Reckless Invitation (The Reckless Rockstar Series) Page 9

  “I think you’re wrong.”

  “Well, that’s why you’re the manager, and I’m with the record label. Because I know what’s best for them.” She turns to Melissa. “I want to speak with whoever’s in charge. Personal relationships are not a topic I approved.”

  Melissa gestures to Matt. “You’re looking at him.”

  Ronni stares into the booth, ready to spit fire.

  Jeremy pinches the bridge of his nose, catches me watching, and shrugs.

  “Why is she referred to as Brianna?” I ask. “She goes by Bria.”

  Jeremy stares at the back of Ronni’s head. “She thought it sounded more professional.”

  Ronni ignores us, only paying attention to her phone.

  “And we’re back,” Matt says. “Brianna, that was a powerful song. How do you and Crew come up with the lyrics?”

  “It’s different for every song. Sometimes it’s based on an experience we’ve had, sometimes it’s drawn from a feeling. Maybe we saw or heard something, and it inspired us. Crew once wrote a song about helping a turtle. I wrote one about my brother, who’s a firefighter. Sometimes Liam gives us music, and we write whatever comes to mind when we listen to it.”

  “Interesting. Liam, as the composer, you give them the music and they write lyrics for it?”

  “Sometimes. It works both ways, like Bria said.”

  “Composing music must be hard. How do you think up new songs that aren’t the same old notes over and over?”

  “It’s funny you say that, Matt, because music is essentially made up of very few fundamental sounds. There are seven main musical notes in the chromatic scale, twelve musical scales, four octaves on a guitar, and seven on a piano. If you change the pitch of a note, you can alter the entire melody. The possibilities are endless.”

  “I’ve often wondered how musicians keep coming up with different melodies.”

  “Think of all the books in the world. There are only twenty-six letters in the alphabet, yet libraries are full of stories that have been created by combining those letters. By the same token, there are only three primary colors, but mixed together in different proportions, you can make millions of others.”

  Matt falls silent for a beat. “Well, damn. I’m not sure anyone has ever explained it to me that way. You got a PhD or something?”

  “My higher education comes from life.”

  “And what about your inspiration? Where does that come from?”

  Liam catches my eye. Our gazes lock. I bite my lower lip. “Different places, I guess. Glitter, a sidewalk, a hospital gown.”

  My cheeks heat.

  Ronni peers at me suspiciously when she sees the way he’s gazing at me. I turn away.

  “Those are unusual muses,” Matt says.

  “Indeed they are.”

  Matt moves on to the others, who talk about their tour of Florida and where they’ll be playing. Liam keeps looking at me and smiling. I think about what he said about music, books, and colors. It’s very introspective. It’s like I’m seeing a whole other side to him that’s as endearing as it is intriguing.

  The interview ends, and Matt shakes hands with them before they join us.

  Ronni pulls Matt aside and gives him a piece of her mind.

  “This is media, Ms. Collins. We’re here to push the envelope. Seek the truth. I hardly think you’d have gotten where you are without knowing that.”

  In usual fashion, she walks off in a tizzy. “God, I can’t wait to get back to New York.”

  ~ ~ ~

  After enjoying dinner with the band, I wash my jogging bra and shorts, hoping they’ll dry by morning. Liam was right; I probably should have brought more clothes with me. I might be doing laundry every other day.

  I get comfortable in my sleeping shorts and tank top, and sit at my art desk. I try to come up with a different version of Jimmy, but I can’t. Every kid I draw looks like Liam. After today’s interview, I can’t get him out of my head. I finally give in and move forward, pulling out the first manuscript and sketching a few ideas for Jimmy and Jojo’s trip to the park.

  I’ll send the author weekly pictures of my progress, and she will tell me if she thinks I’m going in the right direction. Maybe she’ll hate the eight-year-old Liam lookalike and make me change it, but I suspect she’ll love it.

