Текст книги "Insider"

Автор книги: Olivia Cunning

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 34 страниц)

with Maximillian Richardson

Toni fiddled with her recording device, not because there was anything wrong with it, but because this was her first official interview with one of the band members and, frankly, she was intimidated by Max. He’d never really done anything to unsettle her per se. There was just something about him that was a little raw. A little dangerous. A lot sexually charged. She wasn’t even sure she would have recognized the feelings of unease as awareness of his masculinity if she hadn’t spent so much time in Logan’s company. But while Logan’s prowess was in your face, Max’s existed on a deeper instinctual level. It was as if her lady bits knew he’d make gorgeous, healthy babies and wanted a piece of his genetic material.

And why was she fixated on his allure? They weren’t here to discuss how mind-bogglingly attractive he was or how he was a perfect physical specimen of a man. They were here to discuss his part in Exodus End and maybe, if he trusted her, some personal fragments of information to add to her book.

“You look more nervous than I feel,” Max told her in his consistently subdued voice. The only time she ever saw him excited was onstage. She wondered if he was naturally quiet or if he just saved up his energy for performances. Was he this calm when off tour? She added a couple of question to her list. She didn’t have to wonder—she could ask.

Toni glanced up from her recorder and the pages of neatly written questions on her lap to Max’s face. He was staring at her questions, trying to read them upside down. She shifted the legal pad against her chest to hide the words, and his hazel eyes lifted to meet hers. She hadn’t noticed how much green was flecked inside the light brown irises. Maybe his green Save the Wails T-shirt brought out the brighter hues in his eyes.

“You’re nervous?” she asked.

His laugh was soft and low-pitched. “I have no idea what you’re about to ask me.” He raked a hand through his hair, drawing her attention to his wrist brace. She had several questions about his surgery but was really wondering how it felt to watch Reagan play guitar in his place. Would he tell Toni something like that, or were those feelings too personal?

She grinned at him. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

She switched on her digital recorder and set it on the shiny white surface of the coffee table.

“I’m surprised Logan let you talk to me in private,” Max said, his gaze on the stack of neatly folded blankets behind her. She’d hoped he wouldn’t notice that they were sitting on her makeshift bed—the one that Logan had shared with her the night before. She flushed as she recalled all the dirty things they’d done on this very sofa. She was still tender between her legs, so all she had to do was shift slightly to be reminded of how it felt to have him deep inside her.

“He didn’t want to leave us alone together,” she admitted. “But I reminded him that I had a job to do and that if he wouldn’t allow me to do it, then I’d have no reason to stay.”

“So you have him figured out already,” Max said with a chuckle. “I guess he isn’t very mysterious, is he?”

Would it be wrong to pump Max for personal information about Logan when she had no intention of including it in the book? This was supposed to be a formal interview, but how could she resist learning more about the man she loved—as a friend—from those who’d known him almost half his life? “Why do you say that?” she asked, hoping he didn’t recognize her eagerness.

“Logan isn’t very good at hiding things, so I guess it’s only natural that he says exactly what’s on his mind and puts his true self on display. I don’t know how he gets away with it. Maybe it’s because he’s the bassist and there’s less pressure on him to maintain a certain persona.”

“The way there’s pressure on you?”

Max shrugged. “I guess.”

“Who puts the most pressure on you? Your band? The fans? Your manager? The media?”

“Myself mostly, but yeah, I feel it from every direction.”

Toni leaned closer, interested in his unexpected response. “Why do you put pressure on yourself?”

“If I tell you, I’m sure you’ll slant it in such a way that I end up looking bad.”

She was surprised that his lack of trust stung her feelings. She’d come into this experience expecting the guys to be cautious around her—especially at first. She supposed Logan was to blame for her thinking she’d already gained their friendship and trust. Perhaps his throwing caution to the wind and being open and honest with her was more unusual than she’d realized.

“I would never do that,” Toni said, touching the back of his hand to press her point. “I’m here to write a book that shows all of you in the best possible light. My goal is to make you human, but not bad. Or scandalous. Or weak. But real.”

“That might be even worse,” he said.

“How so?”

He glanced away as if searching for the right words. “When the world believes you are the persona you display to the public, that perception allows you a certain layer of protection. So you feel like the criticism and hate isn’t directed at you—not the real you—it’s directed at the man they all think you are, who isn’t really you at all. Otherwise . . .” He shook his head slightly, his hazel eyes dark with gloom.

