Fame (24 page)

“I’d say. You don’t really want to die, do you?”

“No,” Maisy shouted in surprise. “It’s just that emotional artist crap, you know. Make it sound worse than it is.”

Laughing, Kaid said, “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about, but don’t let this get you down; you can talk to me.”

“I know, Kaid, but I’ll be okay.” Maisy stretched and looked at her watch. “I’m starving; I think I’m going to grab something to eat and then go back to the house. I need to get out of this studio.”

“Sounds good, I’m going to play around a little bit more. I’ll be home a little later.”

Maisy plucked a kiss on the cheek that he offered, gave him a high five, and walked out into the cool night air. She was sorting through her notebook, checking out her lyrics, so when she looked up, she stopped in her tracks when her gaze landed on Rook, leaning against a motorcycle with his arms folded over his chest and a devastating smile on his face.
 

Her gut twisted in her stomach at the sight of him. He was so fucking handsome, so sexy, everything she ever wanted…everything she’d had, but lost. It hurt to look him in the eyes, in those dark blue, soulful eyes. It hurt to see him standing there, with a smile on his face, a smile that he only reserved for her.
 

“Hey, Boo,” he said, as he shifted in place.
 

No, he was not allowed to call her that. Even though she craved it, she didn’t want to hear him say it.
 

“What are you doing here?” Maisy asked.
 

Rook straightened and walked toward her. He was wearing a pair of grey jeans that were folded at the bottom, and a white Henley shirt with undone buttons at the top. He wore a pair of Chuck Taylors and there was a leather rope necklace peeking around his neck that disappeared under his shirt. He was delicious, so fine that Maisy could feel her heart literally pounding so hard it was seconds from bursting out of her chest.
 

Once he was about a foot in front of her, he put his hands in his pockets and rocked up and down on his heels.
 

“I came to use the studio for a bit, but when I heard you and Kaid were in there, I decided to give you some space and wait for you outside.”

“Why would you wait for me?” Maisy’s breath caught in her throat.

“Because I thought I would give you a ride, on my bike.”

Maisy peeked around and eyed the powerful machine.
 

“I don’t want a ride, and I don’t want you talking to me. What do you not get about me not wanting to be around you anymore? Did you forget the fact that you destroyed me, Rook?”

Ignoring her questions, he said, “I heard you were having a hard time with writing music. I can help; come ride with me,” he nodded toward his bike.
 

“How do you know that? Wait, I don’t want to know. Stop snooping around my business.”

“Your business is my business,” he said with a cocky tone.

“The fuck it is!” she shouted. “You lost the right to my business when you threw our relationship out the window. You’re a fucking bastard, Rook. You took a good thing and ruined it, just like everything else you touch.” The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them, and from the broken look on his face, Maisy knew she’d hit him hard. If only it had made her feel better, rather than worse.
 

Nodding his head, he responded, “I deserved that. I get it, you’re angry, you’re hurt, I ruined everything that was between us, but maybe someday you will sit down and listen to me; maybe someday you’ll take the chance and go on a ride with me, because sometimes, Maisy, not everything is at it seems.”

Maisy threw her hands up in the air and said, “Why does everyone keep saying that?” She poked Rook in the chest, his rock hard fucking chest, and said while hiding her gulp, “If there was something you had to tell me back then, you should have told me then. You can’t throw this bullshit at me now that ‘not everything is how it seems.’ It’s a copout and it’s unfair to me. Leave me alone, Rook. You don’t deserve to be in my life.”

Maisy started to walk away when Rook called out to her. “I know I don’t. I know I don’t deserve you, because you’re so beyond perfect, and why would a fuck-up like me be able to have such perfection in my life? Well, call me a fucking moron, Maisy, because I don’t care what my odds are. You own my soul and I will be damned if I don’t die fighting for you. You’re it for me. Run all you want, but you’re it for me.”

Tears started streaming down Maisy’s face as she walked away. She wanted to act like his words didn’t cut to her heart, but they did. They affected her more than anything ever had. He was the one person who could make or break her.

**Rook**

Journal Entry #189

I hate that I hurt her so much. I can see it in her eyes every time she looks at me. I hurt her, destroyed that beautiful spirit of hers, that gorgeous smile. She looks pained every time she’s around me. She looks sad, unhappy, but not just when she’s around me. When she’s by herself she looks sad…almost mundane, like she’s going through the motions of life. I see a flash of light inside of her when I come around, and I don’t know if it’s because she’s ready to kill me with her bare hands, or if deep down inside, she’s happy to see me.
 

I have a plan, a plan to win her back, but the first thing that needs to happen is I need to tell her the truth; I need to tell her everything that happened that night. But my biggest fear is that, one day, I’ll get the opportunity to tell her and after I’m done, she’ll want nothing to do with me, or she won’t believe me. The key to winning her back is trying to help her comprehend why I did what I did, without that, it’s a lost cause. Hell, I would have a hard time trying to trust and recover after someone doing to me what I did to Maisy. It would just be too hard to revisit.
 

My gut twists just thinking about it, about not winning her back. Wondering if the last kiss I ever shared with her will really be the last. I hope to fuck not because I need those lips, I crave them. They are my drug, the only true addiction I’ve ever had.
 

We have a conversation with the label tomorrow, which I’m excited about. I might have had something to do with it, and I know everyone is going to hate what the label has to say, but fuck it, I don’t care, because tomorrow is going to be a big shift in the life I lead. It’s going to be the beginning of a new chapter, and I can’t fucking wait.
 

Best idea of my fucking life.

