Rock Mayhem: 8 Complete Rock Star Romance Novels

by Candy J. Starr

  Then I heard laughter coming from inside. People. Happy people. A whole group of them. Blerk. Who needed them? I wanted to be alone.

  I could be strong. I kept walking.

  I'd resisted temptation. I'd proved myself. One small victory in a life of screwing up. It wasn't much of a score, but it was something. Maybe I could change. Maybe I could be a new me. Matty might be right. Stranger things have happened, but that was something I'd think about another day.

  Finally, I reached my apartment. I'd thought I'd made it when I'd bought this place. Something of my own, a roof over my head when all else fell apart. But now it seemed like a bleak prison. There was nothing there for me. Nothing except bed and air conditioning.

  There were a million messages on my phone from Matt. I switched it off and got undressed, then I got into my bed. Maybe if I stayed there long enough, the hurting would stop.

  Matt

  I WAS TEMPTED TO RUN after Fiona. We should try to talk this out, but what if she meant what she said? Maybe this was just a distraction for her, a brief fling while she got her life back on track.

  For ten years I'd waited for her. Ten long years. Maybe I was just fool. Not many men would wait that long. It wasn't like I'd been standing by for those years. I'd dated other women but, eventually, I compared every single one of them to Fiona, and they all came up short.

  But she obviously had no feelings for me.

  I went into the kitchen. Fiona's coffee cup sat in the sink. The one with the blue dots that she really liked. I threw it in the garbage. Otherwise, every time I saw that cup, I'd think of Fiona. Then I got that business card off the coffee table and threw that away, too. A minute later, I fished it out of the trash. I shouldn't be so fast to reject Damo's offer. Maybe the best way to deal with this whole mess was to get away. Go on tour, bang a heap of groupies and leave Fiona far behind me.

  I sat it back on the coffee table to think about later.

  After straightening up the kitchen, I headed to my bedroom. I stripped the sheets from the bed and threw them in the washing machine. I didn't want any trace of Fiona's scent lingering on those sheets. Weird to think that only a few hours ago, we'd been happily rolling around in those sheets without a care in the world. Or maybe we did have cares and we'd just pushed them aside. Either way, there'd be no more rolling.

  I did the same in the spare room. If I eradicated every remainder of Fiona from my apartment, I could get her out of my life just as easily.

  The framed photo of her and Savage still sat on the bedside table. She hadn't bothered taking that with her. Strange. I threw it in the trash, too. The two of them did look suited to each other. Fiona really glowed in that photo but now Savage had moved on. She needed to accept that.

  Once I'd done all that, the apartment seemed far too empty. It gave me too much time to run things over in my mind. At the dog shelter, she'd seemed genuinely happy. The dinner with my parents, the sex. Everything. Was she really pretending the whole time? I doubted it, but in the end, it hadn't been enough.

  Her words stung me, like a thousand bites all over my body.

  My phone beeped.

  Fiona?

  I resisted checking it in case it was. I resisted for all of 30 seconds.

  But it wasn't Fiona. It was Savage.

  Join me for a drink.

  We hadn't seen much of each other since his tour finished and now he wanted to meet up. Nice sense of timing.

  You bastard. You're the last person I want to see.

  That might not be fair but I wasn't in the mood for fairness. Savage would understand. It wasn't like he was a stranger to being called a bastard.

  Huh? What have I done to deserve that?

  Fair call.

  Nothing. I'll explain over drinks.

  I couldn't blame Ash for Fiona's feelings. Well, maybe punching him would make me feel a little better. He was the kind of person who had that kind of effect on you.

  I grabbed my jacket, then had second thoughts. Ash would be all happily in love. I wasn't sure if I wanted to deal with his happiness at the moment. I guess I could just grin and nod and let him talk. I'd much rather be around someone who shared my misery, though.

  I grabbed my backpack and threw that photo of him and Fiona in it. He could have it, or give it to her. Either way, I wanted it out of my apartment.

