Reckless Obsession (The Reckless Rockstar Series)

by Samantha Christy

“Girls like romantic stuff like that,” she says.

  When Bruce pulls into our designated spot, Jeremy, Ronni, and Thor are waiting. We’re hours early. Bruce has to set up our equipment and do a sound check. Then the opening acts do theirs. After the gates open, we’ll wait another few hours for them to finish their sets. We won’t go on until eight o’clock tonight, four hours from now. Because we’re the headliners today.

  “What are we going to do for four hours?” Garrett asks.

  “There’s a tent over here,” Jeremy says. “You can relax and hang out. Eat, drink, sleep if you want. There are couches.”

  “Sleep. Right,” Brad says sarcastically.

  “Is there a toilet?” Bria asks. “In case I have to throw up again.”

  Ronni shoots her a biting stare. “Good lord, Brianna. Try to act like a professional, won’t you?”

  Bria laughs disingenuously. “You mean professional like Adele, who has readily admitted to vomiting before a lot of performances?”

  “Ozzy has extreme stage fright,” I add. “Ozzy fucking Osbourne. Even after all these years.”

  “And let’s not forget the legendary Eddie Van Halen,” Liam says. “His stage fright led to alcohol abuse.”

  Ronni rolls her eyes and walks away from us and into the tent.

  “Actually,” Jeremy says, cracking a smile, “Ronni and I have something to discuss with you.”

  I study him. “You’re smiling. You never smile. What’s up?”

  “I’ll let Ronni tell you, but it may help keep your mind off your anxiety, Bria.”

  I love that he calls her Bria now, much to Ronni’s displeasure.

  Jeremy holds the tarp door of the tent aside, and we go in. Ronni is pouring champagne into seven flutes.

  She hands one to each of us. “I have great news. Reckless Alibi is going on tour.”

  Did I hear her correctly? Is this a joke or should we be jumping up and down?

  “It’s true,” Jeremy says.

  “Are you shitting me?” Garrett asks.

  Jeremy’s smile grows even bigger as he holds up his glass.

  Bria jumps into my arms, spilling her champagne, then Liam, Garrett, and Brad join us in a group hug. We yell and high-five and dance around. How many years have I been waiting for this moment?

  “Don’t get too excited,” Ronni says. “You haven’t heard the details.”

  Of course it’s not as good as it seems. This is Ronni we’re talking about. “What’s the catch?” I ask.

  “The tour will be limited to one state—Florida. We’re still hammering things out. Smaller venues, like the clubs you play here. A few larger outdoor amphitheaters for the spring-breakers.”

  “We’re going to Florida during spring break?” Garrett asks.

  Jeremy looks almost as excited as the five of us. “For most of March into April. Millions of teens and young adults will vacation there. After they see you, they’ll be buying your albums and telling friends back home. It has the potential to be a major stepping-stone.”

  “By the time you get back, you could be on the brink of celebrity,” Ronni says. “We have seven months to prepare. More music videos have to be made and released, and at least one more album. Two would be better.”

  Liam is in a slump, and we know it. His jubilance abates. “Two more albums? In seven months? No fucking way. We’ll be lucky to put out one. I haven’t been feeling it lately.”

  Ronni reproaches him. “I suggest you figure out a way to write the damn music for their lyrics, Liam. It’s nonnegotiable.”

  “He will,” I say, stepping forward. “We’ll get out an album by then.”

  “I said or two,” Ronni clarifies.

  “One,” I say. “That’s all we’ll agree to or no deal.”

  “The deal’s already done, Crew, or have you forgotten I make the decisions around here?”

  “One album, Ronni.”

  She drinks her champagne and pours another. “Goddamn musicians. I hate all of you.”

  Liam pulls me aside. “Thanks for having my back.”

  “Always, brother. You know that.” I grip his shoulder. “It’ll happen. You’ll be inspired when you least expect it.”

  He follows my eyes as I stare at Bria.

  “I don’t want a girlfriend,” he says. “You, more than anyone, should know that.”

