Rock Rebel

by Tara Leigh

  Although the package he came wrapped in was a fantasy come true. The kind that sent butterflies swirling and soaring inside my belly, then migrating south.

  Swallowing the disconcerting thought along with the champagne, I set my glass down on the immaculate kitchen counter and felt Piper’s gaze settle on me once again. “I hope that didn’t come across as rude. Career comeback, I mean.”

  Her eyes were kind, and determination made me straighten my spine. “Not at all. And believe me, I want that more than anything. I just don’t need anyone else to want it for me, if that makes any sense.”

  Both Delaney and Piper gave me an appraising glance. “We get that,” they said in unison, then laughed.

  I joined in, too, and it felt like we’d done this before. Hanging out together, drinking and chatting.

  “You should have seen her with the Vanity Fair reporter,” Piper said. “She had the guy eating out of her hands. And today those stoic industry suits were in no rush to get back to their offices, believe me.”

  I blushed at the compliments. It was so much easier to accept criticism—or maybe I was just more used to it. “I think they were quite happy to be hanging out with you in the sound booth, Piper.”

  She hopped up onto a stool lining the oversized island. “Uh, no. Their eyes were definitely on you.”

  I took the one next to her. “Well, they can look all they want. As long as they go back to their offices and come up with a number to make this trip worthwhile.”

  Delaney came toward us with a spoon. “Hey, can one of you taste this?”

  Piper leaned back. “Uh, my stomach’s been a little sensitive lately.”

  Maybe that was why she’d been nibbling on crackers the other day. I accepted the spoon. “Sure, I’ll try.” As it got close enough to smell, I knew I’d made a mistake. Chasing the mouthful with a hearty gulp of champagne, I plastered a smile on my face. “It’s great.”

  Piper busted out laughing. “Yeah, even you’re not that good of an actress.”

  Delaney’s features transformed into a scowl. “It’s probably not done yet,” she said, adjusting the dials on the stove and shaking various spices into the pot before coming back to the island, topping off my glass and then her own. “Anyway, I hope your trip has been worthwhile, whatever those stuffy executives say.”

  I instantly realized the way my words had come off and hurried to backtrack. “Shoot. I didn’t mean it like that. This trip has been really wonderful.”

  She held up a hand. “No offense taken. I guess I’ve only known you from TV. You don’t want to go back to that?”

  I shook my head firmly. “God, no.” Two pairs of eyebrows arched at my vehemence.

  My horoscope came back to me. You have a lot on your mind, and the secrets you keep are preventing you from thinking clearly. To move forward, you must learn to let go of the past.

  “Let’s just say there’s definitely a reason the #MeToo movement started with people on Hollywood sets. The land of make-believe wasn’t a good fit for me.”

  Even as the admission skated through my lips, I was surprised by my willingness to let them in on the personal issues I’d dealt with.

  It hadn’t been a full confession, but I’d definitely gone beyond mere hinting at a few of my secrets. Maybe letting go of the past meant refusing to be bound by it anymore.

  Sympathy softened Piper’s features, though it was Delaney who spoke first. “That’s horrible, Verity. I know it’s way too common, but it shouldn’t be.”

  “No one will even attempt to take advantage of you anymore. Travis is a vicious guard dog.”

  Delaney pulled a face. “That man is some kind of dog, I guess.”

  “I take it you’re not a fan,” I said.

  She shrugged. “Sometimes I think he’s a bit too involved in his clients’ careers.”

  Piper rolled her eyes. “What she means is that sometimes Travis’s clients expect Travis to run their lives, not just their careers.”

  I looked from Piper to Delaney, trying to read between the lines. Was Travis Taggert yet another man I should have known to avoid? “I take it you agree to disagree.”

  “Y—”

  Piper interrupted, pointing at the overflowing pot. The contents had bubbled over and were running down the sides, directly onto the cooktop. The spilled sauce was already turning black, the unmistakable smell of burning food permeating the kitchen.

  With any luck, Delaney would have to toss it.

