Bad Beats: A Rock-Star Step-Brother Romance (15 page)

“Welcome to fantasy island. I’m Jagger Hewitt, and this is my personal paradise. I see you all arrived safe and sound.”

William the Watchdog steps forward, clasping the strange man’s hand in his own. “Thank you for sharing your island. Is the rest of the gang here yet?”

“Brian Seacrest and his crew are settling in; the contestants and show’s remaining staff fly in later this evening. You’ll have a few hours to get acquainted with the island before their arrival. 

As planned, we have your group housed in a small villa away from the contestants’ main mansion. This should meet your security needs and give your star…” he glances at Shag before continuing, “some privacy for courting his future missus. His assistant will have a connecting suite, ensuring easy access.”

I stare at our billionaire host, not bothering to hide my shocked expression. I’m pretty darn sure he just said Shag would need privacy to court his future
missus
, as in wife. The part about easy access to my boss should have thrilled me, but the whole missus reference has effectively overridden any excitement about our close quarters.

From my understanding, this show was about finding a girlfriend, someone to date, not a future wife. Did Shag know about this all along?

Glancing his way, I can’t help but notice he won’t meet my gaze.
Great.
He did know.

“And you must be, Cadie O’Shea,” the island’s owner is now in front of me, his hand out.

Prepared to offer a firm handshake, I’m shocked when he lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it gently, raising his gaze to meet mine, just like I’ve seen in the movies. His greeting sends a spiral of goosebumps winding down my legs.

It’s then I take in his appearance. He’s much younger than I initially believed.

Dressed casually, in loose-fitting jeans and some expensive looking sandals, he’s wearing a white, button down shirt, un-tucked. His hair is a messy, shaggy, blond style that gives him an edgier look that screams rock star, not billionaire owner of an exclusive, Caribbean, island resort. I can easily picture him taking the stage with Crude Element. He’d fit right in.

Aware of my appraisal, he straightens, but hesitates before releasing my hand. When he finally does let me go, he pulls a pair of sunglasses from his shirt pocket, covering his eyes, but he wasn’t quick enough to hide their amazing color. I’ve never seen eyes the shade of his. They’re blue that borderline on violet. 

Okay, so he’s attractive…really, really attractive. So what?

Before I can study him more, he strides away with a massive man, who I now think must be a personal body guard. William trails behind them.

What sounds like an animal growling, sends a spike of adrenaline through me. I spin toward the sound, expecting to see some unfamiliar beast stalking us.

I see a beast, all right. My beast.

If Shag was a cartoon character, he’d have smoke blowing from his nostrils and probably his ears too. He looks, dare I say, enraged? Jealous?

“Did you just growl at me?” I demand, while Omar and Drew slink off to join Bo by the pile of luggage emptied from the plane.

“That rich asshole needs to keep his hands and his mouth to himself,” Shag thunders.

“Can you lower your voice? I thought we were keeping things low key, unless I misunderstood.” His caveman antics turn my insides to mush, though my next words say quite the opposite. “I can think of another rich asshole who can’t keep his hands and mouth to himself, can’t you?”

I have to remind myself, he’s here to find the perfect rock-star’s wife, and I’m not in the running. I’m his future step-sister and his current employee.

So why did I let him in the bathroom?

Robin was right. I’m star-struck. I must be. Shag can be such a jerk, but damn if I don’t want him to be my jerk.

“Oh, so now I’m just some rich asshole. You’re something else, Cadie. You act like you want a serious relationship, but then you’re all over Mr. ‘I own an island’.”

I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry. Shag is acting like an immature imbecile.

Damn him.
He’s not getting off so easy this time. “I was not all over anyone but you, and what about your TV show, Mr. Big Star. According to our host, you’re here to find a wife. When were you planning to tell me?”

“I told you it was like
The Bachelor
on steroids. Marriage is the ideal, but I have no intention of marrying any of these gold diggers. You should know better.”

