Rock All Night (The Rock Star's Seduction #2) (20 page)

Our encounter in the shower was a thousand times better than the one from two nights ago.

And in a wildly different way, so was the after-party.

After we got dressed (I insisted on putting on some makeup and changing into new clothes on the tour bus), Derek took me on his arm and escorted me backstage – and into the midst of a couple dozen celebrities. Suddenly I wasn’t the wallflower reporter skulking on the sidelines; I was on the arm of the most desired man in a room full of fame and fortune. Hell, the most desired man in the country. Rappers, rock legends, film stars, TV actors – all of them were looking at me like,
Who’s this?
A couple of the rappers playfully hit on me, then joked with Derek like they were afraid he would come after them (“Awright man, you know I’m jus’ playin’ – I wouldn’t do you like that, dawg – but
daaaamn,
shorty is
tight”
). The older rockers and movie stars were courtly and polite, but the women – especially the younger women, the ones who had probably come backstage with an agenda – threw a lot of cold shoulders my way as they ran their hands up and down Derek’s free arm, and laughed at everything he said.

I felt jealous again – but it was different from the other night.
That
was a gnawing feeling of deprivation, an ache that I could never belong, that I could never have what I wanted. Now
I
was on the inside of the circle, just me and Derek, and the others were intruders trying to force their way in. Now my jealousy was equal parts anger that they were trying to steal him, disbelief that they could be so bold to try it right in front of my face, and smug satisfaction that they didn’t have a chance.

You can try all you want, bitch, but
I
know who he’s going home with.

Everything I just said makes me sound terrible. I know it; I cringe to write it down. I had, even if just for a moment, turned into one of those hoochies from the other night. The gold diggers and players clawing at the king, trying to be his queen.

I could suddenly see why so many beautiful women pursued rock stars, and athletes, and movie stars. I’m sure some did it for the money – but I think it was primarily the fame. The limelight is like a drug. All that attention is intoxicating. When everybody is fawning over the man of your dreams, and you start basking in that reflected glow… it does something to you. It warps the way you see the world. It certainly did for me.

I felt like the belle of the ball – Cinderella on the arm of Prince Charming. Except Prince Charming was all tatted up and wearing sunglasses indoors.

There was champagne – and this time I drank it. There was also whiskey and pot and cocaine, in which I did not partake. But two nights ago the world had seemed cold and sharp-edged and ugly. Now there was a golden haze over everything, and not only was I in love with Derek, I was in love with life.

Somebody else noticed it, too.

Derek got pulled aside by Miles to go speak to some famous music producer, which left me alone – until Ryan walked up, all smiles.

“Somebody’s having a much nicer night than the last time I saw her at one of these things.”

I giggled back. (The champagne was taking its toll.) “A
much
nicer night, yes.”

“And to think, all of this was made possible by my advice,” he said sagely, in a self-mocking kind of way.

“That whole ‘let yourself go and live a little’ part? Yeah… I suppose I should thank you for that.”

He waved me off, his eyes half-closed, like
Ahhhh, don’t mention it.

I smiled. “It was good advice.”

Then, with his eyes still half-closed, he put out his hand and motioned his fingers like
More – more – gimme more,
the same way Stephen Colbert does when he wants his audience to keep howling for him.

I grinned and played along. “It was really good advice.”

He turned his head away and kept motioning for more.

Now I was laughing. “It was an absolutely brilliant stroke of genius.”

He put out a hand like
Okay, you can stop there.

“It was nothing,” he said nonchalantly, still playing up the self-mockery angle. Then he grew serious, though with a smile. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I’m just a little worried about my journalistic integrity.”

He made a face and blew out air through his lips. “If you were interviewing the President or a Congressman or somebody important, then, yeah. But we’re just three guys and a crazy chick who get up on stage and play songs.”

“You’re joking, right?” I asked, stunned. “You guys are incredibly important!”

He swept his arm around at the room. “Don’t confuse the trappings with being important, Kaitlyn.”

“What about the people you inspire? What about kids who are where you were four years ago, in their parents’ basement, following their dream? You’re important to
them
.”