  Chapter Four

  Dax

  Shane had finally shut up about Delaney and we’d moved on to a subject we both felt strongly about—Landon. Our drummer was in a bad state these days, and it was hard to help someone who didn’t want to be helped. But whether he wanted it or not, Landon needed us.

  Travis wanted to do for Landon exactly what he’d done for Shane a few years ago—send a team of rehab specialists with us to some glorified log cabin in the woods. One with a recording studio, of course.

  After Shane detoxed, we’d focused on our music and recorded a kick-ass album. But what worked for Shane back then might not work for Landon now, and I thought we should consider alternative options. “Maybe we should talk to Piper about it. Jett and I hung out with her and Landon about a month ago, and they looked pretty damn cozy. Maybe she can convince Landon to do a stint in rehab before our next tour.”

  Shane shook his head. “Yeah…Not sure that’s going to work. Piper was over here hanging out with Delaney last night.” He got up to fetch a fresh beer. “I made myself scarce when I saw the Kleenex come out.”

  “Shit.” Piper had actually seemed like she might be able to calm the crazy in our drummer. “Maybe we’ll be headed to that damn cabin in the woods, after all.”

  Shane gave a soft grunt, and we both fell silent, the sounds of Manhattan rising subtly around us. Twenty stories up, the car horns, bus engines, and occasional sirens were muted. Background noise rather than a soundtrack.

  The piercing alarm that suddenly split the air, however, wasn’t background noise. Beer forgotten, Shane bolted through the open patio doors, with me close on his heels. “Lainey!”

  My gut seized at the panic in Shane’s voice. Jesus. If anything happened to his girl—

  “In the kitchen!”

  “Babe, what happened?”

  Delaney’s face emerged through the wisps of vapor, the alarm still shrieking. “I ruined dinner,” she cried.

  The next few minutes were spent opening windows while Shane dealt with building maintenance and deactivated the alarm.

  “Hey, Dax. I didn’t know you were here.” Piper’s familiar face emerged through the clearing smoke.

  “Yeah, Shane and I were on the terrace.” I cleared my throat. “How have you been?”

  She rubbed at her eyes, though whether it was a lingering effect from the smoke or from whatever she was talking about with Delaney last night, I didn’t know. “Fine. I’ve started working with a new client. A crossover artist, actually. I’ll introduce you in a minute.”

  I swallowed the disparaging remark sitting heavily on my tongue. In our industry, a crossover artist was code for someone who’d burned too many bridges doing whatever they’d been doing and now were scrambling to salvage their career by working with people they hadn’t fucked over yet. “No rush.”

  Verity

  Shane Hawthorne needed no introduction, but he didn’t notice me. He only had eyes for Delaney, his long stride swallowing up the distance between them. The moment the alarm was cut off, Shane crossed his hands at Delaney’s back and pulled her in to his hips. Their kiss was the kind I’d never seen outside of a movie theater or Hollywood lot.

  Envy streaked through my veins like a lightning bolt, the sizzle echoing in my ears.

  I didn’t even notice Piper at my side until she bumped her hip against mine. “Sickening, isn’t it?” Her voice was light, teasing. But I noticed her blinking away a wet sheen in her eyes. She caught me looking. “Must be the smoke,” she
said, before grabbing my hand and pulling me into the living room. “I want you to meet—”

  Dax Hughes.

  I mouthed his name along with Piper.

  At first glance Dax seemed caught somewhere between bored and aggravated, though both were quickly wiped away by a don’t-I-know-you-from-somewhere? look.

  I’ll be the first to admit I look at least five years younger without my hair styled or mascara on my lashes. But in the half second it took for Dax to realize I was the girl wearing workout clothes and no makeup in the elevator, the expression on his face hardened. He scowled at me as if I’d tricked him on purpose.

  Or maybe like I was a stalker.

  Fighting the urge to squirm, I lifted my hand in an awkward half wave. “Hey. I’m Verity.”

