Reckless Obsession (The Reckless Rockstar Series)

by Samantha Christy

  As I walk away at last

  The chorus runs through my mind one last time. It’s hard not to choke up as I remember everything Abby and my daughter meant to me. Hard? Hell, it’s mind-shattering, but after seven long years without them, it is time to move on at last. Abby would understand.

  Bria clears her throat, and I can tell she’s trying to control her emotions. “Crew, it’s beautiful. Thank you for showing it to me.”

  She hands me the notebook, and I try to give it to Dr. Hardy. She refuses. “The song is not for me. It’s for the three of you.”

  “Bria, will you go with me when I give it to her tomorrow?”

  “Yes.” Her voice is tremulous.

  The moment between us hangs suspended, and I fight taking her hand in mine. This isn’t the time or place, but the promise of better yet to come is there. For the first time in what feels like forever, I look forward to what’s next.

  Dr. Hardy smiles. “I’m seeing real progress today, Chris. There are a few things I’d like you to think about before our next session. You’re in a band. That’s not going to change. I googled Reckless Alibi and am impressed by what I’ve seen, but your chosen profession promotes lots of fan attention, both wanted and unwanted. Until you learn how to control less-desirable feelings, you need to rely on external safety measures.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “Start by researching how other celebrities maintain privacy and security. Your band should have an experienced agent who can advise you and implement those procedures. Having experts to turn to, and making security a project that includes all the band members, not just the two of you, will help you feel safer and less alone with your fears. Although you may be more afraid than the others, it’s a realistic concern for all of you as the attention to your band increases.”

  I think about how those men reacted the other night when Brett joined Bria. They backed off, and I was so relieved. I would have been okay with them talking to her as long as he was there. She needs a bodyguard. My face falls. “We can’t afford that, Dr. Hardy. We’re just getting started.”

  “That would be an issue, but it’s something to think about. In the meantime I have another option for you to consider, and this involves you both. Consider taking martial arts classes.”

  “I know some self-defense already,” Bria says. “My brother made me take classes.”

  “Knowing self-defense is not the same,” she says. “In addition to being able to protect yourself, which would help put Chris at ease, there is a component of discipline and focusing of attention learned in martial arts that could help him manage his feelings and make him feel more powerful and in control.”

  “Like learn Tae Kwon Do or something?”

  For the first time since sitting on the couch, I smile. I love this idea. “What do you say, Bria? Do you want to go all Bruce Lee with me?”

  She laughs. “I think that might be fun.”

  I already feel better and wonder why in the hell it took me so long to do this in the first place.

  I gaze at Bria and remember why I’m here. A lock of her hair falls over one eye, and I have the urge to brush it away. Lyrics dance through my head, and I know as soon as I leave, I’ll be writing another song.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Bria

  Crew laughs when I struggle to walk up the five steps to the stage. “A bit sore, are we?”

  “Sore is an understatement. My legs are on fire.”

  He takes the steps two at a time, and I resist the urge to punch him in the arm. How can he not be in pain after what we went through this week? I think back on the two martial arts classes we attended and how incredibly awkward and uncoordinated I was. Crew, on the other hand, seems to be picking it up like a bad habit.

  “Don’t worry,” he says. “Once the music starts, you’ll forget all about that.”

  He’s right. When we’re out here singing, everything else seems so inconsequential.

  I peek at the audience before we take our places. “Looks like standing room only, and they’re already crowding the stage.”

  Liam takes a look. “Hell yeah! We’re going to outgrow places like this in no time.”

  Why does tonight feel different than last week? It almost seems like they are here for us and not the liquor. I look around the corner and see some girls edging each other out to get closer to the stage.

  “Go,” Jeremy says, giving us our cue.

  We run onstage with lots of energy, and the crowd cheers. They are louder than normal. It’s not like we don’t get applause, but it usually comes after we start singing, not before.

  Crew goes up to the mic. “Hey, Bridgeport, we’re Reckless Alibi.”

