Broken Strings (A Rock Star Novel) (11 page)

Chapter Eleven

Midnight in the Den of the Rock Star

Silas is staying in a swanky hotel on the water. Of course.
As promised, I don’t join him in his room. In fact, I don’t even get out of my
car. When we pull up, a valet parks his BMW while I hang out in my car and
wait. I amuse myself by trying to guess the nature of the late night visits
from various guests as they cue up to the hotel and hand over their keys to the
valets. I don’t see a single car that would carry a price tag under $60,000.
The guests are all dressed in the finest couture, like there’s some kind of
ball going on in the hotel. Hell, maybe there is.

Silas finally shows up with a white bag from a boutique
clothing store in the hotel’s lobby. Inside is a pair of designer jeans and a
white tee with an image of a sexy, green-eyed rocker girl. Silas waits
patiently as I look over the clothes. He must have spent at least $200 on this.

“How’d you get my size right?” I ask.

“I have three sisters. It kinda comes with the territory.
You know, I’d really like to see what you look like with these on...” he says,
with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Yeah, I bet you would. But I can’t go into the lobby
wearing dinner,” I protest.

In answer, he produces another large bag and pulls out an
amazing black wool pea coat.

“This should cover you up nicely,” he says.

I run my fingers along the fabric. This has to be the finest
coat I have ever held in my arms. “You want me to get wine and pasta all over a
thousand dollar coat?”

“Sure.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You bring it out in me.”

“Yeah, well I better not be bringing anything else out, if
you know what I mean.”

“Wouldn’t think of it. Just trying to make up for the
restaurant fiasco, that’s all.”

“Fine.”

I get out of my car and Silas immediately helps me into the
coat. Now I just look like everybody else...except with wine and pasta in my
hair. Damn, I forgot about my hair. Seeing my hesitation, Silas guesses my
dilemma.        

“Here,” he says, producing a baseball cap. He hands it to me
and I do my best to tuck my hair under it. As we walk in, I feel like some kind
of celebrity trying to sneak past the watchful eyes of the paparazzi. There
actually are quite a few photographers hanging around the lobby and the bar.
Something must be going on here tonight.

I follow Silas up to the top floor. He produces a key card
to a suite that’s about three times the size of me and Gabby’s apartment.
Impressive. It’s very modern, with several Lichtenstein lithographs and Picasso
reproductions on the walls. Fringe must be paying their new guitar player very
well. Silas escorts me to a bathroom that is the size of my own living room. I
lock the door behind me and decide on a shower, rather than a Jacuzzi.

In no time, I emerge from the bathroom a new person.
Expensive clothes, I decide, just feel better against my skin. I feel pampered,
special. I’m sure Silas knows this. It’s probably all part of his grand plan to
separate me from my expensive clothes before the night is over. 

Silas is wearing a very expensive pair of designer jeans and
a white tee. His long hair cascades over his shoulders. Just the sight of him
makes my heart skip a beat. How can I dislike the man and have my body betray
me at every turn? I study him as I walk over, deliberately sitting as far away
from him as I can—a move that is not lost on him. 

He picks up the remote and turns off the TV. The silence is
deafening, and I find myself wishing he’d turn it back on. With nothing else
competing for my attention, I find myself feasting my eyes on Silas. He looks
so damn sexy in his tight jeans and tee shirt. Expensive clothes look good on
him. I’m sure I must look like an impostor in couture.

“So your friend,” Silas says out of nowhere, “Brand, is it?”

“Boyfriend. My boyfriend Brand.”

“Sure, boyfriend. So he’s not getting better any time soon,
then?”

“Not that we can tell.”

“Didn’t you two just meet in line at one of our shows a
couple weeks ago? Kinda fast.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah. When you meet
the right person you feel it.”

I’m not sure why I said that, because I certainly don’t
believe it. Brand and I have a connection, sure, but so do Silas and I. In
fact, Silas stirs me in ways that no guy ever has. He makes my body yearn for
his touch. My heart aches for him, but I’m not with Silas. I’m with Brand—who’s
hot in his own right. I’m sure when our relationship gets to the physical point
it’ll be amazing. But I’m not sure why I have to convince myself of that.

