Consumed (Rockstar Romance) (Lost in Oblivion, 3.5) (24 page)

She couldn’t stop the smile. She had missed his dirty talking ways. And now that he wasn’t allowed to whisper, he’d found ways to drop his voice to a lower register that made her toes curl.

They linked fingers and he walked her out of the airport and to the parking garage. She still wasn’t sure where she belonged, but if she got the work with the Philharmonic, then she was going to have to find an apartment in Los Angeles.

The schedule was relentless and even if she didn’t play every show—she had to be there for rehearsals.
If
she got the job.

If she didn’t, she was going to have to put herself out there again for studio work.

“To the left.”

She frowned. “Where’s Harper’s truck?”

He smiled. “I got a little something different.”

“Did you buy a car?” Finally. It was a pain in the ass to share the two vehicles that were the house cars. The house in the hills wasn’t exactly easy to get to without a vehicle.

“Something like that.”

He took his keys out and LED lights flashed from the back of a sleek black car. “An R8? Are you kidding me?”

“It was a perk of the contract. I get a car out of the deal.”

“You’re…” She trailed off. “Audi?” She knew Simon’s face and the band had been doing well, but not that well.

“Roman’s campaign lit the fires. And their last spokesperson just got arrested.”

Margo huffed out a laugh. “I don’t want to know.”

“I was on the short list and Stef got me a bonus in the contract.” He opened the door. “Want to drive, Speedy?”

She stashed her violin into the backseat. “Hell yes.”

“God save us.”

“Hey, you offered.” She stepped in and groaned when the butter soft leather slid along the backs of her legs. “Wow.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty sweet.” He shut the door and stowed her suitcases in the trunk before coming around to the passenger side. “It’s keyless, so just…”

She pressed her foot on the brake and hit the button.

“Done this before?”

“My father has an Audi,” she said with a shrug. “Not this kind though.”

“You wouldn’t be calling my baby an old man car, would you?”

She shook her head solemnly and curled her fingers around the steering wheel. “Absolutely not.”

“You know I love you if you’re driving, right?”

She turned to him. He always said it at the strangest times, usually when she didn’t know how to reply. Simon tapped the screen and a British female voice told her to exit the parking garage. “Really?”

He shrugged. “I like hot accents.”

She shook her head and pulled out. The engine was silent and she jumped forward. “So this is what being a cheetah feels like.”

“We’re going to die.” He scrunched down in the seat. “Tell me when I can open my eyes.”

“Wimp.”

“When you’re driving? Yes. Why, yes I am.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“You were Mario Andretti’s twin in a former life.”

She slowed her way down the parking ramp and took a right as the electronic voice explained to her. Once it put her on the straightaway, she punched it and the engine sang. “Oh, yes,” she hissed.

“Please don’t kill us.”

Of course, they were in Los Angeles, so her speed was short-lived. They inched through traffic and Simon caught her up on his jobs and the happenings at the house. When the directions took her toward the water, she frowned.

“Where are we going?”

“Just keep driving.”

She turned onto a coastal road and saw signs for the boardwalk. Finally, the GPS told her turn into a huge apartment high rise.

“Park in P8.”

“It’s a little late to be apartment hunting, don’t you think?”

He didn’t answer her, just got out and went to the trunk. He pulled her bags out and hooked her violin case onto the telescope handle.

She bent to take her Stradivarius. “Am I going to get a hint?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“You’re a smart ass.”

He held his hand out out to her. “Come on.” He led her to the elevator and plugged a narrow card into the slot on the panel and pressed a button. The elevator shot up without stopping.

She held onto the side of the car. “Whoa.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of like a non-stop subway ride. It’s the only drawback I’ve found so far. Sometimes you have to wait a few minutes for the elevator because you can only get off on your floor. Of course it goes at the speed of light, so it’s not that long of a wait usually.” The doors opened and he held the door. “After you.”

Plastic fluttered from the door at the end of the hall.

“First one.”

He pulled out a key, opened the door and then punched in a code. She left her violin case inside the door. A huge room with hardwood floors drew her inside. There was very little furniture in the living space. A huge leather sectional, television, and a geometric rug in varying purples. The farther she got into the room, she was drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows and the life going on below.

They were a few blocks from the boardwalk, and he was near the top floor of the high rise.

P8.

Penthouse eight?

