Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion #3)

by Taryn Elliott

  If only her sister knew just how in deep she was with Simon. Juliet would have a conniption and then hold it over her head for…oh, ever.

  “It’s exciting. And will bump up my resume for studio work now that I’m not in the BPO.”

  “You still haven’t told Mom about that.”

  “No. And I won’t be. I’ll be going on auditions by the end of this tour.”

  “And being dismissed by Renard isn’t going to hurt you there?”

  “Has that gotten out yet?” Margo dropped her chin to her chest. Her sister’s on-again, off-again boyfriend hated her and had gleefully taken her chair. “Tomas needs to keep his damn mouth closed.”

  “You know how he is. Vindictive to the end.”

  “Again, why did you ever date him?”

  “His asshole gene came with a certain perk, but even a big dick and twice blessed hips to go with it only goes so far.”

  “Nice.”

  “Oh, it is—well, was. I kinda crashed his Ducati into the fountain at the Piazza Navona. Not sure he’s going to forgive me for that one. Me and his truly amazing cock may have parted ways for good this time.” She paused. “Hmm, I wonder if that’s why he ignored Renard’s directive.”

  “You think?”

  “Right.” Juliet sighed. “Sorry about that.”

  Margo rolled her eyes heavenward. She didn’t sound sorry in the least. And now she’d have to dodge her parents’ calls for the foreseeable future. Wonderful.

  “Oh, c’mon, Go-go, you understand, right? Tomas just gets under my skin. I didn’t mean to smash his ride but it was so fast and then the wrong side of the road thing. I panicked.”

  “Juliet, you could have been killed.”

  “Nah. I was in full gear. I do miss the sex, though. That was legit.”

  The fact that Margo could legitimately understand the draw of sex for the first time in her twenty-five years was the only thing that kept her from screaming into the phone.

  “Was there a purpose in your call or…”

  “Wow. A little more chill in that tone and you could sound just like Mother.”

  “You take that back.”

  “No. It was the truth.”

  Horrified, Margo dropped onto the bench near her on the path.

  “Dammit. I’m sorry.” Juliet rushed on before Margo could answer her. “I didn’t mean it. You just make me nutso sometimes. I wanted to know how you wanted to play it. I can run interference.”

  “And why would you do that?”

  “I’m hurt that you would ask that.”

  Yeah. Sure she was. “What do you want, Jules?”

  Her sister huffed out an exaggerated sigh. “I might have mouthed off on my Periscope account that I could get an interview with Simon Kagan.”

  “Oh, Jules.”

  “You guys are tight, right? You could get him to do that when you guys are at The Greek.”

  “And why would you be at that show?”

  “I might be staying with my friend Steph for the summer.”

  “Explain to me how you’d be helping me out with Mother if you’re in California?”

  “Well, I would be the one answering the phone, of course. And explain that you can’t. You know, for work.”

  Margo groaned. “That’s weak.”

  “And what would your plan be? Just never answering?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lame.” Juliet huffed out an exaggerated breath. “At least when I do it I can come up with a decent story. You suck at lying.”

  “Normally, this isn’t a problem.”

  “No, but under these circumstances, you need me. My version of spin is exceptional and you know it.”

  “Mother doesn’t believe a word out of your lips.”

  “Yes, but she never calls me on it.”

  “Your argument is invalid, Jules. And more than lame,” she said, throwing her sister’s words back at her.

  “C’mon, Go-Go! This is a defining moment in our sisterhood here.”

  Her idea of a defining moment and her sister’s were about as far apart as California and New York.

  “Does Mom know about the Philharmonic?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perfect.” Margo leaned back on the bench.

  “I’ll let her know about the cattiness in Boston and that you’re looking to aim higher.”

  Except she wasn’t. At least not from her mother’s point of view. She liked what she was doing—loved it, actually.

  “Okay, do that, please. I have to go. Band meeting.”

  “You’re in those?” Jules asked.

