Bend (A Stepbrother Romance) (12 page)

And for reasons that I couldn’t fathom, I was not into it.
My sanity’s gone. That’s what’s happened.

They met in front of me and smiled. “Nice room,” one of them said.

“Nice view,” added the other. Lacey? Chrissy? She settled on my lap. The other climbed onto the mattress and knelt next to me.

“Thanks for inviting us up,” Chrissy or Lacey said, taking a deep breath so her chest rose with it. “We love your music.”

“We’ve always wanted to meet you,” LaceyChrissy whispered into my ear.

They kissed each other, watching me out of the corners of their eyes. ChrissyLacey wiggled her ass on my lap, and LaceyChrissy ran a hand down my arm.

I was tense as a stone all over except for where I needed to be.

And I knew just who to blame. Her song was stuck in my head.
The song… maybe if I finished the song I could finally put her aside. That’s it.
Gently, I pushed the girl off my lap and onto her feet.

“Sorry, ladies,” I said, “I’m really fucking tired.”

They exchanged a look—one that morphed from surprise to embarrassment to outrage as they realized they were being asked to leave. Yet they remained frozen next to the bed.

I retrieved their purses from the couch and handed them over, hoping that would get their feet moving.

“Are you serious right now?” one of them asked, the bedroom voice gone and replaced by an ugly twang.

The other dropped her southern belle affectation as well, instead sounding one octave away from a shriek. “Seriously? The great and mighty god of rock Keir Sonder can’t get it up?”

I rolled my eyes. Why couldn’t I just be tired? Why did the night have to dissolve into insults? “Go. Get the hell out.”

“His dick’s probably tiny,” one of them spat as they finally started moving.

“Like a little pinky,” the other said.

And that became their chant as I escorted them through the room and out the door. “Pinky dick! Pinky dick!” I was tempted to show them the truth. Knowing my luck, they’d snap a cell phone picture and slap it up on the internet before I even drank the memory out of my head.

“You have a good night too, ladies!” I shouted down the hall after them as they click-clacked to the elevators. I waited until I heard the bell ding and saw the doors shut them away.
Thank fuck.

Only one of the guys had heard the ruckus and peeked his head out—Javier watched them go before turning to me and asking, “What the hell, is your dick broke, or something?”

I gave him the middle finger before closing myself back inside my room. The guys would no doubt find the whole thing hilarious in the morning.

I’d deserve their mockery. Those girls were hot, and they wanted a threesome. What red-blooded man just turned that down, much less didn’t even rise to full mast?

I’m tired and distracted
, I assured myself as I settled down with my guitar.

But I didn’t feel regret over the missed opportunity. I felt relieved that they were gone, and I began to feel much more at peace as I played.

Bent notes and broken rhythms littering my sheets

Worlds turn to the tune and the cadence of our heartbeats

This one wouldn’t make it onto the album, but the next one would, and the next.
I’m just in grumpy songwriter mode. Nothing out of the ordinary.

If Cadence’s name didn’t repeat through the whole damn song, I might have almost believed myself.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Cadence

Kelly’s story became one of the blog’s top priorities after that strange phone call from Sloane Ross. I wasn’t even completely sure how the woman had gotten my phone number. I couldn’t imagine Keir volunteering it. Hell, he’d probably deleted it, maybe even changed his own number to avoid ever speaking to me again.

The anger in his voice and the total one-eighty of his personality were keeping me up at night. How was it that I was still paying for my mother’s sins? Why was I always the one to end up hurt? I’d thought that I’d left her behind in Philadelphia. But here she was. It wasn’t even on purpose, it was a big, terrible coincidence that led her to Glenn. It was both good and awful luck that led me to Keir.

But that’s just the way my life goes.
Wherever I went, whatever I did, she would be the tornado that knocked it all down.

At least Wendi was pleased with me. There was a woman worth looking up to. I’d gone right to Zach after Sloane’s phone call, and he’d brought me in with him to pitch the story to Wendi.

“Kelly sucked her way out of rehab,” he announced with barely a hello.

Wendi folded her fingers and held them to her chin. “Go on.”

Zach poked me, urging me to speak. “Oh. Um—”

“No ‘ums’ in my office,” Wendi said with a tsk. “Start over.”

I cleared my throat. “A source told me that Keir’s ex-girlfriend—Kelly, the model—used sexual favors to get herself released from rehab early.”

“And why do we want to run this story?”

My eyes flickered to Zach, but he didn’t answer. “Because people like salacious gossip about models?” I asked.

She nodded. “I’ll take it. Next time don’t answer with a question. Zach, get the research team on it. See if we can identify the doctor, get a picture. Talk to someone else who was there at the same time.” The research team included me. I started to follow him out the door, but Wendi called me back. “Cadence. Let’s chat.”

Zach winked at me and closed the door.

“That’s not bad,” she said. “That’s what I’m talking about. Digging. Wasn’t the celebrity I was looking for, but it will do. For now.”

I didn’t mention that the story had been dropped in my lap by Sloane for who-knew-what reasons.

“I’ll keep working,” I said, though I had no plan in mind. I’d come up with something. Ever since our first chat, I really wanted to do well.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “You get three questions.”

“Huh?”

She looked me up and down, and suddenly I wished I’d dressed better. Jeans and a t-shirt were fine for research assistant, but if I ever wanted to impress her, I would have to aim a little higher. “I see that fangirl look in your eyes,” she said. “You get three career questions. Shoot.”

“Oh.”
Shit
. My mind drew a blank. “Well, I want to be a photographer, and–” I stopped myself from uttering another “um.” “I’m wondering how to go about doing that. Making a career of it.”

