Manipulated: a Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 3) (19 page)

C
T
: You were right they wanted you for the coffee table book. I was the way to connect them to you. But they didn’t realize I was the best photographer they could’ve gotten anyway.

I
sent
the text and dumped my phone in my purse before I marched out to my car. Scratch that—Owen’s car. I was shaking, and it wasn’t because I was so sure that I was the hottest thing to ever hold a camera.

Truth be told, I didn’t need to be the best. That was subjective and always changing. What I needed to be was myself. I needed to stand up and try my hardest to live a life I’d be proud to look back on when I was eighty. No regrets. No missed opportunities.

This was my chance, and I was taking it.

In every possible way.

T
he crowd was screaming
. I wasn’t joining in, but God, I wanted to.

It was impossible not to be swept away when a band was onstage, rocking out for all they were worth. This band? A whole different thing altogether.

Hammered took the concert experience to the next level with their pyrotechnics and impressive playing. Hunter was a damn showman for the ages too. He strutted up there and commanded the mic as if he’d been born to entertain.

Each one of them was talented in their own right. Together? They were a force that shook the damn performing arts center.

I wasn’t an expert by any stretch, but I’d grown to enjoy Hammered’s music. Even love it. That was due in no small part to the man incapable of staying still as he worked his bass guitar as if the devil had come to take his payment for services rendered.

That wasn’t that far from the truth, except it was my bill that had come due.

Owen and I had made a deal to have sex. Temporary. Fun. A fling. Then with our itches scratched, we’d happily bop onto the next person. Well, he would. Me, I’d planned on bopping back to my elusive search for a G-spot orgasm.

By the way, that wasn’t a factor anymore. Owen had given them to me with his tongue and fingers a couple of times, and I wasn’t going to think about that while I was standing in a crowd of shrieking fans.

I had pictures to take. Spontaneous climaxes would have to wait until later.

I prowled around the photo pit, switching lenses again as I crouched to get a shot of Hunter crooning into the mic. Blue light surrounded him and his voice shredded the crowd as ably as the slashing guitars. Bats and Reed were in fine form, dueling on their axes and heckling each other between songs. Keys was impeccable on the keyboard, standing up to wave at the crowd during one part of “Crossing My Line”.

Wyatt was a ham as usual, doing all his tricks in between positively slamming the drums. His pace was frenetic but he never lost that boyish grin.

And Owen. Owen was simply the most riveting performer I’d ever seen.

His fingers were too fast for me to follow, but I tried. Capturing his genius in the book wasn’t just a want. It was an imperative.

I moved back and forth, climbing the barrier, standing up on the rails to get a better angle. Tilting my head this way and that just to try to get the perfect angle to seize this moment and transmit it for everyone who couldn’t be there. To give them a slice of what I felt while sweat poured down me in rivulets and the pounding drums and colliding guitars soared around me.

The first few notes of Hammered’s mega hit “Cathedrals” started and I couldn’t snap fast enough. They always brought their A-plus game on this song, and my pictures needed to reflect that.

Then Owen looked my way as I was hanging halfway over a railing and I nearly lost my death-grip on my Nikon. My hands were slick with sweat from the blasting heat of the arena, but that wasn’t why I nearly dropped my precious equipment.

That look? Those heavy-lidded blue eyes, centered right on me? Christ. His stare was lethal, and I wasn’t the only victim of its power. So was everyone else in this crowd. He performed for all of them, offering his soul and perspiration and talent for the price of a ticket, but he was singing the words to “Cathedrals” only to me.

Somehow I continued taking pictures. My vision blurred and my hand cramped and my back and shoulders ached like a bitch. I didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, because they never did. They bled out on stage for their audience at every concert, and I’d be damned if I gave anything less than total effort.

For them, and for me.

They usually ended shows on this leg of the tour with “Cathedrals” but not tonight. I knew it as soon as the ending notes of the song faded and then bloomed right into another, one I didn’t recognize.

Hunter stepped up to the microphone. “Changing things up for you guys tonight. You’re okay with that, right?”

The enthusiastic shouts in return made Hunter grin and lift up his arms. “C’mon, give me more than that. Make this place tremble from the power of your voices.”

