Mr. Rockstar (8 page)

Isabelle was
snickering. “He did. It was awesome.” It was. She could admit that, now that the pain of Marvin leaving had eased just a tiny bit.

“
Why did Marvin hit him?”

“
He said something or other about me.” Isabelle wiped her eyes. “I don’t even remember what.”

Fiona sobered.
“He defended your honor and you let Mr. Rockstar get away? He punched your ex for you! Oh my God, that only happens in the movies. Or in romance novels,” she said, eyebrows raised. “And then what, he just left?”

And boom. As
suddenly as the tears had faded, they were back again. Isabelle took a deep breath, fighting them. “Yeah. He lives in L.A., remember? And there were pictures.”

“
What? What kind of pictures?” Fiona asked suspiciously.

“
Pictures of him hitting Preston. It was all over the web the day after your wedding. Thank God I wasn’t in any of them.” She ran a finger down her milkshake glass, playing with the condensation.

“I’m going to have to do some web-surfing when I get home.”
Fiona sat back. “You like him. I knew it.”

“
What? Of course I like him. He’s Ian’s friend. And he’s a nice guy.” Isabelle was concerned with the direction the conversation had suddenly gone.

“
No, you ninny. You’re
attracted
to him. You
like
him, like him. He kissed you, didn’t he?”

Isabelle looked away. No way was she telling Fiona about that night with
Marvin. She felt her face grow hot. She still couldn’t believe she’d let him cut her dress off her body.

“
Oh my God, did you sleep with him?” Fiona asked, half-hushed, half-gleeful.

Isabelle
’s heart gave a hard thump. What should she say? She darted a glance at her friend. Damn. Fiona wasn’t going to let this go.

“
You did, didn’t you?”

Isabelle lifted a shoulder, noncommittal.

Fiona hissed out a breath, leaning forward. “You slept with Vin Clementine? Oh my God!”

“
Shhh!” Isabelle looked around. No one was paying them any attention.

“
I take it he doesn’t suck in bed.” Fiona sounded pleased.

Isabelle tried to ignore her, but Fiona poked her in the arm.
“Did it suck?” She smiled, suddenly mischievous. “Did
he
suck?”

“
Fiona!” Isabelle wanted to slide under the table and disappear.

“
I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

“
There’s nothing to tell. It was just one night.” Isabelle threw her a bone.

“
One night with Vin Clementine!”

Isabelle scowled.
“Not with Vin. With Marvin. He’s a good man.” She had to say something. That night had been the best night of her life. And they hadn’t just had a one-night stand. It had been special. At least for her. It didn’t matter that he left.

“
Why the hell did you let him go back to L.A.?” her friend asked, still pushing.

Isabelle grew angry.
“It’s not like we were dating! I live here. He lives there. We both knew that was the deal. No promises were made.”

Fiona sat back and chewed on her lip.
“Bullshit.” She waited, but Isabelle didn’t say anything. What could she say? ‘Marvin broke my heart?’ That was ridiculous. She’d only known him for two days!

“
I think you’re scared,” Fiona finally said. “All the guys you dated cheated on you, a grand total of two. So you don’t trust anyone.”

Isabelle stared at her friend. Was she right?
“I don’t know,” she began, but Fiona kept talking.

“
And I think you’re afraid to try something new. Like maybe moving to L.A.”

“
I’m not going to move across the country for a guy I only hung out with for two days, Fiona! That’s insane. And it’s not like he’s called me, you know. He took me to your wedding, it was nice, he flew back home. End of story.”

“
You wouldn’t be moving for him,” Fiona said gently. “You’d be moving for yourself. Isn’t it time you chose what you want to do with your life instead of letting it choose you?”

Chapter Seven

“
Okay, I’ve had it. You’ve got to tell me what the hell’s going on with you.” Ian threw his headphones down onto the soundboard. “Is it girl trouble?” he asked, echoing the same question Marvin had asked him three weeks ago.

Marvin carefully set his
headphones down, too, not meeting Ian’s eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He touched a hand to the paper he’d shoved in his pocket that morning, then forced himself to stop. Instead, he began to tap-tap a rhythm on his knee.

Ian glanced at his tapping finger, then narrowed his eyes.
“For three weeks now you’ve been acting weird. Did something happen with my sister? I’m starting to regret telling you about her. You’ve been moping around like your dog died and it’s driving me crazy.” Ian flopped down in his chair and ran his hands through his hair. “Did she piss you off or something? I can’t imagine her fawning over you like all your other crazed fans. She wouldn’t do that. What the hell happened?”

Marvin sighed. He didn
’t know what was wrong with him, but ever since that night with Isabelle, he’d felt out of sorts. Adrift.
Lonely
, a little voice in the back of his head said. He ignored it. “No, she didn’t do anything wrong. She was very nice.”

Ian stared at him skeptically.
“Nice.”