  Even if part of me hated him for being the one Fiona wanted, he was my friend. One of the only friends I could actually talk to. For all his faults, he was someone I could count on.

  Fiona

  I WOKE UP FEELING DISGUSTING. I needed a drink. I couldn't fight it any more. I just had to accept that I was an out of control lowlife. Trying to be anything more would never work out for me. Better to be a lowlife drunk than to have to deal with this pain inside me. I'd been stupid to think I could ever be anything better.

  I threw on some clothes, not even bothering to shower, but I did fix up my makeup. I could at least look halfway decent. The clubbing clothes from that night so long ago still sat in a pile on my floor. I grabbed something silver and shiny and low cut. Perfect.

  I threw it on and added a pair of ridiculously high heels. After all, I had an image to uphold. Glamour and all that bullshit.

  Then I headed to one of the sleazy dive clubs on the other side of the river.

  When I walked in the door, the smell of stale booze hit me like a warm embrace. Soon I'd be snuggled up tight in the arms of that booze. I'd be safe. The music pumped through me. In this place, even the heat didn't seem so bad.

  There were a few people I knew around but I wasn't here to chat and I wasn't here to be friendly. I headed straight to the bar and ordered a vodka.

  "Make it a double," I said.

  I tapped my fingers impatiently on the bar while the barman poured it. I didn't need that fancy garnish. I didn't need that ice. I needed that drink inside me, now.

  The barman passed me the glass. I snatched it from his hand before he could even set it down. I half expected someone to rush in and take it from me so I gripped the glass tight and took a big swig.

  God, that felt good. The vodka so cold in my mouth but burning as it went down. The tension drained from my body as soon as that first gulp hit.

  I took another swig. Each mouthful better than the last. Why did people want to take this away from me? I hurt, and it made me feel better. Wasn't that medicinal? How could they even judge me for it? I ordered a second. I planned to get totally trashed, and as fast as possible.

  With a couple of drinks in me, this place felt like home. The barman had a smile just for me. Those booze arms began their embrace.

  A few people waved at me from across the bar. I smiled back, trying not to be too welcoming. Maybe later, when I had enough booze in me to really relax, I'd be more sociable but, for now, this was a private party. Me and my glass.

  "Fiona?"

  Some guy stood beside me. I had no idea who he was. He didn't even look familiar. But then that was nothing new. He leered at me. I wasn't even sure if he knew me. I'd had guys pretend we'd met before more than a few times.

  "What's happening?" he asked.

  "Just out for a bit of fun," I told him.

  I tried to size up if I could brush this guy off but he had no intention of leaving me alone. He bought me a drink, then sat down beside me. I gulped down my vodka, then took the drink from him.

  My body glowed and my brain had reached that nice state of fuzziness. I was okay. The whole world was okay.

  My new friend smiled at me.

  Next thing I knew, we were on the dance floor together. He danced behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his body against mine. Everything about him felt wrong. His touch, his body and the smell of his cheap cologne. He wasn't the man I should be with, but who cared? He'd help me to forget all my troubles.

  "Want to go into the back room?" he asked. "I've got a little something to help you relax."

  He winked. Gross, but I got his meaning. I nodd
ed my head and we moved off.

  Matt

  SAVAGE WAS ALREADY drinking when I got to the bar. He handed me a beer but it tasted heavy and sour in my mouth. I asked him about his life.

  "It's perfect. Just perfect. Beyond anything that I could ever imagine. We fight all the time and she calls me a prick but that's only because she loves me."

  I had to smile at that. I couldn't imagine Savage being happy if his life wasn't volatile.

  "She's starting her own business too. You would not believe how talented this woman is. The photos she took on our tour really capture something amazing. I mean, she had a head start with me as the subject but still..." He shook his head. "Just amazing."

  I didn't doubt his words but I wasn't in the mood for listening to his love talk either.

  "Do you think I should invite the other guys to the wedding? It'd be a good chance to put the past behind us."

  Hell, I'd heard love changes people but that was way beyond what I expected. Normally, he just wanted to kill Nick.