  “Yes. We’re finishing up rehearsals.”

  “I don’t think I can convey just how jealous I am.”

  “Goodbye, Juliet.”

  “You suck.” And her sister hung up.

  Margo pressed her fingers against her throbbing eye. She was officially going to go mad.

  15

  Simon choked down the steeped ginger water with a healthy squeeze of honey in it. It definitely helped. He’d hit all the high notes for the night.

  The fan club filled the middle of the arena and Donovan had even arranged to have one-hundred fans from California flown out. The fans paid a pretty penny for the adventure, which Simon still couldn’t believe.

  He loved music. But these people ponied up over four-hundred dollars for front row seats at the fan club show. Not even a regular show.

  They were pretty much playing their playlist for the following night—a practice run of sorts. And honestly, only two songs of the fourteen needed to be rethought. “Torn to Pieces” was a ballad that had Margo in the spotlight, but they’d slowed it down too much. Added too much “Careless Whisper” flavor to it. Awesome for George Michaels, but a little too smooth for him.

  In fact…

  “Hey, Nicky.”

  “Yeah?” Nick swiped at his sweat-soaked hair with a towel.

  “What do you think about doing ‘Careless Whisper’ before ‘The Becoming’?”

  Nick tipped his head back and laughed. “So, what, you’re George Michaels now?”

  Simon finished the mug of his heated miracle drug. “No. But come on, that’s some sexy shit. We can do it like Seether did. All rocked out. We’ve done it a million times when we’re fucking around with guitars.”

  “Gray,” Nick shouted.

  Gray shook off a cup of ice water that he’d poured around his neck and jogged over. “Whew. It is fucking hot.”

  “Yeah. Goddamn New York,” Simon said and lifted his cup. “The grass is going to end me.”

  “You’re killing it, though. So whatever Harper put in there, you need to mainline that shit.”

  Simon shook his head at the drug reference. Gray made them all the damn time and there was always a little sparkle in his eye about it. Fucker. “No shit, man.”

  Nick nodded to him. “This guy wants to do ‘Careless Whisper’ before ‘The Becoming’.”

  Gray draped his wet towel over his neck. “Really?”

  “The Seether version.”

  “Oh.” Gray stretched his hand above his head and rolled his shoulder. “That could work.”

  “I have a cello piece for that.”

  Simon turned to Margo. “Yeah?”

  “If I did it all classy and low and then Nick or Gray came in with the huge guitar opener—I think that would punch it up even more.”

  “I like it.” Simon waved at Deacon. “Big D, Pix—c’mere.”

  Jazz tucked herself under Gray’s arm and stole his towel. She had a babydoll top made from a bra and sparkly sheer material over her belly and hot pink bike shorts. How she made that work, Simon would never know, but it did. Her outfits always did. Give Pix enough time and she’d have a maternity wear clothing line made up, for fuck’s sake.

  They argued over the opening and closing of the song for two minutes then they were all rushing up the stairs to do the encore.

  The sun was setting along the skyline through the trees an
d people were screaming for them. On their feet and losing their minds as they all got to their places.

  The stage went dark and Margo stood in the diffused light, drawing her bow over her cello in an eerie rendition of the sax parts from the iconic Wham song. Their spot guy, Randy—Harper’s brother—was the most intuitive guy he’d ever seen.

  The moody blue lights softened to white at the end before he blinked over to Simon. He kept the opening verse of the song soft and smooth like the original and then Nick and Gray both came up and powerhoused the guitars, Jazz joining in on the drums until the entire arena was screaming.

  Simon followed Deacon as he always did. He turned his voice into a growl and forced himself not to tense. The ginger had done its job and relaxed the tickle in his throat.

  He stalked across the stage and dropped to his knees in front of the first row as the song ended and they did a medley into “The Becoming”.

  By the time they’d finished that song and ended on “The Boys are Back in Town”, the pavilion was completely off their feet and every bit of rehearsal had been worth it.

