Her Reckless Rockstar by Gena Snow

Chapter 9

 

Tristan

 

 

 

After the concert, we meet with the fans and sign some autographs. And then we sit at a table, having a drink before we leave the bar. I’m speaking with my bandmates, but my eyes never leave my angel. She’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans at work because of my dress code requirement, but no less sexy in my eyes. Damn. This woman. She could turn me on in a nun’s habit.

“Excuse me,” a guy’s voice interrupts my musing. I turn to find a guy looking too young to be here. He’s tall but thin and pale, and his eyes are bloodshot. His physical appearance irks me somewhat because it reminds me of myself just a couple of years ago, before going to rehab.

“What can I do for you?” I ask, although I’m annoyed.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “My name is Jamie. I just want to tell you I’m glad you’re back. I’m your biggest fan. And I want to thank you for the encouragement and advice you gave me five years ago.”

He pulls out his cellphone and shows me a picture we had together at the town theater backstage. Memory flashes back. I remember the little boy—the worship in his eyes and his insistence in asking about my musical inspiration. We teased him a bit, and if it weren’t for his fiery sister, we would’ve left it at that.

“That’s right. Jamie! How have you been? Written any songs?”

“Yeah!” He grins. “I had a band for a while, too.”

“Good to know!” I say. “How’s your sister?”

“Oh. She’s fine. She’s right there!” He points toward the bar.

Fuck me. Avery. I’m such an idiot. No wonder I feel I’ve met her before. It all makes sense now.

Why didn’t she remind me of that night?

Jamie is still speaking, but I ignore him and go to the counter.

Avery stops talking to a customer and looks at me with quizzical eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me we met before?” I ask her.

She blinks. “What’re you talking about?”

“You and Jamie were at our last concert in town five years ago.”

At the mention of her brother’s name, she glances his way and rolls her eyes. “He shouldn’t be here.”

“Answer my question,” I say.

“What does it matter?” She frowns. “I figured you wouldn’t remember me.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I do,” I say and open the photo app on my phone. I locate the selfie I took. “I’ve saved you in my album.”

She stares at the photo, and then she looks up at me with those sparkling eyes. “Do you keep all your fan’s photos?”

Fuck. She doesn’t get it. “No.” I lean closer to her and whisper into her ear, “I don’t take photos with fans on my phone at all.”

“W-why did you take mine?” Her voice trembles, and her eyes turn dark.

“Because I liked you, and I was hoping I would meet her again one day.” I had that wish for all those years, even though I temporarily forgot it because all the issues I had in the past two years.

Her big brown eyes widen, and she looks as if she doesn’t believe me. “You’re kidding,” she says, blushing.

“No, I’m not.” My mouth feels dry, and I want to taste her moist lips. “Come to Vegas with me.”

“W-what?” she looks startled at the sudden change of topic.

“When I was battling with my addiction, I used you as an incentive,” I say. “I told myself I had to get well and be confident on stage again soon because you might show up unexpectedly one day, just like you did last time.”

Tears well her eyes, but she takes a deep breath and turns away. “You’re crazy.”

I grab her wrist. “Maybe, but you’ve got to admit there’s a connection between us, right? Please, give us a chance.”

“I have to work,” she whispers.

“No, you don’t. I’ll speak to Jeremy. You’ll get a few days off. I’ll pay you for… bartending.”

She chuckles. “Let me think about it.”

I grin. I’m about to turn back to the table when I see Jamie speaking to Dylan. “Is Jamie okay?” I ask Avery in a low voice.

Distress falls on her face right away and she doesn’t speak.

“How long has he been like this?”

“At least two years.” Her eyes are wet again.

“Why didn’t he get help?”

“I told him to, but he wouldn’t,” she says, sniffling. “He needs the inspiration.”

“Shit. That’s stupid.”

“Oh yeah?” She raises her volume a bit. “Guess where he picked up the idea? From his hero rock star!”

My mouth opens. “Are you saying… that he did it because of me? But I went to get help…”

“Well, he doesn’t copy you completely, and I don’t know why.”

“You’ve got to talk to him.”

She narrows her eyes on me. “Maybe you should talk to him!”

“Me?” I hesitate. I want to refuse because it’s a sensitive subject and I’m not close to the boy even though he’s my fan. But the fire in her eyes changes my mind, and I get an idea. “I will do that. You’ve got a minute after work?”

“Yes.”

 

I take Jamie and Avery to my studio after the bar closes. I tell Jamie I would like to hear his songs. He’s all excited and doesn’t stop talking on our way to my house.

“I can’t believe it,” Jamie gushes. “I’ve always had the wish to play for you one day.”