  “Thanks for having us,” I say into mine.

  “You’re hot!” a man screams.

  Crew stiffens, then gives me a crooked smile and says, “Thanks, dude,” eliciting laughter from the crowd.

  I think about how far he’s come this week. He visited Abby’s grave and sang the song he wrote for her. Most of it anyway. He couldn’t get through the whole thing. Afterward he ripped the page out and tucked it in the dirt by her grave marker. He left two roses, one for each of them, and looked sad but also relieved. We parted ways then; he said he had to go home and finish another song he’d started. Part of me wonders if the one song wasn’t enough to say goodbye. Maybe a hundred songs won’t be.

  I sing and soon forget about goodbye songs, tiny graves, and uncertain futures. Crew always looks happiest when he sings. It’s obvious he’s in his element. He was born to be onstage, but tonight there is something different about him. During one of our raunchier songs, he does a jumping front kick, a move we learned in martial arts class, and I have to look away to avoid laughing.

  When we sing ‘On That Stage,’ before the break, it’s almost like we’re back in my apartment the day we wrote the lyrics. The day I knew I had deep feelings for him. The day he ran away but then came back. There is so much emotion between us, it’s palpable.

  “Stick around,” Crew says to the crowd. “We’ll be back in fifteen.”

  The crowd cheers as we leave the stage. “Jesus,” Garrett says. “We’re really lighting this place up.”

  We all revel in the applause and then I do what I normally do on break, head to the bathroom. I still get nervous up there, and it makes me have to pee. Before I can get to the restroom, hands are on me, forcing me through a different door. I’m about to karate-chop the person when I catch a glimpse of my captor.

  Crew pushes me against the wall and kisses me. His lips are intoxicating, his touch electric. I get lost in his kiss, the way his mouth feels on mine—oh, how I’ve missed it. Sensation and emotion wrap me in a thick blanket, his masculine groan warming me through and through. I’ve been kissed by at least a dozen men and could still recognize his kiss out of all of them. My head spins, my stomach dances, my heart flutters.

  Which is why it’s so hard to push him away.

  His eyes burn with desire. “I want you so badly.”

  I lean my forehead against his chest. “I know. Me, too, but not like this. Singing is foreplay, Chris, but it’s not our real feelings.”

  He thrusts his erection against me. “This sure as shit is a real feeling.”

  I don’t answer, but I don’t pull away either. God, I’ve missed his touch.

  He strokes my arm. “You mean to tell me when we sing, you don’t have real feelings? Come on, Bria. Those songs are about us. They’re filled with our feelings.”

  I work up the willpower to step back and break contact, but it’s like a part of me is missing. “You’re right. Those are real feelings, but it’s too soon. You’re just beginning to get your life back after seven years. Don’t you want to figure out who Chris Rewey is before you let me have a part of you?”

  His hands run through his hair. He nods. He leans down and puts his forehead against mine. “You’ll wait for me to get there, won’t you?”

  Tears prickl
e the backs of my eyes. “Of course I will.” Because I love you, I want to say, but I don’t. He’ll say it back, but he won’t really mean it. And that scares me more than anything.

  I open the door. “I really have to pee. Meet you back out there?”

  I expect him to be waiting outside the bathroom door when I come out, but he’s waiting for me at the end of the hallway. That’s progress. When we get backstage, Liam runs over. “Where the hell have you been? Look at this.”

  He holds up his phone. A music video plays. Our music video.

  “You want to know why the crowd is so happy to see us?” Garrett says. “Look at the number of views.”

  My jaw drops when I see seven figures.

  Crew laughs. “Score another one for Ronni, who forgot to tell us the video had been released.” He turns to Jeremy. “You knew about this?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m as surprised as you are.” He tries to look excited for us, but I can tell he’s pissed. He’s our manager. He should be in the loop on these things. Hell, we all should.

  “Shh,” I say. “I can’t hear it.” My eyes are locked on Liam’s phone, waiting to see the last scene.