As requested, the fans screamed and pumped their fists and stomped their feet. Even me. I only stomped and screamed because I didn’t have a hand free to wave, but I would’ve sworn I caught a glimpse of Owen’s secret smile.

The one he saved for me when we were alone and naked. When he was between my legs, gazing up at me with a lifetime’s worth of want and a century’s worth of patience.

I wasn’t as patient. Never would be. Especially not now that I’d finally tasted the good stuff.

When Hunter was satisfied the crowd had given him what he’d asked for, he glanced over his shoulder. “Hey Wy, you gonna take us in?”

Wyatt flipped his sticks behind his back and caught them one-handed. “You know it, brother.” But he didn’t go into his full throttle mode, just tapped low and easy while Hunter shifted his focus back to the audience.

“This song here is one we’ve never played in public before.”

The cheers were deafening. I would’ve plugged my ears, but the jubilance around me was intoxication. No way was I going to miss even a second.

Plus, I had enough equipment hanging off me and in my hands to kill a small child. But you know, in theory if I’d had a finger to use to block out the sounds around me.

“We’ve been working on this one for a while. Rehearsing it until it was perfect. What better place to perform it than San Jose? You guys know how to fucking
rock
.”

More shouts and screams.

Bats kicked in with a few licks on his guitar then backed off, waiting for Hunter to finish. This was some build-up, man. I had to wonder what they had in store.

“My man Owen is going to tell you about ‘Strings’, our brand new song. And depending on the reception here tonight, it just might be the first single on our next album. So show Owen some love, would you?”

I swayed and had to clutch my camera to my chest to keep from reaching out for the rail to steady myself. The heat must be getting to me. This had nothing to do with me, with us. That Owen was staring at me as if he could scorch the concrete beneath my feet with the intensity of his gaze was just a coincidence.

“Evening, San Jose. How are you all feeling this fine evening?”

Owen’s familiar accent washed over me like a warm wave. I wanted to soak it into every pore.

He smiled at the eager response from the fans. “That good, is it? I have to say I’m not doing as well.”

“Aww” rang out around the arena.

“You see, I fell for this lovely lady, and she was dealing with some things from her past that made it hard for her to move on. That past consisted of a right bastard I’d love to introduce to my fists, but I can’t do that. She doesn’t believe in violence, and she’s handled her life exceptionally well in any case. But I still have these feelings.” He rubbed the heel of his hand over his chest and I swear, the heart in mine practically beat right through my flesh.

He’d fallen for me. Just like I’d fallen for him. So damn hard.

“So I wrote this song called ‘Strings’ because I’ve grown awfully fond of them in recent days. We’d like to play it for you, if you’re game?”

This time, I screamed louder than anyone else. And Owen—my Owen—smiled at me as if we were alone in the arena.

We might as well have been.

The instant Owen went back to his bass and the first strums from Bats’ guitar echoed through the cavernous space, I started to snap pictures. One after another. Most were for the book. Some were for me, documenting the moment the man who loved me told me—and the world.

I wasn’t afraid.

All right, that was a lie. I was terrified. But I was ready to stop thinking about who might have come before me or could’ve been in my place if something had been different. What did it matter? Ifs meant less than nothing. If grandma had balls, she’d be grandpa.

If, if, if. Screw that noise.

Things were the way they were for a reason, and I was so fucking grateful.

Owen stepped up to Hunter and together they sang into the microphone about getting all tied up in strings you never thought you wanted, but turned out to be the best thing you could have ever dreamed.

I never saw you coming

Never heard your voice, or imagined your smile

But your strings wound around me

Spiderwebs tangling me up

I’m caught by choice, and I never want to get free

I was in tears halfway through. I barely could hear the words, or see clearly enough to take my pictures.

This is your job. Focus. After, there will be time to say everything you have to say.

I was so busy snapping and trying not to sob in between frames that I nearly missed the flash of white that scampered across the Technicolor screen behind the stage. They’d had a rotation of eye-popping content all night. Sometimes Hammered’s logo in neon, sometimes clips from their videos. But right now there was a white cottontail cartoon bunny…?

I lifted my camera and adjusted the zoom until I had every detail. Holy crap, there was a bunny running across the screen. One with a camera around its neck and a bat stamped on its butt.

Laughter burst from my throat, continuing with the tears that still streamed down my cheeks. And throughout, I snapped and snapped.