It isn’t the first time people tell me this, but for some reason, it flatters me very much at the moment.

Being the hero of someone is an honor but also a responsibility. Knowing I’ve inspired Jamie to his musical pursuit fills me with pride, but I also feel responsible for his drug addiction. Have I set a bad example?

Jamie turns out to be a talented songwriter, and I like most of what he’s written. I let him play my guitar in my studio. He doesn’t have a strong voice, and the melodies could be better. But the lyrics are fantastic, and that alone captures my attention.

“Avery helps me with the lyrics,” he says when I tell him what I think of the songs.

“She does?” No wonder. I gaze at the girl of my dream, and her cheeks flush.

“Yep. She insists. She was an English major, you know?”

“I know. Maybe you could help me with my lyrics, too,” I say to her.

“I’m not cheap.”

“Me neither.”

“So you think the melodies are bad?” Jamie asks nervously.

“Not at all. They are a bit disconnected. But you can certainly work on them and smooth them out.”

He nods, but obviously, not having a clue how to do it.

“I can help you with that,” I say.

“Really?” his eyes widen.

I nod. “I like your songs, Jamie. In fact, we could use one more guitarist in our band.”

His jaw falls as he processes my words. “You want me in Triple Shot?”

I nod. “Dylan, the keyboardist, is planning to leave the band and go solo.”

He swallows and then stands up and hugs me. “Thank you so much!”

“It’s not a promise,” I say quickly, getting to my point. “And there is a condition.”

He looks at me eagerly. “Anything.”

“You have to overcome your addiction first.”

His face turns red, and he looks away. He paces in the room and starts crying. “I… I can’t.”

“What? Why?”

“I need it. I can’t write anything without it.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It isn’t. I’ve tried to go without it, and it didn’t work.” He grasps his hair in both hands with frustration. “You’ve been through this, and you should know how it feels.”

Damn. I hate this. “Jamie! I’m not proud of my drug history. And believe it or not, it didn’t help me with song-writing at all. In fact it did more harm than good.”

“Then, why…did you do it?”

I take a deep breath. I don’t want to get into that again, but I want to help the lad out.

“I did it to escape the stress of public attention,” I tell him the truth. “It was just stifling. I had no freedom at all, being watched all the time. I was paranoid for a while, afraid of staying in the hotels, thinking there might be a camera watching me anywhere.”

Just recalling the time brings back the anxiety, and I run both hands through my hair to ease the frustration. Avery reaches to hold my hand, and I let her. I need her support, so the negative feelings don’t drown me again.

Jamie blinks. “I see. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m okay now,” I say. “But take my advice. Get help. I can refer you to the rehab center I went to.”

He doesn’t speak for a while. “What if I… lose the ability?”

“You won’t,” I say firmly. “Your songs are written by you, not the drugs.”

“But music comes to me when I’m in a trance. I’m more productive.”

“That’s an illusion,” I say. “The reason you feel more productive is because you’re less critical of yourself when you are drugged. You lower your own standard. What you have in your head might be a bunch of trashy notes, but you jog it down as if it’s a treasure. I’m not saying your songs are bad. I’m saying you might be more productive if you work with a lucid mind.”

Jamie sits silently for a minute.

“Please, Jamie, give it a try.”

Jamie finally nods. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Avery smiles at me as she hugs her brother, her face stained with tears.

“Thank you!” she mouths the words to me.

I drop them off at their house. Jamie thanks me and goes in first, giving me privacy with his sister.

“Thank you so much,” Avery says to me in the passenger seat. “I really appreciate your help.”

“How are you going to thank me?” I stare at her lips, willing them to come to me.

“I’ll…err, go to Vegas with you.”

I grin and pull her to me. Our tongues tangle right away, and we devour each other’s mouths. I have the urge to consume her right here in my car. I’ve waited for this angel for five years, and she is here in my arms.

When my hand reaches her bra clasp, Avery pushes me away. “Not here, please, not now.”

I take a deep breath, reminding myself I have to be patient because she was mad at me not long ago.

“Okay, baby. I’ll drive you to work tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to. I could just call an Uber.”

I imagine the Uber driver, probably a middle-aged man, ogling my angel and shake my head. “No, angel. It isn’t safe.”

She rolls her eyes as she unfastens her seatbelt. “Hailey is right. You’ve got the possessive gene in your family.”

I want to tell her it has nothing to do with genes, but she’s already out of my car. I watch her get into her house in the back of the property before driving away. The house across the driveway to hers has its lights on, and I glimpse a shadow of a man at a window. He seems to have been watching Avery and me, and I get a bad gut feeling.