  “Fuck, yeah!” Simon yelled and they all came forward for the bows.

  That was the way to do it. They all waved and scattered for backstage. Part of the fan package was a meet and greet afterward. There was a pile of records waiting for everyone that had come.

  All three hundred of them would get a signed copy and picture with the band.

  Simon ran for the showers and steamed up the whole house. His skin was still slick from sweat and he didn’t want to think about how much bug juice was on him from all the fuckers he’d swatted at.

  But he needed it.

  And as his vocal chords opened, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was getting the hang of this professional singer shit.

  Maybe, just maybe he’d have it all figured out.

  He met everyone back at the room they’d corded off to control the crowd. Six huge boxes were lined up behind them. A flag version of his jungle gym archway was tacked up on a huge accordion-style divider.

  Lila, being Lila, had a professional photographer there with equipment. And another videographer was following around Jazz.

  She’d upgraded from an iPhone to a little handheld camera that indie directors used, for God’s sake. It was unreal how different it was to go from opening act to headliner.

  Margo was off to the side, her huge dark eyes taking in everything. So much a part of them and still so separate. At first, he’d pushed to include her, but she seemed to like to be on the fringes.

  She wore a sheer long skirted dress that reminded him of a ballerina with tight leggings under it. And over it was a scarlet bit of nothing that matched her fuckable mouth.

  Christ.

  He forced his eyes away from her.

  She was already so different from the woman he’d met in the studio that long ago summer. She smiled more, her shoulders didn’t look so tense, and goddamn if she wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

  Lila clapped. “All right, guys. You ready for the first wave?”

  “Are we allowed to say no?” Nick asked.

  “Um…no.”

  Nick gave a gusty sigh. “Then let the games begin.”

  The first group of twenty poured in, definitely averaging high on vaginas, but he was glad to see some dudes.

  They wrote their songs to cover both sexes, but women were the ones that usually wanted the backstage packages.

  He shook out his bracelets and rolled his shoulders as a pair of Barbie dolls headed his way. Ready for vapid squeeing, he was surprised to get a natural smile from the unbelievably pretty sisters.

  Maybe it wasn’t going to be such a long night, after all.

  “Hi, ladies.”

  “That show was so amazing. I can’t believe you guys did that for the fan club. We’re so freaking excited.”

  “Well, get in here and get that excitement all over me,” he said with a waggle of eyebrows.

  By the time he’d smiled and hugged his last set of fans, he was ready for another shower, and his head was pounding from the mix of perfumes and colognes.

  Simon fell into the leather couch they’d stashed against the wall. “Jesus fuck, how many people was that?”

  “Three-hundred-and-eight,” Gray answered from across the room.

  “How do you do that?”

  Gray shrugged. “Just can, man.” Jazz was sitting across from him on the other couch and he was rubbing her feet.

  “I’ve got a little something for you guys.” Harper pushed a cart in. “I know the singing types aren’t supposed to do dairy, but they didn’t say anything about Sno-cones.”

  Simon laughed as their resident chef scooped shaved ice into little cups and wielded a rainbow of flavors.

  Exactly what they needed after the heat of the day and night, he decided as he stood behind Nick and scooped out a handful of ice.

  * * *

  Margo hid behind the couch that had been pushed into the center of the room like a bunker. She looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was going to ambush her from behind.

  She reached her hand into her bra to scoop out ice. Deacon had already dive-bombed her from above. Damn giant.

  She shook her cup but her weapons were low…and melty. A trip to the basin of ice was in order, but Jazz and Gray had teamed up to guard that.

  They were ninjas.

  “Nick, where are you?” she called out.

  “Your six.”

  She turned around and saw the ice ball coming her way and ducked just as it slapped into the couch. “And here I was going to play Black Widow to your Hawkeye.”

  Nick peeked up from his hiding spot. “Really? Do I get to know what happened in Budapest?”

