Reckless Obsession (The Reckless Rockstar Series) Read online

  After a few seconds, we realize we’re still holding hands and pull apart at the same time. She blushes, and her tanned skin turns a sexy shade of pink.

  “You look lost,” I repeat, nodding to the schedule in her hand. “That was the last class of the day, you know.”

  “I know, but I only got here fifth period. I don’t even know where my locker is. I wanted to wait until tomorrow, but my mom insisted I start right away. I missed a week of school during the move.”

  I look at her schedule and note her locker number. “Why don’t you tell me where you’re from while I walk you to your locker?”

  “Okay,” she says, looking more than a little relieved. “I haven’t had a chance to meet anyone. You are literally the first person to talk to me other than teachers.”

  “Sweet.” I clear my throat. “I mean, I’m sure plenty of people will talk to you. Come on.” I motion down the hall. “Your locker is down there. Looks like you got stuck in the ninth-grade hallway. That sucks, but those are probably the only ones left.”

  I glance over my shoulder and see Liam leaning up against the wall, watching us. He’s waiting for me. He always waits for me; he’s my ride home. I pull out my phone and text him that I’ll see him at practice.

  He shakes his head, snickering, and walks away.

  “Do you have to go?” Abby says, seeing me on my phone.

  “No. Sorry. You were going to tell me where you used to live.”

  “San Diego.”

  That explains her tan. I’m not sure if it explains her super pleasant demeanor. I’ve never met anyone from California. Not that people on the East Coast aren’t nice, but some of them, a lot of them, are entitled narcissists.

  I raise my brows. “That’s a tough break. Why would your parents want to leave there to come to Connecticut?”

  “My dad is an interim minister, so we move a lot.”

  I’ve only known her for a few minutes, and I’m already bummed she might not be here long. “That sucks. How long do you think you’ll stay?”

  “He promised we wouldn’t move again until I graduate.”

  I try not to let her see how relieved I am. “What exactly is an interim minister?”

  “He fills in until churches can find a permanent one. That usually takes a while. We were in San Diego for two years. Prior to that, we were in Idaho. Before that, Arkansas.”

  I point to her locker. “This is yours. I can’t imagine moving around that much.”

  She shrugs. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in one place. It must get kind of boring.”

  I think of growing up on the same street, with the same friends, doing the same things. “You’re right. It’s boring. But I think things are about to get more exciting.”

  She blushes again and fumbles with the lock, then gives up and leans against the wall, watching freshmen students walk by on their way out. “They all look so small. That was us two years ago. Hard to believe, huh? I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck with a bunch of fifteen-year-olds for the rest of the year.”

  “I’d be happy to share my locker with you. It’s big enough. I mean, if you want to get out of the ninth-grade hallway.”

  “Really?” She looks hopeful. “Are you sure? What if my books smell like perfume? Or worse, BO. How do you know I’m not a colossal slob who leaves junk everywhere? Or maybe I’m a criminal, and I’ll steal all your stuff.” She laughs and my dick gets hard.

  Fuck. Now she has to share my locker.

  “You want to steal my chem homework, go right ahead, but I have to warn you, you’d be doing yourself a disservice. I’m not exactly a straight-A student. Academics aren’t really my thing.”

  “What is your thing, Christopher Rewey?”

  Fuck again.

  “Music.”

  “As in the trombone?”

  “As in I’m in a rock band.”

  “You play trombone in a rock band?”

  I chuckle. “I sing and sometimes play the piano.”

  “What’s the band’s name?”

  “Naked Whale.”

  She looks shocked. “That’s unusual.”

  “That’s original. Like our music.” I look down the hall. “So, Abby Evans, what’s it going to be? Sharing a locker with a sub-par student who plays in a rock band, or being stuck with fifteen-year-olds who can’t control their erections?”

  She breaks into laughter. I join her.

  Her laugh is so sexy, my pants get tight again. I hope she doesn’t realize I might not be any better than those fifteen-year-olds.