  An hour later, I can hardly keep my eyes open. I put my things away and crawl into bed, dreaming about the adult version of Jimmy.

  A knock on the door pulls me from sleep. I glance at the clock. It’s after midnight. I get out of bed and stomp to the door, thinking maybe I had him pegged all wrong. He’s here for a late-night booty call, isn’t he?

  I rip open the door, ready to tear him a new one, and see a surprised Ronni in the hallway. She’s wearing a hotel bathrobe.

  She examines the number on the wall next to the door. “This is 412, right?”

  “Yes.”

  She pushes past me. “Why are you in Liam’s room? Where is he?” She turns on the light and peeks inside the empty bathroom.

  What the hell? “He’s not here.”

  “Did he go out for more alcohol?”

  “He’s not staying in this room. He let me have it.”

  She cocks her head. “Are you homeless or something?”

  “It was part of the agreement.”

  Her eyes widen behind a thick layer of mascara. “What agreement? As their label rep, I should be privy to any agreement one of my clients makes with another party.”

  “I don’t think this concerns you or the record label.”

  “Is he paying you to fuck him?”

  My jaw drops at her crassness. “Of course not.”

  “Then why are you in his room?”

  “He’s staying with Garrett. Maybe you should talk to him about this.”

  When she pulls her phone out of a robe pocket and taps on it, the tie comes undone to reveal she’s practically naked underneath. And by practically, I mean she’s got on a lacy bra and a garter belt. Not exactly something you’d wear to bed. Oh, God, she came here to sleep with Liam.

  A minute later, Liam is in the doorway in sweatpants. I assume she summoned him. “What the hell, Ronni?” he shouts.

  She pulls him inside and shuts the door. “Why is this girl in your hotel room?”

  “This girl is Ella, and she’s here because I invited her.”

  “What am I missing?” Ronni says. “You invited her back to your hotel, but you’re not sleeping with her?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Explain.” She pulls the robe around her and sits on the couch, crossing her legs. “You picked up some local and gave her your room?”

  “Ella’s not a local. She’s from New York. She’ll be with us for the entire tour.”

  Ronni laughs. “You’ve got to be kidding. You brought along a little fuck buddy, and she won’t even sleep in the same room as you? My, you are a piece of work, aren’t you, Liam?”

  I step forward. “I’ve told you more than once we’re not sleeping together.”

  Ronni is confused.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” he says.

  She stands. “Well, pack her stuff. She’s out. IRL is not paying for her room.”

  “IRL isn’t paying for it, RA is paying.”

  “Look at whose name is on the invoice, genius.”

  “It’s our music that makes you money. Our gigs that bring in fans.”

  “Gigs you wouldn’t have if it weren’t for me. We have a contract, Liam. My word is final. She’s out.”

  “She’s not leaving. It’s my right to give her the room that’s meant for me.”

  “But clearly you’re not sleeping here. Therefore the room isn’t needed. We’re not paying.”

  Liam glances at me, clearly at a loss. I get the feeling Ronni often gets her way. I go to the closet and pull a pillow and sheets off a shelf and toss them on the couch. “Then he’s moving back in. I’ll take the couch.”

  Ronni pouts. Sh
e knows she’s lost.

  Liam smirks and opens the door. “I guess you’ll be leaving now, Veronica.”

  She stomps to the door, then turns to get in his face. “Watch yourself. You’d do well to remember I’m the one in charge.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, it definitely looks like it from where I’m standing.”

  When she leaves, I realize Liam’s bandmates are in the hall. I guess they were kind of loud. Garrett looks at Ronni in her robe, at Liam half naked, then at me, and smiles. “What did we miss?”

  “Typical Ronni drama,” Liam says. “What’s new?”

  “You coming back to the room?” Garrett asks.

  “Nah. I’ll be crashing on Ella’s couch.”

  “Suit yourself.” Garrett and the others drift back to their rooms.

  “That ought to give them something to talk about,” he says with a chuckle, settling on the couch before he turns out the light. “Now go to sleep. I’m fucking beat.”