He bobbed his head modestly and nodded in grudging assent. “Well, okay, yeah, those are the people I want to be important to
,
so that’s fine. But believe me, you’ll be giving them a dream, too: the hope that, one day, they too will be able to get a beautiful Rolling Stone writer to question her journalistic integrity.”

I laughed and swatted him on the arm. “
Thanks.
”

“Don’t mention it,” he grinned, and walked off into the crowd.

As he left, though, his words played again in my head:

And to think, all of this was made possible by my advice.

I intentionally ignored the whole part where he had confessed to falling in love with me years ago. The fact that he was happy to see
me
happy… that was confusing enough.

But despite my fog of giddiness and champagne, I remembered something else besides the ‘let yourself go and live a little’ part:

Be careful. He’s my best friend, but… just be careful. Don’t give too much of yourself away. Not completely.

I like you way too much to see you get hurt.

It was like hearing the whispers of a ghost echoing down a long, dark hallway.

Unsettling.

Disturbing.

And then I forgot everything as I felt the sting of somebody slapping my ass HARD.

“OW!” I yelped.

I was about to wheel around and give Derek hell –

When I realized it wasn’t Derek.

“What up, Blondie!” Riley cackled, then darted in and sloppily kissed my cheek. She reeked of sweat and Jack Daniels.

“UGH, get off me!” I shouted, pushing her away violently.

In retrospect, I think it was the champagne that emboldened me to do that.

She backed away into the crowd as she pointed at me. “One day, Blondie! One day, I’m gonna tap dat ass!”

And then she bumped into a stunning brunette…

Wheeled around and got an eyeful…

And then smacked
her
rear end, too.

The brunette was not quite as unreceptive as I was.

Which Riley took immediate advantage of as she began sucking on her face.

I watched the whole display with an expression I usually reserve for roadkill.

“Looks like I have competition,” a voice rumbled behind me.

I turned and saw Derek grinning.

I rolled my eyes. “If you died, and then the whole rest of the world except for Riley died, too, you
still
wouldn’t have any competition.”

He laughed, then circled his arms around me, nuzzled up against my back, and whispered in my ear, “Hey… you feel like getting out of here?”

Mmmmmmm.

“I
so
feel like getting out of here,” I whispered back.

And then Killian ruined everything.

He strolled over to us, smoking a joint and strumming his guitar.

“‘Ello, luv,” he smiled at me, then looked at Derek. “We still on for tomorrow, yeah?”

Derek stared at him blankly – and then closed his eyes and winced. “Oh, shit, I totally forgot…”

I frowned. “Forgot what?”

For the first time ever, I saw something other than a look of placid contentment on Killian’s face. He looked flat-out disappointed. “Aw, c’mon now… I’m happy you two are in the midst of connubial bliss, but you promised, mate.”

“Connubial…?” I slurred, now firmly in the grips of the champagne. “I don’t think that means what you think it means…”

I giggled, realizing I sounded a lot like that quote from
The Princess Bride
:

Inconceivable!

You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

Which I thought was hilarious.

Come on, cut me a break. I was drunk.

Everybody else, though, was ignoring me.

“Killian…” Derek said, sounding like he was about to try to weasel his way out of something.

“You promised,” Killian said, standing firm.

“Promised what? What’s wrong?” I asked, now slightly alarmed.

“Bring her along! I’ve got more than enough – the more the merrier!” Killian turned to me and asked enthusiastically, “You want to go to Joshua Tree tomorrow, luv?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said, suddenly far more adult and wary-sounding than I’d ever heard him before.

“Joshua Tree?” I frowned. “Like… U2?”

Killian chuckled. “Yes – exactly! They named the album after it. Joshua Tree National Park. We’re going tomorrow for an overnight stay.”

“Don’t you have a concert?”

“Nope.
Specifically
for this reason,” he said, frowning at Derek like
You PROMISED.

“Get Ryan to go instead,” Derek suggested.

Killian snorted derisively. Compared to what he normally acted like, he was a full-on riot of emotions. “Ryan’ll never do
anything.
You know that.”

