Lovely Madness: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players, Book 4)

by Jaine Diamond

  I took the papers from her. Three sheets, printed out and neatly stapled together. There was a list of organizations that offered this horse therapy in the Vancouver area, and a bunch of other therapists listed with their specialties.

  “What do you think?” she asked me.

  I looked up into her waiting eyes. “I’ll look into it,” I said, and put the papers carefully aside.

  “Great. And if none of that is right for you, there’ll be something else.”

  Yeah. Maybe.

  I wasn’t so sure about that, but I was truly moved by how much she cared.

  She always did.

  Silence fell, and I only realized I was tapping my fingers on the table when she looked at my hand.

  I stopped.

  “You know,” I told her, “I felt this thing when we first met. It was the depth of caring in you. I didn’t know how to take it. And I’ll admit, I really thought that Gimme Shelter tattoo on your arm was some kind of sign. Here was this girl showing up at my door, sent by my sister, and I knew Courteney didn’t know about the importance of that song, what those two words meant to me. It felt like something I just couldn’t ignore. ‘Gimme Shelter’ was Gabe’s favorite Rolling Stones song, one of his favorite songs ever. I must’ve listened to it a thousand times when he died. I can still hear it in my head, so vividly, when I’m stressed out. It plays over and over in my dreams.”

  “I’m sorry, Cary,” she said softly. “I didn’t know that.”

  “We had this bet between us and I lost it. It was the stupidest thing. I can’t even remember what the bet was. All I remember was that we decided to rehearse a Rolling Stones song with Alive and play it in our live show, and we couldn’t agree on whether it would be ‘Paint It Black’ or ‘Gimme Shelter.’ He won the bet. So ‘Gimme Shelter’ was the song we were gonna play. We hadn’t played it live with the band yet but we’d been practicing it in rehearsals, just two days before he died. And for five years, it’s been echoing in the back of my mind.”

  “That finger tapping thing you do?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re playing ‘Gimme Shelter’?”

  “Usually. Sometimes it’s bits of other songs that I’ve been working on or something else that’s stuck in my head. But usually, it’s that song. And there you were, at my door, with those words inked into your flesh.”

  Taylor’s eyes sparkled with emotion, and she smiled. “What can I say? Clearly, I was sent from above.”

  “You know, Taylor, sometimes I think you were.” My gaze traced the soft curves of her face. “I don’t know how to tell you how much it wrecked me when I pushed you away. Knowing that I’d hurt you… It crushed me. I wanted to reach out and apologize. I wanted to make it better. But I didn’t trust myself. I wouldn’t allow myself to get close to you if I was just going to hurt you again. I can’t even explain to you how scared I’ve been. What man wants to admit that his life has become ruled by fear?”

  She held my hand and said, “It’s okay to be vulnerable, Cary. It’s okay to be afraid.”

  “Ever since Gabe died… I wanted to protect myself from going through that kind of pain, ever again. But I also felt all this guilt for letting him down. I couldn’t stand to have someone I loved get hurt. I couldn’t stand to lose anyone like that again.”

  “I’m right here, Cary. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  I took a breath and forced the words out. “So, you might’ve figured it out by now… but Gabe died the day after my birthday.”

  “Yeah, I kind of found that out the hard way,” she said. “I never would’ve thrown you that birthday party if I knew, Cary. I swear, I didn’t know. I never would’ve been so insensitive. And I can totally understand why your birthday isn’t a happy day for you. Everybody telling you ‘happy birthday’ while you just want them to shut the fuck up.”

  “Yeah. That’s pretty much it.” I tried to smile, but fell short. “And I’m sorry that it sucks for everyone around me. I know my family wants to be able to celebrate me without having the black shadow of Gabe’s death on it, but it is. For me it is, forever. And finding my parents here like that… I used to be so afraid of letting them down. I had the worst stage fright at shows when I knew they were in the audience. They always just made thing worse, somehow. My mom’s nervousness made it so much worse for me. And my dad’s tough love approach was no better. And the bigger Alive got as a band, the worse it got. I got afraid of letting the band down, letting Gabe down. Letting the fans down. The record company. Everyone. But on my birthday… standing there in front of you and all the food and the effort you’d put into it, for me… I couldn’t believe I was letting you down.” I hesitated before continuing. I didn’t want her to feel bad about what happened that day, but she deserved the whole truth. “When the panic hits… I get so scared of losing control that it just takes over. I went into the studio to hide because I knew it was coming and I couldn’t stop it. I hyperventilate, I shake, I can’t see straight. My bones feel like they’re made of jelly. I didn’t pass out that day, but I lay on the floor for a while because I was afraid I couldn’t get up.”

  “That’s what you did, on your birthday?” she asked me quietly. “You locked yourself in the studio and had a panic attack, and lay on the floor all alone?”

  “I’m not a normal guy, Taylor.

  “I know that. And I love everything about you.”

  I took a breath, and I told her the thing that scared me the most. “I don’t think I can be what you want.”

  “And what is it you think I want you to be? The only thing I want you to be is mine.”

