Forever Red (20 page)

Lia laid a hand on her friend’s arm, finally looking up. “He’s talking to me.” The words were barely a whisper, but the room was so quiet that everyone heard it.

The short one scowled. “CeCe?”

I forced out a laugh. “
CeCe
. Really?” She fucking hated that name.

“Really.
Neil
,” she snapped loudly. Her eyes sparkled in anger as they looked into mine, daring me. Her message was clear: neither one of us was the kid we once were. And she was just as angry and conflicted as I was.

“Neil?” The brunette gasped, obviously horrified.

“I get the feeling we’re missing something,” the little one deadpanned to the others. “Wanna fill us in?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

No one moved as the music from Molly’s set drifted through the walls. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from Lia. She stared back, arching one eyebrow at me as if in challenge. Her friends stood silently, watching our exchange.

She’d aged well; the softness of adolescence had faded into sharp lines that defined her face. Her hair was a deeper red than it had been, now with dark streaks instead of blond. The eyes were the same, though, still too big for her face. The little freckles that used to drive me crazy had faded some but were visible enough to add character.

My gaze traveled down slowly, taking all of her in for the first time. Her face may have thinned, but the rest of her had filled out. I remembered her as the teenage girl I’d known, but this person in front of me was all woman. All soft and curvy and sexy as fuck. Her shirt hid more than it showed and I suddenly wanted to see more. A lot more.

“Nice shirt.” What the fuck? It was the dumbest shit I could possibly say and I instantly wished I could take it back.

Lia snorted. “Wow. Really?”

What did she want me to say? I stood, pushing myself away from the table as she pulled herself taller and glared at me, both ready for the confrontation we knew was coming. I didn’t have a freaking clue where to start.

Sam shoved open the door, calling out to me. Unsure of what he’d just walked in on, he hesitated by the door for a second before joining our happy party. “Let me show you ladies to your seats.” He glanced at me. “You’re on, boss.”

I nodded, not taking my eyes off the stranger in front of me. I had so much to say to her, so much I wanted to hear her say. But I was a fucking jackass and just stared at her until she started to follow her friends from the room without as much as a goodbye.

I didn’t think, just reacted, my feet carrying me across the room before I knew what I was doing. I caught up just in time, grabbing her arm and pulling her back into the room, slamming the door shut and shoving her against it. “You didn’t say goodbye,” I growled before releasing her, moving my arms to either side of her head, blocking her in, and pressing my body against hers. “You grew up, Red.”

Nostrils flared as she watched me. “Always the one to point out the obvious.” Small hands pushed against my chest, trying to move me away. It was a cute attempt, really, but I wasn’t moving. She sighed in frustration. “At least one of us did.”

My reply was cut off when the door behind us flew open and someone cleared their throat. “What?” I growled, not turning toward them.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Kelly. But they need you on stage.”

My fists curled in frustration. I’d been looking forward to this show all week, but right now, all I wanted to do was tell them all to get fucked and haul Lia out to my trailer. I groaned, smacking the door above her head and startling Red before I backed away from her. “Take her to her seat,” I ordered the tech that was still standing there, watching me closely.

I moved away from the door so they could go the easiest way, but I couldn’t look at her. She stopped, reaching for my hand before she thought better of it and yanked it back, and then looked at me with sad eyes. “Goodbye, Neil.”

I let her walk away. I hated it, but I needed to let her go. Again.

I stomped my way to the stage, rolling my neck back and forth, trying to make myself relax before the show. As I waited in the wings, watching Molly finish up her last set, I stretched, thinking of anything I could other than Red.

“Where the fuck you been, man?” Rebel, my lead guitarist, asked as he slid up next to me.

“Fuck off.”

Reb held up his hands. “Dude. You were laughin’ and happy and shit when I left you a few hours ago.”

I had been. Before I’d seen her again. I ignored him, waiting for Mols to call us out, wondering where in the hell Red was sitting. I half-hoped I’d never see her again, and I half-prayed I would.