  Shane and Delaney must have finally remembered they had company, because they suddenly appeared at my side. “Didn’t I see you at one of Travis Taggert’s parties?” Shane asked. “Covering an old Gwen Stefani track, right?”

  Even with all my nerves on edge, I couldn’t help but be flattered that Shane Hawthorne remembered me. “Great memory,” I said.

  “Great voice,” he answered back without an ounce of snark or condescension before he spun around and glanced in the direction I’ve been avoiding. “Dax. You were there, right? Remember hearing Verity kill it that night?”

  Dax looked away from me, back to Shane. “No. I must have missed it.” His voice was deep and smooth, a rich baritone. I wondered if he could sing as well as he lied. Because I knew he was lying—I’d seen him at Travis’s that night, leaning against a tree at the edge of the property. He was one of the few people not talking to anyone, not drinking anything. He’d stood alone, looking entirely comfortable in his own skin.

  I remembered watching him, wishing I could borrow some of his ease, his assuredness. A confidence that came from belonging.

  The awkward silence was broken by Delaney. “I’m really sorry I ruined dinner, guys.”

  Shane grinned. “No worries. I’ll make a reservation.”

  “Oh. You don’t just want to order in?”

  “There’s a pop princess in our midst. Can’t have her breathing in smoke.” Shane’s sarcasm was delivered with a teasing grin.

  “Shane, really?” Delaney turned back to me. “Don’t mind him.”

  I offered a nonchalant shrug, pressing my lips together to hold back a matching grin. “That’s ‘disgraced pop princess’ to you.”

  Chapter Five

  Dax

  Fucking hell.

  I was looking at a runway-ready version of the girl from the elevator.

  A bolt of jealousy cracked me over the head as her green eyes lit up like Christmas trees at Shane’s teasing.

  Verity Moore. Crossover artist and disgraced pop princess—one who apparently didn’t take herself too seriously.

  That red hair I’d been fantasizing about for the past day and a half was down around her shoulders, so silky smooth my fingers itched to run through it. Despite the cool temperature, she was wearing a shimmery gold tank top, her long legs encased in a pair of tight pants. Zippers slid down her thighs, looking like they served no purpose at all except to entice me to yank at them. And on her feet she was rocking sky-high heels.

  My balls tightened inside my jeans, followed immediately by a fierce, deep tug in the pit of my belly. I shouldn’t want this girl.

  And now that I knew who she was—what she was—I couldn’t have her.

  But my dick—it was a goddamn traitor.

  Standing there, dumfounded and furious, I didn’t even notice Shane making his way over to me until his hand clamped down on my shoulder.

  I flinched like a goddamn pussy.

  Smooth. Real smooth.

  This night just kept getting better.

  “So, apparently Delaney’s friend couldn’t make it tonight. And it looks like we’re going out to dinner.” He glanced from me to the girls. “I’ll make the arrangements. Why don’t you all have another drink.”

  My mouth felt like I’d swallowed sand. One more beer and then I would get the hell out of here. I was about to walk away when Piper spoke up. “Someplace low-key, right? Verity’s shopping around for a new label, and we can’t have any bad press.”

  My eyes narrowed. I wasn’t one to follow gossip, but I vaguely remembered Verity’s name being batted around as the latest star to go off the rails.

  Looking at her now, calm and sophisticated, her face perfectly painted, she didn’t look like a Hollywood “It Girl” that had already flamed out.

  “Did I hear that right—Piper Hastings is actually avoiding the paparazzi?” Delaney gaped at her friend.

  “Ha ha. They have their uses, but not tonight.”

  “Low-key, private,” Shane said, pulling out his phone and walking away. “Got it.”

  I headed in the other direction, stalking back outside to the patio to grab another beer from the bar. There was a distinct chill in the air, and with any luck the girls would decide to stay inside.

  Didn’t surprise me at all that I was shit out of luck tonight.

  The scent of vanilla and cloves drifted beneath my nose as I leaned against the exterior ledge and popped the cap of a microbrew, pouring a healthy amount down my throat. Verity, Piper, and Delaney appeared, carrying champagne flutes and seating themselves around the sectional, making use of blankets that had been thrown over the back.