  “Lead the way,” she says.

  I look at her schedule as we go to my locker. “You’re in my English class. It’s right before lunch. That means you’ll have C-lunch, like me. If you want, you can go with me, and I’ll introduce you around.”

  “That would be great. I don’t mind new schools much, but if I had to pick one thing I could do without, it’s the first few days of awkwardness when I don’t know anyone.”

  “I doubt you’ll have any trouble making friends.”

  She snorts. “You’d be surprised.”

  A group of girls go by, eyeing Abby with disapproval. “I guess girls can be kind of cliquey. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe with me.”

  I hand back her schedule after imprinting it on my mind. I plan on being around her every chance I get.

  “Why the name Naked Whale?” she asks.

  “You really want to know?”

  “I think the reasoning behind a band’s name says a lot about the band.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  Ten minutes. I’ve known this girl ten minutes, and I think I’m in love. Not that I’d know what that feels like. I’ve gone out with a lot of girls but none I’ve felt an instant connection to, like I do Abby.

  “So … the name?”

  I’m staring at her and mentally give myself a slap. “Oh, right. Well, when you’re onstage, you’re vulnerable, ripped open for everyone to see. Sometimes it feels like being naked. At the same time, it’s larger than life, you know, like a whale. There you have it. Naked Whale.”

  “You’re the one who came up with the name?”

  “I guess. Liam and I started it two years ago. He plays guitar. Brandon plays drums, and Jake plays bass. We tossed around some names and that one was mine.”

  “I like it. Do you play anywhere?”

  “Mostly in Jake’s garage. But we have played charity benefits, and we’ve done a lot of talent shows and school dances. Stuff like that.”

  “I’d really like to hear you.”

  “You want to come to our practice? I’m going there now.”

  She shakes her head. “My dad would freak. I’m sure he’s waiting at home to get a play-by-play of my first day.”

  “Some other time, then. We practice most days.” I stop and bang on metal. “Here’s my locker … er, our locker.” I pull out a pen and grab her hand to write on it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m writing down the combination.”

  “It’ll come off the next time I wash my hands. Why don’t you write it on a piece of paper?”

  I look into her eyes. “I wanted to touch your hand again.”

  Aaaaand there’s the blush.

  “Let me try it,” she says, looking at the numbers on her hand and then opening the lock. She gets it on the first try.

  She examines the contents of my locker. “Wow, you really don’t like school, do you? Where’s all your stuff?”

  I take my backpack off. “In here.” I take out the books for my first two classes and put them in the locker, knowing if I leave them here, I’ll get to see her in the morning. “Do you want to leave anything?”

  “I don’t have anything yet. I’ll get my books tomorrow before school.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then. You know, I won’t mind if you put chick crap in there.”

  “Chick crap?”

  “You know, lipstick and stuff.”
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br />   She laughs and raises a snarky brow. “What about tampons? Can I leave those in there, too?”

  “Uh …”

  “I’m kidding, Christopher. I keep those in my backpack.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  I don’t know why mentioning tampons to a guy she just met makes me like her even more, but it does. Maybe she isn’t afraid of anything.

  “I’d better get going,” she says. “I still have a lot of unpacking to do at home.”

  “I’ll walk you out. Is your dad picking you up?”

  “I have a car. They let me park in a visitor spot today, but I’ll get my assigned spot tomorrow. Where do you park?”

  I look at the floor. We may live in one of the most affluent parts of the country, but that doesn’t mean my family is rich. It’s just me and my mom. We live in a small house on the outskirts of town, not even technically in the city of Stamford, but we’re zoned for the high school, since it’s the closest. “I don’t have a car. Liam gives me a ride.” We leave the school and stroll to the lot.

  “Did he wait for you?” She looks around. “Where is he?”

  “He bounced already.”

  Her face falls. “I’m sorry. That’s my fault.”

  “It’s no biggie. I can walk. It’s only forty or fifty blocks.”