“So is he a good lover?” Silas asks.

“No!”

“No?”

“Not...no, I mean we haven’t got to that yet,” I stammer.
Why am I telling him this?

“I see…” he says.

“Not that it’s any of your damn business,” I say, “And why
are you asking me these questions anyway?”

“Just making conversation, that’s all.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Silas. Do you always go asking
strange girls about their sex lives? That’s not making conversation, that’s
prying.”

“Sorry. Forgot to ask for your blessing to have a conversation.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Sorry. Really.”

He’s gradually moving closer to me, and I can feel my body
beginning to respond. It’s not something I can control. The fact that he’s a
rock star with a huge ego and the last person who can provide a woman with
stability does nothing to dampen my body’s response to him. He looks amazing
and wholly desirable. What woman would not want to be in his arms? Probably
just about all of them except me. Dammit, I really am terrible liar, especially
to myself.

His voice breaks the silence like a clap of thunder, though
he speaks softly. “You’re quiet, June. Are you okay?”

His eyes are so unbelievably tender. He’s genuinely
concerned about me. He must sense the battle raging in my mind right now. My
body is craving his touch, but my good sense is equally insistent upon me
staying far, far away. The question is, which one is going to win out? It’s
like some great brawl is about to go down, and one way or another our fate will
be decided.

A light brush of contact on the back of my hand makes me
jump. My arm is like a lightning rod that just got zapped by a very powerful
jolt. The supercharged electricity moves from my hand straight to my heart. My
heart contracts with the force of that bolt, and it drives the breath from my lungs.
He’s talking, but his words just don’t register. My body’s singing the praises
of his touch so loudly that I can’t hear what he is saying to me. Truth be
told, I really don’t care.

Silas is sitting sideways on the couch, and our knees are
touching now. Heat sweeps over the rest of my body in warm, gentle waves. Silas
leans forward, close enough that I can feel his breath on my face. He’s going
to kiss me. I know this as sure as I know my own name and if I want to even
stand a chance against his charms and my body’s own betrayal of my mind, I’ll
have to get up now and go home. But I know I won’t. I have already lost the war
and become the spoils of battle. And for some reason, I don’t mind a bit.

“If you don’t want this—” he says.

To hell with it. I take his face in my two hands and pull
him in for a kiss. His lips are warm and insistent. He presses his mouth to
mine, forcing my lips to part. The raw hunger he ignites in my body renders me
completely helpless. It does not even dawn on me to resist when his hands take
the hem of my tee shirt and hoist it over my head. The moment the fabric is
lifted, he lowers his face to my chest. His deft fingers unclasp my bra as if
it were nothing.

I normally like the lights off during sex, but not this
time. I want to watch as his lips close around my nipple, kiss the soft flesh
of my breasts. His hands are reserved at first, but as our passion builds, they
become furious with lust and the desire.

My hands slip under his shirt, caressing his muscular chest.
His mouth on my nipples is almost too much to bear. Just when I don’t think I
can stand it anymore, he stands up and unbuckles his belt, slipping his jeans
down over his hips. I gasp as he straightens up, my eyes falling to the
enormous bulge inside his briefs. I cannot control my wandering hands as they
reach for his manhood. He lets out an audible sigh, and his member stiffens
beneath my fingers.

He lowers himself onto me, relieving me of my own jeans in
one swift motion. He catches his breath as he sees that I neglected to include
panties in tonight’s costume change. He cups my sex, pressing and rubbing,
fervent with desire. Our mouths come together again at the very moment his
thumb finds my clit...and that’s when I lose it.

By the time I surface from the rapturous blur of our
lovemaking, I am totally spent. I begin to drift off, and quick flashes of our
entangled bodies parade through my mind. Never in my life have I experienced
such a carnal marathon of discovery. As sleep takes me, I feel his heart
beating against mine. Our breath falls into harmony as we finally drift off to
sleep.