  "I'm not sure about Nick," I told him. "The anger goes deep with him. But then it'd be wrong to invite Makin and Lindly and leave Nick out. Maybe just invite none of us."

  Savage thumped my arm. "Hell, I was going to ask you to be best man."

  I gave him a small smile. I wanted to be happy for him but it just seemed like he was rubbing it in.

  "When does Fiona want me to come around and sign the stuff for her?" he asked.

  "You might have to talk to her about that." I sat my beer down on the counter. "I'm not really in the mood for drinking. I might head off."

  "Nonsense. You only just got here. And you look like you're in dire need of a drink. Things not going well with Fiona?"

  He handed the beer back to me.

  "You could say that. She walked out. She walked out and everything's over."

  He perked up at that. "What's over? Was there something to get over? You and Fiona?" He grinned. "Finally."

  I shrugged.

  "You can't leave me hanging. I need to know this, Matty."

  God, this was the last thing I wanted to talk about. I should've kept my mouth shut. Mentioning anything to Savage about Fiona was a big mistake.

  "I'm through with her. I've been a fool for ten years. That's long enough. It'll never work out between us. She doesn't want me and I've been too blind to see it. I thought, eventually..."

  Savage led me over to a booth.

  "This sounds like a story we have to sit down for."

  I didn't want to go into it but he wasn't going to let me off the hook. I ended up telling him most of it.

  "Wait? You got an offer from The Freaks." He gave a little whistle. "She's right, you're an idiot to knock that back."

  "I'm really not interested."

  "You are so full of shit. If I thought for one minute you were really happy to sit around your apartment writing a few songs now and then, I'd be behind you one hundred percent, mate. But you aren't. You're being a total dumbass about this. You act like you're fifty years old, not twenty-four. Don't you see what she's thinking?"

  "That she doesn't want to be with me." I stared at my beer.

  Savage wasn't known for holding back but he was so wrong about this.

  "You don't get her, do you? She thinks she's not good enough for you. She's always thought that. She wouldn't come straight out and say it. Not to you. And she sure wouldn't say it to me, but it's there. God knows why she puts you on a higher level than me, but she does. I'm like the booby prize. The guy she doesn't have to be perfect for."

  I remembered something. I pulled the photo frame out of my backpack and handed it to Savage.

  "You might want this."

  He stared at it.

  "What the hell? Has this been in the trash? There's mustard on the corner." He wiped it on his sleeve.

  I shrugged. "It might've spent a few minutes in the trashcan."

  "You do not put me in the trash. Ever. Get it. Even if Fiona and I do both look mighty fine in this photo, it's all a lie. I'm sure we were both wrecked and whoever took this got us a few minutes before our eyes glazed over and we became incoherent."

  "I took the photo," I said. "And Fiona must value it a lot. Give it to her next time you see her. I'm not planning on seeing her any time soon."

  Savage sighed. "You know that's not true. Grow a pair, Matty. Grow a pair and stop being such a sad sack of shit. Tell her that you're going on that tour and you expect her to be waiting for you when you get back. Hell, tell her that she's coming on the tour with you."

  "Yeah, I'm going to do that." I rolled my eyes.

  "By refusing this tour, you're doing the one thing she's most afraid of. You're holding yourself back for her sake. She's pushing you away because of that."

  I'd like to believe him but it seemed stupid. Why would she act like that? I wasn't holding myself back. I wanted her.

  "If you don't go after her right now and tell her how you feel, I will punch you. I'll punch you until you get some sense into that head of yours."

  "I'm nothing to her."

  "Boohoo!" He threw his hands in the air. "Enough of this Mr. Misery Guts act. Fuck it, mate, no woman would want to be with you when you're sitting around crying into your beer like a little bitch. You gave me some good advice when things had gone to shit with Alice, so I'm returning the favor. Go get her. I'm not joking about kicking your ass."

  It was then I got the call. Someone had seen Fiona at some sleazy club. Drinking. They thought they should tell me. I looked at Savage. He'd received the same message. I guess we both had a reputation for bailing her out of trouble. And she had a reputation for getting into trouble when she drank.

