True Body Rock (Rockstar Romance) (The Body Rock Series Book 4) (11 page)

Johnny Muse.
He saw me before I saw him. In that tiny room, I froze my acid-green eyes on him and felt the moment for what it was. Here, we both realized... here was where his retribution would come.

Lifting his hands to protect himself, he backed into the wall. “Drez! Wait, man! Hold on!”

Distantly, I remembered the day I had kicked him out of my band. How I'd sucker-punched him, watched him flail and backpedal in an attempt to escape my wrath. That day, I'd only wanted him gone. I'd hit him to make a point; to lock in my frustration and anger with a man who cared about nothing but himself.

I'm not that different,
I thought in my fog. I saw my fingers come down, wrenching Johnny up by the front of his shirt.
I cared only about what I wanted. My music, my fame, my ability to get to the top. Hard work.

In the background, I heard Lola's muffled scream around her gag.

And now...

I just care about her.

Johnny's head slammed into the wall, making the room—my marrow—quake. Again, I pushed him into it. Again, I smashed his body into the hard surface, trying to break him into tiny pieces.

True fear boiled in his eyes. The sight of it brought a smile to my lips. Someone called out to me, but I ignored them. Twisting, feeling Johnny claw at my wrists, I watched him hit the floor. “Drez,” he coughed, red staining his nose. I saw the bruise on his cheek, the scabs of old cuts.

Had Lola done that?

My boot came down, jamming him in the stomach. Liquid ran free from his mouth, smelling like pure whiskey. Reaching low, my fingers trapped his jaw. Johnny struggled; a single knee on his arms pinned him in place.

“Drezden!”

The voice was pure, jolting my attention around. Lola was standing there, leaning on Sean, watching everything. As always, she wore no mask. She was pale as snow, looking on with a grimace. “What are you going to do?” she whispered.

In the room, there was only the sound of heavy breathing. Johnny was wheezing, gawking up at me, a trapped animal. Staring down at him, I tried to recall how this husk of a man had once called himself my friend.

From the start, there had never been the connection between us that Colt and Porter had. Johnny was a wild card, too wild.

I should have known better.

“Drez,” Lola asked again, firmer. “What are you going to do?”

Squeezing Johnny's cheeks, digging in my nails, I ignored his squeak and stared at her once more. I wondered what she saw in my face. Inside, I felt the wretched, clawing visage of the monster I knew I could be. It was hungry, and here, now, lay the decadent chance to taste victory. To chew at the sweet piece of vengeance.

Lifting my chin, I let the words roll free. “I'm going to do what I promised.” Lola didn't blink. I wondered if she still breathed. “I said if I ever saw Johnny's face again... I was going to break his fucking jaw.”

Under my grip, Johnny stiffened. I was letting them judge me. Lola, even her brother, both looked on,
knew
they could try and stop me. I wouldn't let Sean end this, but if Lola... if she opened her perfect lips and told me to stop...

I would forget my promise entirely.

Closing her tired eyes, Lola turned away. Her permission was given in silence.

The sound of my fist, crushing into Johnny's face, shattering bone as it went, was all that came next.

I was a man of my word.

And the monster had been so very hungry.

Blood soaked my knuckles as I stood. I hoped I hadn't broken my own hand with the punch. Flexing my fingers, I turned away from Johnny's moaning body. Sean stepped aside, showing me the hint of fear living in him. He'd seen what I could do; wanted no part of it. “Call the police,” I said bluntly.

“No need.” Nodding his head, he drew my ears to the distant sound of sirens. “Brenda must have called them like she said she would. That, or someone else in this motel did.”

I didn't care who called. It wasn't important anymore.

What I needed was right in front of me.

Lola met me halfway, not caring about the blood on her cheek when I cupped her face. Her mouth opened, but if she'd wanted to speak... I didn't let her. I buried my lips on hers like she was the first sip of water after days in the desert. Lola, my fucking beautiful, wonderful Lola.

She tasted like victory, like the god damn blue sky.

“Drez,” she whispered, but I ate my name away.

Cradling her in my arms, inhaling her scent until it made my senses blind, I listened to her heart beat.
Mine. Mine mine and mine again.

