Owned (Rockstar Romance) (Lost in Oblivion Book 5) (34 page)

S
imon paced
the length of the mini-backstage. Well, the closed off area with chairs. Not like they could have a real backstage when a rooftop in downtown Los Angeles was the venue.

Fuck.

Nothing like going big for his first show.

He twirled his ring with his thumb. It still felt a little weird on his finger, probably because it had only been on his left ring finger for two weeks.

He hadn’t even gotten to have a real honeymoon after the wedding. Not just a wedding, but a double ceremony. Christ—he’d gone from sharing absolutely nothing in common with his best friend, to sharing a wedding date with one Nick Crandall.

How the fuck had his life changed so drastically?

They’d been too worried about finishing the album before babies were birthed. Babies—so many freaking babies. Not only Jazz who was waddling around with a basketball under her bright ass pink mumu, but their estimable manager Lila Crandall. And because Lila never did anything small, she decided a twofer was the way to go.

One and done?

If a person had to have two kids, he supposed it was easier to get it out of the way all together.

But that was the least of his worries right now. Uncle Simon was easy. It was Lead Singer Simon Kagan who was ready to burst out of his damn skin.

And now he was talking about himself in third person. Sweet bleeding Christ, he was losing it.

He rolled his neck and looked over the setlist one last time. It was a short one. The fact that Donovan had managed to get them the approval to sing on the top of his damn building to appease his tenant—some big photographer— in the middle of rush hour traffic was a testament to just how powerful he was.

“Five songs. You can do this.”

“Of course you can. You’re Simon Fucking Kagan.”

Simon whirled around at Nick’s voice. His heart was racing and he was pretty sure there were black dots forming in his periphery. Fuck.

“Breathe.” Nick clapped a hand onto Simon’s shoulder. “Breathe before you black out.”

“Christ, I can’t do this.”

“You can. You were born for this, Kagan. You know this.”

Simon shook out his fingers and scrubbed his palms over his faded jeans. Back to the beginning. It had been exactly what they needed. No artifice, no bells and whistles. Well, one whistle. Okay, two.

He glanced over Nick’s shoulder to the massive speakers that Donovan had choppered onto the rooftop as well as the bank of screens that flanked the “stage”. Seventy-five foot screens. No big deal.

Simon bent at the waist and put his head between his knees. “Whose idea was this?”

“Donovan’s,” Nick said dryly.

“Why did we say yes?”

“He’s my wife’s boss—kinda technically our boss.”

“Right.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Spots are bad, right?”

“Black ones?”

“Fuck off, Nick.”

He laughed and crouched in front of him. “Do you need me to find Margo? Blowjob, maybe?”

“I hate you.” Simon pushed his hair out of his face. “Why aren’t you blowing into a paper bag like usual?”

“I figure only one of us is allowed to have stage fright. Your turn, buddy.”

“Fucking awesome.” Simon crashed to a seated position on the patterned rug that had been set up for them. “Give me the sheet.”

“You know the songs, asshole.”

“I know. I need to change the order.”

Nick handed him the paper.

S
imon crossed
out “The Becoming” and moved it to the top of the setlist, then moved “Facing the Edge” to the encore. “Only way this is going to happen.” He handed it back to Nick.

Nick whistled. “You want to start off the show with the hit? And fucking end it on an unknown song?”

If he didn’t get it out of the way he was going to throw up and possibly toss himself off the damn roof. The single, “Return to Oblivion” had been getting some serious airplay. Simon had even managed to do a few live radio spots during the week.

He’d thrown up until he was pretty sure he’d blown out a blood vessel in his right eye, but he did it.

This—so much worse.

“Simon we’ve got ten min—oh, my God are you all right?” Margo rushed over to him and dropped to her knees.

“I’m fine. Just freaking out a little.”

Nick smirked. “A little?”

“I don’t remember torturing you when you had these little freak outs.”

Nick crossed his arms. “I seem to remember a few put up or shut up conversations in the old days, pal.”

Simon heaved himself off the floor. It was too damn hot anyway. It was a perfect spring day in the heart of Los Angeles. So that meant seventy-two felt like a broiling eighty degrees, especially when they were trying to climb up to the sun.

Damn high rise building. Donovan Lewis couldn’t do anything small.