Marvin shifted uncomfortably and the paper in his pocket crinkled against his thigh.
“Yeah.” He sat down, trying to think of a way to deflect the conversation without antagonizing his friend. The last thing he needed was Ian finding out about the night he’d spent with her.
The best night of my life.

“
What did you do?” Ian suddenly asked, eyes flashing.

Marvin cursed under his breath.
Damn friends and their damn nosiness. “Nothing!”

Ian pursed his lips.
“I saw the pictures, you know.”

“
What pictures?” He didn’t know of any pictures of him and Isabelle. Which sucked, frankly. He would like to have something more than his memories to remember her by.

“
The ones on the internet. Where you punched her ex? Thanks for that, by the way. I’m really, really happy you broke the bastard’s nose.” Ian grinned. “I wanted to do that seven months ago when she first started dating him.”

Ah.
Those
pictures. Marvin’s publicist was mostly happy and slightly concerned about the shots from the wedding, but he’d reassured her it was a one-time thing. Someone had managed to get a photo of him frowning down at Preston on the floor, just after he’d punched the man. The pictures had given him more publicity about being a bad-boy rocker, which sold records, but it had also given him more publicity about being a bad-boy rocker. And he really wasn’t that kind of person. He didn’t get into brawls.
At least not anymore
, he told himself. The year after his parents died had been rough, but those days were long past. He hoped Isabelle hadn’t seen the article. She’d be mortified.

“
I still can’t believe you decked him.” Ian took a swig of his water. “You are officially my best friend.”

“
Shit,” Marvin rubbed his face, wondering what to say. Ian wouldn’t be so happy if he knew Marvin and Isabelle had spent the night together. “The man was talking smack about Isabelle. What was I supposed to do?” He glared. “And I was already your best friend.”

“
You did exactly the right thing.” Ian swiveled in his chair. “Which is why I can’t figure out why you’re acting like such a loser now. Stop being lame.”

Marvin wasn
’t sure what to say to him.
I miss your sister? I think she’s the love of my life?
Yeah, right. That would go over like a ton of bricks. He opted for denial, instead. “I’m not acting lame.”

“
You totally are. You’re morose. And you keep messing up the song. You
never
do that. What the fuck is up with you, man?”

Marvin sighed and cracked his neck.
“I haven’t been sleeping well.” That was the truth. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face. Remembered the way she felt and sounded against his body. Jesus. He had it bad.

“
That’s never mattered before,” Ian retorted, leaning in. “In fact, you’ve done some of your best work totally hung over and sleep deprived.” He jabbed a finger in the air. “No excuses.”

Marvin
frowned. “This is different.”

Ian sat back.
“You wrote something, didn’t you? Where is it?” He made a show of looking around the studio.

Fuck. Ian was too damn perceptive. Marvin looked away. The paper he
’d shoved in his pocket felt like a brand. His fingers twitched.

“
Is it a song about my sister? I thought I told you not to do that?”

A dull flush warmed Marvin
’s face. Goddammit. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse.

“
What the fuck.” Ian took a deep breath. “You wrote a song about my sister? You only spent two days with her!”

Marvin laughed bitterly. If Ian only knew…
“I couldn’t help it.”

Ian didn
’t say anything for a long moment. Then, “Let’s hear it.”

Marvin looked at him sharply.

“Yeah, yeah. I know what I said. ‘Don’t you dare write a song about Isabelle,’ but whatever. I want to hear this masterpiece.” Ian snapped his fingers at Marvin. “Come on.”

Marvin stood up and pulled out the paper. Squinting down at the words, he felt like a fool.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he muttered.

Ian pursed his lips, but didn
’t say anything. Marvin grimaced and grabbed the guitar he’d shoved into the corner. Settling it over his head, he smoothed out the paper and put it on top of the soundboard. He hadn’t written any musical notation down, just a few words that carried the sense of the song. He didn’t need anything else. The tune in his head wasn’t going anywhere. The feelings he had for Belle… Well, they didn’t seem to be going anywhere, either. He cleared his throat and began to sing.

When he was done, Ian’s face was white. “Jesus, Vin. What the hell was that?”

Marvin closed his eyes, fingers still tingling from the strings.
“What do you mean?”

“
Fuck. You’re in love with my sister.”

Marvin
’s gut seized up. Except, Ian didn’t look angry. He looked shocked. Marvin opened his mouth to say something, anything, but before he could speak, Ian continued.

“
That was the best song you’ve ever written in your life. Marvin, my God…” he trailed off.

Marvin frowned, fingers splayed on the guitar like lost children. He still didn
’t know what to say.

“
You have more, don’t you?” Ian asked, hazel eyes penetrating. He looked a lot like his sister, suddenly.

“
Yeah.” Marvin swallowed. “I have a couple more. Maybe three.” He ran the tips of his fingers down the strings, filling the room with sound. “Or four.”

Ian was already moving, shoving Marvin
’s paper aside and flicking switches. “Get in the room and sing that again.”

Marvin stared.
“What about your sister?”