  I crawl back into bed, but I certainly don’t sleep. I can sense him. I can smell him. I can hear him breathe. I lie here thinking about the half-naked man ten feet away from me, and it dawns on me that today was the first day in three weeks I didn’t miss Corey.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Liam

  I yawn on our way to the beach. “Did we have to get up so damn early?”

  “It’s easier to run in the morning before you get caught up in the rest of your day, plus we’re leaving for St. Augustine at noon because you’re playing at three o’clock today.”

  I raise my brow. “You seem to know my schedule pretty well.”

  “I have to be able to plan our runs.”

  “Lucky me.”

  We reach the end of the boardwalk. I start down the stairs. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” she says behind me.

  I look back to see her stretching against the wooden railing. “Right. Why do we have to stretch?”

  “So you won’t tighten up during the run.”

  “Do we have to do it every time?”

  “Yup. Before and after.” She watches me as I copy her motions. “Are you sore today?”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to seem like a wimp, but yeah, my calves are fucking killing me.”

  “This run will loosen them up.”

  “Take it easy on me, okay?”

  “Easy? We’re running farther today. You have to keep pushing yourself, or you’ll never do better.”

  We walk down on the sand. “Maybe some of us don’t need to do better.”

  “You’ll thank me one day.”

  “I doubt it. But a deal is a deal. Let’s go.”

  It’s hard to keep up with her. She tries to talk to me, but it takes everything I have to just breathe. My lungs burn. My legs feel like they’re giving out. But I make sure I go farther than I did yesterday to prove to her I can. Once I know we’re well past that point, I stop and fall to the ground.

  “Good job. You made it almost half a mile. But you shouldn’t lie down, you should keep moving.”

  “I can’t.”

  She holds out her hand to help me up. It’s ridiculous thinking a small person like her can help up a big guy like me, but I take it. Her hand is soft. It’s nothing like mine. I’ve got permanent calluses from playing guitar. I idly wonder if she cares.

  “Walk for a minute,” she says. “Then we’ll go again.”

  “You really are a slave driver, aren’t you?”

  She giggles. “Maybe I get off on torturing you.”

  I get a sick feeling in my gut and take off running.

  She runs up alongside me. “Was it something I said?”

  “Can we get this over with?”

  I don’t make it far before I have to stop again.

  “You didn’t rest long enough,” she says. “Listen to me, I know what I’m talking about. I went through this not too long ago.”

  “You haven’t been running long?”

  “About eighteen months.”

  An unfamiliar feeling washes over me. That’s how long she was with her ex. He was the person who got her into it. Something gnaws at my gut when I think of him doing this with her.

  “Can I ask you something?” she says.

  “Shoot.”

  “How is it that you hate Ronni, but she showed up for what I can only assume was a booty call at your hotel room last night?”

  I wondered if she was going to bring it up and hoped she wouldn’t. I’m not exactly proud of what I’ve done with Ronni. “I’m not gonna lie. We hooked up once or twice.”

  “But why? Seems to me she treats you terribly.”

  “She’s discreet, or she was before last night’s debacle. She doesn’t expect anything. And she doesn’t ask questions.”

  “Questions about what?”

  “Everything.”

  She studies me thoughtfully. “Were you in a relationship that ended badly?”

  I gaze at the ocean. Nothing could be truer. “You could say that.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess we’re two peas in a pod.”

  The thought of Ella enduring what I did makes me sick. “No, we’re not.” I start running again.

  We pass the place we ran to yesterday and turn around. On the way back, her phone rings. She checks it and puts it away. It rings again. She doesn’t look this time. When we stop again, I have to ask, “Was it him? The ex?”

  She nods.

  “Does he call you a lot?”

  “Yes.”

  “So block his number.”

  Her eyes become distant. “I can’t.”

  “Has he left messages?”

  “Every day. I don’t want to listen to them, but I can’t help myself.”

