Reckless Obsession (The Reckless Rockstar Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “Bullshit. How many people have you punched for coming on to me? Hell, for even talking to me.”

  “That’s not because I’m jealous.”

  “That’s what it looks like to me and everyone else.”

  “I’m …” I lean against the building and rub my eyes. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

  “From what? Guys who come on to me in bars? News flash—men are going to come on to me. They come on to girls all the time. It’s a fact of life. Or do you mean protect me from the fans? Fans we need or our band will cease to exist? Either way, it’s gone too far.”

  Someone scruffy walks up to us. “Are you okay?” he asks Bria.

  I step over to him and jut a finger into his chest. “You’re him. Are you stalking her?”

  “Stop it! He’s not stalking me. You are. Jonah, I’m okay. I think you should go, though.”

  He hesitates. “If you’re sure.”

  “She’s sure, asshole. Go.”

  He turns the corner into the alley next to her building. I wonder if he lives there and consider rousting him from a location too close to Bria.

  She stomps her foot in impotent anger. “That is exactly what I’m talking about. You can’t treat people that way.”

  “How do you know he wasn’t waiting for you to get home and planned to force his way upstairs?”

  “You mean like how you were waiting for me? You have a problem, and you’re scaring me. I’d like you to leave.” She unlocks the door and starts inside. I try to follow her. “No! How can you not see that you’re becoming the very person you think you’re protecting me from?”

  “You’re scared of me?”

  Streetlights illuminate her tears. “I’m scared of a lot of things, not the least of which is that I fell in love with you.”

  I back away, the wind knocked out of me. “Fuck.”

  “See? I tell you I’m in love with you, and you curse.”

  “I told you I’m a goddamn mess.”

  She sags, and her eyes become vacant. “You did. That makes me an idiot, doesn’t it? I knew we shouldn’t do this. I’ve known all along. I tried to resist, but then … and you’re so obsessed with protecting me you didn’t notice. Sometimes I think you have blinders on, because any fool can see how I feel. But you make me feel like I’m not here.” She closes her eyes. “Or maybe you wish I were someone else.”

  “Bria, no.”

  “Don’t come back.” Tears flow down her cheeks. “I’m done, Crew. Find yourself a different girlfriend. And” —her chin quivers— “I think it’s best you find another singer.”

  “Bria—”

  The loud slam of the door makes me flinch.

  I sit on the bench at the corner and look up. Lights turn on and then off in her window. She’s drunk. She couldn’t have meant what she said.

  I take out my phone and text her.

  Me: I know you didn’t mean that. I’m sorry I made you mad. We’ll talk tomorrow.

  Why isn’t my text being delivered?

  I send another.

  Me: Bria, please answer me.

  I call her. It rings once and goes to voicemail. My chin falls to my chest. This happened to Garrett.

  My throat closes and a tight pressure makes my chest hurt. Bria hasn’t turned her phone off. She’s blocked my number.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Bria

  I lie in bed, hiding my head under the covers as if that will somehow protect me from my problems. It’s ten. I should be at rehearsal. I’ve been resisting the temptation to unblock Crew’s number for hours. He’s probably texted me a dozen times, but I can’t do it. If I take him back, I’ll be accepting his behavior.

  What I said to him last night is true. I love him. I think I’ve loved him for months. But he can’t love me back. How can he when he’s already in love with someone else? Someone I can never compete with? I know his behavior has everything to do with her, but I can’t allow him to treat me that way.

  It’s the other thing I said to him that kept me awake most of the night. Am I really quitting the band?

  My phone pings with a text.

  Liam: Crew said you’re sick. He’s busy so he asked me to text you. I hope it’s nothing serious. What about tonight?

  He didn’t tell them I blocked him? Is he expecting me to change my mind and forget everything that’s happened? I read Liam’s text again. What about tonight? What about tomorrow night? We have two gigs this weekend.

  Me: I think you’ll have to count me out for the whole weekend unless you want me throwing up on the fans. I’m sorry. I know this puts you in a bind.

  Liam: That sucks. We’ll handle it. Get better soon.

  Me: Thanks.

  I put my phone away and hide again.

  ~ ~ ~

  For five days I’ve been wallowing in misery, pretending to be ill. Brett threatened to come get me after his shift if I didn’t call him back.

  My phone rings. It’s Ronni. “Hello?”

  “I assume you’re here?”

  “Where’s here?”

  “Your apartment. I’m downstairs. Will you please buzz me up before I get hacked into tiny pieces and shoved in the sewer?”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  I look around my place. There are food cartons and soda cans scattered about, but I leave them. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. At least I showered last night, so I don’t look completely hideous. I throw on a pair of yoga pants and a fresh T-shirt and go down.

  “We need to talk,” Ronni says, barreling past me. “Which flea-infested domicile is yours?”

  “Second floor on the right.”

  We go upstairs, and she looks at my open door and then at me. “You leave your door open? Are you trying to get raped and pillaged?”

  I try not to think of Crew and all the times he chastised me for the same thing. We go inside.

