Razing Ryker (Dissonance Book 1) (3 page)

“Welcome to New York, Mr. Ryker,” the stewardess sang coyly. She extended her hand to him, shaking it lightly.

Ryker nodded to her with a faint smile before stepping down out of the private jet and onto the tarmac. A shining black car waited for him and he hurried to it, slipping inside immediately. He didn’t bother looking around. He’d been here a thousand times for concerts, movie shoots, interviews, and charity events. The glimmering skyline in the distance did nothing for him but remind him he was in another big city. It could be Paris, London, Los Angeles – it didn’t matter. None of it was home.

Grant was waiting for him inside the car, a stack of papers sitting in the space between them. “Have a good flight?”

Ryker shrugged, buckling in. “I slept the whole time.”

“You’ll be up all night.”

“Good thing I’m in the city that never sleeps.”

“Well, I do. Need my beauty rest, so you’re on your own tonight.”

Ryker touched the edge of the small square of paper the stewardess had slipped him. “I’m sure I can find someone to hang out with.”

“Keep your nose clean.”

“If that’s a cocaine reference, it’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be, but it sure as shit is now.”

“Did you get the tickets I asked for?” Ryker asked, glancing at the papers sitting between them.

Grant lifted the pile, sifting through them. “Every last one of them. You’re going to get hemorrhoids sitting for this long.”

“I’m not going to watch every one of them all the way through. I just need an idea of the talent in them.”

“Meaning you’re going to try to poach performers.”

“It’s not poaching. I need them for one night only.”

“Plus rehearsals.”

“There won’t be many. They need to learn five songs, tops.”

Grant looked at him sideways, his eyebrows raised. “New songs?”

“Don’t start,” Ryker grumbled, holding out his hand for one of the sheets Grant was rifling. “What’s first?”

Grant handed him the top sheet. ”
Incidental Intersection
. It’s on an open ended run, story of five lives interweaving together.”

Ryker nodded, holding out his hand for the next. “What about the reboots?”

“Got ‘em all. Six total, all classics with long runs.”

“No Disney?”

“No Disney, as requested. Hater.”

“I’m allowed. What else?”

Grant handed him three more, all originals. “These were harder to get.
Surrendered
was sold out the entire time you’re here so I had to call in a favor on that one.
The Opportunist
was sold out too, but they gave up a reserved seat when I dropped your name. You’ll have to go shake hands with the director and cast after the show, so you need to sit through that one.”

“Or show up after intermission.”

“Don’t be a shit. They’re being hospitable.”

“What about this third one?
Rendezvous
.” Ryker held up the info sheet for Grant to see. “I’d never heard of this one until a week ago. This was sold out?”

“No, not sold out. Shutting down.”

“Why?”

“It’s losing money and the producers have given up hope of it turning around. From what I could find out this one did amazing in the smaller theaters but right before they went bigtime they lost their female lead to
Surrendered
. Couldn’t find the right replacement for her and the show started struggling. Just one of those things. Not every show makes the transition to Broadway smoothly.”

“What about the rest of the cast? The ensemble? How are they?”

“Stellar, which is why I bought us tickets. I thought about scrapping it entirely but I figured it could be a good option for us. Strong, seasoned dancers in the chorus and they’re all about to be out of work. That’s exactly what you need.”

Ryker nodded thoughtfully, glancing down at the show info in one hand and the square of paper with ten digits scrawled neatly across it in the other. The lights of the city rushed over them, flashing them in and out of his vision in a steady rhythm that felt like the beat of a bass pulsing and pounding. He could almost hear it as it swept through the cab of the car, and as he rushed toward the center of the city full of possibilities and promise, he wondered what exactly it was that he really did need.

“I need to come,” she whimpered, arcing her back and tearing at her hair as her eyes fluttered closed. “Oh my God, I’m gonna die. I need to come.”

