Rock Addiction (Rock Kiss Book 1), page 13
David fucked up. Gone to see what I can do.—Fox
David? The one the press called the Gentleman of Rock?
Frowning, she pushed off the comforter Fox must’ve covered her with before he left, his body heat more than sufficient to keep her warm when he was with her. She had to have slept through a phone call. Or Fox had already been up and grabbed it before it could wake her—her rock star, she’d learned, was a surprisingly early riser. Hoping David wasn’t in too much trouble, she showered and dressed for the day before calling Fox. It went straight to voice mail.
“It’s Molly,” she said. “Just wanted to say I hope it’s nothing serious. Talk to you when you get back.”
Since she didn’t know if Fox would return before she had to meet up with the crew, she decided to go down to the hotel’s breakfast buffet. “Mind if I join you?” she asked when she saw Maxwell sitting alone at a table in the relatively empty dining room.
“I never say no to a pretty girl.”
Smiling, Molly went to get a bowl of cereal and some toast. There was fresh coffee waiting for her at the table when she returned, as well as a glass of orange juice. “Seriously,” she said, “this is the life.”
“Not after you eat the same crap weeks in a row.” Maxwell’s heavy black eyebrows drew together in a scowl. “When we’re on tour, sometimes all I want is a bowl of grits or old-fashioned oatmeal.”
Molly hadn’t considered the situation from a long-term perspective, and as soon as she did, she saw his point. It was nice to be waited on and to have so many options at the buffet, but she’d be hankering for her own cereal within days, as well as her favorite brand of tea. “Do you carry things from home to make it easier?”
“Yep. What you’re drinking, it’s the best damn coffee in the universe—I had the hotel restaurant brew up a pot from my stash.” He took a sip, sighed. “Different folks bring different things, but most everyone has at least a couple of items.”
Molly tried to think of what it must be like to be on the road weeks or months at a time and couldn’t quite comprehend it. It made her understand some of the “diva” requests occasionally reported in the media—for what often seemed an odd thing about which to throw a star tantrum. Food, though, was only the tip of the iceberg.
“You must miss your family,” she said, having learned yesterday that the crew boss had a wife he adored as well as two teenage children.
“Yeah, it can be tough, but the boys pay me well enough that both my boys go to a fancy private school where they rub shoulders with the children of diplomats.” Pride in his smile. “At least my kids think my job is awesome since I can get them and their friends into concerts now and then, so I don’t have the hassle of having to deal with resentment. As for Kim and me, we have phone sex down to an art.”
Molly choked on her coffee, heard Maxwell laughing that deep, chesty laugh as she tried to catch her breath. She mimed scrubbing the image from her mind, which furthered the laughter on his end, then said, “Do you know what happened with David?”
Sudden remoteness, the smile wiped away as if it had never existed. “Figure you’d best ask Fox.”
Coloring, Molly looked down at her breakfast. “Sorry,” she said quietly after realizing what she’d done. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”
The friendly man sighed and reached out to pat her hand where it lay on the table. “No, I’m sorry for snapping at you—we’ve all been bitten so many times that we don’t trust anyone until they’re blood. Takes time to become blood.”
Molly met his gaze so he’d know there were no hard feelings. “I understand.” It wasn’t as if she was any different in the trust department.
Male voices sounded in the doorway a couple of seconds later, Fox walking in with David and a slender man she didn’t know. Spotting her and Maxwell, they headed over, grabbing food along the way. Fox put his plate down on her left, while David took her other side, and the unfamiliar man slid into the chair beside Maxwell. In a few minutes, the table was covered with more food than Molly could eat in a week.
“Don’t even ask,” David muttered when she glanced at his black eye, the bruise vivid against the golden brown of his skin.
Molly poured him coffee from the fresh carafe the waiter had just placed on the table. The drummer clearly needed it—it was obvious he’d spent the night in the long-sleeved, formal white shirt and black pants he wore, his jaw darkly stubbled. “Did you put ice on that eye?”
“That’s what I told him to do, but he’s too pigheaded.” The stranger stuck his hand across the table, his skin a warm, deep teak against the blue-gray of his suit. “Justin Chan, attorney for these idiots while they’re in the region.”
“Molly,” Fox growled, “stop looking at David like you want to give him a hug and smack him upside the head instead. If we were in New York, I’d call his mother and have her do it.”
“Don’t worry,” Justin said cheerily, “his folks will hear about it soon enough, and then he’ll have to explain if this is the kind of example he intends to set for his brothers.” A glance at David. “Wouldn’t want to be you, dude.”
“Oh, fuck.” David banged his head against the table. “I should’ve stayed in jail.”
Uh-oh. “Did you do something Thea’s going to have to wrangle?” Her sister had flown in late last night to be on hand for media interviews the band was doing today.
Lifting his head, David groaned. “Yes. Mary, Joseph, and the saints combined, yes.”
“She’s been working since genius here called me.” Fox bit into a piece of toast. “He was too chickenshit to call Thea himself.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Strong words, but the drummer’s tone was morose. “God, could I have screwed up any worse?”
