Rock Mayhem: 8 Complete Rock Star Romance Novels

by Candy J. Starr

  I hated to do this to Polly, but she hadn't helped things with that punch. Although I didn't blame her. I wish I'd been the one to do it. But not onstage. Never onstage.

  Miles hadn't moved from the sofa.

  "Why are you still here?" I said to him. "Go. Now."

  He picked at something on the arm of the sofa, not looking up. "You're breaking the contract. You'll pay for that."

  "Read the fine print. You broke the contract. I'm not an idiot. There's a confidentiality clause in there, and not only can I throw you off the tour, I can sue you for every penny you have."

  I wouldn't sue, but the threat sure made him take action. He jumped up and scurried around, collecting his gear. I left the room.

  Jax stood outside.

  "Sorry," I said to him. "You're the innocent bystander in this, but it can't be helped."

  "Yep, I put the 'bi' in bystander," he said.

  Was that a joke? I didn't really get it.

  "Do you know where Polly is?" I asked him. "I need to speak to her."

  "She went back to the hotel."

  Of course she had. I didn't blame her. There was no way she'd want to hang around Miles after that.

  Polly.

  She'd let me down.

  She'd known how I felt about things, but she'd gone with the drama instead of smoothing things over. Even if my initial reaction would have been the same, I didn't strike out. I didn't punch. I kept my feelings under control. She'd never be like that. I didn't know if I could handle someone like her in my life.

  It'd been fun, but it was over. I was sure she'd understand. I couldn't, wouldn't let any feelings I had for her come before my career. I had a lot to prove.

  If I could have kept her and Jax on the tour, I would have, but without a front man, they couldn't play. That was all I knew. I couldn't magically make a new bandmate appear for her. I just hoped she wouldn't cry or scream. Another emotional outburst was the last thing I needed right now.

  After filling Fartstard in on what he needed to do, I got one of the drivers to take me back to the hotel. That meant sharing the van with Miles.

  He sat near the front, stealing sullen glances at me. God, his parents should've punished him more as a child. Knocked that sense of entitlement out of him.

  As we got near the hotel, he moved seats.

  "Just one more chance," he said. "It won't happen again."

  He had to be kidding. He tried doing some kind of pleading, puppy-dog-eye thing. That made me vomit a bit in my mouth.

  "Do you have no understanding of what you just did? My private life is private. It's not discussed onstage. Ever. You've made me a target of gossip columns."

  "I wasn't targeting you," he said. As if that made it okay.

  "No. You were targeting Polly because of some petty revenge thing. Before you even started talking, you tried to make her look like an idiot. Anyone who puts their personal battles in front of their music when they're out on that stage is not welcome around me. I only want to work with professionals."

  He started to answer, but we'd arrived at the hotel. I jumped up from my seat.

  "Oh, maybe you should put some ice on your nose. It's starting to swell," I said as I jumped out of the van.

  Now that we'd arrived at the hotel, I wasn't sure what to do. I wanted to run to Polly, sweep her up in my arms and make sure she was okay, but I'd had time to think things through. I couldn't go to her. As much as I wanted to, as much as I needed her, I couldn't let myself show that weakness.

  Polly

  I SHOULDN'T HAVE PUNCHED Miles. I knew that. I'd fucked up, and we'd be thrown off the tour. The only thing for it was to go back to the hotel and start packing. Even if I hadn't punched Miles, we'd have been kicked off the moment he'd opened his mouth. What the fuck had he been thinking? That he was bulletproof? Fucking idiot.

  I threw a pile of t-shirts into the case. They topped over and became unfolded. Yeah, neat Polly hadn't lasted long.

  I took a deep breath. This room was way too hot, even with the air conditioning on. So stuffy. I tried to open the window, but it wasn't openable. With my suitcase on the bed, the only place to sit was the desk chair. My room was so narrow, though, the chair only pulled out a few inches before it hit the bed. I tried to twist it a little so I could access it.

  What a fucking mess. My room was a mess, and so was my life. There was nothing, not one tiny thing I could think of to fix this shit pile. Even if I begged Damo to keep us on the tour, even if he agreed, we couldn't play without a front man. And there was no way we could get someone to learn our songs that fast. Not to the level where they could play with us.

