Текст книги "So I Married a Rockstar: A Bad Boy Romance"

Автор книги: Marina Maddix

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

On my walk back home, I detour through the quirky Mission District and muse on what Pepper said. I'm pretty sure she wasn't serious about banning me from Pepper's Pot, but I certainly can't rule it out. As good as her soup is, I would never base a big decision on the threat of being denied it. Well, not this big, anyway.

It's her words about Drax that keep playing over and over in my head. That he had to know what he was doing the night we went to the chapel. I wrack my brain, trying to remember how drunk he was but it's all pretty foggy. The important snippets stand out, but the more mundane stuff, such as how many shooters I tossed back or exactly which snotty girl hooked up with which bandmember, are a blank.

All I know is that he still seems pretty miffed that I don't want to continue with our sham of a 'marriage'. Which is pretty strange, really. Sure, he's still attracted to me and wants to pursue the rockstar version of a relationship, but it's not possible a guy like him would really want to commit the rest of his life to a girl like me.

Is it?

I'm so lost in thought that I'm not paying attention to my surroundings and almost get knocked down by a bicycle messenger as I cross the street. The tatted guy speeds by and gestures with one hand. I choose to believe he's waving and continue on, more aware of everything around me.

That's how I see them, standing in line to get into a trendy new restaurant. Drax is dressed as gritty as ever, which contrasts sharply with the stylish outfit on the woman standing next to him. Her back is to me but I know I've seen her before.

My gut clenches and I very narrowly miss being mowed down by a skateboarder before I jump onto the relative safety of the sidewalk. There I duck behind a slender tree and peek around to confirm my suspicions.

Drax's date shakes her long, wheat-colored hair then turns a winning smile on him, offering me the perfect view. Sure enough, it's Shelby. His ex. What's she doing here? She lives in Las Vegas.

A well-dressed older couple in front of them turn to laugh at whatever joke the perfect Shelby just told. In an instant, I can see the resemblance. The man has Drax's height and coloring, while the woman has clear blue eyes. They have to be his parents.

Shelby leans into Drax, winding an arm around his waist and dropping her head onto his shoulder. His parents beam. What the hell is going on? Some kind of twisted family reunion?

No, this is something else entirely. Shelby is being far too handsy for a regular ex. And the fact they're out with his parents says even more. They're back together!

I can't decide if I should cry, scream or vomit, so I do none of them. Instead, I seethe from behind the refuge of my skinny tree.

How dare he? Just two days ago he got naked with me, pressured me about our 'relationship', yet here he is canoodling with his ex. What a hypocrite! What's worse, he's a cheater. I bet a dollar she doesn't know about our little rendezvous in my bedroom.

I have half a mind to stomp up to the happy little quartet and tell them exactly what's what but I realize tears are streaming down my cheeks. People are looking at me as they walk past, though no one's approached me yet. It's only a matter of time. The Mission is filled with friendly hipsters and old-school hippies who want everyone to live in love and harmony. Anything that doesn't conform to that really harshes their buzz.

I turn to run down an alley and smack into yet another bicyclist, this time a very thin Asian woman dressed in khakis and a funky military-style hat. There's no way she can hold up to my heft and she goes flying, her already-beat-up bike crashing at my feet.

"Oh, are you okay?" I hurry over to where she's landed. She's rubbing her narrow hip and wincing, but otherwise she seems in one piece. Thank goodness she's wearing a helmet

"I'm fine," she says. "It's my fault anyway for riding on the sidewalk. I know better. At least I didn't fall in that pile of shit."

I glance to where she's looking, about two feet from where she landed, and see said pile. And it's not from a dog. I shudder at just how gross people can be and help her to her feet. She's so tiny, it's like helping a kitten stand up.

"Are you sure I didn't hurt you?"

"Nope, I'm good. You have a good day, m'kay? Later!" She waves – a real wave – and jumps back on her bike, this time rolling down the street.

I turn and bump into someone else. What the hell is going on today?! But the moment I breathe in, I know who this someone is, even before his strong hands grip my shoulders. I tip my head back for hours until I meet his hypnotic eyes.

"Uh...hi."

"Are you okay? Were you hurt?" Drax's face is full of concern and my heart threatens to shred apart.