Cameron changed up his slow pace to slide into her hard and fast, helping her along, making her cry out as her eyes flew open. He grunted as he shifted her weight and pinned her body harder against the mirrored wall of the studio. Her breasts bounced in front of his face as he drove up into her again and again, and he leaned down to take one taught nipple in his mouth. She pulled her hands from her hair and ran them roughly through his, drawing his head closer to her as he suckled hard. He bit and nipped, licked and lapped in slow draws that made her moan and shake in his hands.

“Ohhh!” she cried, her hot, silken walls tightening around him. “Fuck, yes! Fuck me! Yes!”

Her words sent him over the edge and he filled the condom between them, slowing his thrusts as his vision flared white and his legs weakened underneath them both. He gripped her hips hard to hold her in place and make sure he didn’t drop her on the hardwood floor of the studio. If one of the ensemble broke their ass because he got clumsy while fucking her then he’d never hear the end of it. He wasn’t sure anyone’s insurance covered that.

She sighed as her orgasm left her limp and sated in his arms. Cameron kissed her slowly as he lowered her to the ground and listened for the distinct
click
of her heels hitting the floor before letting go.

“Cam, that was…” she mumbled numbly. “That was exactly what I needed.”

He grinned as he removed the saturated condom and tossed it in the trash by the piano. “You and me both.”

Suddenly she giggled, making him look up questioningly. She covered her mouth, pointing to the mirror behind where she’d been pinned. Both of their sweaty handprints were everywhere up and down the surface. “Do you think anyone will know?” she laughed.

“If the used condom in the trash doesn’t give it away, that definitely will.”

“I guess they won’t know it was us. I seriously doubt we’re the first people to fuck in this room.”

“I know for a fact we’re not,” he replied, tucking himself back into his pants.

“Why?” Samantha challenged with a sly smile. She stood naked in front of him showing no signs of getting dressed. “Because you’ve done it before?”

Yes
, he thought.

“Because I’ve walked in on it happening,” he evaded. It was true, just not the truth she was looking for. But that truth was one he didn’t like to think about. It was a blond beauty rehearsing in a building just down the block for her show that would run forever, while his – the show they’d both given everything to – was closing in a few days.

That truth was betrayal.

“You sure you’ve never been in here with Greer?”

It was Cameron’s turn to laugh. “Are you serious?”

Samantha shrugged. “Everyone assumes you’re sleeping together.”

“Everyone is wrong. We have never and we will never. She’s like a sister to me.”

“Of course she is,” Samantha droned, rolling her eyes and taking a seat in a nearby folding chair. Her lithe body draped over it with impossible grace. “She’s everyone’s precious little sister.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That she’s too damn sweet and innocent for my taste.”

“She’s not that innocent. She just doesn’t broadcast her life to everyone. She’s quiet.”

“Quiet can be construed as bitchy.”

He grinned. “So can being bitchy.”

“What is
that
supposed to mean?” Samantha chuckled.

Cameron leaned in over the chair, looking down at her face and her golden body flushed with exertion and excitement. “It means you’re a bitch with a bite,” he whispered against her face.

“I thought you liked my bite.”

“I don’t remember saying that.”

“You didn’t,” she brushed her lips lightly over his, “not with words.”

Samantha claimed his mouth with her own, pulling his face down to hers and making him lean hard over her body in the chair. She licked his lips, demanding and receiving entrance into his mouth, then she bit his bottom lip fiercely, sucking the soft flesh between her teeth and soothing it with a languid lick from her tongue. Cameron groaned, feeling himself harden again instantly.

“See?” Samantha whispered with a smile. “You said it again.”

“The blue balls will help me remember this time.”

“You could stay.”

Cameron stood, shaking his head. “I can’t. I have an appointment.”

She shrugged, standing up and heading for her clothes. “Next time, then,” she called over her shoulder, absolutely certain there would be a next time.