  I didn’t even know what to say to that. A big part of me had a hard time accepting that she wanted me—and everything that came with me.

  “I’m here to tell you, Cary Clarke, we’re all abnormal. What matters is how you pick yourself up after you fall.”

  I looked into her eyes. “What if I fail? I don’t want to let you down again.”

  “Everyone fails, Cary. You will fail and you’ll pick yourself up and keep trying. And that’s okay. You just need to keep showing up for your life, even when it feels hard.” She leaned in and kissed me on the lips. “It could be a really beautiful life.”

  “It’s been pretty dark for a long time. Maybe it’s hard to look into the light.”

  “Yeah. But just imagine what you might find there.”

  We were up in my room, getting dressed, when Taylor said, “So, the release party is in a few weeks…”

  “Yeah.”

  I’d wondered at what point it would come up. I hadn’t expected it to happen with my pants down.

  I yanked them up and turned to face her, zipping my fly. She smiled at me as she slipped her sweater over her head. It was fuzzy and pink and hung off one shoulder, and it looked like a hug. She looked like a kiss, like love, and her eyes shone at me with so much pride. It actually made me smile.

  “You finished the album,” she said dreamily, standing there in her fuzzy sweater and panties and nothing else.

  I almost laughed. “Yup.”

  “Are you happy with it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you excited about it?”

  “It’s kinda hard to be excited about anything without you here.”

  Her smile faded a little. “Cary…”

  “Have you seen the cover art yet?”

  “No. Do I get to see the cover art??”

  “Sure.” I pulled it up on my phone and handed it to her. The cover of the album was pretty simple. A clean white background that was basically dominated by a big splotch of red paint—and a hand print that had been slapped into it, sending paint splatters flying. It didn’t exactly look like blood, but it didn’t not look like blood, either.

  Taylor looked at it. “What are you calling the album?”

  “Don’t know yet.”

  “Is this your hand?”

  “It’s Ashley’s. I think this came about one night after they’d helped them
selves to some of those edibles you gave them.”

  A huge grin split her face. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I guess that’s your creative contribution to the album.”

  “Well, I love it.” She studied the image. Her smile faded and she said softly, almost dreamily, “It’s a lovely madness, isn’t it.”

  “What is?”

  She stared at the image a moment longer, then met my gaze, her eyes clearing. “Nothing. Just… falling in love with a rock star.” She handed the phone back to me. “Ash and Danica, I mean. He’s pretty cool. I’m glad she found a good guy.” She looked away.

  I was silent for a moment, just watching her pull on her shredded jeans. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and put on her socks.

  Seriously, there was a hole in one of them.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “What?” She followed my gaze to her feet.

  “You’ve got a hole in your sock.”

  Her eyes met mine. She grinned.

  “You know, I kept looking at your Instagram while we were apart,” I told her. “Those song titles you post… I kept waiting to see what you were going to post next. Because I wanted to know how you were feeling. I guess I kept waiting for you to post a happy song.”

  Her smile faded again. “I guess I didn’t.”

  “The other day you posted ‘Apparitions,’ and I wondered if you posted it because you knew it had meaning to me. I mean, if that song was for me.”

  “Cary,” she said softly, “they’re all for you.”

  I stood there, staring at her, unable to make the few step journey it would take to have her in my arms. “That’s good, because there are three songs on the Players’ album for you.”

  “What?”

  “Actually, they’re not just for you. They’re about you. I wrote others, but those were the best ones.”

  Taylor just stared at me, her eyes gleaming.

  “You want to hear them?”

  “Uh…” Her eyes widened. “Yeah, I want to hear them.”

  “Great. Come down to the studio. We can have a vodka and a pickle, and I’ll play the album for you.”

  She jumped to her feet. “Okay.” She followed me out of the room, practically hopping like a bunny. “This feels huge, Cary. How many people get to listen to the album early?”

  “Not many,” I said, heading down the stairs.

  “I feel like a VIP,” she mused.

  “Because you are.”

  “I mean, most people have to wait for at least the release party, right?”

  “Yeah.” I realized she wasn’t following me across the foyer. When I turned around, she was standing on the bottom stair, gazing at me. “What?”

  “Don’t you think… you should go to the release party?” she said.

  “Not really.”

  “But it’s important.”

  “It’s not mandatory.”

  “I know. But I really don’t think it’ll be as bad as you think.”

  I gave her a look. As usual, it didn’t stop her.

  “You’ll know most of the people there,” she forged on. “You could just make a brief appearance. You know, go in the back door, with security, with Xander or whoever you feel most comfortable with…”

  She faded off, and maybe she was waiting for me to say, I’ll go with you.

  But I couldn’t say that.

  “You can say hello, at least,” she went on. “We can make sure that there’s a seat saved for you at a table with the band and Brody. I’ve been to a bunch of Dirty parties now, and I know we can arrange it however works for you. Liam can be glued to your side. And with the amount of security Ronan’s gonna have at this thing, trust me, no one will even be able to get near you if you don’t want them to.”