"No, I'm fine, really. I was more worried about her, to be honest."

He doesn't even glance at the woman riding away. His focus is lasered in on me, searching my features to make sure I'm not lying or in shock.

"Draymond?" a smooth female voice coos. "What's going on, darling?"

"Yes, son, what seems to be the trouble?"

His parents are about as stiff as plywood, dressed in clothes that even I can tell must have cost a fortune. Nothing I read about Drax mentioned much about his family, but they're clearly well-off.

"No trouble," he says. "Mother, Father, this is Lauren Raines, Roadkill's manager."

Two sets of lips press into hard, thin lines of disapproval but they hold their tongues. I'm guessing they've had a lifetime of practice.

"Pleasure, dear. I'm Sandy and this is my husband Warren."

She puts out her hand so I shake it as I learned from my dads – firm and fast. It's like holding onto a rotten fish and I can't wait to drop it. She clearly feels the same from the grimace she's wearing. His is a little better, but not much.

"Nice to meet you both. I didn't know you lived in San Francisco."

"Oh, God no," Warren snorts. "We live in Manhattan. We're just out visiting Draymond for a bit."

I try to resist but my gaze flicks over to where Shelby is now pouting with her fists on her slim hips. Sandy notices and breaks out in a megawatt smile.

"That's Shelby, our soon-to-be daughter-in-law."

"Mother, stop that. You know that's not true." Drax snaps, oblivious to the fact that the world just stopped spinning. I wonder if I'll ever breathe again...

"Oh hush, Draymond. One never knows where one's life will lead. It's possible my dreams could come true and you'll produce an heir with one of the most intelligent, beautiful and winning creatures in our circle."

"Sandy, leave the poor boy alone." Warren's voice drops to a loud whisper. "You know if you push him he'll push back, just to defy us."

He gives me a wink, as if to say, 'Ain't that right, sister?' I do my best to smile but it must not have worked. He looks almost offended by it.

"Well, we really must be off," Sandy says. "Poor Shelby's over there holding our place in line. I'm baffled as to why we're eating at an establishment that doesn't take reservations but I suppose we must all be up for an adventure now and then."

"It was...nice to meet you," I stutter, just now getting the feeling back in my extremities after her previous shocking announcement. "I'm sure we'll see each other again soon."

Warren snorts again. "I should hope not. No offense to you, my dear, but Draymond will be joining us in New York shortly and I only make it out here a couple times a year to race in the bigger regattas. I suppose you don't get back east very often."

It wasn't a question.

"And would you believe it?" Sandy cuts in. "Shelby has accepted a position teaching at Columbia. Isn't that wonderful? The Dynamic Duo together again. Hopefully till death do they part, this time."

"Mother..."

She waves a bony hand at him, despite the giant diamond weighing it down. "Never mind. Good luck with...everything, dear. Come along, Warren."

They totter off, waving madly at Shelby and trying not to touch anyone or anything along the way. I watch them as long as I can so I don't have to look at Drax. A lot of information came my way in the last minute or so and I'm having trouble processing it.

"You're moving to New York?" I squeak out. Naturally, there's a bigger question spinning around in my brain, but asking about Shelby would seem so...desperate.

"Guess that depends on you."

"H-how?" Is this where he pressures me again? Say you love me and I'll stay, is what I imagine he'll say. A little voice inside me pipes up, So say it.

"You have till the end of the week to come up with a plan or the band breaks up, remember? Otherwise, I suck it up and go work with my father."

"Doing what?"

"Teaching music. He's the headmaster at a private school. Figures a real 'rock-and-roller', as he calls me, will be a boon to their music program. Maybe I'll start another band."

"In New York."

He gives me a 'why not' shrug. "It's not like there's anything keeping me here. Right, Lola?"

I nod but I can't meet his eyes. They see the truth of me and that's not something I'm willing to share right now, mostly because I'm not sure what it is myself.

I hate myself for what I'm about to ask, but I can't resist. "And Shelby?"

I feel his hot gaze on me, but I carefully mask my features as I study the metal stud embedded on his jacket collar.

"Why do you care?"

"I don't! I just..."