As Cameron watched her round, naked ass walk away, his dick jumping for joy in his pants, he knew there’d be a next time too. He’d needed this as much as she did. A release from the frustration and anxiety over the show closing. Plus he’d just needed a good lay. It’d been too long and he had too many memories. Too many demons that needed chasing.

Twenty minutes later he was across the street from the Brenshaw-Hyland Theater, watching as a small crowd of fans waited outside the exit.
Surrendered
had run a matinee today, one that had ended over an hour ago but he knew he wasn’t too late. He knew the timetable. He’d lived it with her for over a year.

Like clockwork, almost exactly an hour and ten minutes after curtain, Eve stepped out of the theater door. Her blond hair was brighter than he remembered it, glowing in the low evening light like a beacon. One that called him here to this street corner five nights a week in the sickest, saddest show of undeserving devotion he’d ever known - and he’d been in an underground stage performance of
Twilight
. He knew angst.

Eve smiled her dazzling smile, signed autographs, kissed cheeks, posed for selfies, and slowly made her way through the adoring crowd. She showed each one of them attention, each one of them care and appreciation. Total strangers taking her love and making it theirs, but if Cameron approached her now he’d be greeted with stone silence and a cold stare. He who had given her his whole heart. He who had been inside her more than any other woman he’d ever been with. He who she’d cast aside when she didn’t need him anymore.

But the fans – she needed the fans. She always had. She always would.

As they closed the show for the final time, Greer watched the curtain falling in front of them with an odd sense of calm. She should have been sad. She should have cried with Anna, hugging her and Cameron and Bryce. She should have made John angry by throwing her arms around him and whispering her thanks for everything he’d done for them. He’d find more work – he was a fantastic director with a strong following – but the rest of them would be in and out of auditions for months.

Cameron took hold of her and hugged her when the stage went dark. She grinned, hugging him back hard and loving the familiar feel of him. Damp with sweat from his final number, tall, solid. It was his strength that brought her here.

“We’re gonna be fine,” he whispered to her. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Cam, I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He pulled back, his hands taking hold of her shoulders as his eyes bore down into hers seriously. “But I always will,” he swore.

She smiled, stepping up on her toes and kissing him on the cheek. “We’ll take care of each other. How about that?”

“You know what I want to do right now?” he asked abruptly.

“What?”

“Get drunk.”

Greer laughed, nodding emphatically. “Fuck yeah, let’s do that. This is all way too real and vivid for my liking.”

“Meet you by the door in ten?”

“You got it.”

By the time she was in her street clothes and wearing far less makeup, most of the cast was in for drinks. They set a plan to meet at a bar in the area and people trickled out slowly, everyone a little reluctant to leave the theater for the last time. On her way out, Greer snuck away from the herd and headed for the stage. The curtain was still down and she stepped in front of the thick fabric to stand face to face with the empty seats. They stared back at her blankly, expectantly, and she wondered what offering she could give them. What part of herself she could leave here in this place to make it real and hers. To make the memory solid and something she’d never be without.

“Old McDonald had a farm,” she sang softly, her eyes scanning the dark as her voice quietly pinged and danced off every surface. She’d never had a solo before, certainly not on a stage on Broadway, and it felt good to take one now. Even if it was to an audience of none. “E-I-E-I-O.”

Smiling at how ridiculous she was, Greer turned to leave the stage.

“And on that farm he had a hen,” a man’s voice suddenly sang back.

She spun around, scanning the darkness again and coming up empty. And yet the voice was there.
Someone
was out there.

“E-I-E-I-O,” the voice continued.

Whoever was singing was good. His voice was low and rough, rugged in a way that was both intentional and learned to the point of being natural. It was also vaguely familiar in a surreal sort of way. They way you’d recognize Santa Claus if you found him in your living room one Christmas morning. He had no business being real, but there he was.

“With a cluck-cluck here,” she sang back, squinting into the dark. A shadow was forming in the aisle. “And a cluck-cluck there.”

“Here a cluck. There a cluck,” he sang, stepping closer to the stage and into the meager light sneaking and snaking past the curtain from the back. “Everywhere a cluck-cluck.”