He’s kidding right?
“Shag, I don’t know what to believe anymore. You can’t promise you won’t fall for one of the contestants.  You don’t know that for sure. Besides, we’ve been over the reasons it won’t work between us. I think we need to avoid anything remotely sexual, from this point forward. I will act like the professional, personal assistant you hired me to be and your future step-sister. No more sneaking off to shag.”

Just saying the words hurts my heart, but it’s for the best. We can’t go on like this.

“So now that you’ve met someone with more money…”

“You’re not serious, are you?” He can’t be.

His narrowed eyes and clenched teeth say otherwise.

“You said it best, Ms. O’Shea. I don’t know what to believe.”

“I’m not fighting with you, Shag. I have my work list. The list you provided. Once I get settled, I’ll create the files for your contestants. You’ll have more than enough time to review them before we start taping. We can communicate through email and texting if that’s easier.” My words come out clipped, but I’m struggling to keep my tears contained until I can get to my room.

Before Shag can reply, several gold painted golf carts wiz towards us. Our island transportation has arrived on schedule, just in time to keep me from breaking down in front of my heartbreaker.

Six months. One hundred thousand dollars. I can do this.

I will do this.

Shag

“Drugs are death, in one form or another. If they don’t kill you, they kill your soul. And if your soul’s dead, you’ve got nothing to offer anyway.”

-Paul Stanley

Just knowing Cadie is in the room next to mine is enough to fuck with my mind. I’ve spent the last two hours, exploring the small island with Omar. He made sure to tell me what an asshole I’d been to him, Drew, and most of all, to Cadie.

Hiring her was a mistake, but there’s no way I’m going to fire her. Sending her away is the last thing I want. I refuse to let her go, regardless of how difficult our situation is.

Why does my life have to be so fucking complicated?

What happened to the simple guy meets girl story, where they spend time together, getting to know each other, without worrying about the press; they fall in love, without the nagging awareness their parents are getting married; and they’re not required to endure yet another roadblock, where the guy is forced to choose his future bride from a preselected group of fame-whores who care nothing for him while leaving the one girl he does love behind to pick up the pieces of her broken heart…for a second time.

I snatch up my water glass and hurl it at the wall opposite from Cadie’s. It explodes, sending glass shards and water sailing.

Yes, I’m throwing one hell of a pity party. What am I supposed to do? Suck it up? Pretend everything’s fine?
Fuck that!

Staring at the door that divides my room from Cadie’s, I almost give in and use the key that will allow me access to the one person who can calm the storm brewing inside me.

Without drugs and booze, my emotions rage, racing from one extreme to another. I’m about to request something for the anxiety, because living without chemicals is far more difficult in the real world than it was in my plush treatment facility. My addiction for sex won’t be fed either, thanks to Cadie O’Shea’s latest commitment to maintain a professional distance. I don’t want any other woman, and she made it very clear how she feels about indulging our sexual appetites, though I suspect I could convince her otherwise.

The self-centered part of me wants to ignore her boundary and burst into her room, but I’m not sure I can take the rejection if she somehow stands firm in light of her limits.

I’m not willing to risk her turning me down. Not now. Not without the option to bury the resulting feelings with blow, booze, or even a blunt.
Those damn three B’s!

Pacing to the desk, I stare down at the ten folders, each one a different color. While I was out with Omar, Cadie finished her contestant summaries and delivered them to my room, as promised.

I guess I should at the very least review the information and plan my strategy. The project will give me something to think about besides Cadie, drugs, and how fucked up my life has become. We also have a big cast meeting tomorrow and start filming the following day. Going in blind isn’t wise. I need to know something about these women. I’m hoping by the time I get through the information I can sleep.

Slumping into the leather chair, I pick up the first folder. It’s purple. I can’t help but wonder if Cadie’s color selections have anything to do with how she views the contenders. I fire off a text, requesting an answer.

Just when I think she’s not going to reply, my phone buzzes.

Cadie:
Nope.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but her one word answer isn’t it.

Me:
That’s it?

Cadie:
Goodnight. Read the files.

Thumbs raised, I’m ready to type out a rebuttal. I hesitate, unsure how to respond. What more is there to say? Not much, if her cold response is any indication. I manage to put my phone aside, without making a fool of myself.