Ian snorted.
“Yeah, we’re going to have words about that. Words like: ‘Why the fuck did you leave her you asshole?’ But right now, I want to set up the microphone for your guitar.” He shoved past and went into the sound booth, dragging a cord and microphone stand with him. When he’d gotten the equipment arranged to his satisfaction, he grabbed Marvin by the shoulder and pushed him into the room. “Sit. Play.”

Marvin sat. And then he sang his damn heart out.

****

Isabelle stared down at the CD in her hands. She was supposed to be meeting Fiona for dinner. Her
friend would be here any moment and she was still standing in the open doorway like an idiot, staring at a piece of plastic. She’d gotten home from work ten minutes ago, but couldn’t bring herself to move.

“
Isabelle! Hey, you ready to get some margaritas?” Fiona called from down the hall. “Todd is off with his buddies watching some stupid sports thing, so we have hours and hours to talk about how dumb men are.” She walked into Isabelle’s apartment, a big smile on her face. She looked at Isabelle’s hands. “What’s that?”

Isabelle bit her lip.
“He sent me a CD.” She held it out. It said “Play Me” in marker on the top. There was no note, no return address, but it was postmarked from L.A.

“
Who did?” Fiona asked, slinging her purse onto Isabelle’s table. She snatched the CD from her, reading the words. “Wait, wait, is this from Mr. Rockstar?”

Isabelle lifted a shoulder.
“I don’t know.”

“
Oh please, don’t be an idiot!” Fiona was already moving toward Isabelle’s stereo. “He sent you music, oh my God. And you were just freaking standing there, staring at it.” She popped it into the player.

A moment later, t
he music began, just a thread of guitar at first. Isabelle held her breath. When Marvin began to sing, her heart almost came out of her chest. His voice! My God, she’d forgotten what he sounded like. She hadn’t let herself turn on the radio in weeks because she didn’t want to remember. It was bad enough seeing his face in her dreams every damn night. And right now it felt like she was falling. She couldn’t get enough air in her lungs.

“
Oh sweet baby Jesus, he’s singing to
you
, Isabelle,” Fiona whispered, grabbing her hand.

Isabelle nodded, blinking back tears. She hung onto
her friend, listening to Marvin sing
I miss you.
When he got to the chorus and his voice slithered down the phrase
your skin tastes like honey,
sounding like a man dying, she knew she was lost. She sank to the floor, rapt. When the song ended, she pressed play again. And then again. Fiona didn’t say a word until they’d listened to the song five times in a row.

“
He’s in love with you.”

Isabelle flinched.
“That’s ridiculous.” She pushed the power button, leaving the CD in the stereo. “We only spent two days together.”

“
Ha. Like you haven’t been moping around for the past month. Also, I’m the one who went with you to get that tattoo, remember? Doves over your heart? Yeah, because that isn’t a major sign that you miss him.” Fiona stood up and tugged on Isabelle’s shirt until she stood up too. “Come on. We both need booze.”

An hour and two drinks later, Fiona had degenerated into repeated entreaties for Isabelle to go to Los Angeles and get her man. “You’ve got to go, Isabelle. Why else do you think he sent you that song?”

“
I don’t know, maybe as a thank you for a nice weekend? He didn’t even send a note with it!” She sipped her drink, not nearly as tipsy as Fiona. She was too stressed out to drink. Or eat. She picked at her fries, the only thing she could talk herself into ordering after listening to that song. She wasn’t hungry and the crowded restaurant pressed in on her, made her feel even more of a loner than she usually did. The noise and the strangers around her had her longing for the comforting silence of her bedroom.

“
Well, maybe the song
is
a note,” Fiona replied, finishing her margarita.

Isabelle pushed a glass of water over to her friend.
“Drink that or you’re going to get dehydrated.”

Fiona rolled her eyes.
“Yes, mother.”

“
Besides,” Isabelle said, continuing their conversation. “How do I even know Marvin sent it? My brother could have mailed it to me. In fact, that’s a lot more likely.”

Fiona froze with her glass of water in mid-air.
“Well, shit.”

Isabelle chomped on a fry triumphantly.
“Exactly.”

“
You should still go to L.A.” She drank some water. “I know! You could go visit your brother! You still have some vacation days, don’t you?”

That wasn
’t actually a bad idea. “Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t want to go right now.” If she went now, she wouldn’t be able to stand it if she ran into Marvin, not that that was likely. “Maybe in a few weeks.”

Fiona pouted.
“Why wait?”

“
Oh, I don’t know, because running off to L.A. is crazy?” Isabelle said, exasperated.

“
It’s not crazy,” Fiona said, frowning, then her expression changed. “Do you hear that?”

“
Hear what?” She rubbed her temples, head aching. She felt like she was getting whiplash from her friend’s rapid mood changes.

“
Shh, listen! Is that the song?” Fiona asked, face tilted up.

Isabelle cocked her head, trying to hear the radio over the noise of the restaurant. When she finally isolated the
melody, she felt all the blood rush out of her head. It was the song. The song he’d sent her. What the hell was he thinking?