“Old McDonald had a farm.”

“E-I-E-I-O,” they finished together, their voices falling into a perfect harmony as he came to a halt directly at her feet at the edge of the stage.

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

He smirked at her response and she died a little inside. She knew that face. Knew that voice, and she definitely knew that smirk. It was the same one that had looked out at her from the poster propped on her pillow the first time she’d ever put her own hand on her body. The first time she’d ever spiraled out of control, hot and flushing with fluid desire – the same desire that rushed to her core now the instant she laid eyes on him.

On Jace Ryker.

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly, stunned into stupid amazement where all social construct was tossed out the window.

“I caught the show,” he answered, moving slowly along the front of the stage to head for the stairs. “It was good. I’m glad I got a chance to see it.”

“Just under the wire.”

“Yeah, I got lucky.”

“Us not so much,” she replied, her voice unintentionally bitter.

“No,” he agreed, not put off by her tone. “Not good enough to stay on Broadway, but there’s still something there.”

“You know a lot about live theater?”

He climbed the stairs and came to stand in front of her, leaving a good fifteen feet between them. He was dressed in dark jeans, black leather boots, and a gray suit jacket over a simple but expensive looking T-shirt. Since joining the theater Greer had learned to spot expensive clothing. It was all in the stitching.

Jace’s hair was cut short high up on the sides and carefully mussed and gelled on the top. His tan skin told long stories of hours on California beaches and his dark brown eyes looked black in the shadows of the dark theater. They looked nothing like the eyes of the seventeen year old she’d imagined all those years ago. Those eyes had been cocky. Almost playful. Here and now in front of her were a man’s eyes. They were guarded, weary, and almost aggressive in their intent. As he stared at her, she felt instantly flushed and uncertain – a feeling she hated almost as much as fear.

“Not much,” Jace admitted, tucking his hands in his pockets and shrugging. The move lifted his shirt in the front, giving her a tiny glimpse of his flat stomach beneath. “I know a thing or two about being on stage, though.”

Greer laughed reflexively at that understatement, the mirth pushing past her nerves. “And dancing and music, I bet.”

“A little.” He stepped forward, closing just enough of the distance between them to shake her hand. His skin was surprisingly soft and as he entered her space his smell wafted around her, full and heady. Like clean citrus and warm wood. “Jace Ryker.”

“I know. Greer Weston.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“Your name is on the playbill.”

Okay, yeah
, she thought,
but that doesn’t answer the question
.

She wasn’t a headliner. She was only twenty-two and
Rendezvous
was her first time making it to the stage. So what the hell had happened in the universe to make Jace Ryker of all people take notice of her?

“You were great,” he continued. “Your dancing is very clean. Decisive.”

“Thank you.”

“I’d like to hear you sing.”

“You just did.”

His lips twitched faintly. It wasn’t a grin or a smile, definitely not his sexy smirk, but it did something to her. It was a brief respite from the heaviness that fell around him, dark like a cloak of shadow on his shoulders forcing him down and holding the world out. “I’d like to hear more,” he amended. “Are you available for an audition tomorrow?”

Greer hesitated, her eyes flitting to the curtain separating them from backstage. The noise had died down. They were probably two of the last people in the building. Just her and Jace motherfuckin’ Ryker, hot as Hell rock star god. That was fine. Normal. This wasn’t a cruel prank or bizarre fever dream at all.... “Are you offering me a job?”

“I’m offering you an audition.”

“To do what?”

“Come to the audition to find out.”

“When?”

He pulled a small card from his pocket and handed it to her. “The details are here. All I ask is that you keep it to yourself. These are closed auditions. Invitation only.”

“Okay.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turned to leave, hopping effortlessly down from the stage and heading back into the darkness the same way he had come.

“The front doors are locked,” Greer called after him.

He lifted his hand and waved without turning. “Not for me they’re not.”