  “Is he stalking you?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Did he leave one just now? Let me hear it.”

  “That’s kind of private, don’t you think?”

  “El, I’d be a douchebag if I didn’t worry about your safety. You can’t possibly be subjective. Come on, play it.”

  Reluctantly, she pulls out her phone and plays the message on speaker.

  “Ella, please return my calls,” he says. “I’m getting worried about you. I haven’t seen you running in the park all week. I know you had a head injury. I’m going nuts, thinking something has happened to you. I love you. I know you know that, but I’m going to remind you every day. We belong together. Call me back. Please.”

  She seems to be on the verge of tears, and I feel like a dick, forcing her to listen.

  “You didn’t tell him you were going away?”

  “And risk him following me?”

  I go on high alert. “You think he’d follow you?”

  “Probably not, but I wasn’t about to call him. Every time I hear his voice …” She turns away and stares out at the water.

  “Every time you hear it, you want to take him back.”

  “I know it’s wrong. What he did was awful. Unforgivable.”

  I kick a shell. “It’s amazing how we let people we love treat us.”

  “So we are a lot alike.”

  “I told you, El. I’m nothing like you, and you should be goddamn grateful for that.” I hold out a hand. “Give me your phone.”

  “Why?”

  “Just give it to me.”

  She places it in my palm. I page through her recent texts until I see his name. He’s been doing more than calling. I read a few and then type out my own.

  I’m fine, Corey, but I’m gone. Please don’t contact me anymore. Goodbye.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What you should have done.”

  She takes the phone back and reads the text I sent. I brace myself, expecting her to lay into me, but she seems relieved. “I suppose I should thank you. I should have sent that text long ago.”

  “You should turn it off. I’m sure he’ll reply.”

  She hands it back to me. “You hold on to it for a while. That way I wo
n’t be tempted to look.”

  I stuff it in a pocket, and we finish our run.

  ~ ~ ~

  It’s hot and humid. My shirt is drenched by the time we play our last song at the outdoor shrimp festival in downtown St. Augustine. Despite the heat, people are dancing. Ella stands off to one side, her hips swinging to the beat. I give her a smile. She responds by doing the “I love you” sign with her right hand. I’m pretty sure she thinks it means something else.

  After we finish, we pose for pictures and sign autographs. The crowd clears, and Ella finds me. She holds out a T-shirt. “Sign this for me?”

  I cock my head. “You want me to sign a Reckless Alibi T-shirt? Are you going to wear it?”

  “Why not? It will be good advertising.” She gestures to several girls nearby who are already wearing them.

  I wasn’t even aware they were being sold here, but I admit I love the idea of people having them. I especially like the idea of Ella wearing one.

  “I’ll sign it, but you have to put it on right now.”

  “Here?” She glances around.

  “Here.”

  “Fine, but only because I’m all sweaty.” She eyes the shirt stuck to my skin. “Looks like you should get one too.”

  I laugh. “I’m not going to wear an RA shirt.”

  “There are a lot of booths here selling T-shirts. I’ll change into this one if you wear another one of my choosing.”

  “Deal.”

  I help the guys pack up our gear as she goes in search of one. Ten minutes later, she hands me a fresh shirt. It says “I’m a shrimp” over a giant picture of a prawn.

  “You want me to wear a shirt saying how tiny I am? El, you don’t understand men very well.”

  “It’s a huge shrimp. Some might even call it jumbo. You said you’d wear whatever I bought you.”

  I peel off my wet shirt and toss it in a nearby trashcan. I don’t miss the way she’s averting her eyes. Yeah, she’s trying not to look at me. I almost make a snarky comment. Then I remember why she shouldn’t be looking at me that way and quickly don the shrimp shirt.

  A few girls come over, wanting a picture. “They saw you half-naked,” Ella whispers before stepping away. Soon there’s a large gathering. One of them gets my shirt out of the trashcan. Gross.