  “Hmm,” she says. “It’s smaller than my shoe closet but not as bad as I pictured.”

  “You thought cockroaches would be skittering across the floor? Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “You don’t seem sick. Jesus, Brianna, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  I can’t help it. I laugh. “God, no.”

  “Then why the hell did you force Jeremy to cancel two performances?”

  I sit on the couch and look at the wall.

  She huffs out a sharp breath. “It’s Crew, isn’t it? You’re having some kind of lovers’ quarrel?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  She pulls out a chair from the small dining table, brushes off the seat, and walks it over to the couch, putting it down across from me. “Listen, if it were up to me, Reckless Alibi would be an all-male band. But in the past several months, IRL has invested a lot of time and money into the band, and your absence has put us in an awkward position. If you were to leave, we’d have to find another singer. Not that it would be hard to replace you. There are a thousand girls who could do what you do, but we’d have to re-brand everything with her likeness.” She purses her lips. “When will people listen to me when I say inter-band relationships never work?”

  “They can work. It was working, but it’s … complicated.”

  “Have you ever been in a relationship that wasn’t?”

  “Why are you here?”

  She opens her bag and hands me a folder.

  “What’s this?”

  “Dissolution papers to separate you from the band. As agreed upon in the addendum you signed, if it’s your choice to leave, you walk away with nothing.”

  I think of all the songs I wrote that wouldn’t be mine anymore. “I don’t know.”

  She stands. “You’d better figure it out. I’m not cancelling any more performances. Crew will sing alone until I find your replacement. You have one week to decide. If you don’t sign the papers or show up for rehearsal by next Monday, IRL will sue you for damages. We spent fifty thousand dollars shooting a music video, Brianna. Not to mention all the
social media campaigns, press, album covers … need I go on?”

  I swallow hard. “If I sign, I don’t have to pay that?”

  “Between you and me, no judge will require you to reimburse us for everything we spent on you, but it doesn’t look like you can afford even a fraction of it. Make your decision by Monday.”

  I nod and put the folder on the table.

  Ronni goes to the door. “I know about you and Adam Stuart. I did my research on you. Seems like it’s your MO to date the lead singer of a band and then wallow in the drama that ensues.”

  “There was no drama with White Poison.”

  She chuckles. “Apparently, you haven’t seen the video.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you know by now that everything you do is out there? Especially when you’re famous or hanging around with those who are.” She leaves, slamming the door behind her.

  I race to my laptop and google my name, but all it shows are pictures of me with Reckless Alibi. I try Adam’s name and White Poison. It takes me twenty minutes, but I finally find it. Somebody recorded me telling off Adam. I notice something in the background and play it a few more times. Crew is standing behind me, looking like he wants to kill Adam. He was protective before we knew each other. When he didn’t even like me.

  My head falls back against the couch. I’m so confused.

  I pick up my phone and send Brett a text.

  Me: Can I stay at your place for a few days?

  ~ ~ ~

  I sit at Brett’s table, listening to the radio while he makes coffee. One of our songs comes on. I close my eyes and listen. I remember exactly how we sing it onstage. How we look at each other. How we touch each other. The thought of Crew singing it with another woman guts me.

  “Seems like I hear you guys every day now.” Brett puts a cup in front of me. “Hey, why are you crying? What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  He appraises me over the rim of his coffee cup. He puts the cup down. “Bria, are you pregnant?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that? No, I’m not pregnant.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s Crew. I broke up with him, and I may have left the band.”

  “You quit?”

  “Sort of. I have a week to decide.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  As I lay it all out for him, telling him about Crew’s overprotective behavior, his tracking me, and Abby’s dying, I wait for Brett to go ballistic. Maybe I need someone to tell me to cut Crew out of my life and assure me that quitting the band is the right thing to do.

  “Wow, you’ve been dealing with a lot.”

  “Why are you being so calm about this? Aren’t you pissed off?”

  “You said yourself he’s not hurting you. He’s protecting you.” His spine stiffens. “You’re telling me the truth, right? He’s not hurting you, is he?”

  “No. Absolutely not. He’s really good to me. But he’s physically hurt other people, and he tracked my phone. Followed me when I was out with friends. Isn’t that way out of bounds?”

  “Sounds like some of them might have had it coming. People deal with grief in different ways, Bria. He lost someone. And based on what you told me, Abby was very important to him. Having someone you love die is a game changer, and a lot of the time, the changes are not good.”

  “I get that he loved her and she died, but it’s been seven years.”

  “Do you know how long it took me to go up in a tall building after Mom died? A lot more than seven years. It’s called PTSD, and it presents in a lot of different ways. He lost one woman he loved. He doesn’t want to lose another.”

  “He doesn’t love me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “He loves Abby.”

  “That doesn’t mean he can’t love you. I still love Mom.”

  “That’s different.”

  “I’m not sure it is. The heart has an infinite capacity for love. He’ll always love her in some way. Maybe, like you, he doesn’t think he can love you both.”

  “But his behavior … it’s not right.”