"Listen up, darlin'. I've had just about enough of this wishy-washy bullshit. First you want me, then you don't. But wait, maybe you do. Nope, not this time. I'm crazy about you but there's only so much a man can take, Lauren. You need to figure out what it is you want. If you can do that by Friday, let me know. If not, it's been nice knowin' ya."

Crazy about me?

I'm left staring after him as he stomps away, my heart hammering in my chest. He's called me out, and he's completely justified. He's been nothing if not consistent in his pursuit of me. It's me who's the asshole, the one who keeps changing the rules of the game. He's right. I do need to figure out what I want, and fast.

 I ache for him to turn around, take one last look before following the hostess inside. If he does, that means there's hope I haven't waited too long. If he doesn't, it could mean he's so fed up that he doesn't want to waste anymore energy on me. Please turn around, please turn around, please turn around...

He doesn't.

The last three days have been sheer hell. Not only am I no closer to deciding what I want from Drax, my luck hasn't changed in finding a venue that will book Roadkill. I'm running out of time. If I could get them a gig, I might be able to talk Drax into giving me more time to figure out my own shit.

A steaming cup of Sleepytime appears before me. "You'll chew those things to nubs, honeybear. How's it going?"

I yank my thumbnail from between my teeth and sigh.

"Not so good, Dad. Marvin really covered all the bases. He must have sent out a mass email to every decent venue in the country. I'm at a dead-end."

"So, what, the band's just going to break up?" he asks, perching himself on the corner of the antique desk he and Papi bought the year I turned two. I have vague memories of pulling out the drawers and crawling up them like stairs to sit in the very same spot while Dad worked.

"Looks that way," I mutter miserably.

"Humph. Seems like the fans might have something to say about that. Can you imagine how that gang of goths will react when they hear?"

"I dunno. Bands break up all the time and fans don't go nuts."

"Don't tell that to Dimebag Darrell's family."

"Who?"

He gives me a look of sympathy that another music culture reference has gone over my head.

"So then what?"

"So then we all go our separate ways." I pretend that it makes no nevermind to me, that I'm not crushed at the looming inevitability.

"And you and Draymond are..."

"Are nothing." My voice seizes up and tears spring to my eyes. All this back and forth really is exhausting. I don't blame Drax for giving me an ultimatum.

"Really? Because I could swear that boy fell in love the moment he saw you. In fact, he said something strange the other night about marriage..."

That's it. I can't handle anymore discussion about Drax or Roadkill or my miserable, disappointing life. Great, heaving sobs roll over and out of me. Dad gathers me into his arms, the safest place I know, and I let all the stress and fear and heartache loose and sob into my father's shoulder, clutching at him like a life-preserver. It seems as if I cry for hours before I calm down enough to release him.

"I'm sorry," I choke out, ineffectively wiping at the dampness on his faded Prince concert shirt.

"Oh honeybear, that's what I'm here for, you know that."

Papi's shaved head pops into the tiny office. "You got a call, Lola-mami. Wait, what happen? Why you cry?"

I sniffle back tears and try to regain my composure while Dad explains. Papi is despondent that he missed a good bawling session.

"Ay, why you no wait for me?!" he wails. "We no cry together since dat last nasty pendejo broke up with you!"

One of the nice things about Papi is that his storms pass quickly and with little damage. "We cry later, kay?" he says, dropping a kiss on my forehead.

I smile up at him, the heart and soul of our little family. "Okay, Papi. I love you."

"Ay!" He tears up and runs out of the office before his tastefully applied eyeliner can smudge.

"Okay, sweetie, I'll leave you to it," Dad says. "Don't forget that call."

Right. The handset of Dad's ancient, beige desk phone weighs a ton compared to modern phones. It has those giant clear buttons that blink to show which line is holding. I take a deep breath and mash down the first button, praying that it's one of the dozens of venues that haven't yet said no.

"Lauren Raines speaking."

"Lauren! It's Harry. Harry Stephens. How ya' been?"

I'm stunned into muteness. The last time I saw my old boss, he looked like he was about to pop a gasket. What the hell could he possibly want?

"Um, good?"

"Great! Say, I hear you're doing a bang-up job managing Roadkill. That's good to hear."

"Um, thanks?"

Who would he have heard that from? The only person I can think of is my ex-coworker Michelle, but she wouldn't have blabbed to Harry.