  No matter what, I'd never play with Miles again. He was out.

  If that damn suitcase hadn't been on my bed, I'd hurl myself there and cry.

  Banging on my door broke my thoughts.

  It had to be Damo.

  This was not a discussion I wanted to have, even though I'd expected it, but I opened the door.

  "Come in."

  Damo looked around. "Maybe we should go to my room."

  I nodded and followed him down the hallway. As I watched his back, it seemed difficult to believe we'd been wrapped in each other's arms not so long ago. Now I felt like a teenager who'd been sprung smoking in the bathroom and was being sent to the headmaster's office. My chest hurt, and I couldn't unclench my hands. I didn't want to have this talk. I didn't want those words out in the air.

  I stopped walking and took a deep breath. I had to be calm. I had to be unemotional. Any show of emotion now would drive Damo so far away from me, he'd never speak to me again.

  Cold, clinical Polly. That was what I needed to be. I'd disappointed him beyond redemption, but I could at least give him that. I wouldn't beg, I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't hope that somewhere, deep down, he thought this could be fixed. That Damo wanted me with him more than he wanted a lack of drama and more than he wanted that rigid life he lived.

  "Damo, I know what you're going to say, and you know. Why don't we just consider this discussion discussed instead of going through the motions? We're off the tour. It's all over. I get it. No need to hammer out the point."

  He turned to me, his eyes flinty cold. "If that's what you want. You and Jax can stick around until the end of the week, then fly home when everyone leaves Berlin. I'll organize flights for you."

  I shivered. I'd known he'd be cold, but not like that. There was not one hint in him of that warmth and passion we'd shared just hours ago. He had all this worked out. Before he came back to the hotel, he'd figured out a plan of action. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd already lined up a band to replace us.

  Because that was what mattered to him. The tour. His career. I'd just been a blip in that plan.

  Tears welled up inside me, but they could keep welling until I got back to my room. This had been damn hard on me too. It wasn't just about him. I'd been betrayed. My band had been ripped apart. And, hell, that bomb Miles had dropped--that was about me too, not just Damo. For just one minute, he could've forgotten about everything else and taken me in his arms. Given me a little comfort. He could've told me that, even if Wreckage were off the tour, there was still us.

  Instead, all I got was a wall of ice. I scanned his face for a sign of regret, one trace that, even though I'd fucked up, he might forgive me, but there was nothing there. It'd been a short fling. Nothing more.

  I wouldn't use that to ask for favors.

  We stood in the hallway, facing each other but not really making eye contact. We could've been complete strangers.

  If he'd yelled at me, if he'd gotten angry or upset, unreasonable, even, I could've fought back, but that coldness--I could do nothing in the face of that but retreat. He was too hard and unyielding.

  I wouldn't waste my time trying to make things right. They'd been broken, and they could never be fixed.

  Everything--my hopes and dreams for this tour, my feelings for Damo, my whole life--crumpled to dust at my feet in that hallway.
I had nothing left. My whole life had been destroyed. The only thing I could hope for now was to walk back to my room with my dignity intact. If he wanted to be cold, I could be just as frozen. The old Polly would've wept and asked for forgiveness, but I wouldn't be that girl any longer.

  Without a word, I walked away.

  It was over. Everything was over.

  Damo

  SOMEONE KNOCKED ON my door. My heart jumped. Polly? She'd come to apologize. Had to be. There was some way she could make this right, some way that I hadn't thought of. I couldn't imagine how, but it'd all work out. It'd broken my heart when she walked away from me. Every part of me screamed to run after her, to wrap my arms around her and promise that, no matter what happened, we'd be together.

  And, maybe, if she'd shown a tiny hint of remorse, if she'd apologized, I'd have done that. I'd half-expected tears or pleading, but instead she'd been flat, like she didn't give a damn about anything. It would've been ridiculous for me to say I forgave her when she wasn't even asking for forgiveness.

  But now she'd changed her mind? I flew up and answered the knock.

  It was Jax.