  A chilly cross breeze picked up strands of Verity’s hair and blew it across her face. Still wasn’t enough oxygen for me to catch my breath.

  Piper cleared her throat, drawing my attention. “Verity’s meeting with your label tomorrow.”

  I lifted my beer. “Good luck.”

  Not that I meant it. I wanted her luck tomorrow to be as cruel as mine tonight.

  My legs started moving before my head caught up with them, and I managed to mumble something about needing to hit the head before disappearing back inside and colliding with Shane around the first corner.

  “Whoa, dude.” His hand gripped my elbow. “What’s up with you? You’ve been off all night.”

  I didn’t even bother arguing with him. Shane and I had known each other for only the past six years, but when you practically live together on the road for six months out of every twelve and spend much of the rest laying down tracks in a recording studio, you get real close, real fast.

  I was normally the laid-back one of our band of four, but tonight I was coiled tight, my energy agitated and restless.

  Filled with want for a woman I couldn’t have.

  Because I knew better. Trying to make things work with someone in this industry wasn’t worth it. Been there, done that. Had the scars to prove it. They were embossed in my brain, on my soul. Had left my heart a shredded mess.

  Regret and surprise battled for control of my nerves, tying them in up in knots.

  Shane rocked back on his heels, scratching his head. “Wait. Did you run into—”

  “Amelia? No. Just family.”

  He gave a knowing glance. “No one can fuck with your head like family, right?”

  I nodded, although my ex had done a pretty bang-up job all by herself. “My sister has a crazy idea about moving to L.A. Wants to live with me while she chases her big break.”

  Shane let out a hearty bellow. “Well, shit. Is that what’s bothering you—anticipating an even longer dry spell while you pretend to be a good role model for your sis?”

  I wiped the back of my hand over the beads of sweat suddenly shadowing my hairline. I had no business taking responsibility for anyone but myself. “You’re really fixated on my sex life, huh? You and Delaney going through a dry spell yourselves?”

  “Bite your tongue, man.” He scowled at me. “Listen, I know that bitch really fucked you over, but that was a long time ago. When was the last time you got fucked?”

  My hand squeezed the neck of my beer bottle, giving it a little shake in case there was anything left. “Christ, man. Worry about your
own dick, okay? Lay off mine.”

  He raised his palms. “All I’m saying is, you should put yourself out there again.”

  I took a deep breath, knowing Shane was coming from a good place. But my inhale was laced with just the faintest wisp of vanilla. Making me realize the truth. That there was only one place I wanted to put myself.

  Inside Verity Moore.

  I should probably chop off my own dick for even thinking about it.

  Crossover artist.

  Disgraced pop princess.

  She wasn’t going to be my kryptonite, too.

  Chapter Six

  Verity

  Dax Hughes couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

  Not the me he’d met yesterday.

  The me I was tonight.

  Verity Moore.

  Could I blame him? Not really. I wasn’t exactly a fan of my alter ego either. It’s why I’d hired Travis, to rehab my image and allow me to build a career and reputation I could be proud of. But that didn’t change the fact that she was me and I was her.

  I shouldn’t care what Dax thought of me—I didn’t even know him.

  I didn’t want to know him.

  Well, I didn’t want to want to know him.

  But I did. And it hurt to be so coldly dismissed the second Dax realized who I was. A lot.

  Finishing the last sip of my champagne, I wished it hadn’t been only my second glass in the past hour. Maybe if I had more alcohol in my system, I wouldn’t feel like I’d been punched in the stomach when Dax rushed back inside as if he couldn’t stand the sight of me.

  I looked out at the buildings rising up around us, Piper and Delaney’s casual chatter barely registering. The sky over our heads wasn’t quite dark yet. Then again, in New York City, the sky never truly went dark. There must have been lights on the terrace, but no one had turned them on, and it felt like we were held captive by the night.