  “I didn’t say you had to be inspired by a girl. Maybe it’ll be a song. A car. Hell, maybe a tree in Central Park will do it.” I get an idea and go over to Bria. “Want to take a walk with me? Might help calm your nerves.”

  She finishes her drink and sets down the glass. “I’d like that.”

  We stroll away from the stage and all the hustle and bustle. I want to take her hand, but I’m afraid it might spur a conversation I don’t want to have. Talk about us can wait until after she hears what I’m going to say to her in front of a thousand people. Damn—now I feel sick again.

  “You’re awfully quiet today,” she says. “Pretty unlike you.”

  “I guess I’m still trying to process everything. We’re going on tour? That’s mind-blowing, Bria. I’ve barely been out of the tristate area.”

  “It’ll be fun. Do you think anyone down there knows who we are?”

  “I’ll bet Ronni will make sure of it before we go. She’ll contact radio stations, set up interviews, and arrange press conferences and whatever else she thinks we need.”

  A man jogs toward us. He does a double take and circles back. My heartrate skyrockets.

  “You’re the singers for Reckless Alibi,” he says, jogging in place.

  I stiffen. “That’s right.”

  He stops jogging and looks at Bria like he wants to fuck her. “Brianna and … sorry, can’t remember your name.”

  I’ll bet you can’t. Anger, fear, and pure hatred crawl up my spine. It’s not him, I say over and over in my head. I take a breath and try to remember what Dr. Hardy told me to do in situations like this. I hold out my hand. “I’m Crew. What’s your name?”

  “Greg.” He shakes my hand and then Bria’s.

  “You like our music?” I ask. “Do you have a favorite song?”

  “Ah, man, I like all of them, but ‘Sins on Sunday’ is my favorite. My wife loves ‘Not a Day.’ She sings it all the time. She’s not as good as you guys, but I gotta love her for trying.”

  His wife. He tells us about seeing us for the first time at a club last month, and I realize he’s not looking at Bria like he wants to fuck her. He’s looking at her—at me—with awe.

  “Hey, she’d kill me if I didn’t get a picture with you. Do you mind?”

  “We’d be happy to,” Bria says. She turns to me. “Right?”

  “Sure.”

  Greg stands between us and snaps a selfie. “Claire is gonna freak.”

  “Are you coming to the show later?” Bria asks.

  Normally her saying something like that would have my skin crawling. Now, not so much.

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” he says. “Especially now. Thanks for the picture and for taking time to talk to me. Not many people like you will do that.”

  “We hope you enjoy the show.” I blow out a breath after he leaves. “That could have gone a lot worse.”

  “Most fans are like that,” she says. “If you give them a chance.” She glares at me.

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Hey, at least you didn’t have to use the safeword.”

  “Crew, I’ll never use the safeword.”

  I give her a heated stare. “Never?”

  She blushes. I haven’t seen her do that in a month. My dick thickens.

  She clears her throat. Yup, she’s thinking about it too. “Do you think we’ll need Thor in Florida?”

  “I’ll insist on it,” I say.

  “You like having him around, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve seen some big changes in you, Chris, and not just today.”

  “I don’t want to brag or anything, but Dr. Hardy
called me one of her favorite patients.”

  She chuckles. “You do realize she probably says that to all her patients.”

  “No way.”

  We walk for hours, speculating what it might be like on tour. My phone buzzes with a text. “Looks like Queen Bitch wants us back.”

  Bria pales. “Oh, God. Do you think she’ll go with us to Florida?”

  “I doubt it. We’re just one of her clients. But I’m sure Jeremy will come.”

  “That’s fine. I like Jeremy.”

  “He’s not so bad, compared to Veronica.”

  My melodramatic pronunciation of her name amuses her. Then her smile disappears. “Does she still come on to you?”

  “Nope. She knows I only have eyes for one woman.”

  There’s that blush again.

  “Crew …” She looks at me like she’s at war with herself.

  “I know. You need time. Let’s go. We should get back before we get put in a timeout.”