Lola is mine.

And I finally deserved her.

****

T
he police arrested Johnny, took all of our statements down. It was smooth and professional. Well, minus the one guy who asked me for an autograph.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” I asked Lola, unable to stop touching her for even a second.

Regret watered her eyes. “I'm fine. My right shoulder hurts a little, but it's nothing. I'm just... god, I'm just so sorry about all of this.”

“Don't be sorry,” Sean said, gravel in the parking lot announcing his steps. “You didn't do any of this. Johnny was the one who went unhinged.”

“I just feel awful that the whole show was ruined,” she mumbled.

Grabbing her chin, I made her look at me. “I don't give a shit about the show, okay? I only needed you to be safe. The rest is pointless otherwise.”

Sean chuckled, eyeing the time on his phone. “Too bad we can't have both. Show should have started an hour ago.”

“We should go there anyway,” Lola said, staring between us. “At worse... we should apologize to everyone, tell the fans we're sorry. Just... something.”

I guided her towards Sean's van. “You want that to happen? We'll make it happen. Come on, let's move.”

We all piled into the two-seater. Lola was warm on my lap, her presence fitting against me like my missing piece. That drive could have gone on forever if we could stay like that. I felt... whole. On reflex, I linked my arms around her waist, whispering in her ear. “I'm the one who needs to apologize. You would never have talked to Johnny if I had just told you what you wanted to know.”

Shifting, Lola's hair tickled my cheek. Her lips pressed to my forehead, hands cradling over mine in her lap. “It doesn't matter now.”

“It
does
matter now,” I declared.
It has to matter.
“I took care of everything. I'll tell you every single thing about me now, Lola. Everything.”

Her body knotted up. “Took care of...?”

“
Holy shit!
” Sean shouted, the van turning onto the street where the Paramount theater was. I didn't need to ask what was wrong. The mob gathering outside, the number of security and cops trying to wave people through or around was massive.

Tugging out my phone, I held it to my ear. “Brenda,” I said when she picked up, “what the hell is going on?”

“Please tell me you're all outside! Is Lola okay, is everyone okay? God, Drezden, you won't believe—”

“What,” I said sharply, “is going on?”

The edge of her voice wavered with nerves, as well as excitement. “We managed to delay the show. Everyone is super pissed, but we did it. Can you... is it wrong to ask if you...”

Lola had been leaning in, listening to the call. Grabbing the phone from me, she shouted into the receiver. “We'll play, yes! We'll do it!”

Sean was staring at me, slowly shaking his head in wonder. “Tell me what's happening.”

Pulling the phone back from Lola, I allowed myself to smile. “Guess the show must go on.”

Rolling down the windows, we parked the van where the security teams guided us. The walls of fans, all screaming a mixture of joy and anger, tried to swallow us as we approached the venue. All we could do was wave, knowing it was impossible for those people to understand what any of us had been through.

It's good we were able to wash all the blood off at the motel.

Wouldn't that have made an interesting photo for the news?

****

P
orter and Colt smashed me in a hug when we got backstage. With Lola, they were far more gentle, their voices merging as they asked too many questions.

“Are you alright?”

“Did Johnny really do this?”

“Are you sure you want to play?”

“What happened to him, where is he now?”

It was Brenda, slicing between them and shoving them aside, that ended the parade. Turning, she held Lola by the shoulders, stared into her stunned face. “You really want to play tonight?”

Gulping air, Lola narrowed her eyes. “Yeah. I'm ready.”

“How did you manage to delay the show for us?” I asked in wonderment.

Her ruby lips coiled upwards. “You'll be pissed, but I promised everyone free tickets to your next show. Better than trying to handle angry refunds on this, trust me.”

Truthfully, I wasn't pissed. Looking at Lola, at the vibrant way her delight danced on her face, how could I feel anything but joy?
She's so happy she gets to play.

Out in the auditorium, the roar of the crowd grew. They were savage, starving for what they had longed for. I understood their feelings.

We did a quick wardrobe change, clean clothes for Lola and myself, makeup to hide some of her marks from the tussle with Johnny.

I wanted to know more about what had happened, but really, the details didn't matter.