She’d never thought about that side of fame. Accepting criticism was hard, and feeling that someone hated you was completely demoralizing. She didn’t know if everyone took such things personally, but for Toni, negativity never just rolled off her back. It stuck deep in her heart. She fixated on it until even the smallest negativity sometimes blotted out all the good around her. So she understood why someone in the spotlight would need separation between the cruelty of the outside world and their day-to-day reality. But much of the world thought this man was the moon and stars, so that had to feel good. Didn’t it? Or did he only apply the praise to his public persona and not to the real him as well?

“Is it the same for the adulation?” she asked. “Do you also keep that at a distance from the real you? Or do you allow that to touch you?”

His gaze shifted back to her. “Why don’t we start on the questions you brought with you?” he said. “I didn’t intend to get this personal.”

“I could shut off the recorder if you don’t want it on the record,” she said.

He shook his head. “Just ask me something else.”

But her prepared questions seemed so superficial in comparison to what they were talking about. Regardless, she forged ahead. Susan wanted certain questions answered, and Toni had a job to do. As a for-hire writer, she knew the book wasn’t truly her own, even though she would place her personal stamp all over it.

“When did you know you wanted to be a singer?”

Max grinned, some of the tension releasing from his broad shoulders as he answered a question he’d no doubt been asked a thousand times before.

“I never wanted to be a singer,” he said. “I just wanted to play guitar.”

“Oh.” Her gaze dropped to the brace on his wrist.

“The band decided that out of all of us, my voice was the least offensive to the ear, so they made me sing.”

Least offensive? “You have a spectacular voice,” she said, knowing she was gushing, but anyone who listened to him knew that he’d been born to sing.

“Thank you,” he said, the fingers of his right hand toying with the brace on his left wrist.

“Will you ever be able to play guitar again?” she asked. She could practically feel the sense of loss in him. She’d always been very sensitive to the feelings of others, so much so that her empathy was sometimes crippling. At the moment, her eyes were prickling with threatening tears, and he hadn’t even told her how he felt about losing his ability to play. She just had to look at him to know he was struggling with it.

“I hope so,” he said. “Even if I never regain enough strength and mobility to return to the stage, I hope to at least be able to play for fun. I do miss the feel of the strings beneath my fingers.” He grinned. “I guess it’s a good thing my voice was the least offensive. If I couldn’t sing, I’d be entirely out of a job.”

“I thought they hired you to be a singer. At breakfast yesterday they said your voice got them all laid.”

Max laughed. “Their perception of that audition and my perception of it are a bit different.”

“How so?” she asked, riveted by his every word and recalling that he hadn’t weighed in much on that breakfast conversation.

“They were looking for a guitarist/potential singer. I was actually auditioning just to be their second guitarist. I only sang because it was required. Before that, Logan was singing for them.”

“No shit!” she blurted.

“He has a decent voice,” Max said. “It just didn’t have the unique grittiness they were looking for.”

Toni was going to ask Logan to sing for her the next chance she got. She wondered if he’d indulge her curiosity.

“Does it bother you that Reagan has taken over as guitarist for the tour?” Another question that was very personal. She wasn’t surprised when he paused for a long moment before answering.

“Reagan has a bright future,” he said. “If her personal life doesn’t destroy it.”

Now Toni was the one to pause as she contemplated his response. “Why would her personal life destroy it?” she asked when she couldn’t decide what he meant. She figured it had something to do with Trey Mills. Maybe. And her bodyguard. Likely.

Max shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said that. I usually don’t talk this freely in interviews. Next question.”

Toni smiled. Did that mean he trusted her? She returned to her list. Maybe he wouldn’t notice she wasn’t following her scripted questions if she pretended. She could read a few from the list and then sneak in a few of her own.

She read the first question that Susan had insisted she ask each band member. “If you could spend a day with any musician—living or dead—who would it be and why?”

“I spend every day with musicians, so why would I want to hang out with another one?”

Surprised by his answer, she glanced up from her legal pad and found him grinning. “Are you teasing me, Mr. Richardson?”

“I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been puzzling over what Logan sees in you for days. You aren’t exactly his type, you know?”

She’d been puzzling over it as well, so Max’s criticism didn’t hurt her feelings. Much. “What’s his type?”

“Fast and superficial.”

Her face flamed. Well, she definitely fit in the “fast” category. She’d known Logan all of an hour before she’d succumbed to his charm and tumbled into his bed.

“There’s an uncommon warmth about you,” Max continued.

So he’d noticed her blush, had he?