“Ryan’ll never do anything what?” Ryan said, suddenly materializing beside Killian from out of the crowd.

“Where’d you come from?” I asked, surprised.

“You guys looked like you were having a band conference. Ryan’ll never do anything what?” he repeated.

“Joshua Tree,” Derek said simply, as though that explained everything.

Apparently it did.

“Damn straight Ryan’ll never do anything,” Ryan agreed.

Killian pointed at Ryan but made a face at Derek – like,
See? What did I tell you?

“And he’s trying to get Kaitlyn to go along,” Derek explained.

“Oh,
hell
no.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use this much profanity, ever,” I teased Ryan.

“There’s a good reason,” he said darkly.

“Bah,” Killian said, flapping his hand dismissively. “Just because you’re a prissy wanker doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t partake.”

“You prissy wanker, you,” Derek repeated. Ryan just rolled his eyes.

“Partake in what?” I asked. “Why doesn’t anyone want to go to Joshua Tree with Killian?”

“Yes, why doesn’t anyone want to go to Joshua Tree with Killian?” the guitarist said plaintively, like a five-year-old child who only got a package of underwear for Christmas.

Derek sighed heavily. “It’s not that I don’t want to go, it’s just…”

“It’s just what?” I asked.

Derek paused, then gave me a mischievous grin. “He wants to do shrooms while we’re there.”

“…shrooms?” I repeated, not quite understanding in my drunken state.

Then I got it.

“MUSHROOMS?!”

“Say it a little louder, luv,” Killian griped. “The coppers outside the stadium didn’t hear you.”

“You want to go take drugs out in the desert?!”

Killian seemed to consider that a baffling question. As in, who
wouldn’t
want to?

“…yeah!”

“It’s an annual thing,” Derek explained. “Ever since he came to Athens, he
has
to go to Joshua Tree every year and trip on shrooms. It’s like his annual ritual or something.”

“Exactly,” Killian said, sounding comically dignified. “It’s my annual ritual.”

“And every year Derek goes with him,” Ryan said.

“And trips his balls off,” Killian added.

“And every year he tries to get Ryan to go, too – ” Derek said.

“But Ryan’s a prissy little wanker who won’t partake,” Killian sniffed. Then he leaned in close to me. “Don’t be a prissy little wanker, luv.”

“I… uh… I’ve never dropped shrooms before,” I said, a little bit frightened. Okay, a
lot
frightened.

“You ‘drop’ acid. You just ‘take’ shrooms,” Derek said.

“You can drop shrooms,” Killian said.

“Yeah,” I said, annoyed at being corrected.

“Nobody says that,” Derek scoffed.

“Well, Kaitlyn can drop shrooms if she wants,” Killian said magnanimously, and then gave me puppy dog eyes. “Please, luv? Do it for Queen and country.”

“She’s not British,” Ryan pointed out.

“Pretend you are.”

“The fuck’s going on over here?” Riley shouted as she stumbled over. “Is this a band conference?”

“Unofficial one, yeah,” Ryan said.

“Why wasn’t I invited?!” Riley roared.

“It’s about Joshua Tree.”

“Oh, FUCK THAT.”

“I’m trying to get Kaitlyn to come along and join in,” Killian explained.

Riley about busted a gut laughing. “Yeah, right!”

I drew myself up in indignation. “What does
that
mean?”

“It means you got a stick so far up your ass, you’re not gettin’ any mushrooms down there with it,” Riley snorted as she walked off.

“I do not,” I said in a petulant little voice that nobody else heard. Then I called after her, “That doesn’t even make
sense!”

Now I kind of
wanted
to do shrooms, just to show Riley up.

Kind of.

Sort of.

Maybe.

“You can come if you like,” Killian called out to the drummer.

“Are there gonna be hot naked chicks?” Riley shouted over her shoulder.

Killian paused to consider.

“…most probably not, no.”

“Then
fuck off!
” Riley yelled as she walked into the crowd.

“Alright, that’s one off the list,” Killian said.

“You didn’t seriously expect her to say ‘yes,’ did you?” Ryan asked. “You ask her every year, and she
never
says yes.”

