I Want You to Want Me (Rock Star Romance #2) (26 page)

Derek nodded tersely. “You’re absolutely right.” It
was
time to shake his dad off.

And with that Derek went inside to do his acoustic gig for Buck O’Reilly.

•   •   •

Above
the din of excited chatter, a voice rose. “Five minutes.”

Derek watched while his bandmates turned away from whoever they were talking to and drew together, forming a tight, closed circle. For several tense seconds, no one spoke.

This moment had only ever been a vague dream. Come on, he was from New York. What kid in a garage band didn’t dream about playing Madison Square Garden? But it had never seemed real.

But it was real. They were here. His band. His brothers. And Pete was missing it.

“I’m so proud of you guys.” Emmie reached her hand into the center. They all joined in, a tower of hands.
“Madison Square Garden.” She said it with the reverence it deserved.

“Shame Pete’s not here,” Ben said. But he looked to Calix with a smile. “But you’re a fuckin’ maestro, and we’re glad to have you on board.”

“Happy to be here.”

Derek hadn’t talked much to the new keyboardist, but he knew about Calix’s impressive résumé. He’d have to find out later why a guy with his connections, his talent, didn’t have a permanent place in a band.

“Guys?” someone called. “Show time.”

An electrical charge jolted through their joined hands, and they all leaned in.

“Fuckin’ A,” Slater said.

“Let’s do this,” Derek said.

As they headed out of the room, Derek tagged Emmie. “You hear from Violet?”

Her features pulled tight. “No.”

“She’s coming, right? She wouldn’t miss the show.”

“Not a chance. She’ll be here.”

“Did you find her another gig?”

“I haven’t even had a chance to talk to Irwin. But I will. After the show.”

“You think she’ll take the job? Leave the country for three months?”

Emmie drew in a slow, deep breath, lips pressed together. She knew exactly what he really meant.
Leave me
. “I think she’ll do what she has to do. Just like you or I would do. And you can’t blame her. It’s not like you guys are married or anything.”

“Oh, my God,
someone’s
got marriage on the brain,” a woman said, coming up to them.

“Oh, hey, Sam,” Emmie said. “Derek, this is Sam Kramer. She’s Dak Johnson’s assistant.”

“Nice to meet you,” Derek said, needing to talk to Emmie alone.

“Dak’s going to meet with you guys tomorrow,” his sister said. “Talk about producing the next album.”

“He’s here tonight.” Sam gave him a big, warm smile. “Pretty sure he’s watching Buck’s show right now. He and
Irwin are off somewhere with my laptop.” The woman gave a shrug of her brow.

Oh,
fuck
. He did not need to hear that. He’d completely screwed up in Buck’s studio. His dad had taken over—even interrupted Derek’s jam to “teach him” something about fingering.

Jesus, he couldn’t think about this shit right now. Couldn’t picture Dak and Irwin grimacing as they watched a replay of this afternoon’s shitshow.

“Gotta hit the stage.” He gave Sam a lingering look, hoping she’d get the hint that he wanted time alone with his sister. She didn’t. “Em, walk me out?”

“Derek, dude?” Cooper called from the doorway. “Let’s go.”

Fuck it. He had to go. He grabbed Emmie’s shoulder. “Make sure Violet’s here.”

“I’ll make sure she’s right where you can see her.” She looked worried about him.

“Thanks.”

“Derek?” She stopped him.

Fuck.
He had to calm down. “Yeah?”

“Focus, okay? Put everything else out of your head.” Then, she reached for his hand. “Everything will work out, I promise. Just be here now.”

He nodded, then turned away. Jogged out onto the stage, instantly hit by blinding lights and a roaring crowd.

He had to shut it all down. Shut out the image of Irwin watching his live performance right then. The memory of his dad sabotaging him in Buck’s studio. Fuck it. He glanced to the side of the stage one last time, looking for Violet. Where the fuck was she? He needed her to calm his shit down. But he couldn’t see anything through the glare of lights.

Wipe it clean.
Focus on the music
.

Show time.

•   •   •

Usually,
he lost himself in the beat. He tuned into Ben’s rhythm on the sticks, but tonight . . . he couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t the heat from the blazing lights, it wasn’t the crowd—not that they’d ever played a venue this size
before—but still, he wasn’t freaking out that it was Madison Square Garden.