  Crew squeezes my elbow. “A hundred bucks says it’s the one we want.”

  When I see myself push away all the girls and Crew pick me up and put me in the car, I almost cry. I never thought Ronni would let that ending fly, but now I understand why she didn’t tell us about the release.

  Garrett says, “Holy shit, we have over a million followers on Insta. When the hell did that happen?”

  We look at each other in disbelief.

  “You’re on your way up,” Jeremy says. “But right now you have a set to finish. Get out there and give these people what they came for.”

  I walk up the stairs to the stage—this time feeling no pain. They came for us. Not because of the two-for-one drinks. Not because it’s Saturday night. For us.

  Garrett counts us off. Liam and Brad start playing. Crew and I look at each other and smile. And then we sing.

  People swarm our table after the set. They ask for autographs, pictures, handshakes. Crew is stoic. He’s engaging with people, but I can tell he’s trying hard not to lose his shit. A man touches my arm, and he flinches. Another pulls me in for a hug, and Garrett has to hold Crew back. A third gets handsy when I take a photo with him, and Crew stands, his barstool falling over on his way to me.

  “Oh shit,” Brad says when he realizes what’s about to happen. He shouts at the top of his lungs, “Tangerine! Uh, plantain. No, watermelon. Shit, I can’t remember the goddamn word.”

  Instead of things escalating and Crew going off on Mr. Handsy, we break into laughter.

  Liam slaps the back of Brad’s head. “It’s pineapple, you tool.”

  Mr. Handsy moves on, and Crew takes a breath. Sorry, he mouths. I flash him a smile. He’s trying.

  “Hey, how about we take this party somewhere more private?” I say.

  Liam, Garrett, and Brad are enjoying the attention; they don’t want to leave. But Liam gets what I’m doing. “Good idea,” he says. The others fall in line.

  At the van, Bruce is putting away our gear, and Jeremy is helping.

  “Anyone know of a good bar around here?” Liam asks.

  Bruce says, “I grew up close by. What are you in the mood for?”

  “Don’t much care as long as they serve whiskey,” Liam says.

  “I know just the place.”

  We pile in. When Jeremy looks ready to find his car, I call, “You want to join us? It’s your celebration too.”

  “You want me to come?”

  I smile. “I do.”

  He looks at the guys. They shrug at each other. Then Crew says, “Why not? The more the merrier.”

  Two hours and a bottle of whiskey later, we’re the only patrons left in this quaint neighborhood bar. I’m impressed Jeremy’s still with us, given he’s at least ten years older than we are.

  “Reckless Alibi is on the map now,” he says proudly. “It’s only going to escalate from here. With SummerStage coming up, I can promise you things will happen quickly. Get ready for the ride. Most of you have worked your whole life for this.”

  Unlike the rest of the band, Crew isn’t thinking of fame and fortune. He’s thinking of the overzealous fans and potential threats. “Jeremy, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Shoot.”

  “We need security at all shows and major appearances. You saw the crowd tonight. This is the tip of the iceberg.”

  “But we can’t afford it,” I say.

  “We don’t have to. I went through our contract with a fine-tooth comb. Security is IRL’s responsibility. They have to provide it when the band feels threatened. You saw those guys put their hands on Bria tonight. It’s time to do this.”

  Jeremy’s expression sours. “Ronni won’t go for it. They’ve already invested a lot of money in you.”

  “Looks like they’re about to start cashing in on that,” Crew says. “Ronni doesn’t have much of a choice. They’ll be in breach of contract if they don’t provide security. You know how she’s always threatening us with that shit? Now it’s our turn. If they don’t want to do it, they don’t have to. They can release us, and we’ll find someone who will. And I think it’s safe to say that we won’t have any trouble finding a new label.”

  Jeremy frowns. “You guys feel threatened?”

  Garrett, Liam, and Brad stand behind Crew and me. “We do.”