  My heart sank. I'd been a fool to think that what we'd had mattered to her. It'd been some on-tour fun but now, for her, the tour was over. I meant nothing to her. I had to accept that.

  "What's going on?" I asked Jax.

  I didn't invite him in, but he walked into my room anyway.

  "Wow, this is a great room," he said. "Much better than sharing with Miles."

  He wandered around the room, poking into things. I was sure he wasn't here to discuss his room. I'd hardly spoken to him during the tour, but he was the one who'd come to speak to me. He obviously had something to say about this situation, and I should hear him out.

  "Well, you won't be sharing from now on. He's on his way to the airport."

  Jax sat down in the armchair and began to tap on the coffee table. What the hell was it with drummers? Did they have to drum on everything, like, if they stopped for five minutes, people would forget they were drummers?

  "What are your plans?" Jax asked.

  "I should be asking you that."

  He kept drumming, then looked up. "I mean, what are you doing for an opener?"

  Obviously, I hadn't had time to do much, but I'd gotten the ball rolling. We had to have someone for tomorrow night. I wouldn't cancel the show. Not if I could help it.

  "Fartstard has some feelers out. There are a couple of local bands that can fill in for the Berlin shows."

  Tap, tap, tap.

  "And after that?"

  I shrugged. "Find another local band. Or get someone to fly out to finish the tour with us."

  "Can you give us another chance? I have an idea for a replacement for Miles. It might just work out." He flung his hand in the air as though he were hitting the cymbals with an invisible drumstick.

  "Is it possible to find someone that fast? Someone who knows your songs well enough?"

  He stopped drumming and looked up. "It just so happens, there is the perfect person. Even better than Miles."

  A faint glimmer of hope grew in my heart, but I pushed it down. Even if they found someone, and even if that person worked out, it didn't mean a thing. Polly hadn't even thought enough of our relationship to use some self-control. She'd let her emotions overrule her. I couldn't imagine being with someone like that in the long term.

  "If you have that perfect person, why aren't they in the band already?"

  "It's complicated. I'm just asking for another chance. Not because we deserve it. Well, I do. Those other two, though..." He rolled his eyes. "But think about it. It'll be easier for you. No changes to the lineup. Perfect for us."

  I got up to get a bottle of water. This seemed like the perfect solution, but maybe too perfect. I had extreme doubts that they could get someone in so quickly to fill in for Miles. If Jax intended dragging in a second-rate front man just to keep them on the tour, he could forget it. I had standards, and those standards were high.

  But... Polly on the tour. My emotions me one but my common sense pulled the other way. I had to think with my brain, no matter how much it killed me inside. I had to do the best thing for the tour. For my career, too. I hadn't worked this hard to have everything ruined because I had an infatuation.

  I'd take all those mushy, uncomfortable emotions inside me and smash them to pieces.

  Jax stared me, waiting for an answer.

  "Okay. I'll give you a chance on two conditions. First, Polly has to apologize and ask me herself, and, second, I want to hear you guys play with the new person. You have four days, then we leave Berlin. Prove that this new front man is worth my time in an audition. If they're good enough, you stay on the tour."

  Why the hell had I said that? If Polly was forced to apologize to me, it'd just be a forced apology. It wouldn't mean a damn thing. And maybe it would be better for her to get off this tour and out of my sight. It was almost like I didn't want her to leave.

  Jax stood up and gave me a salute. "That's as much as I can ask for."

  He left my room, and I tried not to think about where this would lead. There would be no glimmer of hope. I could never, ever think that.

  Polly

  "NO WAY. I WON'T DO it."

  I was lying belly down on the bed, and I didn't even move to give Jax room to sit down. He annoyed me. He'd spoken to Damo behind my back and made this whole stupid plan. That didn't mean I wanted to be part of it. Staying on the tour with that ice-cold Damo would be worse than leaving and having a clean break. I'd made the mistake of not having a clean break with Miles, and that had led to nothing but trouble.

  Jax leaned against the desk. I wasn't sure if that was a good idea. It was a pretty flimsy desk, but I didn't bother telling him. If the desk collapsed and he fell to the floor, it'd serve him right.