**Landon**

“You don’t think you’re going to be kicked off the label, do you?” Quinn asked, as she brushed her teeth for bed.
 

“I have no clue. Rook seems to not care what they’re going to say, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. The guy doesn’t seem to care much about anything that happens to him, good or bad.”

“They didn’t give you any idea what they were going to talk about?”

“No, they just said to be in the offices at ten in the morning and to not be late.” Landon took a deep breath and turned to Quinn; he took her hand and entwined their fingers together. “What if they really don’t want us anymore? Can they do that? I mean, we just won a Grammy, wouldn’t they want to keep us on longer?”

“I would think,” Quinn shrugged, while wiping her mouth.

Landon ran his spare hand through his hair. “But, then again, I feel like sometimes we cause more problems than anything. I love my guys, but I really sometimes wonder if it’s all worth it, if maybe I should think about…” Quinn put her fingers over Landon’s mouth and shook her head no.
 

“Don’t even think about it. Stop worrying; everything is going to be fine. I’m sure they just want to talk about your next album.”

“With Twisted Perfection? Why would they talk about that?”

“Twisted Perfection will be there? Well, I guess that changes things, unless you think you’re going to be doing some kind of collaboration.”

“No way, that wouldn’t happen. Would it?”

The cutest expression crossed Quinn’s face, and he couldn’t help but pull her into his chest and kiss her mouth.
 

“You’re so damn cute when you wrinkle your nose like that.”

Smiling, Quinn ran her hands up Landon’s bare chest and said, “You’re cute too, you know.” She looked down at his chest and said, “Can I ask you a question…and you have to promise not to get mad.”

“Well, that’s not the way I like you to start a question, but I’ll do my best.” He placed a soft kiss on her nose and waited for her question.
 

“I’ve been wondering about something, and I feel like we’re good enough friends for me to ask you,” she said with a cheeky grin.

“We better be more than just friends,” he tickled her.
 

“We are,” she laughed.
 

“Say it,” he breathed into her ear.
 

“You have a complex, you know that?”

“Just say it, Quinn.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulled away just enough so he could see her face and said, “You’re a sex god.”

Snapping his fingers, he exclaimed, “Hot damn! Never gets old, hearing that.”

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?” she laughed and smiled up at him.
 

“But you love me.”

“That I do, for some odd reason.”

He pulled her back into his chest and said, “Now what’s your question that you’re so nervous to ask me?”

“Well, you see, I’ve kind of noticed this thing with your nipple, your right nipple. It kind of has this little separation in it, right here,” she ran her finger over Landon’s nipple, which was now erect.
 

“Are you talking about Martin?” Landon asked, while running his hand over his nipple, protecting the little guy.
 

“You named your nipple Martin?”

“Of course I did. This is Martin, and this little guy over here is Derrick…they’re twins. I’m a proud papa of these fine young men.”

Quinn stepped back and folded her arms over chest as she studied Landon, who was now gripping both of his nipples.
 

“I don’t know why I stay with you.”

“I don’t know either, babe,” he gave her that little boy grin that he knew would melt her right away, and it did because she came toward him again and wrapped her arms around his waist. Just where he liked her.
 

“Now, get to the point, what happened to this nipple…Martin is it?”

“Yes, Martin. He had a traumatic experience as a wee little one. Grey and I were swimming in a lake out in Colorado, you know, having a good time and all, when out of nowhere, this fucking devil fish comes at me with red in his eyes, like demons were ready to attack, and the fucker bit my nipple, straight up nibbled the shit out of it.”

Quinn threw her head back and laughed, while shaking her head. “No way, I don’t believe you. Fish just don’t bite nipples.”

“I’m not kidding. It was a bluegill fish. The bastard saw fresh, young meat and took advantage of me. Once he made chomping contact, I screamed like my balls were in a damn vise, and I started swimming around while my chest floated in the air and the fish clung onto my nipple. Grey pointed and laughed, while I swatted the damn thing away.” Landon grew even more serious and leaned down into Quinn’s ear. “He drew blood, blood!”

“No, not blood,” Quinn replied sarcastically.
 

Stepping back, Landon nodded and tried to hold back his smile, while he cupped his dear friend Martin.
 

“Laugh all you want at me, but don’t you dare mock Martin; he’s a good guy and has gone through a world of rounded perfect nipples feeling lousy about his deformity, but you know what, he’s made it. Martin has survived ridicule and comparisons with his twin. I wouldn’t be able to find a nipple with more spirt than Martin. He’s a good guy.”

Quinn blew by Landon while laughing and shaking her head. “I can’t even stand you right now,” she joked, while getting into bed.
 

Jumping like an idiot, he flopped into bed next to her and straddled her body while she giggled.
 

“Don’t even try to act like you didn’t like that story.”

“Was any of it true?”

“Every single bit of it was. If Grey ever talks to me again, maybe you can ask him one day about it.”

Quinn’s face softened as the knot in Landon’s stomach twisted just an inch tighter at the mention of his brother. Damn it if he didn’t miss Grey.
 

Pressing the palm of her hand to his face, Quinn transferred her love to him in that small touch.
 

“He’ll come around, Landon, and if he doesn’t, then I’ll go talk to him.”

“You will not!” Landon said. “This is not your problem to fix.”

“But, isn’t it? I think it’s time I stepped in. Maybe Grey needs closure. Maybe he needs to have a postmortem of our relationship, finally shut the door on the past.”

“No,” Landon shook his head, putting his foot down. He didn’t want Quinn to get involved; it wasn’t her fight.