  “Then what’s the point?”

  “Well… the point is, you get to go to the party. You worked just as hard on this album as everyone else. You deserve to be there. Plus, you get to feel the rush of being in that room as people hear the music for the first time. It’s going to be an incredible party. Summer’s planning this whole ridiculous masquerade ball theme… It’s gonna be off the hook. But… it just won’t be the same without you there.”

  That was kind. But it was making my head hurt.

  “Well, I’m not going.”

  “You won’t even consider it? It’s a masquerade. You can even wear a mask. You know, like Slash’s top hat?”

  “I have considered it.”

  There was a long silence before she said, “Have you?”

  “I’m not going to the party, Taylor.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to.”

  “Is that true? Or are you just afraid to?”

  “I don’t feel comfortable going. So I’m not going.”

  She stood there on the bottom stair, not budging. It felt like we were in a standoff in my foyer.

  How the hell did we get here?

  This morning was incredible, until this. And it was her fucking birthday. Was I really getting into a fight with her on her birthday?

  Way to fucking go, asshole.

  “But how do you know how you’ll feel if you haven’t actually tried yet?” she pressed.

  “Are you saying I don’t know what I feel or what I want?”

  “Of course not.” She came closer, standing in front of me. “I just wonder if what you imagine the party will be like, in your head, isn’t the same as reality.”

  “So, you’ve been to a few industry parties this summer and now you think you know the way it’s going to be for me?”

  “I’m just saying, the room will be filled with people who’re looking forward to seeing you. Friends and colleagues. Wouldn’t you go if this was a release party for Alive’s new album?”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I just mean,” she said gently, “before what happened to Gabe, you’d go, right? Even if you were anxious about it? And it would turn out okay.”

  “Yeah, well some things didn’t turn out okay, Taylor.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean—”

  “Is this you being supportive? Because if so, I can’t wait to see you when you’re giving me a hard time.” I turned and headed for the studio doors.

  I could hear her suck back a careful breath behind me. “I know you’re angry. You’re still angry about what happened and you’re probably angry with everyone for trying to push you—”

  “I just don’t need to have this conversation every time I see you.” I stopped at the doors to the studio, my back to her.

  “You haven’t seen me in months,” she said quietly.

  “And why do you think I shut people out in the first place?” I turned to face her. “Because this is what it turns into. The same conversation, over and over. I said no. I’m not going to the party.”

  “I heard you. I just wanted to know why. I was just trying to challenge you a little, if your only reason is that you’re scared.”

  “As if that isn’t reason enough? You think my anxiety isn’t real and I can just pretend it away?”

  “Of course not. It’s very real.”

  “And you know that because you Googled anxiety disorders and now you think you’re an expert or something.”

  She just stared at me for a long moment, her eyes looking a little pink. “I was just trying to get some information because I was hoping to understand and help. That’s all. I would love it if you’d share that information with me, but you don’t seem to want to. And I’m never sure when I should push or when I should back off. Maybe I shouldn’t have promised you I could be supportive when I’m not even sure what that means to you. What does that mean to you, Cary?”

  “Maybe you should go home. I think I need to be alone for a while.” I turned my back on her again and reached for the studio door.

  “Oh, don’t. Please don’t do that.” I heard her coming closer, and I hesitated on the threshold.

  “I don’t know what
you want from me,” I told her.

  “I can go home, if you want me to. But however you want to look at it, Cary, you’re my home.”

  I shook my head. “I need to be alone right now. I don’t need anyone pushing me—”

  Her voice was small when she said, “Maybe I don’t push you enough.”

  I didn’t say anything. My heart was beating way too fast. Adrenalin was kicking in. My fight or flight response. I was gonna ditch into the studio or upstairs or anywhere but here in a few seconds.

  “I understand that you got upset when I tried to throw that surprise party for you. Your parents…”

  I turned to her. “I freaked out and embarrassed you.”

  “You didn’t embarrass me.”

  “Well, I embarrassed myself.”

  “You’ve been doing great, Cary. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  “I am not doing great, Taylor. You don’t need to bullshit me. I’m not that fucking fragile.”

  She put her hand on my arm. “I know you’re not. You’re incredibly strong.”

  “I just told you to stop bullshitting me.”

  Her eyes filled with tears and her hand dropped away. “Cary… if Danica died in a fire, I’d be lost. I’d be heartbroken. I don’t know how I’d ever get over—”

  “Well, she didn’t.”

  She took a breath. “Look. At the release party, no one’s going to be asking you about Gabe. It’s not like some TV interview or something. It’s just a party with friends. They like your music and they like your face. They just want to see you. You have the power to make people so happy. It’s such a gift. Can’t you see that?”

  “Maybe I don’t want to.”

  “You make me happy.”

  “Yeah? How happy did it make you when I flipped out on you because you tried to throw me a birthday party, then broke up with you? You deserve better than a crazy person.”

  “Yes, I do. And I believe you can heal yourself. With time and work. And love.”

  “Well, it’s been five years. How much more time should I waste on trying to save myself?”