Chapter Twelve

The Awakening

When I first wake up, it takes me a minute to realize where
I am. But one look at the surrounding opulence and the memories come flooding
back.

“Oh no,” I murmur, “What have I done now?”

A quick search of the room yields my clothes and under
things, scattered about—evidence that last night was not a figment of my
imagination. The clock on the wall tells me that it’s nearly noon.

“Holy crap!” I exclaim. I’m supposed to meet Gabby in an
hour, and I’m not even sure where I am. Where the hell is Silas?

A scrap of paper resting on the bedside table catches my
eye. It’s a short note.

My dearest Junie,

Had to head out early for a sound check and some practice before
tonight’s show. I hope that last night was the start of something. I left a
pair of backstage passes for you and your friend. They’re next to the coffee
maker. I really would love to see you tonight after the show.

Missing you,

Silas

I throw on my clothes and grab a cup of liquid gold before
heading downstairs to retrieve my car. The valet brings my car around and I
slip in, punching in Gabby’s number to let her know I’m running way late. But
the screen of my phone refuses to light up. There’s not even enough battery
left to place a call.

“Crap!”

Nearly an hour later I arrive at the diner and spot Gabby’s
car across the way. At least she waited for me. I hurry inside and find her
sitting by the window, nursing a cup of coffee.

“Hi stranger,” I say.

“You made it!” Gabby replies, “Why haven’t you been
answering my calls? I tried calling you all night, and then this morning as
well.”

“Yeah, about that...”

“I was about to start calling hospitals and morgues.”

“What stopped you?”

She holds up her cup of coffee. “This.”

“That? It’s only coffee.”

“Which I am completely addicted to. It affects me
differently than it does other people.”

“Really? How do you know this?”

“You ever have a cup of coffee make you forget your sense of
duty to your friend and fail to check to see if she’s alright?”

“No...”

“Well there you have it. Coffee made me forget. In fact, I
can’t remember the last four hours.”

“You’re a strange one. What’re you reading?”

She holds up the magazine. It’s the latest issue of Rolling
Stone. She points to a picture of the band Shadowspawn, one of the hottest new
metal bands touring this year.

“You know these guys?” she asks.

“Yeah, they’re great. When their CD came out, their first
single, “Lust for Blood,” was like my favorite song for months. I played the
shit out of it till I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it. Why do you always do that when you
like a song or a CD? How come you don’t space it out and play other stuff too
so the feeling lasts?”

“I don’t know. Must be some sort of OCD thing.”

“Hmm...Well, since you really liked them, you’re not gonna
love this.”

“What?”

“The guitarists, all three of them, have been doing a little
air guitar playing it would seem. They were discovered during their show in
Dallas. They’ve been playing without their amps turned on. Their tech guys were
dubbing in prerecorded music from studio sessions with professional studio
musicians.”

“Oh shit!”

“Yeah, they really stepped in it. At first the other guys in
the band denied all knowledge of it, but it became pretty obvious. Most people
think that their front man Trent Jones has been lip synching, but I don’t know
if that has ever been proven.”

“Wow...”

“But it really doesn’t matter. They’re done for. The whole
album was performed by studio musicians and it’s been taken off the shelves and
you can’t buy their discs online anymore either. Shadowspawn is history!”

“Wow, what a fall from grace. And they still had half their
tour to finish right? Man, there’s gonna be some pissed off fans! In fact—”

A sudden realization hits me in the gut like a steel-toed
boot. How could I have forgotten the story Hammer told me about Silas—the show
with the out of tune guitar? Holy crap, Silas really is faking it. I didn’t
think it was possible, yet there in Rolling Stone is the proof.

“June, what’s wrong?” Gabby asks, “You look like your puppy
just died.”

“I wish. I mean not really. I mean...” I look at the
calendar on my phone. I can’t remember when the deadline is for the contest,
but I’m pretty sure it’s coming soon.

That means I better bust my ass and get this done for Brand.
How I’m going to do it, I have no idea. I can write, but not like him. I
checked out some of his stuff on the web and he’s quite the engaging writer.
Brand is in no shape to finish the article on his own, so it’s up to me. It’s
the least I can do for my boyfriend. My boyfriend who I just cheated on last
night.