She counted her advice off on her fingers. “Make a website. Make business cards. Network. Network. Network.” That was three fingers for networking.
I was afraid of that
. I was still working on overcoming some of my shyness.

“How do I do that, exactly? Network?”

“Make friends, go out, ask for introductions.”

I smiled sheepishly. “How would I become a photographer for you? For the blog?”

She tapped her fingers on her desk. “If you take some photos worth posting, we’ll purchase them.” Her chair rolled back and hit the wall with the force of her abruptly rising to her feet. “I’m sending you to Denver.”

“What?”

“You heard me, girl. You’re my new liaison to the Sonders, and I want some dirt. He’s… well, both of you—you guys are trending right now. I want to hear about him fucking some groupie or getting drunk in public. Anything. Zach will go with you.”

My heart seized. She was sending me to see him? There was no way I’d get anywhere close, press pass or not. “I don’t think he-”

“I’m not looking for an interview, I’m just looking for a story. Snap some photos while you’re there, maybe we’ll buy one if the rest of the paparazzi don’t elbow you to death.”

We’re trending. Not just him, we. We shouldn’t be seen in the same city as each other.
“Why do I feel like I’m being set up?” I asked. That was why she was sending Zach. He’d come back and report that we were spotted in the same state, same city, same venue. They’d leave readers to draw their own conclusions.

Wendi winked. “Shrewd. Good. I like it. Get out. You’re flying tonight.”

Yeah, no problem, just let me go throw up first
. I guessed this counted as my first field assignment.
What a way to get promoted
.

═ ♪ ♫ ♪ ═

Zach was much happier about the assignment than I was. He chatted my ear off for the entire flight while I just tried to sleep. The company went cheap on the accommodations, too, making us share a room. “Don’t worry, honey, I like boys,” Zach said when I went to change in the bathroom.

“Just because you’re not attracted to me doesn’t mean you won’t judge me,” I teased. The man spent half his days researching models. I didn’t need him witnessing my imperfections.

Keir didn’t think I was imperfect. The realization made me freeze, meeting my eyes in the bathroom mirror. Keir had worshiped every single inch of me.
I’ll never find anyone like that again
. His words rang in my head.
“No one’s ever fucked you like that. No one ever will.”
Sadly, I suspected he was right.Zach and I slept through most of the morning and spent the afternoon researching online in a coffee shop right in the hotel lobby. I was bummed out that we weren’t going to get to explore Denver. So far, all I knew about it was that it was hot.
But this is a business trip. No fun allowed
.

“I could get us tickets to the show, but no press is allowed backstage tonight,” Zach said after hanging up his phone. The table was too small for both of our laptops so his was on his thighs.

“Going to the show won’t get us close enough to talk to anyone worthwhile,” I said. “Can you find the venue’s back door? If we lurk around before and after the show we might catch someone willing to talk. A crew member or… or a groupie.” Or Keir and his band themselves, if his security team wasn’t on alert for my face.

“I like the way you think,” Zach said, “I don’t usually do musician duty so this is a little new to me.”

“Not me,” I said, remembering all the nights I’d waited in small mobs of superfans, screaming Keir’s name and praying for a glimpse, a wave, a touch. This wouldn’t be too difficult at all, now that we were getting into the details.

We arrived at the concert hall two hours before the show was due to start. People were already lining up out front in the hopes of getting close to the stage and against the rail.
Been there, done that
. Hell, I’d probably even recognize a fan or two.

But I sure as hell wasn’t eager to show my face, especially not to anyone who might know me.

There were a couple fans waiting around by the back door when we circled the building, but not as many. The area smelled like the nearby dumpsters, made even worse by the baking sun.

But there were the women in short shorts and skirts and crazy high heels. “Groupies,” I explained to Zach as we approached the small circle of women.

“I kinda figured,” he said, “Though I’ve always called them ‘star-fuckers.’ ”

“That’s pretty mean,” I said distractedly, assessing all the girls. Maybe I’d been a little bit of a groupie—I’d flirted with loads of guys in an attempt to get backstage. But I’d never gone further than that, and neither did plenty of the other fans that I knew.

Okay, maybe I made out with a roadie or two, but they were cute, I would have liked them no matter where I met them.

I hesitated. I didn’t know why I was suddenly shy—these were fellow fans, they were my people.
But it’s different when I’m here on business. I’m collecting information
. I was even dressed the part, mostly. I wore tight black jeans, but with a respectable button-down white blouse. I looked semi-professional. And if they recognized me from the article; even better. They might be more willing to talk to me since I was so inappropriately close to Keir.

But it didn’t feel right.
Am I betraying him by doing this?

Or maybe I was just afraid of what I was going to hear; maybe I didn’t want to know about the other women he was sleeping with and when.
Since we were together?
Very likely. I had no business feeling possessive.
Do your job
.

“Hi, guys!” I said brightly, stepping up to the group.

They recognized me right away. “You! You’re Cadence!” They surrounded me, giggling and firing off questions. “Did you really sleep with Keir after your parents got married?” “You guys really didn’t know?” “You
met
Keir? Oh, my God.” “What was he like, was he good? Was he amazing?”

“Girls!” I laughed, turning in a circle, “Hang on, one at a time.”

“Actually,” Zach cut in, “We’re here to ask you guys a few questions ourselves.”

They looked up at him, annoyed at first, then intrigued as they realized how handsome he was. “What are the questions for?” one of the girls asked.

“An unofficial biography,” he said, then nudged me with his elbow. “With the evil stepsister as a contributor.”