Consumed (Rockstar Romance) (Lost in Oblivion, 3.5) (3 page)

And as his breathing slowed and the leftover drugs in his system worked their magic, she felt him relax under her. She lay with him a little longer, her own stress and worry reeled in by the reassuring thump of his heart.

By the time she slid from the bed, he was completely out. She eased an inky lock of hair away from his forehead and kissed him softly. Then she gathered her things and spotted a nurse in the doorway with her arms folded.

She couldn’t help a lopsided smile and a shrug. The nurse stepped aside and Margo threw a look over her shoulder one last time. For him, she was willing to face her parents.

The sky surely had to be falling. Or was that just her falling for Simon?

S
imon sat
on the edge of his hospital bed, his feet swinging. He’d been waiting for his discharge papers for about four hours. And if they didn’t come soon he was going to start swinging with the IV pole in the corner.

For fuck’s sake, all he needed was a piece of paper or whatever it was they did in hospitals these days. Would it really matter if he just walked out? Not like they weren’t going to send him a fucking bill.

There was a knock on the doorjamb and he looked up, his shoulders sagging.

“Show a little excitement, Kagan.”

He gave Lila a half wave and pulled his marker board close to him. He scribbled
I want to go home
and held it up.

“And that’s what I’m here to do. Well, sort of. We have to meet up with the band first.”

He tipped his head back. All he wanted was a real shower, with his own soap and his own towels. He wanted his bed and his sheets.

Something of his own, for God’s sake.

He wanted his woman too and that made him even grouchier. Oh, she’d kept in contact, but she was still across the goddamn country. And for the last three hours, her one word replies were making him even pissier.

She couldn’t take a few minutes to actually converse with him?

And now he sounded like a needy teenage girl. Flipping terrific.

Simon hopped off the bed, swiped the board clean with his hand.

C
an
I get the hell out of here yet?

“
Y
es
. I just spoke to the nurse.”

He mouthed, “Finally.” All the hospital did was bitch about needing beds and he’d been sitting around for the last two days. Just fucking kill him. He looked around her then back down at his board.

W
here’s everyone else
?

“
T
hey’re at the house
.”

“Which one,” he mouthed.

“The Hollywood Hills one.”

Nurse Bust-His-Balls came in with a folder and a clipboard full of papers. “We need to go over a few things.”

Simon resisted the urge to cross his eyes as he got the same marching orders as he had from the doc. No talking, no grunting, no humming, nothing—oh and no booze. Couldn’t forget that part.

So he was supposed to be silent and fucking sober? Where was the justice?

He made an impatient, get-on-with-it gesture, and took the clipboard from her. He signed at all the red flags, handed it back to her, and scooped the yellow folder off his bed.

“Sorry about that,” Lila said.

She didn’t need to fucking apologize for him. Nurse Bust was just plain evil. There was no way he needed to be woken up at six in the morning for inedible food. Swallowing anything felt like he was chewing shards of glass with a side of battery acid.

When he got to the lobby, he finally slowed down. He’d escaped once to do a walkabout, but that had been a mistake. He was too well-known. People had come at him from every corner. Hospital staff, visitors, hell, even a doctor had cornered him and he couldn’t talk to any of them.

Couldn’t even escape.

It hadn’t been worth the drama so he’d stayed in his room.

Now he needed Lila to be his defense. As much as he hated it, he couldn’t go off on his own. And he’d left the damn marker board in the room. He was just going to need to get one and hang it around his neck.

Pathetic.

“If you think this rude shit is going to fly, you are sorely mistaken, Simon.”

He stuck out his lower lip.

“That might work on a groupie or even your…Margo, but not me.”

Ha. His Margo. He wasn’t so sure about that. He wasn’t entirely sure she was sticking around out of pity or because she cared about him. The thing that scared him was that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to tell.

She held shit really close to the vest. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking half the time. In fact, he was pretty sure she rivaled Nick on his ability to share feelings.

And fuck him, more teenage girl talk. Emo hipster bastard. When the hell had that happened?

He followed Lila onto the elevator. She hit the button for the sub basement parking. His eyebrow rose in question.

“I have a car waiting downstairs.” She folded her arms. “The front is mobbed with reporters and fans.”