“Fuck!” I mutter, “Dammit, why did I do that?”

“Okay June, you’re starting to freak me out here,” Gabby
says, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something. What the hell is wrong?”

“Oh man...I have royally screwed up, Gabbs!”

“Uh...does this have anything to do with where you were last
night?”

“Yeah...and there’s more to it than that. Shit, this is not
good Gabrielle, not good at all.”

“Well are you gonna tell me, or just sit there and swear
about it? And what’s up with the swearing, anyway? You almost never swear.”

“Yeah, well. This is a special fucking occasion.”

“So you slept with him?”

“Him...Who?”

“You know who I’m talking about June. You slept with Silas
Mann, didn’t you?”

My heart hammers against my ribcage. “You cannot breathe a
word of this to Brand.”

“If he recovers, yeah I won’t. It’s no big deal. I...well I
haven’t been totally true to Kevin, if the truth be known.”

“What?”

“It’s a long story. All I’m saying, it’s not that big a
deal. I mean, come on. You hardly know Brand. And he’s not likely to make much
of a recovery from what I hear. So, you probably are gonna dodge that bullet.”

“I can’t believe you just said that. I dodged a bullet
because my boyfriend is lying in the hospital dying, and that’s a good thing to
you?” Suddenly I’m horrified about myself and Gabby. “Did you really cheat on
Kevin?”

“Yeah. Twice.”

“Twice? What the hell, Gabbs?”

“Hey, don’t judge me missy. Remember that Berkeley band we
saw play in the Greek earlier this year? And their super hot drummer Hans?”

“Of course. He’s all you talked about for months. So you two
really hooked up?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’d you stop seeing him? You have stopped seeing him,
right?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda hard when they’re behind bars.”

“What?”

“He was a bit of a bad boy.”

“Ya think?” I had no idea Gabby was the cheating type.

“He got busted stealing a car,” she goes on.

“Why would he steal a car? He’s got all kinds of money,
right?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t for the money. It was for the adrenaline
rush.”

“Yeah?”

“Off the charts Junie, off the freaking charts!”

“Geez, you sound like you did it. Wait...you didn’t help
him? Gabby, tell me you didn’t help this guy steal a car!”

“I didn’t,” she says, unconvincingly.

“Liar.”

“Okay look, I didn’t steal it. It was his idea. We were bar
hopping in the city and came across this totally tricked out Camero and he just
had to take it for a spin. So while I watched, he broke in and hot-wired the
car. I wasn’t going to go with him, but he was so damn insistent that I
couldn’t resist.”

“Holy shit! You’re a felon, Gabbs. When was this crime spree
of yours anyway?”

“It was last April. All we did was drive around for a bit.
Well...maybe we stopped for a little while.”

“What do you mean stopped for a while? Did you steal the
next one or something?”

“No, it wasn’t like that. We...we did it in the back seat.”

“You two screwed in the back seat of a stolen car?” I
actually can’t believe what I’m hearing. My best friend, an upstanding member
of the medical community, a registered nurse, was involved in stealing a car.
Just when you think you know someone.

“I swear that’s last time I’ll ever get involved in
something like that.”

“I should hope. So what happened? How’d he get busted and
you walked?”

“Well, the cops spotted us while we were...doing it. I made
this huge scene about him being a rock star and how I thought it was his car
since he had to be rich. He went along with my song and dance so they just
brought me in for questioning and let me go in the morning. He never ratted on
me and he was only in for a short time. Apparently his celebrity status got him
released in time to go on tour.”

“Holy crap. I cannot believe I’m hearing this. Of course you
don’t think what I did with Silas is any big deal. How could you, with your
skewed perspective.”

“I’m sorry. I should have told you. So anyway, how was it?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Oh come on June! You have to tell a little.”

“Oh no I don’t. And besides, I got a bigger problem on my
hands now.”

“What problem?”

“You remember that contest Brand was going to try to win?”

“Oh yeah, the Get the Dirt contest. You’re still working on
that?”