“A recognizable depth. Thoughtfulness. You seem to care deeply about . . .”

She met his eyes, and his brows lifted.

“ . . .everything?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

He laughed cynically. “No, sweetheart. It’s rare in this dog-eat-dog world.” He leaned forward, his head cocked slightly as he appraised her. “So now I can’t help but puzzle over what you see in Logan.”

Flustered by his compliment, Toni pushed her glasses up her nose.

“He’s fun and caring and considerate,” she said.

“Logan Schmidt is caring and considerate?” Max asked, his eyebrows arched high. “Are we talking about the same guy?”

“He is to me. He brought me dinner last night. I didn’t even have to ask.”

“I guess you bring that out in him.” He smiled softly. “John Lennon.”

She blinked at him. “Huh?”

“I’d spend a day with John Lennon.”

“Oh!” She’d forgotten she’d asked him that question. “Why?”

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Because he’s fucking John Lennon. I met the rest of the Beatles at various charity events and award shows. I’d dreamed of meeting the band since childhood and, well, John was murdered before I got the privilege.”

“You couldn’t have been very old when he died.”

“I was in elementary school. I didn’t take the news well. I refused to get out of bed for days. My mom was so worried, she took me to a psychiatrist.” He tilted his head at Toni. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you this. I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“Do you mind if I include it in the book?” This was exactly the kind of thing she wanted to include. Scraps of their lives that had never been shared with the world before.

“You could leave the part about the shrink out.” He worried his wrist brace again, avoiding her gaze.

“I’ll leave it out,” she promised.

She read the next question on her list. “What’s your favorite part of being a rock star?”

“Being interviewed by pretty journalists.”

Of all the amazing things that touched his life on a daily basis, that was his favorite? After gawking at him for a moment, Toni realized that he was teasing her. Flirting with her? She dismissed that thought as soon as it occurred. There was no way Maximillian Richardson was flirting with her. The man dated supermodels and A-list actresses.

“I was under the impression that you didn’t like to be interviewed.”

“Depends on who’s doing the interviewing.” The smoldering look he offered would have sent her panties flying across the room under normal circumstances, but she’d given control of her panties to Logan, and she wasn’t about to lose them so easily this time.

She narrowed her eyes at Max. He wasn’t flirting, she realized. He was trying to redirect her questions by being distracting. And the man wrote the book on distraction. She’d have to word her questions cleverly if she wanted to milk real answers out of him.

Her next question was supposed to be: Where do you see yourself in five years? She could only imagine how he’d twist his response to that one. But she didn’t want to lead his responses by having her questions be too precise. She wanted her questions to be open-ended. And she wanted his answers to be insightful. She just had to figure out how to keep him talking freely.

So instead of asking Susan’s questions, Toni set the legal pad aside.

“You come across as a man who likes to have things all planned out,” she said.

Max stared at her discarded pad for a long moment. “I do?” he asked, still looking at the bright yellow paper.

“Pretty much Logan’s exact opposite,” she said, grinning indulgently. “If you prefer, I’ll give you the list of questions and you can plan your answers. We can reschedule the rest of this interview for a later time.”

Max released a sigh. “You’d do that?”

“Why not? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’d appreciate it,” he said, his shoulders sagging for the first time since he’d sat down beside her. She’d thought he just had really good posture.

Max leaned forward to rise, but Toni placed a hand on his knee. “Could you help me figure out what to ask your bandmates? I’m afraid I botched my first interview pretty badly.”

“Nah, you did fine. It isn’t you, Toni. It’s me.”

She chuckled and pushed her glasses up her nose. “That’s what they all say.”

He sat back against the sofa cushions, making every posture-stickler mama on Earth proud once again.

“I’m interviewing Steve next,” she said, consulting her notepad. “Is there a reason no one calls him Stevie? He seems like a Stevie to me.”

“You should ask him,” Max said.

“Do you think he’ll answer questions about his ex-wife?”

“Which one?”

Toni shifted her gaze to his. “He has more than one?” She hadn’t run across that in any of her research. Maybe Max was messing with her. But if he wasn’t, what a scoop that would be.

“You’ll have to ask him.”

Oh, she definitely would. “After Steve, I’m supposed to interview Dare.”

“Good luck with that,” Max said.

“Please don’t tell me he’s even more tight-lipped than you are.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.”

Crap. “Did you really get his girlfriend pregnant?” She wasn’t sure where that question had come from. It popped out of her mouth as if she had some sort of journalist Tourette’s syndrome.

Max’s normally tan complexion went pale. “Who told you that?”