Simon mirrored her stance, holding his folder tight to his chest. He hadn’t really thought about the fan angle. Before it had simply been to get away from them from a fame point of view, but he’d collapsed on stage. Of course the public wanted a juicy bite of his ass.

Once the elevator opened again, she hustled him across the parking garage. He held his hands up in question. Lila pointed to the half dozen people headed their way.

Well, shit.

She grabbed his arm and hauled him over to a black Escalade. Well, that wasn’t too showy or anything. No wonder everyone was after them. Of course they were outside of Los Angeles. Not like everyone and their driver didn’t have one.

The driver hopped out and opened the door. The half dozen turned into two dozen and Simon actually had to sprint to the SUV. The door was barely shut and three bodies hit the side of the car.

Microphones and cameras banged against window and flashbulbs tried to penetrate the tinted glass.

“Don’t run over any toes, Jeremy.”

“Of course not, sir.”

Simon whipped around at Donovan Lewis’s voice.

Donovan inclined his head. “I’m glad to see you up and around again, Simon. And since you’re a captive audience at the moment, I thought I could talk on the way over.”

Well, fuck.

That didn’t sound good. He began to cross his arms, but forced himself to keep them at his sides. He wasn’t going to be defensive about this. Donovan was a businessman. This wasn’t personal.

But Christ, it felt personal. Again, he had someone else controlling his life. Not that there was a difference between this and a tour, but with the tour at least he could give something back. He put asses in seats and made people buy tickets.

Silence was his only gift now and he wasn’t good at quiet. At all.

Simon shrugged and shoved his shades up on top of his head. He met the intelligent dark blue eyes of their benefactor.

“I didn’t want you to be surprised and overwhelmed when we sit down with the rest of the band. We’re on our way to meet everyone at the house.” He picked up the tablet and stylus beside him. “This is for you. Markers will get tedious.”

Simon accepted the electronics. Touched his lips and pulled his hand away in an automatic thank you gesture. Lila had given them a packet with a few universal gestures in it for when they were cornered by people that didn’t speak English.

“You’re welcome.”

Evidently, Lewis had learned the same gestures. Of course he probably was fluent in sign language. Mr. Perfect did everything else.

Donovan clasped his hands loosely. “Now, first of all—whatever you need for coaches, doctors, or therapists are at your disposal. We want you on the road to recovery as soon as possible. That being said, I understand it’s going to be a process to get you back in singing shape.”

Simon scribbled the ominous number that the doc had given him and flipped it around.

“Yes. So I’ve been advised.”

What the hell was he supposed to to do with himself for six damn months? He didn’t even know how he was going to make it a week.

“I didn’t want you to be surprised at the band meeting. Lila has been figuring out how to tell the rest of the band, but I don’t want this to impact your recovery.”

Simon folded his arms over his chest. His shoulders felt like frozen blocks and there had to be a concrete slab on his chest. Fuck. Was it hot in the SUV?

Tell them what?

What a colossal fuckup he was?

He already knew. If he’d just kept his mouth shut. Just swallowed down that need to show off onstage. Was he such an asshole that his ego couldn’t handle Gray singing for him?

Yes
.

Obviously yes. He’d opened his mouth, hadn’t he? Even though he’d known that he shouldn’t have. The rules didn’t apply to him. Rules never applied to him. It was how he’d gotten out of the hovels of Carson and into Los Angeles. Breaking those rules had gotten him noticed on the boardwalk and helped transition onto the stage.

He didn’t know how
not
to break rules.

“Oblivion had five shows left on this leg of the tour. Thankfully, we hadn’t started selling tickets for the second leg. We weren’t sure how fast to proceed with Jasmine and the baby.”

The slab got heavier.

Hadn’t Lila said something about reneging on shows?

This had to be extenuating circumstances. When he was fourteen, he’d had tickets for Jet and it had been cancelled for some reason or another. He’d just gotten his money back.

Surely they didn’t get paid in advance for the show. Just based on the show itself. This wasn’t a flu or an Axl Rose tantrum. There had to be a clause about voice issues or something crazy.

Death of a family member.

Death to his voice should count, shouldn’t it?