He was freaking out because something was off with Violet. Emmie had brought her to the other side of the stage, closer to him. And he kept looking over where she stood, huddled with Emmie, Sam, and a few others. But where the others were loose, singing along, even dancing, Violet held herself still.

It made him think she’d taken the job with Jason Becker. Why else would she be so uptight?

Fuck. He lost the beat, had no idea where they were in the song. Quickly looking down to Ben’s feet, he focused, got it back.

He wouldn’t look at her again. Didn’t need to see Violet all tense and worried.

Definitely didn’t need to see Irwin and Dak talking intensely.

He knew they weren’t talking about Derek’s performance on
Artists Unplugged
. He wasn’t a narcissist like his dad, so he knew the whole world wasn’t thinking about his sucky acoustic gig.

But people
were
watching it. Right at that moment, thousands of fans, musicians, and industry professionals were watching him get flustered by his dad. Why hadn’t he kicked his dad the hell out? He owed him nothing. He should’ve had the balls to kick him out.

Wait,
fuck
, he’d lost his place in the song again. He needed to shut his mind down completely, close his eyes, and block it all out.

Just as they neared the end of the song, their last one of the night, he opened his eyes, caught a flurry of movement offstage. Some tall, skinny guy—a kid—his hair short at the sides, one front section long enough to cover half his face—jumped on Violet’s back, wrapped his arms around her neck.

Blood roared through him. He was ready to hurl his bass aside and tackle the fucker. Until he realized it was Jason Becker, surrounded by his entourage. A beefy guy who had to be a bodyguard, pulled the kid off her back. Violet smiled—that cool, professional smile.

And right then he knew he’d lost her. If the kid had
come to the show, she’d obviously decided to work with him.

Oh, hell fucking no. She was not going to Japan.

She was not going to drift away.

He had to talk to her—fuck that. Words didn’t work with her. They bounced off her like Ping-Pong balls. He needed to
show
her.

The song ended, and Slater started to thank the audience, thank Imagine Dragons for giving them the opportunity to share the stage with them, but all that blood roaring in his veins, all the panic choking out his lungs, had Derek moving, dropping his Fender and rushing toward Slater. He grabbed the mic, thinking only one thing. He’d give her what his words couldn’t make her believe.

Slater stepped back, surprised.

Derek saw nothing but a blur of faces, a blizzard of lights. “Thank you, New York!”

The crowd roared.

“Tonight was a dream come true for us. I’m from here, so you gotta know what it’s like for me to play the Garden.” Feet pounded, lighters flicked to life, and the audience went crazy.

He raised a hand to quiet them down. “This is definitely one of the greatest nights of my life, and there’s only one thing that can top it. And that’s saying something, considering we just opened for Imagine Dragons at Madison Square Garden.”

The crowd went crazy.

Sweat trickled down his face, his back. He felt light-headed, sick to his stomach. But he didn’t stop. “It’s about a girl.”

Women in the crowd shrieked. One voice rose above the others. “I’ll be your girl.”

He laughed. “Sorry, but I’m taken. Completely taken. Violet?” he called.

He watched as her curious expression turn horrified. People tried to push her out onto the stage, but she turned back, ducking between bodies.

“What’re you doing, man?” he heard Slater say, but he ignored his friend. He had to see this through.

“Violet, baby? Come on out here. I need you with me.” If only she understood how much. But she would now. Now, she’d finally get it.

She shook her head, waved her hands. Was she actually not going to come out onstage?

“Don’t do this to her.” Slater stood at his side, and Derek nearly shoved him away. Too much energy pumping through his system. Why wouldn’t she come?

Sweat dripped into his eyes. He gave Emmie an imploring look. He needed her help, but his sister looked grim. Pissed, almost. What the fuck? He loved Violet. He wanted her. Fuck them if they didn’t understand.

Finally, Jason Becker and some other guy took her by the shoulders and walked her a few feet onto the stage before giving her a push. Then they turned and left her there.

Slowly, she headed toward him. She looked scared. For one moment she glanced at the audience, shielded her eyes from the glare, and then quickly looked away.

“Right here, baby.” He only wanted her eyes on his.