Even when the song ended with a simple message on the screen.

I love you, bunny.

The show ended with a flurry of screams and shouts for more. The curtain came down and the audience waited with breathless anticipation to see if would rise again.

It did, with the telltale slamming skins and hi-hats that led off “Pounded.” And the world went wild. Or maybe it only felt that way because I couldn’t breathe and my eyes felt too swollen for me to see.

But see I did. I never paused in my shots. Never ceased. Because now I wasn’t only doing a job or fulfilling a calling. I was taking every picture for the man I loved.

Backstage was madness. It felt like I flashed my credentials fifty times. No matter how I pushed and shoved, I still couldn’t get through the throng of people fast enough.

On the way, my phone went off. I would’ve swiped away the call if it hadn’t been my sister. She’d never replied to my hasty text earlier in the day, and I wanted to apologize.

Being a dick didn’t require having one. Another lesson I’d learned recently.

I moved into an alcove. Relatively speaking anyway. “Av, I’m sorry.” I plugged my other ear in the hopes of hearing her. “I shouldn’t have texted you like that. It deserved a phone call.”

“Yeah, like I’m doing this very second? You’re right, but whatever. All good. Where are you? The Metrodome?”

“Close enough. Listen, I have to go, but I want you to know that—”

“I’m joining the tour,” Ava interrupted. “I’m going to write the damn coffee table book, because I miss my sister and you know what? We make a damn good team, and Templetons belong together. And just in case you’re thinking you’re anything but amazing, you scrub that thought right out of your head. You’ll always be first. You were born before me, and you’ll probably die before me, and you’ll shine all the years in between.”

I laughed. “Thank you. I think.”

Looking up, my gaze slammed into Owen’s. And all the thoughts that didn’t circle around being in his arms—finally—just drained out of my head.

“Let me call you back later.”

“You better, hussy. Just because you hooked yourself a dreamy bassist is no reason to ignore your cute baby sister. Even though you pretended you weren’t with him. I tell you, I’m scandalized.”

I had to laugh. “He is dreamy, isn’t he?” I sounded more than a little dreamy myself. Possibly daffy too, but I didn’t care. “I’m so glad you’re going to be here with me. I can’t wait to see you. Talk later. Love you. Bye.” I clicked off and tucked away my phone.

I
was
glad. Ecstatic really. But what I was most right now was eager. Eager to hold Owen and kiss him and remember that I was the one in his arms.

He’d chosen me, just like I’d chosen him.

Without speaking, he wrapped me in his arms. Sort of. I still had two camera bags at my hip and another around my neck. But one way or another, we managed to mash ourselves together, and then his mouth came crashing down on mine. His lips were like a fever, stoking every fiber inside me into vibrant, shuddering life. If I’d had any doubts left, that kiss sent them packing.

Not that I had. I was slow on the uptake, but I wasn’t stupid. At least I wouldn’t be anymore.

“I love you,” I whispered between kisses. “It’s not too soon if it’s right. I made mistakes. I let my feelings of inferiority and jealousy take over.” I glanced around and decided with the amount of people surrounding us, I’d save saying
fuck
for when we were alone. In very inventive ways. “By the way, Lila doesn’t care if we fork, temporarily or permanently.” I grabbed one of his hands and kissed his fingertips.

His calluses rubbed over my flesh, reminding me of everything we were together. Rough and smooth, soft and jagged. All our lovely parts knitted with the unsightly ones and became something more than the sum of our parts.

Together, we were so much more. And would be so much more yet. This was just our beginning.

So how come he wasn’t speaking?

I cleared my suddenly aching throat. “You can jump in anytime here, Blackbeard.”

“Sorry, I was taking a moment to enjoy your apology. Rare, they are. Rare and beautiful.” He cupped my face in his hands. “Your job is as important to me as it is to you. I’ll never forget that again and do something so impulsive.”

“It’s okay. I understand. You were just happy. Like I said, Lila is fine with it. You were right. I worried for nothing. I just love doing this so much, taking photos on the tour and being with all of you. I was so scared of losing the best situation I’ve ever found.”

“Losing it? I’d like to see someone try to pry you away from us.” Owen barreled on. “More importantly, you have never been in second place. Never in any place but first. The only.”

Somehow he knew exactly what to say. Every damn time.