOLE!