Always Rayne (The ALWAYS SOMETIMES NEVER Rock Star Romance Series) (5 page)

“Who?”

There’s that smug smile again. I’m usually the smartest person in the room wherever I go but when I’m with Nic, I feel like I’m playing a game of chess and he’s always two moves ahead of me.

“Your boyfriend.”

I frown. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He
laughs. “That’s what I thought.”

“I did have a boyfriend. For four years.
All through college.”

“Where is he now?”

“Law school. On the East Coast. Harvard.”

I’m not sure why I feel the need to explain my past relationship to Nic. But I feel like he’s judging me.

“He didn’t take you with him when he left for Harvard?”

I shake my head.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” And it’s the truth. Maybe I was naïve to think that Jackson would be willing to do a long distance thing but he never even suggested it. And he never asked me to go with him either.

“I hate to break this news to you, but you were nothing more than a long-term lay.”

I can feel my eyes practically pop out of my head I’m so shocked. But then the shock just as quickly turns to anger. “What?” I mumble even though I heard exactly what he said.

“Long. Term. Lay,” he repeats. “You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure out what the term means.”

“We were in a committed four-year relationship.”

“Maybe that’s what you thought. Maybe that’s even what he told you. Or maybe that’s what you assumed. I just know if the guy is gone then there wasn’t much of a relationship. Long-term lay.”

M
y chest tightens like all the air has been sucked out of my lungs. “But he said he loved me.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth I immediately regret them. I expect
Nic to laugh. Or make some snarky remark, but to my surprise, he doesn’t.

“If he truly loved you.
If he felt like you were his. If the two of you truly belonged to each other. He wouldn’t have left. Or he would have packed up all of your shit and taken you with him. It’s that simple.”

I feel like I’ve been slapped. “You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t think you understand. If you were his, you wouldn’t be standing here talking to me right now You’d be living with him in a shitty law student apartment in Cambridge.”

T
ears start streaming down my face but I make no effort to stop them. I feel kind of dead inside. Was I living a lie? For four years? Is it possible that I didn’t mean as much to Jackson as I thought I did? I have to admit that it hurt when he left and never asked me to go with him.

“Dude,” I hear Leo say as he strolls over to us. “You’ve got to deal with this shit.”

“What shit is that?” Nic asks.

Leo shakes his head. “I don’t know.
Some creepy-as-shit reporter. Says he’s got some kind of scoop. Wants your statement.”

Nic
points to me. “No, she’s got to deal with it. She’s our own personal journalist. She’s got the exclusive. She can deal with that shit.”

“Our own journalist,” Leo remarks. “It’s kind of like having our own personal Shakespeare.” He laughs at his own joke but no one else does.

Nic frowns. “Except that Shakespeare was a playwright not a reporter.”

“At least I knew he was a writer,” Leo fires back. “Give me some credit, Dude.”

Nic looks over at me. “Do you think you can handle this, Shakes?”

I try to discreetly wipe the stray tears from my cheeks. Not that an
yone seems to care that I’ve been crying. “Is that really necessary?”

Nic
feigns innocence. “Is what necessary?”

“That ridiculous nickname.”

He laughs. “You’ll have to blame Leo for that one. Or I could just call you Hippy Library Chick. Your call.”

“If those are my only options I’ll stick with Shakes.”

Nic nods. “I really like Shakes. It suits you.” He looks so self-satisfied it makes me want to scream. Then his expression changes and he looks more serious. “Are you sure you can handle the creepy-as-shit reporter?”

“I can handle it.” I assure him. 

Four

I see the guy waiting in the lobby. He really is creep
y-as-shit. Leo was not exaggerating.

He's at least twice my age, very round and rapidly losing his hair. He barely ha
s enough left for a decent comb over.

And people say I don't know how to coordinate an outfit. This guy is wearing grey plaid pants with a white shirt and a lime green tie. Even I know that doesn't match.

He also has a photographer with him. The guy is holding his camera in a ready position like he's going to snap a photo of me.

As I exhale, I try to muster as much confidence as I possibly can. This is my chance to be a real journalist.

"I'm Harper Leigh," I say as I approach the man with my hand extended.

He looks me up and down before he takes my hand. "Is that your real name?"

I'm not sure whether to be angry or insulted. The guy just seems like a jerk. His hand is also cold and slimy from sweat. I try to tear my hand from his but he doesn't let me go. He pulls me closer to him instead.

I can smell his body odor and the gallon of cologne he's wearing to cover the fact that he hasn't bathed in a while.

"I'm going to get all the dirt on Nic Rayne whether you like it or not."

I rip my hand from his and pull away from him. I want to wipe my hand on something but I don't want his disgusting sweat on my
clothes.

"I have the rights to an exclusive story on Mr. Rayne and his band."

"Mr. Rayne," he sneers. "Is that what you call him when you're fucking him?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. The only way that guy is giving you an exclusive story is if you're giving him something in return."

"I don't even think I need to dignify those remarks with a response. Now please leave."

He laughs. "Last time I checked this is a free country. I have just as much right to stand in this lobby as you do."

He turns to his photographer. "Get a shot of her.
Nic Rayne's flavor of the week."

"That's not true. You can
’t publish that."

“I can publish whatever I want. It doesn't have to be true. It just has to sell advertising. If you don't like it, get a lawyer and sue me. I'll get even more publicity."

"You're disgusting. You give journalism a bad name."

"Tell me something I don't know. I'm just here to make a buck."

"You don't have any integrity at all."

He nods. "Lost it years ago and never missed it. You're still young but I'm sure you'll lose it to
o. And the moment you realize it's gone, I'll bet you'll remember this conversation."

He turns toward his photographer. "Let's get something to eat, Joe." Then he turns back to me. "See you around, Kid."

And with that, both men turn and walk away.

***

Even though I’m in a special VIP area it still feels weird being at the concert alone. Okay, so I’m not completely alone. I’ve got Raven and Brad on either side of me. But I still feel like I’m alone because I don’t know either one of them all that well and I’m not sure either one of them likes me very much.

Maybe Brad does. It’s hard to tell. He seems like the kind of guy who is nice to everyone
. But you never really know if he’s just being nice because he’s supposed to be or because he wants to be.

The concert isn’t that much different than the one I saw the other night except that
Nic is making a point of looking at me every few minutes and giving me that smug grin of his. It’s almost like he wants to make sure I’m still there watching him and I haven’t left to go read a book or something.

It’s certainly tempting. I’d much rather be reading a book but I have a job to do.

“The guys sound great tonight,” Raven says to no one in particular.

I’m not sure how she can tell. The music is so loud and intense it’s difficult to actually hear anything but noise.

But the fans seem to love them. Just like they did in San Diego. The audience goes wild with Nic’s every move.

Once the show is finally over, Brad grabs my elbow and whispers, “Stay with me,” as he pushes through the crowd and shuttles me toward the backstage area.

The scene backstage is a little different than San Diego. The girls seem to be a bit brasher and a bit more forward with their advances toward the band members. I guess there’s no being subtle in Los Angeles.

As soon as
Nic sees me he makes his way over to the spot where Brad placed me before he excused himself to run some errands for Leo and Xander.

“What did you think?”
he asks.

“About what?”

He grins. “The show.”

“Pretty much the same as I thought
in San Diego. It’s really not my type of music. And it’s definitely not my crowd.”

Nic
eyes the outfit I’m wearing. It’s a black mini-shirt and little tan V-neck crop top that shows a little more cleavage and stomach than I’m used to. I try to pull the top down to hide the skin that’s showing but it’s fruitless because the garment is so tight.

“You look like you fit in just fine.”

“Are you saying I look like one of your groupies?”

“We don’t actually have groupies but, no, I would never say that about you.”

“You don’t have groupies?” I give him a dubious look and point to the horde of blondes who are now glaring at me. “Who are they?”

Nic
laughs. “By definition, a groupie is someone who follows a band and has sex with its members on multiple occasions. We don’t ever have sex with fans more than once.”

I can’t help but look disgusted. “Good to know. Do you want that in the story or is that just for my own information?”

“That’s for your information, Shakes. But I don’t think it’s a well-kept secret either. I’m always upfront with the girls I fuck.”

“You’re going to keep calling me that, aren’t you?”

He grins. “Haven’t you ever had a nickname before?”

“Do I
look like someone who has had a nickname?”

“You do now.”

“Great.”

I glance over at the group of blondes who are obviously waiting for us to finish our conversation.  “Well it looks like you’ve got a lot to choose from tonight.”

I motion over toward the group of blondes who are still eyeing us. I’m not sure why they look so jealous. I have no intention of being intimate with Nic. I’m sure he’ll end up with one or more of them this evening.

I give a big, fake yawn. “Well, I’m getting really tired and I think I’ve seen all I need to see for the evening. So if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go to bed.”

“So early? The party is just getting started.”

“For you maybe.
But I’m not really a party girl.”

He nods and then just looks at me for a few seconds. When our eyes meet, I can feel a shiver run through my body.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”

I can’t tell from his tone whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Or maybe it’s neither, or both.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before either,” I fire back.

He laughs. “Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

“That’s a weird question.”

“That’s not something about you. And it’s not a weird question.”

“I can’t stand sports. I was always the last one picked for every team in gym class. I would rather have my fingernails pulled out one by one than be forced to play volleyball.”

Nic
grins. “That’s something I could easily deduce. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else before.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I asked. And because you know you want to tell me.”

I’m not sure why but he’s right. I sort of do want to tell him. I think about it for a few moments and then say, “Okay. Here’s something I’ve never told anyone. Not my parents. Not even my best friend.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“I never finished reading
To Kill a Mockingbird
. I got about a third of the way into the book and just quit. I’m not even sure why. But it’s the only book Harper Lee ever published and I didn’t read the whole thing.”

“It’s a great book. But I don’t think you should finish reading it if you don’t want to. Be a rebel. Leave it unread.”

I frown. “Now you’re making fun of me. I tell you my darkest secret and you tease me about it.”

Nic’s face turns serious. “Thanks for telling me. And yes, I was ma
king fun of you just a little bit. But you have to admit you’re an easy target.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“When I was a kid I heard a rumor on the playground that the boys only made fun of the girls they really liked.”

When I look up at
Nic all the playfulness is gone from his eyes and he’s back to being serious again. Is that his way of saying that he likes me?

“There’s no
greater gift than a book, Shakes. As a writer, I’m sure you know that. I love to read and I leave no book unfinished. But that doesn’t mean you have to finish a book if you don’t want to. And I admire any person who can write. I wish I had that talent but I don’t. I’m talented in a lot of other ways but writing is definitely not one of them.”

“And you’re definitely not modest either,” I tease.

“I believe in speaking the truth and telling things as they are. I know not everyone can handle that but it’s the way I am. I’ve always been a take-it-or-leave-it kind of guy. If you can’t handle the heat get out of the fire.”

“That’s kind of a cliché,” I say.

“Which is exactly why I’m not a writer.”

We both laugh. I actually like it when
Nic laughs. A real, hearty genuine laugh. He doesn’t do it very often. He’s got his smug little grins and obligatory laughs like every celebrity seems to possess. But when he really laughs his face completely brightens and the heaviness he holds inside most of the time seems to vanish, at least temporarily.

“What?” he asks when he catches me staring at
him.

I shake my head.
“Nothing.”

“Tell me.” It isn’t a request.

“I like when you laugh. I mean really laugh. Not your cocky grin. A hearty laugh. It makes you seem more real and down to earth. More human.”

“You’ve really got it out for my grin, don’t you?”

“It’s just so arrogant.”

“Most people call it sexy. Even
People
magazine called it The Sexist Smile of the Year.”

“I prefer it when you’re more genuine.”

“So noted.”

I glance over at the blondes again and they look like they’re getting impatient. “I don’t think you should keep your one-night stands waiting.”

He looks disappointed then nods. “At least you didn’t call them groupies.”

“I’m a writer, remember. I like to be
as precise as possible.”

“See you in the morning?”

I nod. “There’s no place that I’d rather be.”

He laughs. “Now who’s not being genuine?”

“I’m learning from the best of them,” I fire back.

“And do girls only tease the boys they like the most?”

I don’t reply. I just give him a wave as I exit.

***

I’m up early. It’s no surprise that everyone else is still asleep. The partying lasted until the wee hours and then there were plenty of post party antics in Nic’s room. He’s certainly not quiet when it comes to his bedroom activities.

I drag myself into the kitchen area and start a pot of coffee. I’m not much of a coffee drinker but I’m already dragging and can use some caffeine. Once I take a few sips of the steamy beverage I start to feel like a human being again.

Sitting down on one of the leather couches with my laptop, I log into work. Of course there’s already a message from my boss waiting for me. He wants to know how the tour is going and is urging me to get an outline to him as quickly as possible.

I stare at the screen for a few moments and completely panic. I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to write. I’m so far out of my element. I know very little about rock music and I don’t even like it all that much.

I feel the same way about Nic. I still know very little about him and I’m still not sure whether I like him all that much.

But I have to admit he is growing on me a little bit.

I email my boss and tell him that I’m still deep into the research phase and it will take some time before I have an angle for the article. I know it’s probably not what he wants to hear but I hope it appeases him.

At least for a little while.

I also shoot quick emails to Brooke and my parents letting them know I made it safely to LA and that I’m still alive and kicking.