Melody of Truth (Love of a Rockstar Book 3) (3 page)

“He is off limits to the highest degree. Not only is he my subject for my latest documentary, he is also a rock star and recently divorced. Oh yea, and I’M GETTING MARRIED.”

“You’re sharing a tour bus with him. It might be hard to maintain your distance.”

Jane echoed the fear that had been in the forefront of my mind since Sean and I had met less than a few hours ago. He didn’t have the kind of presence you could ignore; it was electric, like one of those mosquito traps that lured bugs to their death.

“It will be fine,” I said with more convection than I felt. “I just have to focus on what’s important: my job and my upcoming marriage.”

“Which is currently giving you heart palpitations.”

“Come on, is this really out of the ordinary for me? Commitment has always made me want to run.”

“Not always,” she pointed out. “Before mom’s death you were set on a house, two kids, and a three-car garage with your high school sweetheart Chad.”

“Chad is on his second marriage at only twenty-six years old. I dodged a bullet.” Gathering my bare essentials along with a towel, I headed toward the adjacent bathroom, unwilling to open the door into the past. I had closed it shut for a reason. “I’m going to take a shower and then let’s grab dessert at Hot Cakes.”

“I have a test to study for.”

“You can study tomorrow. Come on. We both need a hit of chocolaty bliss and a glass of red wine.”

Jane smiled. “All right, sure, sounds good. Do you still want me to hold on to your ring?”

“Only because my stress levels will be lower if you do.”

“Hand it over then.”

I placed the diamond in her palm and she set it in a box on her nightstand. “There. Safe and sound.”

THE NIGHT BEFORE I WAS
to leave on tour, I stood in front of my half empty walk-in closet and sighed. My ex-wife Bunny had always packed for me; she’d never mentioned how overwhelming it was. Starting with the basics, I snatched a handful of underwear and dropped it into my suitcase. Then came t-shirts and jeans. What else? Shoes? I had worn expensive loafers and shit in the past but I wasn’t that guy any more. Sandals and my beat-up white Converse would suffice. It wasn’t like I was trying to impress anyone. Melody popped into my head, calling me a liar. Since our encounter, she had been on my mind a lot, mostly late at night when I was too restless to sleep.

My lust for her couldn’t leave my bedroom though. Melody had been hired to do a job and us forming a relationship would get in the way. Also, if I was being brutally honest, I wasn’t ready to dive into anything serious. The scars from my divorce were still fresh, my bitterness too raw. Melody and I deserved a fighting chance without a third party lingering.

“Sean? Are you back here?”

I needed to stop handing out my house keys like M&Ms. “Yea, I’m in the closet.”

Seconds later, Ash entered the room and looked around the sparse space. “It’s super depressing in here bro. Your clothes fit on one rack.”

“What can I say? I’m not a chick.”

“Sometimes that is brought into question.”

“Shut up.”

Laughing, he plopped himself onto the carpet and leaned back on his hands. Ash had the talent of making himself comfortable on any surface. He had once taken a nap on the cement floor of our old practice space, using his jacket as a pillow. It was truly a gift.

One look at the disorganized mess of my suitcase and my heart wanted to leap out of my chest. As I refolded my clothes, I asked, “Any particular reason you stopped by?”

“Nah, just bored. Thought you might be too.”

“Don’t you have to get ready?”

“My stuff is pre-packed.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I hope you washed your clothes at least.”

With mirth shining in his eyes, he grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

My band members took a sick amount of pleasure in my OCD cleanliness, a trait my mother had passed down to me. She used to say a clean house equaled a happy house. I wanted to believe that was true because my childhood wasn’t anything less than idyllic: two loving parents, a bossy little sister, and a golden retriever named Skip. We were practically the west coast version of the Jeffersons.

“I’m antsy to get on the road where my soul sings,” Ash said.

“Me too. It will be nice to escape Seattle for a bit.” Tucking the corners of my jeans into a neat square, I asked nonchalantly, “What do you think of Melody?”

“Talented, confident, and sexy in a dangerous man-eating way.”

“My ex was a man-eater. Melody is a…” I trailed off, lost for how to exactly describe her with one adjective when a thousand wouldn’t do justice.

“She doesn’t walk man; she swaggers. It’s like this hypnotic dance she does with her hips and before you know it…” Ash clasped his hands together loudly. “BAM! She is sucking the blood dry from your jugular.”

“You have been watching way too many vampire movies.”

“Simply not possible.” Tilting his head to the side, he gave me an assessing onceover and then slapped his palm against his forehead. “Damn! I’m such an idiot. You like her.”

“I’m attracted her. What red-blooded male wouldn’t be?”

“Don’t slit my throat when I say this, but Melody isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. She is a type.”

My hands curled at my sides as a flash of anger exploded inside me, despite the fact that I knew he was right. I just wanted the whole world to see Melody how I saw her—as a tall glass of lemonade on a hot day.