She nibbled her lip. “So, I probably shouldn’t tell you there’s four hundred people in front of the stage.”

He gave Margo a side-eye. “Thanks.”

She threw herself into his arms. “You’re going to be magnificent.”

No pressure.

The
whomp-whomp
of a chopper made him whimper. Maybe. Possibly he covered it up with the sheer blast of noise. He looked up and a pair of cameras glinted out of the body of the helicopter. Local news call letters were emblazoned along the side.

On the news too.

Yeah. Tossing himself off the roof was sounding like a better idea every second.

The Edge’s famous guitars slowly built over the noise. Simon laughed. He had to hand it to Lila and Donovan. When they went big, they went really big.

“Where the Streets Have No Name” broadcasted out over the city in bombastic clarity. Simon straightened up and cracked his neck. This is what rockstars did. They did crazy fucking shit.

They did it up right when it was time to have a coming out party.

And he was fucking back.

He stripped off the black shirt he wore over his black tank. He was wearing his lucky jeans, he had his friends with him. He glanced at Nick, who was giving him a half-smile. Then just as suddenly his face went white.

Simon frowned. “Nick?”

“Lila?”

“I know she’s the center of your world, buddy, but I’m not Lila. Definitely don’t have her rack.”

Margo whacked him in the gut.

He grunted. “What?”

“Watch it.” She nodded behind the curtained off area to a woman in a wheelchair. “She snuck in.”

Simon grinned. “Of course she did.”

Nick pushed roadies out of the way and a reporter who tried to stick a microphone in his face. He only had eyes for his wife.

Margo curled her fingers around Simon’s hand. “Ready to do this?”

“Yes.”

She tugged him after her until there was a circle of them, Lila in the center with Nick crouched by her chair. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m in a wheelchair, Nicholas. Which, I might add, I think is a little overkill at this stage of my pregnancy, but yes, better safe than sorry. And I promise, I’m going home right after the show.”

“You should leave now.” Nick’s eyebrows snapped together. “What if something happens?”

She nodded to a woman standing on the sidelines next to the man who was trying to take over the entertainment business one band at a time. “I even have a nurse here, thanks to Donovan. I’m in excellent hands.”

Donovan tapped two fingers to his brow and gave them a little salute.

Nerves tried to crackle to life again, but Simon stuffed them down. Instead, he put a fisted hand in front of Lila. Margo placed her hand on his. Jazz bounced on her ballerina flats and slapped her hand over Margo’s. Gray followed suit, followed by Deacon and finally Nick.

Lila cupped all their hands together as a unit. Her big blue eyes shining as she sniffled. “I’m so very proud of you guys. Now, go kick some ass.”

They all laughed and broke apart and headed for the stage. The U2 song slowly faded into the opening strains of “The Becoming.”

Deacon McCoy’s larger than life bassline that started it all was exactly how they needed to start this show. Simon pulled the St. Christopher’s medal out of his shirt and kissed it before climbing the three stairs to the dais Donovan’s people had built.

So many people.

Four hundred had been a very low estimate. He looked out over the sea of people waiting to hear them—waiting to see them. And beyond that there was now a second helicopter. He turned around to the screens behind him and gaped.

Cameras from the street showed a river of people standing on either side of the street from the Lewis building. And the line snaked for at least a block.

He swallowed as the band looped the intro one more time. Simon waved them to a quiet. “Hi guys.”

The crowd roared.

“So, didja miss us?”

The crowd lost their collective shit.

“Hmm. I’m not sure you really mean it.” Simon cupped his hand around his ear and felt the familiar seductive pull of the stage. God, he’d missed it so fucking much.

He waved back to Deacon and his bass resonated out of the speakers and over his shoulders. “This is ‘The Becoming’,” Simon whispered into the microphone.

The pure joy of the song. The one that he’d missed for years now. It roared into him and out of his throat as he sung the familiar lyrics. He prowled the stage and crossed to his best friend. Nick’s face was stoic and full of that growling intensity.

He draped his arm over Nick’s shoulder and closed the distance until they were forehead to forehead. The words came easily this time, because the song was their hope that had returned.

Hope and faith that maybe this time, they just might pull it off.