  She zips up her coat. “You will not walk. I’ll drive you.” She motions to a small Nissan. “This is me. If I tell you to duck, duck. I’m not allowed to drive around with boys my father doesn’t know.”

  “Got it. How big is your dad, anyway?”

  She giggles. “Not very. His bark is worse than his bite, but he holds my future in his hands. Best not to get on his bad side.”

  I mime writing on a notepad. “Right. Don’t piss off Mr. Evans.”

  “Dr. Evans. He has his PhD in ministry.”

  “Shit, Abby. I’m glad you told me that. That way, when I meet him, I won’t look stupid.”

  “When you meet him?”

  “If I’m going to take his daughter on a date, I’ll have to meet him, won’t I?”

  I climb into her car, but I don’t fail to hear a giddy “Yes!” as she goes to her side. I wasn’t meant to hear it, so I probably shouldn’t let on that I did. Something about her. I just can’t figure out what it is. But I swear to God it’s going to make me a better musician.

  I turn to her. “I’ve written two songs in my head since I met you. Not to scare you away, but I think you’ve become my muse. And just so you know, once that happens, there is nothing that will keep a musician from it. Plan on me being around a lot.” I take her hand in mine and squeeze.

  She smiles and squeezes back. “I think I like the sound of that, Christopher Rewey.”

  I’m not positive, but I think I just asked her to be my girlfriend.

  Even better, I’m pretty sure she said yes.

  Chapter Seven

  Bria

  As I go onstage for the last time, I try not to think of the papers that were handed to me earlier today. Just as Liam warned me, and as I had feared, my contract was not renewed for the European tour. Some small part of me hoped they would still want me to join them because of my talent, but I’ve been reminded more than once how replaceable I am. I guess that meant onstage as well as in Adam’s bed.

  I’m not nervous like I usually am for a performance. I’m not even pissed. I’m just … sad. I hope this doesn’t turn out to be my one and only shot.

  I remember who’s in the audience tonight: my brother, Brett, his fiancée, Emma, and her daughter, Evie. I put on the best show I can for them. And maybe a little bit for me too—to prove I’m not a worthless piece of shit who can so easily be tossed aside.

  Afterward, I look out at the massive audience and walk off the stage with tears in my eyes that make Aimee smile. I keep my head down and try not to look at anyone. They need to be here, but I don’t. I never go back and join them for the encore. My job is done.

  In the dressing room, I fall face first on the small sofa and reach for my earbuds. I turn on my Reckless Alibi playlist. I’ve listened to nothing else this past week.

  Someone bangs on the door. I pop up and wipe my eyes, suspecting the gallon of mascara they made me wear is all over my face. I peek through a crack in the door, then open it. “Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry. Please, come in.”

  I move aside and let Brett, Emma, and Evie into the tiny room. I’d forgotten I gave them backstage passes.

  “Bria, what’s wrong?” Emma asks, touching my arm.

  “You must be sad about this being your final show, eh, kiddo?” Brett says.

  “You were soooooo good,” thirteen-year-old Evie says. “I love your dress.”

  I move to the mirror and grab a tissue to run beneath my eyes. “Let me clean up, and I’ll show you around.”

  Evie stands in the open doorway, hoping to catch a glimpse of the band. Emma comes up behind me. “It’s not only that this is your last show, is it?”

  I lock eyes with her in the mirror. She knows it goes deeper than that. She turns to the others, fingering the lanyard around her neck. “Brett, why don’t you take Evelyn wherever you’re supposed to take her with these passes? I’ll help Bria gather her things.”

  “But don’t you want to meet the band, Mom?” Evie asks.

  She shakes her head. “It’s not important to me, but I know it is to you. Go. It’s okay.”

  Emma and Brett have some kind of telepathic conversation and then Brett takes Evie out of the room and the door shuts.

  “What’s really going on?” she asks.