Returning to my file review, I open the purple folder.

A stunning, California blonde smiles up at me from the glossy headshot, her come-hither expression comical. There are several additional photos clipped behind it. Her tanned skin, blue eyes and overly wide smile remind me of a Barbie doll just waiting for Ken to appear.

Her name and profile do little to change my first impression.

Name
:
Honey Partridge

That can’t be her real name…can it? I cringe at the thought of calling this girl, Honey, but continue with her profile.

Age
:
20

Dress size
:
2

Height
:
5”7

Career
:
Model, Aspiring Actress

Political affiliation and social causes
:
N/A

I can’t help but chuckle. I’ve already determined Ms. Partridge is not the one for me. Her personal summary confirms my decision.

Why are you the right woman for Shag Steal
?
Mr. Steal appreciates an attractive woman at his side. My photos leave no doubt I am attractive. Shag is tall. I’m tall. We will look fantastic together at events. I’m easy going and don’t care what he does, as long as he keeps me satisfied. I expect he’ll help with my career advancement. My star power will add to his. We will quickly become Hollywood’s next power couple. The threat of divorce will ensure he stays off drugs. I really don’t care if he drinks. Alcohol doesn’t count, right?

I can’t even finish her statement. This show is one big joke and so is she. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Snatching up the next folder, which happens to be red, I prepare for more of the same.

Nothing could have prepared me for the next contestant.

Name
:
Lillian Richards

Age
:
23

Dress Size
:
4

Height
: 5”6

Political affiliation and social causes
:
Democrat. Stopping animal abuse.

Why are you the right woman for Shag Steal
?
I know him better than any other woman. I’m his high school sweetheart. We were going to get married. Unfortunately, I made a terrible mistake and betrayed him. I want to make things right. An insider notified me about this opportunity. I couldn’t let it pass by. I’ve never stopped loving Sean, and considering the lack of any lasting relationship in his life, I believe he feels the same. This could be our chance to let go of the past and rediscover our love.

I shove the folder so hard; it ends up on the floor.

No. Fucking. Way.

This isn’t happening. I’m going to walk. Fuck the show. Fuck the label. Fuck Lila Richards for thinking she can waltz back into my life like nothing happened.

There is no way in hell am I spending time with my lying ex. And who ‘notified’ her? I have a few ideas. I’m thinking Marcus Rodriguiz did some serious digging while I was in rehab.

It doesn’t matter who told her, I’m out.

I pick up the phone to call Slyder. I need to set up a band meeting over Skype. Once I’ve gathered their approval, I’ll meet with William. Had Misty still been my PA, I would be calling her right now. She’d bring me dope and a talk me down, suck my dick if asked her to.

Calling Cadie is out of the question. I never told her about Lila. I’d hinted about a relationship when I was younger that went sour, but that was the extent of it. I need to let Cadie go, in spite of my desire to keep her close. It needs to happen now before this situation gets any uglier, which it no doubt will. I’ll pay her the six month salary anyway.

That’s the least I can do.

* * *

Cadie

I wonder if Shag’s reviewed the red file yet. I lied to him when I said I hadn’t color coded the folders. The red file was indeed matched to the contestant’s hair.

It’s no wonder he was drawn to me that first night in Portland. My hair reminded him of his lost love, Lillian. How sweetly pathetic, I’ve been a substitute for the original model all along. His womanizing and inability to commit were obviously due to the betrayal he suffered at the hand of his ex, who he didn’t bother mentioning, even after I bared my soul about Mitch.

Other than hair color, I have nothing in common with Ms. Richards. She’s one of those rare redheads that somehow manage to tan. Her eyes are sky blue, not green, and where I’m curvy, she’s slim and boob-less. Even with my recent weight loss, my dress size is still double digits. She’s also freckle free.

So over all, I’m not a very good substitute.