  ~ ~ ~

  As the headliner, the stage has long been set up for us. We only have to stand here and wait for the opening bands to clear out, listen to the boisterous crowd, and hope lightning is about to strike.

  We’ve done our pre-show ritual and said everything we needed to say to hold each other up or calm each other down.

  We’re ready.

  “You’re on,” Jeremy says.

  Bria closes her eyes and inhales deeply.

  I touch her hand. “Remember, we’re in this together. If you feel like you’re going to puke, look at me, okay?”

  I run out and grab my mic. This feeling of exhilaration is why I do this. Who needs drugs when the high I get from performing is better than anything I’ve ever felt?

  Garrett counts us off. Bria’s at the keyboard. We begin with our most popular song, bringing screams from the crowd. Screams! We’re all thinking the same thing: Hell yeah!

  Even after a short break, because come on, we all know Bria has to pee, the crowd can’t get enough. Event security has to keep a few women from climbing the barriers in front of the stage. We’re so hyped up, we could play all night. It makes me wish we had more songs, but there’s still one left. The one we saved for the encore. We manipulated Ronni into making it our last song, and she’s going to be pissed when she sees why. I don’t care. Look at this crowd. Even Ronni has to admit it’s going better than any of us dreamed.

  We run offstage and open bottles of water. The crowd is screaming for more. We catch our breath and wait the requisite amount of time, then run back out. More screaming. Liam is waiting for the signal. I nod, and he smiles.

  Mic in hand, I cross to the front of the stage. The people quiet, waiting for me to talk. “There’s a girl here tonight I want to sing a song to, if that’s okay with you.”

  They yell their approval while a few girls shout, “Sing to me, Crew!”

  “She doesn’t think I know who I am.” I move a stool and perch Bria on it. “But I do, and it’s all because of her.” I take her mic and hand it off to Garrett. I lean close to her. “You’re sitting this one out.”

  She looks scared. “What are you doing?”

  “Something I should have done a long time ago.”

  I turn to the audience. “I call this song ‘The One.’ You might recognize the tune, but it’s been redone for this occasion.” I nod to Garrett and pray this doesn’t blow up in my goddamn face.

  I pick up my guitar. The original didn’t require I play, but I need something to do with my hands, or maybe hide behind if it doesn’t go well.

  I tune everyone out and look only at her.

  “Wanting you’s a need I’ve never known

  I’m a car spinning way out of control

  You’re the one so complicated, never thought that I’d have waited

  You’re the one … we’ve just begun.”

  She doesn’t look away, not even when tears start to fall.

  “Needing you’s a hurt I can’t explain

  I’m exploding with some stuff I can’t contain.

  You’re the one so unsurpassed, never thought we’d make it last

  You’re the one … we’ve just begun.”

  I get to the chorus. Her chin quivers, and she nervously bites her lip. I’m abruptly aware the audience has gone quiet.

  “You want to know who I am

  There’s no doubt that I’m your man

  ’Cause wanting you, needing you, loving you is all I do

  The one … you’re the one … my only one …”

  During Liam’s guitar riff, I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans. Bria’s lips are pressed together and her cheeks glisten with tears. One more verse. I hope I can get through it without my voice cracking.

  “Loving you’s a dream I thought was gone

  Second chances prove that life can carry on

  You’re the one so unexpected, never thought I’d be affected

  You’re the one… we’ve just begun.”

  I sing the chorus two more times. The music stops, but I don’t stop looking at her, and thank God, she doesn’t stop looking at me.

  Liam takes the mic from me. “Thanks for coming, New York City. We’re Reckless Alibi.”

  I think the crowd cheers and stomps, but I don’t hear them. I have tunnel vision, and she’s the only one I see.

  I never got this far in my plan. For a second I think she might run off the stage, embarrassed. But she doesn’t seem to care what’s around us any more than I do. She comes toward me, never breaking eye contact, and time almost stops. Things go in slow motion. I see every tear work its way down her cheek, each blink of her eyes, every nuance of her face. When she reaches me, I wrap her in my arms and kiss her. Her salty wet lips press against mine. I am reborn.