It was dark, but there was no denying the whitecaps of Venice Beach. Simon’s beach, here in California.
Their
beach. She could see the fisherman’s pier lit up like a runway. And under there, she’d realized they were so much more than secret moments in hidden stairwells.

She pressed her hand to the glass and swallowed over the lump that had formed in her throat. Then she noticed a separate corner with a small area rug in a gradation of red to black. Stashed in the very corner was a deep red chair made to curl into. A bookcase sat beside it with a case on the shelf. In front of the bookcase was an elegant sheet music stand in oiled brass. It was set up for actual sheets or an iPad like so many of the studio musicians she’d worked with had.

Her eyes filled. “Is that for me?”

Simon came up behind her and looped his arms around her waist. “I didn’t decorate the place very much, but I wanted you to see how much I want you here. You can change—”

“No.” She turned her face up to him and cupped his jaw. “Nothing. It’s perfect.”

He lowered his mouth to hers. “You didn’t even see what’s in the case.”

“Whatever it is, it’s too much.”

“I make all this stupid money, the least I can do is spend it on the people I love.”

Twice in one day. The tears she’d been able to hold back suddenly slipped down her cheek. “I love you too, you know.”

“Then move in with me.”

“I…” She wanted to say yes. The place was huge and had so much potential, but it was his. She didn’t have any way to pull her weight. “I can’t afford this, Simon.”

“I can.”

“Yes, but I can’t.”

He turned her into his arms. “Then I’ll get an apartment in fucking Carson again.”

The lump that had been choking her seemed impossibly huge. This was so Simon. Huge, a little ostentatious, modern, and eclectic. She stepped out of his arms. A built-in bookcase filled the far wall and she saw all the purchases he’d made in St. John.

Every piece he’d quietly picked out and stashed away at the house was here.

Pieces she’d picked out with him.

“Dammit, Margo. I want us to be together. Not just in some bedroom in a shared house. Here together. Making a life together.”

“What if I can’t find work here?”

“Then I’ll take care of you until you do.”

“I don’t want you to take care of me.”

He backed up a step. “You don’t—” He tipped his head back.

“I have to be able to take care of myself, Simon. Can’t you understand that?”

“No. I can’t. I understand you wanting a career of your own. I wish that I didn’t fuck it all up with voice, but I’m trying to make the best of it.”

She rushed forward and gripped his waist. “No. It’s not that either. I was hired to help with the tour. I was never in the band. This was always going to come up.”

“So you were always going to leave?”

She shook her head. “No. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I had time to figure it out.”

“Then stay here and figure it out. Stay with me.” His blue eyes glittered with all that intensity she’d fallen so hard for on stage.

She twisted his shirt in her fingers. “I have an audition.”

“For what?”

“The LA Philharmonic.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Simon’s eyebrows snapped down. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

How could she explain to him that part of her was thrilled and the other part of her felt like it was going back fifteen steps? The first time she’d ever felt alive was on stage with his band. Could she really go back to that old life again? That stifled life where she didn’t get to collaborate with anyone.

“I don’t know. I might not get it.”

“Of course you’re going to get it. You’re fucking flawless.”

She rose onto her toes cupped his face. “I love you, Simon. It’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“Then stay with me.” He slid his palm around and under her shirt. “This is where you belong.”

She let him draw her in, let him seduce her closer, let him draw her farther into the apartment and down the hallway. And she finally drew him into her body, where she knew he belonged.

At least that part they could agree with.

T
he week was
a whirlwind of practice and furniture shopping. She’d insisted on buying a few pieces, that made up the empty half of their bedroom. He’d gotten a California King to put on the crazy dais in his—
their
room. It felt like she was on a damn pedestal and was going to fall of the damn bed.

But the view out the window was certainly worth it. She’d played more than one sonata to the epic audience of the sun setting on the water. She caught Simon watching her practice a time or two, but his fingers seemed to be forever bunched into fists.

His last trip to the doctor’s had been a good one and now he had no excuse not to find a voice coach to start the road to recovery. The problem was, he seemed to make sure he was too busy to do anything but work.

“I’ll make an appointment later,” was becoming his favorite phrase.

She wasn’t quite sure how to help him there. Especially when she was hiding too. She’d learned the piece for the audition as well as the personal piece she was supposed to bring.

The personal piece was usually one that was a favorite from composers. She’d chosen one of her own that she’d put together with Deacon and Gray on the tour. They’d extended “The Becoming” to be an epic finale of the concerts. She’d started putting her own spin on the song and now it was just a little more her. Not just Oblivion with her flavor.