I followed the young man through hallways, not paying attention to where we were going, trying to get my heart to stop pounding. Holy shit. I’d seen Neil, or Nate – or whatever in the hell I was supposed to call him now – and survived.

I’d managed to get my breathing back to normal when we stopped abruptly and the kid gestured to the row of seats in front of him. “This is you,” he said, leaning close and pointing to a spot halfway down the aisle. “Have a nice night, ma’am.”

I rolled my eyes, annoyed that we, of course, couldn’t have aisle seats. Instead, we were in the middle of the damn row. I apologized profusely as I squeezed in front of people, beyond happy when I saw the girls and plopped down in my seat. The opening act, the beautiful young girl we’d met earlier, was singing her heart out on stage, but my friends acted like I was the only person in the world.

“What in the hell was that?” Nina demanded before my ass had even touched the cushion.

“How in the hell do you know Nate Kelly?” Cort hissed, leaning in front of Cora.

They all glared at me as if I’d kept the biggest secret in the world from them. I’d told them all about Neil and the demons I still had from that time of my life. Okay, so maybe I’d omitted a few things – like who Neil grew up to be – but it wasn’t as if I’d lied to them.

I shrugged, suddenly exhausted. “It’s a long story.”

Cora did what she did best and took control of the situation. “Fine,” she snapped, grabbing my hand and holding it tight. “We have a long ride back and you can fill us in then. In the meantime, let’s enjoy the show.”

Yeah, that’s what I’d do.

The girl was finishing up, waving and thanking the audience. Then she smiled, pushed the cowboy hat back off her face a little, and asked, “Are y’all ready?” The crowd went crazy. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Nate Kelly!”

I’d never heard so many people screaming and whistling. I moved my free hand to my ear, trying to block out some of the deafening noise. It didn’t help, though, and they only got louder as the man of the hour walked on to the stage. He held up his hands, laughing and eventually, they quieted down. A little.

“Hello, New Hampshire!” he hollered, making everyone clap, including my friends. “I don’t know if y’all know this or not, but I spent some of the best years of my life not far from here.” More screams. Why in the hell were they excited about that? “I’m glad y’all could come hang out with us tonight.”

More whistling from the man behind me. I fought the urge to turn around and shove his fingers down his throat. I could see the headline now, “
Nate Kelly’s Crazy Fan Attacks Fellow Concert Goer.”
I groaned, knowing that was just my luck.

“Some of you may have heard we’re playin’ a little show tomorrow night.” Yes, more hooting and hollering. Nate laughed. “Usually, on the night before a big gig, we get together and fool around, just making music. So tonight’s gonna be a different kinda show. I figured if we were just gonna do what we normally do, why not invite some of our biggest fans to join us?”

I glanced at Nina, sure she’d be taking offense to Mr. Whistley behind us, but she was leaned forward, elbows on her knees, actually paying attention. Traitor.

“Tonight, you’re not gonna hear many of our songs, and we don’t actually have a playlist.” He pointed backstage to someone. “We’re driving my manager crazy. She likes to be prepared.” He turned back to us, so confident and completely sure of himself. Dressed in a pair of blue jeans, black work boots, and a long-sleeved gray shirt – the sleeves pushed back to his elbows so we could see the colors from his tattoos – he didn’t look like a country star. And he sure as hell didn’t resemble the intense man I’d just faced off with backstage. “But you’re gonna get to hear our favorite songs and see what it’s like to be at one of our jam sessions. You ready?”

Cort and Cora clapped excitedly, hollering, “Yes!” along with the rest of the venue. Ooooohhhhh. And they wanted to come for me, did they? Traitors. I was surrounded by traitors.

“Let me introduce you to my band.” Nate turned toward the side of the stage once again. “This man has been with me since the beginning, and you’ll see his name right next to mine on many of our songs ‘cause he can write lyrics like nobody’s business. On lead guitar, Mr. Rebel Carter.”