  "You don't have to go talk to him. Just apologize and ask him to give us another chance."

  "Apologizing is talking. And I'm not doing it. I don't want to stay on this tour."

  I didn't even raise my head from the pillow.

  "You are so full of shit, Polly. You want to stay on this tour more than anything. You ache to stay on this tour."

  "Not with Damo. He's a jerk. There'll be other tours, Jax. If we were good enough to get on this one, we'll be good enough for those others. We can go home, audition a new front man, rehearse with them. Be even stronger. I don't know who you think will take Miles' place, but they can't be good enough in four days."

  He clicked his tongue like he had to do that to hold the words back. I knew he had a lot to say. I wasn't ringing true even to myself. I did want to stay on the tour, but I never wanted to see Damo again. Almost. And I couldn't believe Jax had any kind of sensible plan for us.

  "Fay."

  That was all Jax said, but he got me to sit bolt upright.

  "Nope. Never. She can't. She's, like, eleven years old. She probably doesn't even have a passport."

  What the hell was he thinking? Fay? My cousin, Fay?

  Jax leaned back. That flimsy desk creaked.

  "She's nineteen. Remember, you went to her birthday party just before the tour? And she knows all our songs. When she was staying with you over the summer, she could sing our stuff as good as Miles. Some of them, even better. And, if she can't, you can."

  "She's way too young."

  He sighed. "She could play bass, you play guitar. We could do it. Get her on the next plane. Book a rehearsal space, and we'll work our guts out for the next few days. It's not that difficult. We might have to change the set around a bit to accommodate her, but she's the ideal fill-in."

  My young cousin, Fay, often stayed with me over the summer holidays. She loved hanging around our rehearsal studio, and she was every bit as talented as Jax had said. She'd been learning all our songs on bass, too. She wanted to join our band. Not just wanted to; she'd pleaded with me. If she was a few years older, it might work out, but she was far too young. Nineteen was way too young
to be on a European tour.

  "I don't even know if she'd agree."

  "She'll agree."

  "Aunty Pam mightn't let her."

  "Aunty Pam couldn't stop her. You're making up excuses, and you're ruining our future. All because you're too piss-weak to apologize to Damo."

  I glared at him. He looked away, tapping against his denim-clad legs. He'd stay here forever, doing just that, unless I agreed. But I couldn't go begging to Damo. Maybe if I'd kept things on a professional level, I'd be able to do it, but not now, not after the sex and the other stuff. Stuff that had meant nothing to him.

  "You said you'd do anything for this band, anything to get us to the top." Jax stopped drumming his jeans for a minute.

  "I didn't mean this."

  "Jesus, Polly, you're going to agree in the end, so let's stop talking around it and go talk to Damo. The sooner you do it, the sooner we can get Fay on a plane and start rehearsing."

  I threw my pillow at him. "Why's he even asking me to do this? He wants me to humiliate myself. He could've just said yes to you, but instead, he's being a sadistic bastard."

  "I think he wants to make sure you're serious, Polly."

  He tossed the pillow back on the bed, and I hugged it to my chest.

  "It's bullshit. Pure bullshit. I have my pride."

  Jax sat down beside me. "Pride is all well and good. I'm all about pride, but pride doesn't pay the bills, and pride doesn't get you on the cover of Rolling Stone. In the end, pride is just a consolation prize. Go, talk to him. Then, when we're outselling The Freaks, you can thumb your nose at him."

  "Yeah, that's easy for you to say. You aren't the one who has to grovel to him."

  Jax sighed. I knew he was right, but knowing that and actually getting off this bed and walking down the hallway to Damo's room were two different things. It wasn't just a case of saying I was sorry. He'd gone from red-hot in the afternoon to ice cold tonight. I didn't want special treatment because we'd screwed, but some acknowledgment that he had feelings beyond his career would've been nice.

  I didn't want to tell Jax that, though. I didn't want to look like some pathetic loser, falling for a guy because he'd paid me some attention. Screw Damo. If he could be all business, so could I. I'd go apologize. I'd say the words I needed to say and ignore those feelings.