  She aimed and caught him in the neck. “You wish.” She kept her face expressionless as Lila came up behind him.

  “You little…” Nick scooted forward to get to the next hiding spot. “I need reinforcements.”

  “Nope.” Lila poured a five gallon bucket of water over Nick’s head.

  “Cheater,” Nick roared.

  “Absolutely,” Margo said and crossed to high five an equally drenched Lila.

  “Cheaters never win,” Simon and Deacon shouted and the entire pan of leftover ice came their way.

  She and Lila shrieked and crouched.

  “Holy shit,” Lila said with chattering teeth. “And to think I was crying about how hot I was an hour ago.”

  Margo sluiced water off her face and flipped back her hair. “There will be retribution, boys.”

  “Bring it.”

  Harper came in with three mops and a bucket. “Enough! I bring you people treats and this is the thanks I get.”

  Deacon headed her way with a cup of ice behind his back.

  “And if you think that ice is going down your pregnant wife’s back, you will be sleeping alone!”

  “Aww, c’mon,” Deacon said.

  She pushed a mop into his hands. Turned to Simon and Nick with the other two.

  “This is sexist,” Simon said.

  “No. This is your mess to clean up. You started it, Simon.”

  “I did not.”

  Harper’s eyebrow rose. “You were the one that dropped a handful down Nick’s shirt. I saw it. You were the instigator.”

  “Dammit.”

  “Gray take Pix to get her cleaned up.”

  “How come they don’t have to clean up?”

  “Because, Pretty Boy, Jazz has been on her feet too long. I got to sit while you guys were doing photo-ops.”

  Simon growled.

  “Chop, chop.” Harper turned toward the kitchen. She held a finger up. “If I come back in here and you guys left the room a mess, you will never live through my retribution.”

  “Would she really be that bad?” Simon asked.

  “You don’t even know,” Deacon answered.

  Margo helped Lila push the furniture back to where it belonged and collect the leftover fan club
memorabilia. “You guys are kind of amazing.”

  Lila shook out her wet hair. “We do all right. These guys are still excited about everything. It helps for all the fan stuff.”

  “True.”

  “So, you’re going to stay with the tour?”

  Margo looked up. “I want to. If they’ll have me,” she said on a low voice.

  Lila smiled. “No need to whisper. They’re excited. The thing is you have to decide if you’re going to stay with me at the hotel—which I don’t mind—or take the bus with the guys.”

  “With Simon and Nick?”

  “I doubt you want to take the baby central bus.”

  “Um, no.”

  Lila grinned. “Didn’t think so.”

  The idea of being on the same bus as Simon had her stomach swirling and her head spinning. “Can I take a look at it first?”

  “Sure.”

  Margo glanced at the three guys mopping. “They look like they actually know what they’re doing.”

  “Bars. Lots and lots of bars.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Lila nodded to the doorway. “Let’s go take a look at testosterone express.”

  “I’m probably asking too much for an ounce of privacy.”

  “You are correct.” Lila laughed and took the stairs to the side of the venue where the busses were parked. “But it’s a lot nicer than their first bus.”

  Margo followed Lila onto the bus. It was huge. The front was fashioned with a chair that she was sure bus drivers in the city would drool over. Then there was a rather large common area that had couches on either side beneath the tinted windows.

  Lila pressed in a knob at the front of the bus and revealed a guitar holder and shelving units full of notebooks and pens. There was another holder on the door for another guitar, or maybe one of her violins.

  “They do a lot of writing on the road. Passes the time.” She nodded to the bottom shelf. “Simon is forever drawing so be careful if you have your own notebook. He’s a thief.”

  Margo laughed. “I’ll remember that.”

  “The couches convert to a larger mattress.” She pulled down a hidden handle and slid the couch cushion out like a trundle bed. “I try not to think about what they could possibly do on those things, but it’s usually reserved for extra guests on the bus. A family member coming to visit, that sort of deal.”