Lola was safe now.

“Here,” Brenda said, offering the girl her purple guitar. “Take it, tune it, do what you need to in ten minutes.”

Hoisting the instrument into place, Lola's face twisted in a brief flinch. She saw me looking, then glanced away hurriedly. “Listen, Drez. That new song... can we even perform it?”

“I know all the words by heart.” I took a slow step towards her, studying how she held the guitar. “You could probably keep the tune close enough that no one would notice. They haven't heard it before to compare, after all.” She was focusing on her fingers, the floor, everywhere but me. “That's not the issue, is it?”

She said nothing.

“Lola... what's wrong?”

Hanging her head, dark hair covered everything away. “Fuck. Drez, I think my shoulder is hurt worse than I thought. Holding my guitar... it's painful.”

Brushing her tresses aside, I tried to read the pain in her blue gaze. “You still want to do this?”

“Yeah. If I can. After everything, I really want to try.”

My lips closed on hers, the kiss a mere blink. “Then let's try.”

Voices were calling out around us, people telling us where to go, what to do. For a moment, we stayed there and only existed with each other.

The cheers outside the curtain took it all away.

Together we moved, standing on our marks, straightening up to handle the wave of energy. Behind me, Porter and Colt settled in, their faces all smiles. It was unfair to them to lead with our new song, something they had no part of, but...

Looking over, I saw a bead of sweat on Lola's temple.
If she's in pain, I want to give her this. She wants it so badly.

Everyone else had to come second to that.

Holding the mic, I spoke into it with a smirk. “Hello, Seattle.” The explosion was immense. The room was a powder keg, I was the flint to light it up. “I'm sorry you had to wait so long for us to perform. But it was worth it, right?” I gestured around, roared into the speakers. “Because we're fucking right here! Four and a Half Headstones, and we've got a new song for you!”

I waited until the world stopped screeching. Then, holding up my hand for silence, I whispered into all their ears. “I hope you enjoy it.” Reaching down, I lifted the guitar I'd placed at my feet. The audience hadn't seen it; they went crazy all over again.

Hooking it in place, I took the time for them to settle down to tweak the strings. I'd tuned it before, but I wanted to be sure.

I wanted everything to be right.

In the dead silence, Lola began to play. It was a haunting melody, all ghosts and dust dancing from her fingers. It reminded me of our skill difference; commanded me to take hold and play to my best.

Breathing in to control my muscles, I followed her lead. Our notes flowed together, twirling through the air, burning on flesh. She was perfect, ever perfect, and if my fans didn't see it after this...

They never would.

“Beautiful in defiance,” I hushed, “wicked in how you claw. Come to me again, so close... you're mine, don't see these flaws...” From the moment I'd announced creating a song with Lola, I'd been brewing with ideas. I knew exactly the kind of song I wanted to make with her.

Did anyone ever imagine I would write a love song?

Looking over, I glimpsed the focus on Lola's face. Her lower lip was sucked in her teeth, fingers wild, elegant on her strings. She was exerting herself, but the pain she was going through vibrated in waves.

She can't keep going,
I thought desperately, singing for all the world like a man with a message.
But what can we do? What other choice is there?
The crowd, our fans, they'd waited so long to hear Four and a Half Headstones.

What could sate them but this?

“Wrapping, coiling, merging with the world...” Like she'd suggested, we punched our guitars, jolted the air with wild music. The energy was frantic, my heart rocketing inside my chest with no where to land. “Come to me again! Again, you're mine... you're mine...”

Lola's face was bloodless.
This is too much,
I thought in a panic. As the song came to a close, I saw her breathing heavy. Dogs trapped in cars panted less.

Something had to be done.

Off to the side, just backstage, I caught Sean Cooper looking on.

“Thank you,” I said into the mic. Wiping sweat from my brow, I smiled over the crowd, forced myself to hide the anxiety brewing. I had decided what to do, but there was a chance it would blow up in my face.

One more look at Lola cradling her shoulder was all I needed.

Clearing my throat, I gestured for Lola to come close. “Lola and I wrote that song together. I've never done that with someone before.” Warily, she came closer. “I've also never done this.”