Star Crossed (Starlight #3) (3 page)

I’m trying to get a handle on him. But I’m also wondering where my own preferences fit in. I’ve never thought of myself as submissive. But there’s no denying how turned on I am, by having him in charge.

Adam raises his eyebrows.

‘
Well now,’ he says. ‘You have to remember, I was a young man on tour. Quite a few shocking things came my way sexually. But I wouldn’t say I instigated them.’

Ouch. That’s not a nice thing to think about.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask hesitantly.

Do I want to know?

Adam sighs. ‘Like it or not, Summer, male musicians have women throwing themselves at them. Particularly when they’ve a reputation like I did.’

I nod, not liking this at all.

‘You’d be amazed, what women suggest,’ he concludes.

‘
Perhaps I would,’ I say, feeling suddenly very young and inexperienced.

Adam frowns at me.

‘I don’t want to lie to you,’ he says. ‘I had a past. And some wild things went on. But it’s nothing compared to you and me.’

I nod, feeling a little miserable.
‘But what if you start to miss the women throwing themselves at you?’ I say. ‘I’m not experienced like that Adam. I’m not… Confident.’

‘
Stop that now,’ he says, instantly picking up on my insecurity and hugging me tight. ‘There’s no comparison, to dirty sex with a groupie, and making love to you.’

I smile weakly.
‘Is that what we’re doing? Making love? It feels a little more extreme than that.’

Adam secures me in his arms, and gazes into my eyes.

‘It does to me too,’ he says. ‘This is the hottest sex I’ve ever had in my life. We have a connection which doesn’t compare to anything else. It makes me want to ravish every inch of you, but in my heart, it’s such a pure desire,’ he adds, his blues eyes on mine.

I nod slowly.
Because I do feel it. When we’re together… It’s like we can do anything.

‘
I want to explore you,’ he says. ‘I want to push every boundary, and make you mine on every level.’

‘
Exploration?’ I ask.

‘
Isn’t that what you would call it?’ He kisses my mouth.

I nod slowly.

‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘That’s exactly what I’d call it.’

‘
So,’ says Adam, ‘I’d like to explore with you some more.’

I think about this.

‘Is this about dominance?’ I ask finally, finding the word which is what’s making me so uncomfortable.

Adam smiles.

‘I certainly don’t feel like I’m dominating you,’ he says. ‘I feel like we’re both discovering things we enjoy.’

He pauses.

‘I’ve never had this with anyone else,’ he says slowly, ‘when I’m with you Summer… I know you so well. Like I’ve got an intuition for what you’d like me to do to you. So I just kind of… Go with that.’

‘
Hmmm.’ I reply.

‘
Sometimes I feel like you want to be taken charge of,’ he adds. ‘Am I wrong? If I tied you up and fucked you, would you like it?’

I feel my face reddening. Because the truth is, the image he’s just conjured is hotter than I’d readily admit.

‘Maybe,’ I mumble, looking away. ‘I like it when you… When you’re in charge.’

‘
What are you thinking?’ asks Adam smoothing the crease which has formed in my brow.

‘
I’m wondering, what that says about me,’ I say. ‘If your instinct is to… Dominate me. And I like it,’ I add, opting for honesty. ‘Does it mean I’m some kind of submissive?’

‘
I think it means you’re braver than anyone I’ve ever met,’ replies Adam. ‘And I think you’re amazing, and sexy, and you take me to places I’ve never been before. But submissive. No. Never.’

I let out a little sigh. If I’m honest, I guess this was what really troubled me most. That Adam viewed me as a meek submissive.

‘So we’re in this together?’ I say.

He nods.
‘Absolutely. It wouldn’t be any fun if we weren’t.’

‘
In which case,’ I say slowly, ‘you have to afford me the same respect out of the bedroom.’

‘
What do you mean?’ Adam sounds confused.

‘
I mean,’ I say, ‘don’t rig the show, so you’re my mentor. Let things happen fairly. If you do otherwise, you’re disrespecting my independence.

Adam’s face is a picture. Like he’s caught between annoyance and admiration for me.

‘Fine,’ he sighs after a long pause. ‘Have it your own way Summer Evans.’ His face twists dangerously. ‘But don’t think I won’t make you pay for it the next time we’re in bed together.’

I give him my most sultry look, lust sparking, at what he might have in mind.

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ I reply.

Chapter 2

I dress carefully in skinny jeans, suede ankle boots and a Debbie-Harry T-shirt. Then I slip on the beautiful Tiffany bracelet which Adam bought me. It complements my rock-look perfectly.

‘
Wearing your bracelet?’ asks Adam, watching me dress. ‘I’m pleased you like it.’

‘
I love it,’ I tell him. ‘It’s the most generous gift anyone has ever bought me.’

My eyes drift to my neckline, where the Saint Cecilia necklace rests against my collarbone.

‘But this is my favourite gift from you,’ I continue, lightly touching the silver necklace.

Adam’s eyebrows
raise. ‘It is?’

I nod.
‘Uh huh.’

Adam stands and walks over to wear I’m dressing. He wraps his arms around me.

‘And why is that?’ he asks.

‘
Because of the meaning behind it,’ I say, smiling at him. ‘You bought it as a protection for me. I love that.’

Adam looks genuinely touched.

‘I’ve never met a girl who preferred a silver saint pendant over a Tiffany bracelet,’ he says.

‘
Well I do,’ I say firmly. ‘It means everything to me.’