  "Don't tell me you're just going to sit there and ignore this," he said. "You said you'd stay by her side forever. If you don't go to her now, you might as well say it's over. Forever."

  I wanted to walk away and never look back. I was through with her.

  But that was the biggest lie I'd ever told myself.

  Fiona

  I FOLLOWED THAT GUY into the back room, longing for the release oblivion would give me. I'd been a fool to deny myself when life could be so much easier. Hell, everyone thought I'd fall off the wagon sooner rather than later. I might as well prove them right. I could fight this for the rest of my life or I could just give in.

  The back room was dark compared to the lights of the rest of the club. Perfect. I'd rather not have too much light. The sickly-sweet smell of pot came from somewhere in the corner. That was one drug I never touched. I hated the paranoid feeling it gave me.

  The guy slipped into a booth in the back corner. I moved in beside him. He gave me a leering look. I turned from him and stared at my nails. He could give me the drugs and I'd play nice but there was a limit to how nicely I'd play.

  He got the bag out of his pocket and flicked it.

  "You'll be happy with this," he said.

  I'm sure I would be. I needed this so much, it felt like my insides were scratching their way out to get closer to that little pile of coke he'd poured onto his pocket mirror. He could stop mucking around so much and get to the good bit. I hated drug rituals.

  My insides kept clawing at me. Maybe it was more than just a need for the drugs. Hell, I couldn't sit here waiting.

  "Back in a moment," I said.

  "But..." he nodded his head at the lines he'd made on the mirror.

  "Sorry, emergency." I rushed to the bathroom.

  He'd wait. I had no issue with that. He'd wait all night for me. I knew his type. He thought a few lines of coke would get him into my pants. But he kind of creeped me out with his leering eyes and strong cologne.

  I pushed my way into a cubicle, ignoring the line. I couldn't wait. I had no idea what was happening inside of me, I just knew I had to get out of that room. I shivered from the cold then the next minute broke out in a sweat.

  The bass beat from the dance floor pounded through my head.

  Someone bashed on the door. I
ignored them. I couldn't go out there. Not while my belly did this to me. Hell, I wanted that coke inside me right now. Maybe, if I'd done a line or two, I'd be okay now. It was just the desperate need.

  I tried to stand but had to put my hand against the wall to steady myself. I sat back down. I wasn't sure if I wanted to throw up or what.

  Images floated into my head. That look on Matty's face when I'd emptied the champagne down the sink. Nurse Bridget. There were people in this world who believed in me. There might only be two of them but that was two more than I deserved.

  Christ on a bike. Was it guilt? Was that what this feeling was? No one ever told me that guilt hit you like a sledgehammer to the gut. It wasn't an emotion I was overly familiar with.

  It struck me. I could just not do the coke. When I realized that, the pain in my stomach eased a little, even though that other feeling, the deep craving need, grew stronger. My body had become a battleground of an emotional war.

  The bashing on the door increased.

  "Get out here. Get out or we'll come in and get you."

  Hell, that was security. They thought I was passed out in a drug coma in here.

  "I'll be out in a minute. This is just taking longer than I expected," I called out.

  I added in a grunt for emphasis. That humiliated the hell out of me but better that they thought I was constipated than passed out. At least they wouldn't break down the door. Memories I'd repressed floated back to me. Other times, other clubs, being slumped over in a filthy toilet cubicle, unable to move until someone broke in. Hell, had they even had to pull up my panties?

  Other memories too. Crawling around grimy floors to recover lost drugs. Being felt up by gross men. The sickness. Vomiting.

  Every degrading thing I'd ever done came in a rush. They say your life comes back to you when you're dying. Well, I might not be dying but my whole drug life came flooding back.

  I didn't want to be that person. That person wasn't Fun Fiona. That person was Fucked-Up Fiona.

  I might not ever be good enough for Matty. That ship had sailed. I'd made sure of that. But that didn't mean I had to be scum either.