Molly thought about it, then leaned in to whisper in David’s ear. “You might as well tell me your side of the story so I can spin it for you when Thea calms down.”
Shooting her a considering look out of a bloodshot and blackened eye, he slugged back his coffee and blew out a breath. “I decided to walk around the city last night. It’s something I do night before a concert.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “On the way back, I ducked into a bar to have a drink. It never crossed my mind that I’d be recognized. I’m the drummer—nobody ever pays attention to the fucking drummer.”
Fox snorted. “Bullshit. I’ve seen the stacks of fan mail.” Thigh pressing against Molly’s, he reached for the pats of butter beside her plate. “Mind?”
“Of course not.” Feeling playful and happy to see him, she closed her hand over the muscled strength of his thigh under the table, close to the zipper of his jeans.
It earned her a warning look that told her he’d get his revenge. Stomach tight, she stroked her hand lower down, leaving it there in an intimacy that coiled around her heart, and returned her attention to David. “So, someone recognized you?”
“Yep. The fuckwits decided they didn’t want a ‘pussy rock star’ in their fine establishment.” The insult was rife in his voice. “Like I was an airbrushed pop star, not a real goddamned musician.” Snarling at his toast, he bit off a hunk. “I had to defend my honor, didn’t I? Not my fucking fault the fucking bartender decided to call the cops just ’cause we broke a cheap-ass fucking table.”
Molly had never heard David swear before this morning, not even in interviews or going up against pushy paparazzi. “Hold on,” she said, wondering how much of that was leftover anger, and how much frustration at what this would do to his chances with Thea. “You were on your own, and you only came out with a black eye?”
David shrugged. “I was consistently the shortest guy in my grade until I hit seventeen. Shrimps get picked on—and my dad, he’s old school. Decided to teach me how to kick ass. No one ever picked on me a second time.”
His physicality something she would’ve never guessed at, Molly might have followed the conversational thread, but David fell to his breakfast with the concentration of a man who was done talking. She looked across the table to Justin. “Are you on call all the time?”
“That’s why I get paid the big bucks.” The lawyer’s teeth flashed bright. “Good thing David’s victims were too embarrassed to press charges—I mean, what hard man gets beat up by a pussy rock star?”
Giving him the finger, David stayed focused on his bacon and eggs.
Fox, his thigh continuing to press intimately against hers, jerked his head at Maxwell. “You feel good about tonight?”
“Setup’s tight,” the other man said, and the conversation drifted in another direction.
It was maybe ten minutes later, while Molly was having her second cup of coffee, that she ended up alone with David, the others having gone to pick up more food from the buffet. “You don’t seem like the kind of man who gets into bar fights.”
No response.
“You’re crazy in love with her, aren’t you?” she said softly, having grasped the depth of his feelings yesterday when he’d oh-so-casually asked her about Thea when they were backstage. The painful need in his eyes had resonated with the emotions growing inside her.
David paused with his fork against the plate, his eyes staring out into nothing. “Until I can’t think. I need to get over it.”
“Did you—”
“I asked her out. Had this whole argument worked out about how we’d be perfect together, but she never even gave me a shot.” Fingers turning white on the metal, he said, “She cut me off so smoothly it was like being sliced off at the knees. Professional smile, distant eyes, gentle hand on my arm as she ushered me out of her office.” He shook his head. “It was such a kick in the teeth that I just went.”
Thea, Molly thought, was a smart woman who’d grown up cherished by two people who loved her and each other. The man Thea’s mother had married when Thea was two had always treated Thea as his eldest daughter, “and no damn ‘step’ about it,” as Thea had once quoted, love bright in her expression. Her two “baby” sisters, fourteen and fifteen respectively, saw her as their big sister and that was that—complete with teary phone calls about boys and complaints about being grounded.
Molly had met Thea’s family over video calls and thought they were wonderful.
However, Thea had also had the bad luck to fall into a long-term relationship with a man who hadn’t been able to handle her strength and growing success. Thea’s ex had cheated on her, then blamed her for it, saying she wasn’t woman enough to satisfy his needs.
Molly didn’t know if David was or wasn’t the right guy to help her sister get over that awful hurt, but any man sweet enough to be in love with her sister after such an icy rejection would at least treat her right, remind her that not all men were swine.
“Write a memo,” she said before any of the others returned to the table. “About all the reasons why you’d be perfect together, then e-mail it to her.”
David gave her a look that said he was questioning her sanity.
“Thea is surgically attached to her e-mail.” Molly had figured that out the third time she and Thea had coffee together. Her sister had been on her best behavior the first two times.
Molly had actually been happy to see Thea taking quick glances at her phone—it had felt like they were both relaxed enough to be themselves for the first time, bad habits and all. “She’ll read the memo because she can’t help herself,” Molly continued, “and if I know my sister”—which Molly thought she did, at least when it came to this aspect of Thea’s personality—“she’ll send you back a point-by-point rebuttal, so you’d better have your arguments ready.”
Having twisted to face her, David shook his head. “That is either the worst or the best advice ever.”