They both sang the chorus into the microphone before Simon twisted away and back to the front of the stage. He made himself look at the front row of people.

They were his people.

This was his time. The band’s time.

He spun across the stage, jumped on the raised drum kit with Jazz and slapped her high hats then down to Gray for a turn through the guitar solo. He bounced with Deacon in his metronome manner and then finally, finally to his Violin Girl with her witchy woman black skintight outfit.

Back to back they played—his voice to her bow.

And as the ending came, he shuddered and stumbled for a moment.

Nick came up from the back of the stage and stood with him and he dropped to his knees as the final note rang into the blue, blue sky.

The perfect note.

The perfect song.

The perfect day.

M
usic kept them going
. Now it might tear them apart…
 Guitarist Nick Crandall has one focus in his life—Oblivion, the band he started with his closest friends, lead singer Simon Kagan and bassist Deacon McCoy. After losing their drummer to rehab, they take on two members, one of them female. A YouTube video gone viral later, Oblivion is heading to the top faster than they ever dreamed. If the band doesn’t break up—and hearts don’t get broken—before they manage to sign their first recording contract. (
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)

Music saved him, but now it's keeping him from the only woman he craves...
 Hot nights with a naughty, inventive rockstar are one thing, but more isn't on the playlist. Until Deacon's dream with his best friends starts turning into a nightmare, and Harper begins to see the real man behind the façade. Except Harper has her own dreams to chase, even if what she’s started with Deacon might be the most important one of all. (
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Loving in fast forward...
 A beachfront cottage, hours of alone time, and plenty of skin on skin action is just what the rockstar ordered. Until the future once again comes much quicker than Deacon and Harper expected, threatening to crumble not only their perfect honeymoon but also their brand new marriage. (
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)

Sometimes the knight in shining armor needs to be saved himself...
Being the rhythm guitarist in one of the country's hottest bands with his best friend Jazz is Gray Duffy's dream come true. Now that they’re making music together, the time is right for Jazz to make a move toward the man she loves. If the secret he's keeping doesn't destroy them—and their band. (
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)

Falling in love was easy…figuring out the rhythm of being a couple, not so much.
 Now that they’ve pressed play, life is going way too fast for Gray Duffy and Jazz Edwards. A super hot video has boosted their band Oblivion’s popularity even higher, and suddenly Gray and Jazz are the reigning prince and princess of rock. But as their private wedding ceremony in their treasured place approaches, they realize they can’t go forward without facing their roots. (
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Only one woman has ever refused him…and she’s the only one he wants.
Now that he’s beyond successful with Oblivion, lead singer Simon Kagan is enjoying his all-access pass to the groupie train. But from the moment he met Margo Reece, he knew the classy, buttoned-up violinist was different. After an amazing night in the studio, he’s finally connected with someone on a deeper level—only to have her walk away without a backward glance. Except maybe Margo is ready to take a walk on the wild side…or even fall in love with the one man she was never supposed to. If it’s not already too late. (
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Is it better to burn out or fade away…
 Oblivion lead singer Simon Kagan is used to being in the spotlight, but not because of the epic ending to Oblivion’s last show. That unforgettable night rocked the band in more ways than one, and now the journey back seems almost impossible. The only bright spot is Margo. As long as she never realizes the man she fell for no longer exists, maybe he won’t lose everything that matters due to just one all-consuming night. (
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He’s shattered…and she’s the only woman who can help him pick up the pieces.
 Nick Crandall has everything he ever thought he wanted, but it doesn’t stop his dream from shattering, right before his eyes.Until the person he least expects pulls him back from the brink. Ripper Records exec Lila Shawcross isn’t about to let a hot-headed, hard-bodied lead guitarist wreck her orderly existence or dilute her focus from managing the band. Except Nick is determined to possess her…and what Nick wants, Nick gets.(
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)

Music kept them going. Now it's torn them apart…
Guitarist Nick Crandall lost the most important thing in his life—his band—just as he was falling in love. A year after going on hiatus, Oblivion is returning to the studio and he’s about to ask the woman he loves to marry him. Simon has spent the past year trying to find his way back to the thing that sustained him in his darkest hours, then grew to be his biggest demon. With Margo’s help, he’s ready to admit it’s showtime. It’s do or die, one more time. (
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