“Okay, dial it back. I can see the wheels spinning. Lila has told you guys about what happens if you don’t make a show.”

Simon scribbled on his tablet and showed him.

“Right. Refunds. The problem is that three of the venues are making noise that they are going to bring suit.” He held up his hand.

Crap, was the guy a damn mind reader, too? Tycoon dude didn’t know what he was thinking. How could he? The fear and loathing of having music stuck in your damaged throat wasn’t exactly something just anyone could empathize with.

The one job he had in this band.

And he couldn’t fucking keep it together for one full goddamn year. How was he supposed to make a career out of this? Was he really washed up at twenty-five goddamn years old?

“I don’t want you to stress about the suits. We need you to heal up and then we’ll work on getting you back on the stage.”

Simon scribbled a question on his tablet. Just how much money were they talking?

Donovan read it and met his gaze. “One hundred thousand per venue.”

Simon tipped his head back. Well, there were worse things. With the amount of money they’d each gotten as a bonus, that was easy enough to deal with.

“One point five million isn’t anything to sneeze at, but it could have been far worse.”

Simon’s head snapped forward. He held his hand up, scribbled then raised his tablet.

“Yes, I said one hundred thousand. That’s each of you, Simon.”

Holy fuck.

Five hundred thousand a venue? Was he fucking serious?

“Lila can show you a breakdown of what you guys earn from each of the larger venues, but suffice it to say, it’s good that they are only asking for five hundred grand each.”

The oddly silent Lila tapped on her phone and his phone vibrated. He opened his phone and the spreadsheet that came through his email was endless. Checks and balances didn’t even cover it.

There were lines and lines of things that needed to be covered for each tour date. Payments made to the crew, the management, even covering the cost of a damn ticket. All of it was factored into the revenue they brought in with ticket sales and merchandise.

All of it was staggering.

And his busted voice had taken the whole thing down like the Hulk smashed a building.

Not to mention the fans that he’d let down.

He scrubbed his hands over his face.

“I didn’t show you that to make you feel bad, Simon. I just need you to understand why this isn’t a small matter.”

I
’ll pay it back
.

D
onovan read the tablet
. “That’s not what I’m looking for. Every business venture is a risk. Oblivion has paid that dividend again and again. This is just a bump in the road. I need to you realize that.”

Simon gave a silent, “ha.”

“People in the industry told me to run for the hills when I mentioned just how excited I was to work with your band.”

W
hy didn’t you
?

“
B
ecause I saw
a band exactly like mine when I used to play in London.”

Simon’s eyes widened. He was trying to picture Donovan at the mic, or with an instrument. The suave dude just didn’t fit in any of the scenarios in his head.

Donovan’s lips quirked. “In the end, I wasn’t talented enough to make it, but I’ve loved music ever since. And now I get to be part of the growth of a band and use some of my money to make dreams come true.”

S
ounds like a bullshit
line to get laid to me.

D
onovan roared
out a laugh and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Oh, Simon. One of the best things about you, and Nick for that matter, is the lack of bullshit. Yeah, I’ve said that line a few times—not to get laid—but to people who want to get in on the ground floor of Ripper Records.”

Simon gave him a bland stare.

“I don’t need to tell you that story, because you lived the story. You’re hungry. And the only people that will ever go the distance in this business are the hungry ones.”

Simon lifted an eyebrow in challenge. There were plenty of talentless hacks that made it because of a right-time-right-place scenario. Hell, that’s how
they’d
started out.

“One-hit-wonders can only ride the wave for so long. If that’s all Oblivion was, you’d have been over before the ink dried on your papers with us.”

Simon fisted his hands under his arms. And what now? They were going to lose every ounce of momentum they’d had. Oh, and couldn’t forget the shot to the bank account that was a very definite possibility.

“I can only imagine what’s going on in your head, but put that aside. We need you to focus on recovery, not the logistics of lawsuits and schedules.”

Lila was suspiciously silent. That was the part that made him nervous. Donovan was a spin guy. For all intents and purposes, he was a salesman. He convinced schmucks to give him money all the damn time. The fact that Lila wasn’t chiming in with the company line was a helluva lot louder than her bossman’s spin.