"Yeah, so...I wanted to call to apologize for being so hard on you."

Screw him if he thinks I'm going to let him off the hook that easy. So what if I deserved to be fired? He didn't have to humiliate me like that.

"You mean the night you screamed at me in front of about a hundred people and then fired me?"

Harry laughs uncomfortably. He's used to being the cock of the walk, having everyone run around him like minions. Well, I don't work for him anymore, so I don't have to pussyfoot around.

"Uh, yeah, well...I guess emotions were high that night, and I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Okay."

I refuse to accept his lame, half-assed apology, and the silence drags out between us. Can you say 'awkward'?

"Listen. I maybe acted a little too...hastily that night. This place is crazy without you, Lauren. I want you to come back."

My skin crawls at the arrogance in his offer, like I should be so lucky to work for him again. Little does he know that losing that job was the best thing that's ever happened to me. No, I'm not making much – okay, any – money at the moment, but it opened my eyes to the possibility of still having a career without having to demean myself.

"You mean you can't handle the workload alone and no one else will work with you, isn't that right?"

His reply is stony silence.

"Now you listen, Harry. I wouldn't work for you again if you paid me four times what you did before. You have no respect for your employees, anyone really. You're the most spiteful, hateful, miserable man I've had the displeasure of knowing. Have a nice life."

The handset is halfway to the cradle when he shouts something I don't quite make out. "What did you say?"

"I said, I'll book your boys. Against my better judgment, mind you, considering what happened last time, but I hear you might be having trouble getting gigs."

Damn, gossip travels fast. "What did you hear?" I demand. My blood is boiling.

"Oh, just that a certain someone has it in for your boy Drax. And that if you don't set up something soon, Roadkill may become roadkill themselves."

I'm speechless. Finally, I get the nerve to tell Harry what I think about him and he lays this on me.

"Marvin will have a shit fit," he continues merrily, "and I'm sure I'll pay for it somehow, but if you agree to come back to work for me – at double your previous salary, by the way, not quadruple – I'll book the band as a headliner. That should keep 'em limping along till things settle down."

'Stunned' doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling. Run over with a Mack truck is more like it. My world compresses around me until the only thing I can see is the bright light glowing steadily behind the phone's acrylic button.

"Think about it," Harry says, his voice hollow, like it's coming through a tin can with a string attached. "But I need an answer by tomorrow morning."

The phone buzzes in my ear for a full minute before I carefully replace the handset.

"Shit."

I'm so nervous I could puke. Hand to heart, my stomach is flopping around in my belly like a dying fish. Good thing I didn't have any appetite before coming down to the marina to present my plan to the boys or there'd be a mess all over the boat's pretty teak and holly floor.

Drax was uncharacteristically early but he hasn't said a word since I arrived a few minutes ago. He hasn't even looked at me. My stomach flips even harder. If he's this pissed off, he may want Roadkill to die, no pun intended. I hope the fact he showed up at all is a good sign.

Jake was the last to arrive and now that they're all settled, I'm left standing across from them like a salesperson giving a pitch. Which I guess I am, come to think of it. If they don't go for my plan, Roadkill will break up and Drax will move back east, and I really don't want that to happen.

"Okay, Lauren," Savory says, giving me an encouraging smile. "Lay it on us."

I nod and clear my throat. If I don't make words come out of my mouth soon, something more disgusting will, so I take a deep breath and dive in.

"Guys, Marvin's really kicked Roadkill's ass. It's not fair and it's not right, especially considering that the reason Drax was late for that show was because he was kidnapped by some crazy chick, but he's not backing down. I've put in a dozen calls to him but..."

"Fuck Marvin," Drax growls. Yeah, he's pissed.

"Right. Well, I've been busting my hump all week trying to line up a decent gig but it's no good. He's got too much power in the biz and every big venue – every one that called me back, that is – said how sorry they were, blah blah blah."

"Fuck them, too," Frank chimed in.

"I disagree," I say. "Yes, fuck Marvin. But the venues...we need them. Eventually. What we have to do is prove to them that Roadkill can bring in big ticket sales. If they see the numbers, Marvin's little blackball game won't mean a thing. As powerful as he is, the bottom line is more important."