I fight the urge to march through the door separating our suites and demand Shag spill his secrets, but that behavior wouldn’t be in line with my newly appointed role as his professional PA and step-sister to be. Though as his PA, someone looking out for his best interests, I can’t help but wonder if Lillian’s agenda is more devious than it seems at first glance. And who was the mysterious insider who clued her in to
Roping a Rock-Star
? I can think of a couple of options, both with names that start with M.

Letting out a half-huff half-groan, I collapse back onto the bed, file folders spread out around me like a rainbow fan. I made my own matching copies so I can confer with Shag as needed. The original plan was for me to shadow him on his dates and keep notes. It’s not like anything is private with the cameras rolling. Knowing his ex is here now, I wonder if he’ll want me tagging along after all.

I go back to my notebook, where I’ve listed the names and brief notes about each contestant. I noted obvious details so I could recognize each of them at first glance.

1. Honey Partridge: Blonde, bimbo, Barbie doll, fame-seeker. (purple)
   
2. Lillian Richards: Redhead, Arch enemy, Shag’s ex, hidden motives???? (red)
   
3. Tiffany Thomas: Pretty brunette, college grad, seems nice. (green)
   
4. Sarah Miller: Blonde, curves like mine, backup singer, older than Shag. (orange)
   
5. Carol Holmes: Blue hair, lots of makeup, professional wrestler. (blue)
   
6. Callie Compton: Medium brown hair, religious, plain but pretty. (yellow)
   
7. Diana Garcia: Dark hair, from Mexico, big smile, dancer. (light blue)
   
8. Genie Adams: Bad dye job/streaks, huge boobs, actress. (hot pink)
   
9. Jade Johnson: Even prettier than Beyonce’, amazing hair, costume designer. (neon green
   
10. Harlow: No last name, Goth girl, black hair, burgundy streaks (white)
    

I organize the files according to my list, and then spend time rating them based on the information provided. As the show progresses, I’ll update my ratings. As it stands now, Diana and Callie are my first choices, with Jade coming in third. Lillian is at the bottom of my list, along with Genie and Honey. This should be interesting, if nothing else.

With everything ready for tomorrow’s first meeting, I have nothing to do, and I’m nowhere close to sleep. I find my map and search for the beachfront bar I heard Drew mention when we were moving in to our villa. A drink sounds good.

Since that hectic week, prior to the first Crude Element concert with Robin, I’ve been turning to alcohol more often for relief. I’m not worried yet, but it is something I need to stay on top of. The last thing I need is another dependence issue. I’m already dependent on a rebellious rock-star.

What I do need is a distraction, someone or something to help me over the initial, painful hump of letting Shag go, for real this time. This back and forth, I love you…I love you not, has my head spinning and my heart in a state of constant agony. One second I’m excited and hopeful, the next, I’m sobbing into my pillow. The whole thing is unhealthy and toxic. Relationships shouldn’t be so complicated.

Tired of the ongoing mental gymnastics, I move to the mirror and run a brush through my hair. Once satisfied, I add tinted lip gloss to my pursed lips and a few swipes of mascara to my lashes. I’m still wearing the yoga pants from earlier, with the Crude Element sweatshirt. I quickly undress and throw on a pink halter dress that draws attention to my best assets

It ties around the back of my neck, lifting my breasts and displaying plenty of cleavage. Robin would be proud of my choice.

Forget Robin. Forget Shag. Drink and be merry.

I’m not sure I can ‘be merry’ but I can certainly drink.

Shutting my patio door quietly, I pad away from the villa, leaving Shag and the others behind. I hope I’ve managed to escape without Omar catching on. The last thing I want is him following. I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see his looming form. I’m surprised he isn’t lurking behind a palm tree.

I’m relieved he’s not.

It’s also a huge relief to find the resort’s layout is exactly as the map described, and it takes less than ten minutes to locate the beachfront bar. Soft music and an occasional burst of laughter confirm I’m in the right spot. The first thing I observe is the crowd. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but definitely not so many people out this late. Most of the tables are occupied, and I can see people sitting further down the beach, their shadowy forms made visible by torchlight. Torches surround the area and cast a warm and inviting glow around the bar.