“Trust me.” Molly took another sip of coffee. “Thea likes brains and she likes determination.” Molly thought about it and decided to give him one other tiny piece of advice. “If you send her ‘I’m sorry I messed up’ flowers, steer clear of white roses.” When David raised an eyebrow, she gave him a succinct answer. “Ex.”
His jaw tightened. “Got it.”
Maxwell and Justin returned to the table then, Fox waylaid by staff and guests.
“Damn.” David put down his fork with a sigh as he too was spotted by a tableful of young men who, from their uniforms, looked like they were part of a high school sports team.
It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that they could both eat again. Justin and Maxwell left soon afterward to take care of other matters, but Molly stuck around, promising to meet Maxwell in the parking lot in a quarter of an hour.
“That’s why we mostly order room service,” David said after he’d cleared his plate.
Fox leaned back with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. “We tend to have suites next to one another, and since Noah’s always up before dawn, anyone else from the band who’s up for breakfast turns up at his suite. Maxwell and some of the other crew usually find their way there as well.”
“It’s like a family, isn’t it?” Molly snuck a strawberry from the bowl of fruit one of the men had brought back to the table.
“Depends on the people,” David said, “and how long we’ve worked together. Maxwell, he’s been with us since the first tour—most of the time, he treats us like his kids. Should piss us off, but he’s got some weird voodoo going on where none of us can get mad at him. Or if we do, we feel so ashamed we end up giving him a raise.”
Molly laughed when Fox nodded, his expression solemn. Then his cheeks creased and she had to dig her nails into her palms to resist the urge to kiss his smile right into her own mouth. “I better go.” She cleared her throat, her voice husky. “I have to grab my stuff and meet Maxwell.”
Fox squeezed her thigh under the table. “You’re mine after tonight.” It was a low murmur of sound that made David’s face fall.
Bending down to the drummer’s ear once she was on her feet, she said, “Memo,” and left, her heart slamming a rapid beat and her nape prickling in awareness of Fox’s gaze all the way to the door. She’d have to tell him to stop that or everyone would think he was hot after a roadie… but another part of her wanted to turn, to lock her eyes with his, tell the world he was hers.
Molly could barely breathe at the idea of being able to walk up to Fox in public, kiss him, smile with him. It made her lips curve, her body already turning to send him a last look when a flashbulb went off. Startled, she blinked to see that a fan too shy to go up to them was shooting photos of Fox and David from just inside the doorway.
Stomach queasy at that tiny exposure to the spotlight, she hurried out, the ugliness of the past a shadow she couldn’t escape. Damn her father! She blinked back tears, angry with Patrick Buchanan for the damage he’d done, with herself for not being able to forget the pain, with fate itself.
Chapter 17
Molly had never attended a live concert. By the time she was old enough to be interested and would’ve been permitted to go with her friends, the scandal had broken, permanently altering the course of her life.
To have her first experience be backstage at a Schoolboy Choir concert while the crowd thundered out front and Fox belted out lyrics that made her want to dance and drag him off to bed at the same time… wow
Halfway through the show, he and Noah were both shirtless and sweaty under the lights, their T-shirts thrown into the delirious knot of fans who’d paid a premium to stand in the mosh pit right in front of the stage.
Fox’s had been caught by a young woman who’d screamed and clutched it to her chest before pulling it on over her sparkly top, Noah’s by a guy who’d held it up like a trophy. The two fans were part of an enormous sold-out crowd. It was exhilarating to be buffeted by the roar of that crowd, feel the beat of the music under her feet, hear the growl of Fox’s voice, then the raw ferocity in it as the band slowed down to play a ballad about loss and redemption that had been penned by the keyboardist, Abe.
The brutal tenderness of it brought tears to her eyes where she leaned against one of the supports at the back of the stage, concealed in the shadows but with an amazing view. Winking at her when she’d admitted this was her first live concert, Maxwell had said she was off for the night unless something went wrong and he needed all hands on deck. So she was free to just stand there and watch Fox move those magic fingers over an electric guitar while Noah took the microphone to belt out a rock anthem that had the crowd raising their arms and joining in.
The tattoos on Fox’s arms and back shimmered under the lights, his muscles defined by the sweat that gleamed on his skin. She wanted to lick it up, the impulse warring with her desire to keep on watching him forever—he was hypnotic, beautiful, and talented. Noah leaned in close to him right then, the two playing their guitars off one another in a rhythm that was immediately picked up on and echoed by Abe and David. It made it clear exactly how long the four had been friends and musicians together.
God, they were good.
Molly hadn’t truly appreciated the amount of sheer skill it took to do what they did until she’d seen them practicing yesterday and earlier today. The lights and the fireworks, that made for a good show, but behind it all was music, solid and pure. The four of them had been goofing off this afternoon, with Abe taking the mike, Fox on the drums, Noah on keyboard, David on guitar—all out of their comfort zones, and they’d still made great music.
Maxwell came to stand beside her. “So much naked talent,” he said in her ear, as if he’d read her thoughts. “First time I heard them, I knew they’d be legends someday if they managed to stay together through the bullshit that comes with fame.”
“It’d be a tragedy if they ever broke up.” The four members of Schoolboy Choir created a stunning unit that truly was more than the sum of its parts. “Have they ever come close to it?”