It held all the hallmarks of her style. And it really was the first thing she’d written. It made her itch to write more.

“Ready?”

She looked up as Simon stood in the foyer. “The traffic blows, even with your crazy driving.”

“I’m too nervous to drive.”

“I get to drive my car?”

“Yes.”

He stepped down into the living room and drew her out of her chair. “You’re going to be amazing. Your Strat is going to be amazing.”

“It’s not a guitar, Simon.”

He hooked an arm around her waist and drew her against him. “You know what I mean.”

She cupped his face. “You’re too much.”

He turned his face to nip the skin beside her tattoo. “You’ve got a good luck phoenix feather here, and a good luck phoenix here.” He fit her against his side. “You’ve got all the good luck vibes from the preggos call earlier. I heard it while I was in the shower.”

Margo huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I got a face chat from Jazz and Harper.”

“And Lila sent that monstrosity.”

She looked at their island in the kitchen. “Sunflowers. Sunny, perfect sunflowers.”

“Whatever. They’re huge.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

The trip into the city was crazy making. Too many cars and not enough road. The eternal problem with living in California. New roadwork was always sprouting out of the roads like really annoying concrete weeds. And today was even worse.

She looked at her watch. “We’re never going to make it.”

“We are. I’ll drop you in front and go find a spot.”

“We can’t even get on the street.”

“Get out.”

“What?” She snapped her gaze to his.

“Cut through there there and you’ll be across the street from the theater. Go!”

She scrambled out and then ducked back in even as the cars honked. She gripped his shirt and hauled him in for a kiss. It was hot and openmouthed. His taste infused her senses and his mint-tipped tongue, from his eternal stash of mints and gum, slid along hers before she let him go and slammed the door.

“Please don’t hit me,” she said in a singsong voice as she skidded through cars and across the street to the alleyway. She booked it through a parking garage that was a shortcut to the theater. Thank God, she’d learned to run in heels.

Thank you, Juliet.

Just as she got to the doors, she slowed to a walk and tucked her blouse back into her dress pants. She fixed her chain under her the buttons. The piece of rockstar that she wore under the stuffy clothes. There was another violinist on the stage and her technique was amazing.

She took her seat and sank lower into the cushions. When her mother had told her she had an audition, she thought she’d been the only one. Later, she’d learned she was one of three. The other two had been playing in symphonies overseas and were looking to work in America.

“Margo Reece.”

She took her freshly tuned Stradivarius out of her case and stood. She went to the stage where three men and two women sat in the third row. She held up her violin to her chin and started the audition song. The chords were complicated and required every ounce of her skill.

But the song flowed. Her breathing steadied as her training and love for Vivaldi come curl inside her.

When she let the violin fall to her side, she finally looked at her audience. There was absolutely no emotion on their faces. Was that good, or bad?

“What are you playing for us?”

Margo cleared her throat. “An original piece.”

The woman on the end made a small
hmm
noise. “You may begin.”

She heard a soft bird whistle and smiled. Simon was there in the back. She lifted her violin with a smile.

Simon sat at the back of the dark theater. There was a single spotlight on her and the acoustics of the place were like injecting music into his chest. He’d sneaked into the room when she was halfway through the first piece.

Seeing her play on a stage again had hit him like a sledgehammer. She was in the wrong uniform. Not in the all black, with her stockings and heels that made him nuts. This Margo was buttoned up like he’d first seen her.

Only he knew so much more about her now. Knew all the passion she kept inside back then. How much she’d shared with him now. But when the first strings of “The Becoming” came from the stage, his heart slammed.

He stood and paced up the walk. He wanted to run from that song. The song he’d been singing when he royally fucked up and bled all over the stage. The song that had given him Margo.

The song that had taken everything.

He bent at the waist and held his knees. His phone buzzed against his hip, but he ignored it. The song had been haunting before, but now it was a story unto itself and he wanted to sing it. Felt the words bloom in his throat for the first time in so goddamn long.

He gasped and dragged in a breath as she finished and one of the judges actually clapped. He wanted to howl for his girl. He paced the back of the theater as she thanked the judges or whomever they were. The people making the decisions.

The people that obviously had to take Margo after that performance.

She came up the walk with her case and he scooped her off her feet. “Fuckin’ A, girl.”

“Okay?”

“More than okay. Holy fuck.”

She looked over her shoulder. “Simon.”