  Jeremy stands and straightens his shirt. “Looks like I have to call a meeting with IRL. Leave it to me.”

  He leaves the five of us to close the place down. “He’s definitely growing on me,” I say.

  The waitress comes over with one last tray of shots. “Two million views,” Liam says, handing them out. “On three? One, two, three.”

  “Let’s get reckless!”

  Chapter Forty-six

  Crew

  SummerStage is New York’s largest outdoor music festival. It runs all summer long, with concerts in many of the city parks in all five boroughs. Performing acts range from local artists to nationally known bands. Events happen almost every day, and today Reckless Alibi is headlining on the Central Park main stage.

  I shake my head in disbelief, thinking again how influential Dirk must be to have gotten us this gig. Not that we’re getting paid. Artists perform for free, but that doesn’t matter. The exposure is what counts. Unlike when we opened for White Poison, we’re the main act. Bands are opening for us.

  The past few weeks are a blur. Everything happened so quickly after the release of our music video. The best clubs in the tristate area are demanding we play for them. Ronni and Jeremy are weeding through offers. Video views have climbed to numbers I never imagined. IRL begrudgingly agreed to security—one man at shows and appearances.

  I seldom get nervous before a performance, but it’s different this time. The new song I’ve been working on isn’t something we planned. It isn’t in the lineup. We’re going rogue by playing it, and it’s going to blindside Bria.

  Girls love that grand gesture shit, don’t they? My bandmates agreed to it though they know it will piss off Ronni. Hell, they probably agreed to it because it will piss her off.

  We didn’t have time to score the whole thing, but with some minor changes, we were able to alter one of the existing songs for my new lyrics. We practiced it only a few times after Bria left rehearsal.

  “Bruce, don’t forget to pick up Bria,” I say from the backseat.

  “I’m on it.”

  “You okay?” Liam asks. “You look a little pale.”

  “I’m good.”

  “Is this about the song? If you don’t think you can do it, give us a sign, and we’ll play the original. She’ll never be the wiser.”

  I’m relieved to have an out if I need it.

  “What do you think about Thor?” he asks.

  Thomas Horton is our new security guy. We nicknamed him Thor. He st
arted last weekend when we played the club in Brooklyn. Big guy. I’m grateful for that. Liam pulled him aside and told him to stick close to Bria. I’m grateful for that too. I finally felt like I could breathe, knowing nobody could get to her. She signed autographs and posed for pictures, but no one tried anything with a brick wall standing next to her.

  After the show, she let me walk her home. I still worry about her. She can’t have a bodyguard twenty-four-seven. It’s one of the issues I’m working through with Dr. Hardy.

  Bruce pulls to the curb. I text Bria we’re here. I get out and wait for her at the door. When she opens it, she looks green.

  “Are you sick?”

  “I just threw up, but I’m pretty sure it’s nerves.”

  “Nerves? You sang with White Poison in front of ten thousand people. This is nothing compared to that.”

  “Except when I was with them, people weren’t there to see me. Nobody cared who the girl standing twenty feet behind the lead singer was.”

  “Would it make you feel any better to know I’m nervous, too?”

  “Chris Rewey, nervous? I don’t buy it.”

  I take her hand and lead her to the van. I smile when she doesn’t wiggle away. “We’re all nervous on some level. This could be our make-or-break concert. They’ve heard us on the radio. They’ve seen our music video. They’re coming to see if we’re the real deal.”

  She hesitates before getting in the van. “You’re not helping.”

  “Sorry. Maybe it will rain and nobody will show up.” I wink as she gets inside.

  Liam checks his phone. “The weather will be perfect. We couldn’t have picked a better day. We might sweat our asses off, though. It’s supposed to be hot.”

  Garrett tells jokes on the way to ease the tension. Brad says he’s thinking of proposing to Katie.

  Bria says, “You should do it with a song onstage. It would be epic. Crew and I can write one for you.”

  Brad laughs. “I’m not proposing to my girl in front of thousands of people.”