  Feeling claustrophobic, I peel off the too-tight dress and slip into my robe. “I feel so stupid.” I sit.

  “How can you say that? You were fabulous. I knew you would be, but I had no idea I’d be able to hear you. I thought your voice would blend in with the band. But you had solos. You completely blew me away, as I’m sure you did the other ten thousand people here.”

  “Thank you. But that’s not why I feel stupid.” Hot tears travel down my cheeks.

  Emma sinks into the couch next to me. “Tell me.”

  I hesitate.

  “Come on,” she says, taking my hand. “We’re about to be sisters. We haven’t had a chance to bond because you’ve been on tour, but that’s going to change. I suspect we’re going to be more than sisters. We’re going to be good friends.”

  I look at the floor, embarrassed. “I never even told Brett. I’m not sure why either. At first, I couldn’t believe it. Then I thought I might jinx it.”

  “Are you pregnant?”

  My eyes snap to hers. “God, no.”

  “Then what is it?”

  I close my eyes, wanting this to be the last time I mention it to anyone. “I was dating Adam Stuart.”

  “Adam Stuart,” she repeats. “Who’s that?”

  I laugh. “Lead singer of the band you came to see.”

  “I came to see you, not them.” She gives me a sympathetic look. “You said you were dating him. So I guess it’s over now.”

  “Since last week.”

  “Oh, Bria, I’m so sorry. Did he end it because the tour is over?”

  I shake my head. “I’m the one who ended it. I can’t believe how stupid and naïve I was to think he’d be faithful to me. I should have known better. I see what goes on, but he was good at hiding it, and so was everyone else. It’s almost like part of their job description was to keep me from finding out about his indiscretions.” I pull the robe tightly around me. “Am I that gullible?”

  “Sweetie, no.” She rubs my back. “This was all surreal for you, I’m sure. You got caught up in it. It’s understandable that when Adam turned an eye your way, you’d be flattered. I’m sure he was very charming.” She’s silent for a beat. “Did you … fall in love with him?”

  I wipe my tears for the hundredth time. “Love? No. I think I’m embarrassed more than anything. And I’m upset that I ruined my chance to join them on the next tour.”

  “I’m so sorry.�
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  “It’s okay. I was being silly. They probably never would have kept me on anyway. They’ve never had the same backup singer two tours in a row.”

  “Maybe there’s a pattern there.”

  I look at her. “As in you think Adam sleeps with every backup singer?”

  She shrugs.

  My head droops. “Oh, my God, I bet you’re right. I did some research when I was auditioning for them. Every single one of their backup singers was pretty.” I think back to the final audition. I was so nervous I didn’t realize the unattractive women were dismissed immediately. “I wasn’t hired because of my voice, was I? It was a goddamn beauty pageant.”

  She smiles. “First off, you are beautiful which, like it or not, gives you a leg up in life. Secondly, you have an amazing voice. It’s why you beat out everyone else to get to the finals. You deserved to be out there, Bria. I promise you will be again someday. Just not with a bunch of philandering Brits.”

  “I’ve been offered an audition with another band. Actually, they’ve all but guaranteed me the gig.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

  “They aren’t successful yet, but I have a feeling they will be. They opened for White Poison a few weeks ago. They live in Connecticut.”

  “How good are they?”

  I pull the earbuds out of my phone and play her a song.

  “Wow. They are good,” she says. “That song, though. It would be better if a woman sang half of it.”

  “A lot of their stuff is like that. It’s almost as if they were written for two singers, but Crew is the only one who sings them. He doesn’t want to hire me.”

  “Crew?”

  “Chris Rewey. They call him Crew. He’s the lead singer and one of the founding members of the band. If he doesn’t want me, there’s no chance I’ll be hired.”

  “But you said they already offered you the job.”

  “The other three did. They said they would get him to come around. They want me to sing with them, see if we’re a good fit.”

  “It sounds like an exciting opportunity for you. You can get in on the ground floor, become an integral part of the band.”