“So it’s true?”

“Has Logan been flapping his lips? I’ll beat his fucking teeth in. See how well he talks after that.” Max shot to his feet and stormed toward the door. His expression showed his anger, but it was the tangible look of loss that crumpled his strong features into a mask of desperate longing that had Toni’s heart in a vice.

Whoa. She’d never seen the man display that much passion offstage. She hurried after him and grabbed his arm, thinking Logan looked good with teeth. She wouldn’t want him to get them beaten in just because she’d asked Max the wrong question.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she said. “I should have never asked you that in an interview setting. I should have never asked you period.”

Max stood with his palm flat on the door. His breathing was deep and irregular, but at least he was willing to hear her out.

“I apologize,” she continued. “Don’t make Logan pay for my mistakes.”

“You’re not really sorry,” he said. “You just want to save your boyfriend’s teeth.”

“That’s not true. I am sorry. I’m sorry when anyone feels pain. And I don’t know if you loved her or only shared one night of passion, but her losing your baby, her taking her life, it had to hurt you. There’s no way such losses couldn’t have hurt.” Her heart was twisting so hard in her chest, she could scarcely breathe.

“I did love her,” he said flatly. “And instead of breaking it off with Dare, she convinced me to keep our affair secret so she could spare his feelings. When she got pregnant, she told him I raped her.”

“What? If she was going to lie, why didn’t she just tell Dare the baby was his?”

“Because the two of them weren’t having sex. He thought she was a virgin and wanted her to stay that way until they got married.”

“Did he believe that you raped her?”

“Of course he believed her. Vic meant everything to him. They’d been dating since they were in the ninth grade. When Dare found out about us, he tried to tear me to pieces. Almost killed me. And then he quit the band. He was still going to marry her, because he thought she was the helpless victim and I was a villain. And then a couple of weeks later, Vic lost the baby. She blew her brains out on a rainy Thursday in her old bedroom at her parents’ house. In her suicide note, she told Dare the truth. After several months, Dare and I made amends as best we could, but he’s never been the same since then. We’ve never been the same. So do I hurt?” He took a deep shuddering breath. “What do you think, Miss Journalist?”

Toni didn’t bother trying to stop the tears from streaking down her face. She pressed her forehead into the center of his broad back and slid her arms around his waist to hug him from behind. He covered her hands with his, squeezing her right with one strong hand, his wrist brace—reminder of something else he’d lost—pressing against her left.

After a moment, he said, “You’re the first person who doesn’t think I’m a giant ass for sleeping with Vic.”

“You’re mistaken,” she said. “You are a giant ass for sleeping with Vic. You should have waited to have sex with her until after she broke it off with Dare.”

He released a breathy laugh. “Fair enough. Then you’re the first person who hasn’t sided with Dare.”

“I’m not siding with either of you. This is really about me,” she said, sniffling. “I can’t stand to see anyone hurting. Please tell me that look on your face is gone.”

“What look?”

“The one that screamed your world had just ended.”

He squeezed her hand even tighter. “You really are a sweetheart.”

“Of the sappiest design, I’m afraid.”

She released her hold on him and pulled a tissue from a box on the end table. She dabbed at her tears and blew her nose.

She stiffened when Max tugged her against him and wrapped his arms around her back. “Is the look gone?” he asked, leaning so close she could feel his breath on her lips.

Her heart thudded so hard against her ribs, she thought it was surely bruising itself. “If you kiss me right now, I’m going to kick you in the nuts.”

He laughed and gave her a squeeze before releasing her. “I can’t say I’m not tempted,” he said, “but I learned my lesson about fooling around with a bandmate’s girl.”

Toni stepped back. The man smelled like heaven, and all the heat coming off his hard-muscled body was suddenly addling her senses. Maximillian Richardson was tempted to kiss her? Seriously? He had to be messing with her.

“Just to be clear,” he said, “you are involved with Logan, right?”

She pressed one palm to a hot cheek. Okay, she was definitely feverish. That would explain the sudden weakness in her knees. “Right.”

“Let me know when his boyish charm starts to get old,” he said, the intensity in his hazel gaze sending butterflies flittering through her belly. “I’ll show you how a real man treats his woman.”

“Logan’s a real man,” she blurted.

Max chuckled and slid the door open. “Don’t forget to give me a copy of those questions.”

She was still gaping at his back when he shut the door behind him. It took her several moments to figure out why he wanted a copy of the questions.

Why did these men turn her into a fricking idiot?