  “It’s not. He probably needs professional help. You said he’s never turned his anger toward you, yet you seem scared of him.”

  “I am. Well, not of him, more like I’m scared for him. And for us and the band and any poor guy who hits on me.” My head falls into my hands. “Why did I let us get involved? I should have known better. First Adam and now this. When will I learn?”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. Do you know how many people find love at work? When you’re with the same people day after day, it’s inevitable. Even more so when you write emotional songs about each other.”

  “What if we can’t be together, Brett? How can I continue to sing with him? I can’t imagine doing it. Then again I can’t imagine not doing it. Ronni already told me she’s all too happy to hire someone else.”

  “So you sing with Crew or another woman does it. Which is the lesser of two evils?”

  I pound my forehead on the table. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

  “Option one will at least give you a paycheck.”

  “I know, but is that a reason to stay?”

  “You need to figure out if there’s another reason.”

  “How do I make that decision by Monday? What do I do?”

  He puts a supportive hand on my shoulder. “Nobody can tell you that.” Emma and the kids come in. He looks at them lovingly and then leans close to me. “Emma was scared, too. Like him, she didn’t want to lose someone else important to her. Because of PTSD, she pushed me away. I’m happy as hell I gave her a second chance, and a third and a fourth. It was all worth it, kiddo.”

  Leo runs into his arms. Brett high-fives Evie and then kisses Emma. They’re the perfect family.

  Brett takes my hand. “Grief is different for everyone, and healing can be a slow, arduous process. Then one day, one moment even, when you aren’t expecting it, everything changes.”

  I wonder if that moment will ever happen for Crew. More importantly, I wonder if I’m willing to stick around to see if it does.

  Chapter Forty

  Crew

  I stand outside the barn, like I have every day this week, hoping she’ll show up. I keep making excuses for why she’s not here. But it’s been a week of zero contact, and it’s Friday. We have two shows this weekend. Liam calls out to me, and I kick the side of the barn.

  I go back inside. I’m not even sure why we’re rehearsing without Bria, but Jeremy insisted on it. He’s here today too, which is unusual.

  Liam turns on the amps, and I adjust the volume on the mic. When the door opens, I eagerly turn around, but it’s Ronni, and she’s not alone.

  She strolls across the floor, a young woman in tow. “This is Tiffani. She’ll be rehearsing with you today.”

  I stare down Ronni. “What the fuck?”

  “Someone want to explain what’s going on here?” Garrett says.

  “He hasn’t told you?” Ronni asks.

  Brad steps forward. “Told us what?”

  All eyes are on me. I sit on my stool and rub my face. “Bria isn’t sick, and I’m not sure she’s coming back.”

  They immediately stop what they’re doing and swarm me.

  “Tell us,” Liam says.

  “We kind of got in a fight.”

  Liam shakes his head over and over. “You mean you were being an overprotective ass, and she called you on it.”

  I feel all kinds of stupid.

  “Shit.” Liam goes to the couch and sits down. “So she’s done?”

  “No. I’m giving her time.”

  Ronni steps forward. “Well, time is running out, boys. She has until Monday, at which time she’ll be officially severed from the band.”

  “Monday? That’s not enough time.”

  Jeremy joins the conversation. “Whatever your issues, you’d better resolve them quickly or things will change.”

 
I look at the new girl, not even remembering her name. “If we have until Monday, there’s no need to audition anyone now, right?”

  “We have to move forward,” Ronni says. “Tiffani is not auditioning. She knows your material. She’s agreed to my terms. She’ll be replacing Brianna.”

  I stand up so fast, I knock the stool over. “No fucking way.”

  “Whoa now,” Garrett says. “It’s our band. Don’t we get to say who’s part of it?”

  Ronni gives Tiffani a push toward the mic. “I think you’ll find her extremely capable, and I’m not about to cancel two more performances.”

  “We’re not Reckless Alibi without Bria,” Liam says.

  “Look around you,” Jeremy says. “She’s not here. She hasn’t been here for a week. We have to be proactive about this. You can’t wait around for her. If she isn’t professional enough to put her personal feelings aside for the band, you shouldn’t want her singing with you.”

  I get in Jeremy’s face. “It’s not her fault. It’s mine.”

  “Either way, the show must go on.”

  Ronni says, “Time is money. Let’s get started. Stick to the regular stuff. Nothing new.” She hands us each a playlist. “Here’s what you’ll play this weekend. Tiffani has learned all of these songs.”

  I peruse the list. “No.”

  Ronni comes closer. “What did you say?”

  I glance at the new girl. “I said I won’t sing these with her.”

  “Oh, but you will, or have you forgotten the part where every one of you is replaceable?”

  “What if we refuse to play?” Garrett asks.

  Ronni belts out a mutinous laugh. “Then you’d be in breach of contract, and IRL will sue you for a million dollars.”

  “A million dollars?” Brad asks, turning ashen.

  “That’s what it takes to buy your way out of the contract. Unless you have that kind of money, I suggest you get your asses over there and meet your obligations.”