“Yeah...turns out Shadowspawn may not be the only fakers out
there. Remember the show where Silas’s amp kept cutting in and out? And they
replaced him with some other dude?”

“Oh yeah...forgot about that. So Hammer’s clean and Silas
is...is cheating? He doesn’t really play guitar?”

“No, I don’t think so, but I don’t have any proof. I need to
talk to the sound engineers and his guitar guy to find out what’s really going
on.”

“And I’m sure they’ll be happy to talk to you. They might
just have you killed so you can’t blab about their secret. I mean, look what’s
happening to Shadowspawn. They’re finished! You better be careful. I’m thinking
they’ll do anything to protect their band.”

“Yeah but this is different. Shadowspawn was a pretty new
band and Fringe has been around for, like, ten years. The band will survive.”

“I don’t know…At the very least you’re gonna ruin the career
of one man and you’re not even sure he’s faking it. And you’re sleeping with
him too!”

“I know...it sounds crazy, but I have to do it for Brand.”

“June, he’ll likely never know what you did for him. But
Silas will know what you did to him, and he’s gonna be pissed. I’m gonna be
pissed! But I still got your back, whatever you decide to do.”

“Thank you. That’s what I really needed to hear right now.”

“But promise me one thing Junie.”

“Sure.”

“Get some proof before you submit your article to the
magazine.”

“Of course. I can’t just write a bunch of stuff. It has to
be verifiable. That’s part of the contest rules. Otherwise the most creative
writer would win, not the gal who has the real dirt.”

“I guess you’re right. Well that makes me feel better.”

“Me too...I think. The truth is, I wasn’t even thinking
about getting proof. I really was just going to write the article and submit
it. I haven’t been thinking at all.”

“Remember, you’re writing this for Brand. You ruin his
reputation and he’ll never get taken seriously in this business ever again. No
rock band is ever going to let him interview them.”

“Oh man...”

“You know, you don’t have to do this.”

“But I do. It means everything to Brand. It’s the least I
can do.”

“Really? Because it’s starting to sound like the very most
you can do!”

“Whatever. If you’re not going to support me on this, just
let me be, will you?”

“Not a problem. I’ve already forgotten about it.”

“Hey guys look,” a voice says from behind us. “It’s the
traitorous bitch with the backstage passes!” Standing a few feet away are a
couple of Lunatics with murder in their eyes. I am so glad we’re in a public
place.

“Hey look, we don’t want any trouble guys...” I say.

“Why don’t you share the wealth then?” says a tall redhead
with a nasty look on her face. She must be close to six feet tall and not at
all skinny. For a girl, she’s sporting a pair of pretty substantial guns.

“Look,” I begin, “I didn’t ask for any passes, they were
given to me without me knowing anything about it. I have a friend who is dying
in the hospital because of people like you Lunatics, and all I am trying to do
is finish what he started! It was his dream to write about Fringe’s guitarist
and get published in Guitar Player. I am only trying to make that dream come
true for him. I only hope that if it does get published, he’ll be alive to
enjoy it, so get the fuck out of my face!”

I can’t help myself now. I am screaming at the top of my
lungs, standing nose to nose with—well, nose to collar bone with—the redhead.
The stunned look in her face is absolutely priceless. I keep my eyes fixed on
hers as she leaves. Before the door shuts behind her, I have the satisfaction
of seeing her break off the stare. I have a feeling that I’m not going to be
having any more trouble from her and her friends anymore.

“Oh my god!” Gabby cries, “You did not just say tell Angela
Blackthorne to fuck off!”

“Who is...? Oh my god. That wasn’t Angela, the former
Jujitsu champion, Blackthorne?”

“Junie, that girl could tie you into a knot with her pinky!”

“Glad I didn’t recognize her before my little speech.”

“Why not? At least then you would’ve kept your mouth shut.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have had the satisfaction of telling
off a martial arts expert, then.”

“You do like living dangerously, don’t you? You’re gonna
need a bodyguard for the next show. But, holy smokes, I had no idea she was a
fan of Fringe, did you?”