  I hear the crowd as they explode into applause. Our lips part, and we gaze at each other, smiling. “Did that really happen?” she asks.

  “It really did. Are you taking me back?”

  Her thumb runs across the stubble on my jaw. “Yeah, I really am.”

  “What do you say we blow this pop stand and go somewhere with a few thousand less people.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Oh, I’m asking, now and every day, Bria Cash.”

  The lump in my throat is the size of fucking New York. But I don’t care. I don’t need to speak anymore. Everything else I have to tell her won’t require words.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Bria

  Crew and I slip out the back, not hanging around after the show. We run to the street and hail a cab, laughing when we hear Ronni’s irritated shouts behind us. Crew gives the cabbie my address.

  “Do you think she’ll ever forgive us?” I say.

  “Probably not, but I don’t care.” He takes my hand in his. “There’s only one thing I care about.”

  I can’t stop beaming. The other song he wanted to write was for me. “When did you have time to do that?”

  “We stayed after rehearsal a few days last week. I wanted to come up with a whole new melody, but there wasn’t time. Besides, with Liam off his game …”

  “He’ll work his way back. Maybe the news about the tour will be his motivation.”

  “Maybe,” he says, giving me a heated stare. “Motivation can be a powerful thing.”

  We can’t keep our hands off each other in the cab. He grabs my thigh. I put a hand on his chest. He caresses my neck. I touch his cheek. He skims a finger along my jaw. It’s all we can do not to grope each other indecently.

  We run up the stairs to my place, the pain in my muscles taking a backseat to the want in my core. We throw our things down. He pins me to the wall, eyes hot with desire. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

  “Then do—”

  His lips crash into mine. His tongue flits out, inviting mine to join it. Our kiss is like a song, building with each verse, leveling off with the chorus and then ending with the most powerful words.

  His lips move up
my jawbone. “I’ve missed this,” he whispers. He nibbles my earlobe. “I’ve missed every part of you.” He sucks my neck. “I’m never letting you go again.”

  He holds my face and ducks to peruse me with his tongue. He tastes every sweaty, salty inch of my neck, working his way down to my cleavage. I’m squirming with want. Heat pools at my center. I claw at his back, needing him closer.

  He removes my shirt, staring at my breasts as if he’s never seen them. He cups them through my bra, teasing my nipples and making them stiffen under the lacy fabric. “Take it off,” I say, my voice husky.

  “Gladly.”

  His lips lightly brush my nipple. I arch into him. He toys and licks and sucks until I don’t think I can take another second, then he switches to the other one. He goes back and forth between my nipples, tension coiling in my belly. “Crew—”

  Suddenly, I’m in his arms, and he’s carrying me across the room. He lays me on the bed and takes off every stitch of his clothing. His penis is stiff and thick, and it dances as if it knows what’s coming next. I start to remove my pants, but he stops me.

  “Huh-uh. I want to do it.”

  He peels off my jeans, leaving my panties on, and touches me over them, rubbing my clit and causing the most pleasurable friction. He lowers his head and puts his mouth on the silky fabric, growling low in his throat when he smells my arousal. I feel the heat of his tongue.

  It’s driving me insane, having something between us. “Take them off,” I beg.

  He laughs. It’s a sexy grumble that further fuels my desire.

  He tries to rip them off but can’t. I try to control my amusement.

  “They make it look so easy in the movies,” he says, finally giving up and pulling them down my legs.

  “It’s the thought that counts.”

  He slides a finger inside me. “If I have something to say about it, you won’t be thinking anything in about ten seconds.”

  My stomach flutters as he moves closer to my center. When he puts his tongue there, I shudder. He flicks my clit back and forth, then does circles around it. Then, oh, Lord, he hums against it. When he adds a second finger, I arch into him, needing release. I picture him onstage, singing to me. His words were honest and raw. He put himself out there for me, in front of everyone. It’s my turn to give everything to him. “Yes!” I scream through my orgasm. “Oh, God.”