A beautiful man with dark blond, shaggy, shoulder-length hair that was covered with a black knit cap, and a swagger that was probably melting a thousand pairs of panties, bounded onto the stage. He didn’t look like he was at a country concert, either, wearing black leather pants, with a plain black shirt tucked into the front, and the same boots as Neil. His tattoos weren’t as obvious as Neil’s, but I could make out a word down one forearm and a few small images on his other. He looked so familiar that I would have sworn I’d met him before.

“This man,” Neil continued, “can do things with his hands ladies”—he sighed—“things that would make you scream his name for days.” He laughed. “On the fiddle, Rhett.”

The man that walked on stage next was shaking his head, face split into a mega-watt grin. This one didn’t look like a rock god, though, wearing a brown plaid shirt, jeans, and sneakers. I knew that Neil had never fit the mold with the giant, ten-mile high cowboy hat and matching boots, but I’d never really thought about his band.

Next came the drummer, Billy Brown, wearing jeans and a plain black tank. One by one, he brought out his band, saying something about each, and each one got just as many screams as the one before. Just when I thought he was done, Nate held up his hand one more time.

“Last, but not least, on steel guitar, my little brother, Noah.” A young man in black jeans, a white shirt with a black leather vest over it, and black wristbands, slowly walked into the spotlight.

I felt my eyes grow wide when I saw him. Last time I’d talked to him, he’d been a kid. A kid that liked to hug his big brother’s girlfriend too often, but because he had such a cute dimple and was so damn adorable, I couldn’t say no. Holy Hannah, that little kid had grown up.

He waved quickly to the crowd and sat down behind what looked like a weird piano. Neil continued, a little quieter this time, “This is his first tour with us and he’s just gettin’ used to being on the road all the time. Poor Noah had a rough night. He’s still a little”—he looked at the audience and whispered—“hung-over.” Everyone around me chuckled. “So we thought we’d ease in to it with a nice, slow, quiet song.”

Neil turned, nodding at the drummer. Then he started pounding a steady rhythm, slowly increasing his pace, getting louder. Noah shook his head and flipped his brother off, making everyone laugh before he joined in on Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ On a Prayer.”

I’d heard Neil sing a million times, most of his songs were played on repeat on my iPod, but there was something amazing about watching him perform live. His voice, the way he moved with his band, and the way he interacted with the audience was mesmerizing. He’d always been gorgeous, but up there, he was breathtaking. There wasn’t one woman in a five-mile radius that wasn’t in love with him right now.

The songs – most of them classic rock or top country – were perfect. He had a backstory for each one, whether it was one of his grandfather’s or a nod to the state he loved so much, and his band seemed to be having as much fun as he was. When they performed “Sweet Home Alabama,” every single one wore a smile. This concert was – as Cora had predicted – the perfect present.

They played “Good Golly, Miss Molly” with a country twist to get Molly back on stage. She came, giggling so much she couldn’t sing with them. Then the two performed “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” getting very cuddly on stage. It was no surprise; I’d read the rumors about the two of them just a few weeks ago. But there were always rumors about the ladies in his life. 

Molly was adorable, even though she was nothing like the girls I’d seen him with in magazine photos. She was shorter than the women he tended to date, had outrageous blond ombre hair, and was covered with ink from head to toe. She seemed like someone real, someone that I would actually like, unlike the rest of his dates that had a fakeness to them that seemed to jump off the page.

Watching her up there with Neil, though, the way he touched her with familiarity and the private looks he gave her killed me. It was stupid and completely childish because I knew he wasn’t mine anymore. We’d heard them exchange, “I love yous” earlier, but seeing them together hurt.

After they said goodnight, the entire place – including my friends – jumped to their feet, screaming and stomping, begging for an encore. After what seemed like forever, Neil came back on stage. “All right, calm down, calm down.” He laughed into his microphone. “My guys are exhausted. Will it be okay if you just get me?”