And when he got them, when she looked right at him, emotion exploded in his chest. This was his girl. She calmed him, centered him. Gave him the kind of attention,
affection
, he’d never had. The intensity he needed in a relationship. It’s why he’d never had one before. No other woman got him on this level. No other woman saw him so deeply.

He loved her. He couldn’t live without her, and he
knew
they were better together than they were apart. And the idea of leaving her in three days? Forget it.

He gave her a soft smile, and finally, finally, she smiled back. And just like that the lights, the noise, the heat, everything faded away, until it was just the two of them. Just how he liked it.

She reached his side, but she didn’t look calm and centered. She looked freaked out. And that set his nerves on fire.

“Don’t do this.” She mouthed the words.

He wanted to shout,
Are you going to Japan with Jason Becker?
But he didn’t bother. Jason and his entourage were here. They wouldn’t be here if she’d turned down the job.

And he had to keep her in his life.

He got down on one knee. The crowd screamed, a couple of cameramen raced forward, kneeling along with him.

“Please,”
she said, and this time he could see the panic.

The cameras were on him. The crowd went wild. And all he knew was he had to seal the deal.

Holding the mic, he reached for her hand. “I love you.” He gazed up at her. “I’ve spent my entire life on the run. And then you came along, and . . . Fuck, V, it ended right there. Everything I thought I was chasing ended in you. Violet, I swear there will never be anyone else for me. Be with me forever, V. Marry me?”

The audience gasped, and catcalls fired across the arena. One of the cameras angled closer. And through all of the chaos, his heart beat sure and strong, because he knew it was Violet for him. For life. He’d marry her right then if he could.

Violet tugged on his hand. He didn’t want to get up, but he did. He just wanted to see her smile, fall into his arms. But she was standing there, looking anguished.

Finally, finally, she leaned into him. Oh, thank God. Her arms went loosely around his shoulders and she pressed into his neck. Was this a yes? She was saying yes?

The crowd thought so. The band started playing “Here Comes the Bride.” Slater slapped him on his back. Everyone thought she’d said yes.

But she hadn’t said a word.

And then . . .

“I can’t,” she said into his ear.

He jerked away from her. Had to see her face, look into her eyes. Her whole body trembled, and her face shone with perspiration. She took short, choppy breaths, but she didn’t change her mind. She didn’t say yes.

The floor slipped away, and he was in freefall. She cupped his chin, forced him to look at her. Her mouth moved, but he heard nothing. A stillness gripped the air around them. The crowd went dead silent. Slater stepped forward, took the mic, and started blabbing, shutting down the show. A hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him along.

He followed the band off the stage, losing sight of Violet. Which was good. He couldn’t see her. Couldn’t be around her.

She didn’t want him.

Jesus. She actually didn’t want him.

•   •   •

Violet
pushed her way through the throng, no idea where she was going. She just needed to get away.
God
. She’d seen his face. She knew he hadn’t heard a thing she’d said. He’d simply shut down.

“Babe, hold up.” Jason Becker, the nineteen-year-old pop sensation, caught her around the waist, hauling her against his skinny chest.

“Not now, Jason.” Blue Fire and its entourage had disappeared. She saw an endless stream of strangers, all of them laughing and talking like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just destroyed the bass player.

“Hey, chill, man,” the kid said. “Why you gotta be like that?”

She pushed at him, hard. He released his hold on her and stumbled. But, no worries, since his bodyguard was there to catch him.

“Bitch, what was that for?” Jason screamed, red-faced.

“You’re high, you’re drunk, and you’re about to flush your career down the toilet.”

He gave her a dopey smile. “It’s all good.”

“Nothing is good, all right? Nothing.”

Frantic to get to Derek, she fought her way through the bodies, finally making it into the green room. Someone overturned a bottle of champagne on Slater’s head. Emmie stood beside him, hands clapped over her mouth, eyes wide with excitement.

Ben lurched forward as someone drew him into a hug, and Cooper lifted his plastic champagne flute in the air, tipped his head back, and howled.

“Fucking gold, man,” Ben shouted.

She couldn’t see Derek anywhere. Hating to interrupt their celebration, she came right up to them. “I’m sorry . . .” Her mind had switched off. She couldn’t think, couldn’t get words together to form a sentence. She’d hurt him. She knew that, but what had he done? How could he have
proposed to her? In front of thousands of people? What had he been thinking?