Sean’s fit of hysterics drew my eyes toward him. Curled tightly in a ball, he rolled on the ground, howling. Between breaths of air, he spoke. “You should see your face! Oh my god! You totally want to kill me.”

“Can you blame me?”

I zipped up my suitcase and walked into my bedroom, leaving Ash to stumble after me. “Hey man, I’m sorry, but the macho chest-thumping side of you is funny.”

I was glad he found the humor in it, because I didn’t. With my ex-wife, possessiveness didn’t enter my vocabulary. She used to throw herself at guys to get a rise out of me, as if me beating up some dude would prove I cared for her.

I turned and met a grinning Ash. “It’s a real hoot. Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” I shook my head and he smiled. “I’m done with jokes, swear. I heard that new action movie with Vin Diesel is a thrill a minute.”

“Sounds awful. How ‘bout a comedy with Will Ferrell?”

“Sure.”

As we entered my open living room/kitchen, Ash searched the upper cabinets for snacks. “Are you on a new diet? You hardly have any food in here.”

“I forgot to go to the supermarket.”

Shoving aside cans, he shrieked. Either he had found a mouse or some substance to cure the munchies—hopefully the latter; I couldn’t deal with a vermin infestation before leaving.

“Do you have any cheese?” Ash dumped a bag of tortilla chips onto a baking sheet. “Sour cream, guacamole?”

“All of the above.”

After popping the nachos into the oven, we spread out on the roomy couch and turned on the latest Will Ferrell movie,
Get Hard
.

A BLARING FOGHORN WOKE ME
up the next morning. My hand blindly reached for the source of the noise, knocking my cellphone to the ground. I yanked a pillow over my head and shut my eyes again. No one should be forced to wake before the sun rises. Footsteps padded into my bedroom, the wailing stopped, and I settled deeper into my mattress.

Bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. Actually, if a naked Melody were curled up next to me, that would be pure unadulterated bliss. Sleep came in at a close second.

The world shook with a mighty force as someone yelled, “EARTHQUAKE!”

As I scrambled to an upright position, my heart thumped wildly in my chest. I threw back the covers and ran butt-ass naked to the doorway where my spine pressed against the wood. Laughter infiltrated my hazy mind. Looking around the room, my gaze locked onto Ash, who stood on top of my bed.

“You fucking asshole,” I growled.

“I have strict instructions to get you to the tour bus five minutes till 7, by any means necessary.”

“What time is it now?”

“Six thirty.”

Grumbling, I shoved my legs through a pair of basketball shorts. “My guest room is off limits to you from here on out.”

“Fine with me. Your pillows are like lumps of coal.”

I slammed the bathroom door shut and then yanked it back open. Ash predicated what I would ask before my mouth opened. His feet landed gracefully on the floor as he jumped off my mattress. “Coffee is in the kitchen, as are donuts.”

“Thanks man.”

“Any time.”

With a bucket of caffeine and sugar in my bloodstream, Ash managed to fulfill his promise and got me to the hotel on time. My bandmates were huddled near the tour bus.

Luke raised his mug in greeting. “Morning.”

“It’s too early to be morning.”

“Dude, this is nothing. I have been awake since two in the morning. Nil contracted a wicked case of food poisoning and the twins have been wailing in misery with her.”

“You sure you don’t want to go with us?”

“Marlene would have my balls.”

Laughing, I slapped him good-naturedly on the back. “Hang in there.”

Noah waved me over. “Hey Sean! Help me load the gear.”

The downside to working with an independent startup-label was you had to act as a roadie and a musician. Also, the digs weren’t nearly as luxurious. Compared to our last one, this bus looked like the druggie stepchild. Still, we were all in agreement that without the noose of a traditional label around our necks, we had the creative freedom to experiment with new sounds. Matthew’s next album would be unlike anything the fans had heard before.

Noah groaned quietly under his breath as his spine stiffened. “Damn it.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the cause of his discomfort: the camera attached to Melody’s face. She swung it around and pointed it at Ash and Luke. Instead of ignoring her, Ash launched into an Irish jig. Her laugh felt like a thousand-volt electric shock. If I hadn’t been awake before, I was now.

“I hate being filmed.” Noah flung my suitcase into the storage compartment. “It reminds me of the awful family vacations I used to go on as a child.”

“It’s only for six weeks.”

“Six weeks is a long-ass time to be constantly harassed by a camera.”

“Trust me, you’ll get used to it after a while.”

“Doubt it,” he murmured.

I set the last piece of gear inside and slammed the lid shut. As I wiped my hands on my jeans, my gaze was immediately drawn to Melody. Her tongue stuck out from the corner of her mouth in concentration. The modest knee-length skirt she wore contrasted with the white button-up tucked in at the waist and gave off a “Hit me Baby One More Time” vibe. I wanted to run my fingers up along the inside of her thigh and plunge them into her sweet core, knuckle deep.

Who was I kidding? There would be no forgetting the camera when its owner made my cock jump to attention with her mere presence. Jesus, I was totally and utterly fucked.