It took a few minutes for the crowd to calm down again, but in that time, someone brought him a stool and an acoustic guitar. And a beer. Well, that’s something you don’t normally see at a concert. He took a long pull from the bottle and then started strumming, playing a few of his own songs, pausing mid-verse every now and then to hear his fans singing the words back to him.

Then he sang Don McLean’s “American Pie” in a way that gave me goose bumps. He closed his eyes, never opening them, not even when every single person at the concert joined him in the chorus. It was easy for most of these people to forget that Neil was so much more than a pretty face or the bad boy singer; he’d gotten his start writing songs for some of the biggest stars of our generation and playing his guitar in a different band. But the man sitting under the spotlight was channeling old school C.C. Kelly.

As soon as the last note was played, the lights went out. I heard some people stir, gathering their belongings, getting ready to leave in hopes they could escape before the masses exited. The majority of us sat still, completely in awe. Neil was a great performer, working the crowd in a way that made them leave the concert thinking it was the best one they’d ever seen. But that last song? That was pure magic.

I leaned forward, ready to get the hell out of here, but stilled when I heard the notes. The song was too familiar, one I didn’t want to hear tonight and had been relieved when he hadn’t played it. The lights lit up the stage just as the drummer started to pound the familiar beat. His entire band had come back for this song.

“Everyone says I should give it time, that my love for you will eventually fade.

But, they don’t understand. I still cling to every single memory we made.”

I tried to tune it out, instead, focusing on the man singing the song he’d written for me. I knew the words by heart, but it was the pain that oozed from him that got to me. I wasn’t the only one bothered, either. Every girl here was swooning.

As soon as it was over, they were on their feet, screaming again. “Thank you,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m glad you enjoy my heartache.”

“I love you, Nate!” one girl yelled over everyone else.

“Aww, honey, I love you, too!” He smiled. “I don’t talk about it a lot, actually. Ugh…” He cleared his throat and took a sip of his beer. “That song was written for the girl that got away. She devastated me, actually.” He laughed and lifted the bottle to his lips once more. “Her birthday is in a coupla days, and since she’s here tonight, I was hoping you’d help me sing Happy Birthday.”

Everyone looked around suddenly.
Everyone
. As if the woman he was talking about would have a giant glow-in-the-dark arrow over her head. Hell, even I glanced around to make sure there wasn’t a spotlight on me. There were three sets of eyes bugging out of their heads, staring at me as if I was a complete stranger.

I shrugged, trying to convey to them that I would tell them everything later. Then I did the only thing I could do. I listened while thousands of people sang, wishing Nate Kelly’s darling Red a Happy Birthday.

The passes around our necks did more than just get us premium seats and meet and greets. They got us a private exit directly to the limos, bypassing thousands of other attendees. We didn’t talk much while we hurried behind our usher. I knew it was coming, probably as soon as they had me away from the crazy fans, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

I was right.

“You’re Red? Holy fucking shit balls, CeCe; you’re Nate Kelly’s goddamn muse! How could you not tell me that?” Cort screeched as soon as our driver shut the door behind me.

Cora was glaring at me so I looked at Nina, hoping to find a friendly face. Instead, she shrugged. “I might not know who in the hell Red is, Ce, but it would take an extremely idiotic person to miss the fact that there is something you aren’t telling us. Shit, my freshmen would pick up on it and half of them think global warming means it isn’t going to snow anymore.”

I chuckled. This whole night had just been too much and, suddenly, I was lying on my back, clutching my sides and trying to stop the maniacal laughter coming from my mouth. Nina laughed with me, but the other two did not look impressed. I was apparently on the naughty list. The thought made me giggle even harder, and I fell to the floor.

“Oh, sweet Lord! Are you drunk?”

The voice was one I hadn’t heard in forever, and it, mixed with the condescending tone, sobered me immediately. I pushed my face off the carpet and flipped my bangs out of my eyes, hoping that I really had lost my mind. Nope. The Hummer’s door was open and a very agitated, very pregnant Nikki Kelly stood on the other side, glowering at me.