"Sure, but no one will book us, you just said so yourself."

This is where it gets sticky. I try to swallow but my mouth is a desert.

"Not no one, exactly. I got a call from my old boss this morning. He's willing to take another chance on the band. It could be an opportunity for you to prove you're reliable and can still draw the crowds, which might help you book more gigs afterward."

Drax's eyes burn with fury. "I wouldn't work with that asshole if he was the last–"

"He is," I say, cutting him off mid-rant. "The fact is, he is the last concert promoter who is willing to even consider booking you."

He glares off into a far corner.

"That's fucking great, Lauren," Jake says, grinning at everyone. "What's the big deal? He was kind of a jerk but whatever. I say we do it."

Savory doesn't look convinced. He gives me a knowing look, and asks, "What's he want? No way is that dude just going to book us out of the goodness of his heart. He wants something. What is it?"

Drax's gaze returns to me, and I can practically feel it on my skin, warming me. Not in the way I want, exactly, but beggars can't be choosers.

"Me."

I don't dare look at Drax but out of the corner of my eye, I can see him tense.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he spits.

Seriously? He's acting jealous? Don't get me wrong, I don't hate the idea of him being jealous – and that appalls me just a little – but he can't act like I'm his property or something.

"In exchange for booking you, he wants me to go back to work for him," I spit back.

Silence settles over the group. Jake breaks it as only Jake could. "Does that mean you won't be our manager anymore?"

Duh, I want to say, but only because I'm already stressed out and irritable. I nod instead.

"Nuh uh, that's bullshit," Frank says. "You can't go back to work for that douchenozzle. Besides, we're a team."

My heart swells at his words, as crass as they are. There's nothing quite like feeling appreciated.

"That's sweet, Frank, but we won't be a team if you guys split up."

"Jesus," Savory snorts. "It's like Sophie's-fucking-Choice! Take the gig and lose you. Don't take the gig and break up."

Drax has been sitting like a stone statue, just staring at me. I have no idea what he's thinking but my heart does flip flops and I very nearly lose myself in his eyes again. Dang, that's so easy to do! But I have more to say, now that the hook is set.

"Actually, there is another option."

The mumbling and grumbling stop and all eyes turn to me, eager to hear what will get them out of this mess.

"I've made a few inquiries, scratched together a few ideas, and I think I have an interesting idea."

I pull out a very rough sketch Papi drew and hand it to Drax. "It's called the 'Route 666 Tour'. We drive the entire length of Route 66, or what's left of it, from Santa Monica to Chicago. We stop every couple nights and perform at any little podunk venue that'll take us. I've called a handful of hip spots and they all gave me a tentative yes."

"And what if they say no?" Savory asks.

"Then we set up in a park or something. We can easily get permits in most small towns – Marvin doesn't have that much pull – and even if we can't, holding illegal concerts just adds to Roadkill's bad boy mystique."

"I don't get it," Jake says, scratching his head. Literally. Scratching his head. "How's this supposed to help?"

"It's brilliant," Drax mutters, the tiniest hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Marvin's trying to ice us out. The longer we go without a gig, the faster we'll be forgotten. But if we do a grassroots tour, focusing on the fans and not the money or the prestige big venues offer, they'll come in droves."

He gets it! He gets me!

"Exactly! We waive our fee so the venues keep the ticket prices low, as a thank you to your loyal fans. They spread the word and, hopefully, the tour will go viral, for lack of a better term. Merch sales will more than make up for lost ticket revenue, and the goodwill it'll generate should get us back in the graces of the bigger venues."

The discussion goes on for quite a while, working out details, potential problems, and possible opportunities. Relief washes over me that they're as excited as I am. I half-expected them to take Harry's offer because it was a sure thing. I would have been crushed but I also would have understood.

"I just have one more question," Drax says, catching my gaze. "Does that mean you've decided you want to stay with us?"

I know what he's really asking. He wants to know if I've made a decision about us, not Roadkill. Up until this moment, I was still trying to figure it all out, but watching his face light up over a tour where he'd make next to nothing but would thrill his fans clenched it for me. Draymond Maxwell may be an arrogant, bossy show-off, but there's nothing more in the world I want than for him to be my arrogant, bossy show-off.

"With all my heart."