“I ask
you
every year.”

“Yeah, and I never say ‘yes’ either.”

Killian shrugged. “I try to be polite.”

I looked at Ryan in alarm. How bad did something have to be for
Riley
to refuse to do it? “Why doesn’t she ever say ‘yes’?”

“Riley’s drug of choice is booze,” Ryan explained. “She’s not interested in anything else.”

“Except pussy!” Riley shouted, popping back into the conversation just long enough to scare the shit out of me, laugh maniacally, and disappear again.

“Except that,” Ryan conceded.

Killian turned back to me. “You’ll come along, right, luv? Pleeeeaaaase?”

“I… I don’t know, Killian,” I said, when what I really meant was closer to Riley’s FUCK NO.

“But if
you
don’t do it, then Derek won’t do it… and if Derek won’t do it, he won’t even come… and then I’ll be all alone, and it’s no fun all alone,” he whined.

“Miles is going to let you
do
this?” I asked, shocked.

“It’s in the unofficial contract,” Killian said as he puffed on his joint.

I looked at Derek in bewilderment.

He shrugged. “That’s Killian’s term for stuff Miles can’t say shit about. One is trying to stop Killian from smoking weed – ”

“Forbidden to even mention it,” Killian said seriously.

“ – and the other is Joshua Tree.”

“You actually scheduled your concerts so he could do this?!”

Derek and Ryan both nodded in resignation.

“Please, Kaitlyn,” Killian said, putting his free hand – the one not fingering chords on the guitar – on my arm. “It’ll be grand. It’ll be like…
Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas.
”

He paused upon seeing my alarmed expression.

“Except in Joshua Tree,” he added hastily. “And no fear, no loathing. Just… love. And enlightenment.”

“And a shitload of shrooms,” Derek chimed in.

I remembered Hunter S. Thompson coming up in Derek’s and my first conversation, back in my dorm room in Athens four years ago. I remembered Derek talking about him being a great journalist for the ‘greatest music criticism magazine in the world.’

Which I now represented, too.

I didn’t know if I should take that for a sign or not.

And then something happened that made me
have
to take it for a sign.

“I’ll give you a proper interview,” Killian pleaded. “With long, expansive answers. Details galore.”

Oh God.

I just
knew
I was going to regret this.

“…okay?...” I said nervously.

“Yes!” he crowed, and wheeled around and did a victorious windmill swipe at his guitar, just like Pete Townsend in The Who.

“Oh God,” Ryan said, and put his head in one hand.

I looked at Derek fearfully. “Be honest: is this a really,
really
bad idea?”

He grinned. “It’ll be memorable, I can guarantee you that. But it’s your call.”

I chewed on my lower lip, then closed my eyes. “Okay.”

“Then I’m going, too,” Ryan announced. He didn’t sound happy about it.

Derek did a double-take. “What? Really?”

Ryan sighed, rolled his eyes, and nodded.

“YES!” Killian howled, doing
two
Pete Townsend windmill swipes at his guitar.

Other than when he was up on stage and totally in the moment, it was a hundred times more emotion than I’d seen him display over the last three days,
combined.

“Why?” I asked Ryan.

“Yeah, why?” Derek asked, sounding just a tiny bit suspicious.

“You think I’m going to let Kaitlyn go wandering out there in the desert with you two while you’re high on shrooms?” Ryan said disapprovingly.

“Trippin’ our balls off!” Killian said happily, and continued doing his Pete Townsend imitation.

Ryan glanced at Killian, then turned back to Derek. “Yeah. Think again.”

“So you’re going to do shrooms with us?”

“HELL no. Somebody has to babysit you people.”

“…babysit?” I whimpered.

“What’d she say?!” Riley shouted across the room.

“She said yes!” Killian called out happily as he kept windmilling away at his guitar.

Riley cackled. “Your funeral, Blondie!”

Now I was considering changing my mind.

“You should stay here instead and fuck
me!”
Riley hooted.

Okay, that decided it.

I was absolutely, positively going to the desert and doing shrooms.