“Fuck ‘em. They know that was fucking awesome.” He hauled her up and slammed his mouth over hers. “Amazing. And we’re gonna go sing it.”

“What?” She laughed and pulled him out of the room and into the hallway. “Where is this coming from?”

“Doc Connor said I was good to start practicing, but damn. I just—what if I suck?”

“Then you keep going until you don’t. That’s why you have to get a coach.

“I gotta try.”

“You need to see a coach.”

His hip buzzed again. “Jesus.” He dug it out and looked at the screen. “Well, we’re not going to do it right now.”

“Is everything okay?” She gripped his arm. “Baby?”

He nodded. “Baby. Harper’s at the hospital. Has been since last night.”

“She just freaking FaceTimed me.”

“Did she look like she was in labor?”

“No. How would I know? I don’t know anyone that’s done that crazy business.”

He laughed and kissed her temple. “I love you.”

“Shut up.”

“Sure, I say these heartfelt things and you tell me to shut up.”

“Ass.” She shoved him. “Did she have it already?”

He shrugged and looked at his phone. “I quote, ‘get your ass here, now’ end quote. That’s all I know.”

“Well, c’mon. Let’s go.”

They rushed out of the theater and to the parking garage she’d ran through. Simon had found a spot in there. The hospital wasn’t far from where they were and they met Jazz and Gray in the parking lot.

“I can’t believe it’s time.” Jazz squeezed Margo’s hands.

“I can’t believe you two FaceTimed me while she was in labor.”

“That was Harper. She said she had to give the good luck call. She was pretty high though, so that’s why she was so excited. Epidural.” She gravitated to Gray again, waddling beside him. “Good stuff. I’m totally getting one of those.”

“You don’t want to go all natural? With all the crazy food you’re doing?”

“Dude, pain. No. Hell, no. It’s bad enough I’ve got this bowling ball coming out of me.”

Gray kissed her forehead. “Whatever you say, babe.”

Simon linked his fingers with Margo as they got to the elevator. “Did she have the baby yet?”

“Oh, yeah. Didn’t you—oh. No, of course you didn’t. We were trying to hold off until your audition was over, but the kiddo said no.”

Margo laughed. “What’d did she have?”

“Girl.” Jazz shook her head. “I thought Nick was going to tell you.”

“Just told us to get our asses here,” Simon said.

“Typical.” Jazz rubbed her belly. “I was hungry. Harper’s resting a little between feedings and Deacon won’t put the baby down.”

Simon laughed. “None of this surprises me.”

“Wait till you see her. So tiny. I was justifiably afraid it was going to be a manster like Deak, but no. She’s a perfect six pounds eight ounces, I think? Something like that. Alexa Grace McCoy. She’s perfect. Did I mention that?”

“Maybe.”

She hugged Gray’s arm. “Just perfect.”

They got to the maternity ward and Nick was in the waiting room on his phone.

“Nice, fuckface. Couldn’t tell me the baby arrived?” Simon clamped a hand at the back of his neck.

Nick squinted up at him. “I’m sorry, were you here all night with us? No. No you were not.”

“You didn’t call us,” Simon said.

“No excuse.”

Simon dropped into the chair next to him. Christ, he missed his best friend. None more than today when he’d finally heard music in his head for the first time. But right now it wasn’t about his music or his problems. They had to celebrate the first baby of the group.

“How did the audition go?” Jazz asked Margo.

Margo nodded. “Okay, I think.”

“
Okay?
She fucking rocked it.”

Margo folded her arms. “Hospital.”

“Yeah fucker, keep it modulated and quiet,” Nick said and punched his arm.

He really hated the word
modulated
. Ever since the surgery his voice had been lower. “Where’s this perfect kid?”

“My perfect kid? The perfect kid that my wife just had?”

Simon stood. “Look at you.” Deacon had scrubs on and some sort of skull cap for all his goddamn hair. He wasn’t aware they made scrubs big enough for Deacon, but there he was. “Did you have to order the scrubs?”

“Shut up. I’m holding the single most perfect angel on the planet and you ask me if I bought my scrubs.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

Simon laughed and looked down at the little pink bundle in his arms. “Man, she sure is tiny.”

“Tiny and perfect.”

Margo bit her lower lip and her eyes misted as she stood next to him. “Wow.”

“Totally makes you want one, huh?” Deacon asked.

“Nope.” Margo and Simon said in unison.