My hand clasps the necklace.

‘It’s my good luck charm,’ I say, ‘my reminder of you.’

Adam’s hand covers mine as it holds the pendant.

‘Then as long as you wear it,’ he says, ‘I’ll know you love me.’

‘
I’ll wear it forever,’ I say. ‘I’ll never take it off.’

Something seems to flicker in Adam’s eyes. Some deeply held emotion.

‘You mean that?’ he whispers.

I nod, my eyes locked on his.

‘I do.’ I reply.

It feels as though we’re making a much larger promise to one another than just a necklace. My heart is skipping in my chest. But there’s fear there too.

Can it really be this perfect?

I’m still turning these ideas in my head as Adam drives me to the studio. He too, is more silent. As though considering something very serious. We both know we’re in deep.

After Adam drops me off, however, my thoughts take another shift.
It starts to hit hard, that I’m here without George and Tammy.

I punch Tammy’
s number into my phone, hoping the sound of her voice will reassure me.

To my relief, the call connects.

‘Summer!’ Tammy sounds delighted to hear from me.

‘
Hey Tams,’ I say, feeling instantly more at ease. ‘Just wanted to see how you’re doing. It feels really weird to be in the studio without you,’ I add.

Tammy gives a sympathetic laugh.

‘Summer, you’ll be fine,’ she assures me. ‘You got this. You’ll do even better without us. You’ll see.’

‘
Thanks,’ I say gratefully. ‘How’s it going with you?’

‘
Great actually,’ says Tammy. ‘Dev.as.station have taken me on. I’m only a backing singer currently, but I’m involved in writing the music, and I think it won’t take long to earn their trust.’

‘
Tammy, that is so great,’ I enthuse. ‘You’re a great match for Dev.as.station.’

‘
Thanks,’ says Tammy. ‘Cher is a great mentor too.’

‘
I’m really pleased for you,’ I say sincerely. Though I do feel a pang of sadness not to have Tammy by my side. ‘Did you hear from George?’ I ask. ‘I’ve been trying to phone her, but she’s incommunicado.’

‘
Oh, yeah,’ says Tammy. ‘Well,’ she corrects herself, ‘not
from
George. But I’ve seen on Facebook.’

‘
So what is she posting?’

‘
Well, you know she got her big trust fund,’ says Tammy. ‘So she’s husband hunting. She’s posted pictures on a yacht in the Riviera with some school friends. I think that’s what those girls do when they’re single. Buy a load of designer bikinis and tan themselves until a man snaps them up.’

‘
Sounds like she’s having a good time,’ I say, imagining George on a yacht in a bikini.

‘
I nearly forgot,’ adds Tammy. ‘Did the journalist contact you too? About the photo shoot?’

‘
No,’ I say, bemused.

‘
Oh,’ says Tammy. ‘You’re going to love this. Some magazine for aristocrats wants to do a story on George.’

‘
What kind of story?’

‘
About her being the most eligible rich bachelorette, or something,’ scoffs Tammy. ‘They want to photograph her in all the latest designer wedding dresses. And get this. They want us to be bridesmaids.’

‘
No one told me that,’ I say. ‘Do you think we should do it?’

I can almost hear Tammy’s shrug on the other end of the phone.

‘Whatever,’ she says good-naturedly. ‘I don’t mind. I think George will love being the centre of attention for once. Remember how shitty she got in that last journalist interview? When you were getting asked all the questions?’

‘
Yeah, I remember.’ I say.

I think for a moment.

‘I think the photo shoot will be fun,’ I say. ‘I’ve never been a bridesmaid. And it will get us all together again.’

‘
Yeah,’ says Tammy airily. ‘I guess so. I’ll make sure the magazine gets in touch with you. I think it’s called
Horse and Hound
or something.’

‘
Ok,’ I say, realising that I’m relishing the thought of having all three of us together again. ‘I guess I’d better get going,’ I add reluctantly. ‘I have to go to hair and make-up.’

‘
Have fun,’ says Tammy. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you on this week’s show. Remember I’m still your number one fan.’

I smile. Tammy and I used to say this to one another between gigs, when we were struggling to make it.

‘I’m your number one fan too,’ I reply. ‘I can’t wait to see you perform with Dev.as.station.’

We say our
‘goodbyes’ and I hang up the phone. It’s bittersweet talking to Tammy. I really miss having her by my side. But I’m also incredibly happy for her. Dev.as.station is a much better fit for Tammy, than She’s All That.

After I hang up, I head to hair and make-up by myself. The other acts have already been styled, so it’s just me in the dressing room.

I go through hair first, and the hairdresser gives me
a little quiff, showing Debbie Harry style dark roots against my bleach blonde hair.

The
n it’s the turn of the make-up artist – a nervous-looking blonde named Susie, who doesn’t seem too keen on making conversation. I attempt to chat with her a few times. But it soon becomes clear I’m making her uncomfortable. So I let Susie concentrate on layering foundation onto my face, and turn my attention to a TV which someone has thoughtfully placed in the make-up room.

But as I fix my attention to the flickering screen, I stifle a groan. The TV plays Sing-Win re-runs over and over. Great. I’m betting this was Jenny Grogan’s idea to try and focus the performers. Being primped and preened seems to take forever as it is, without being subjected to a constant barrage of footage you’ve already seen.

We’re at the part of the show before the performers come on. When the singer’s loved ones have recorded some words of encouragement.

I smile a little. At least I’ll get to see my relatives.

First, however, are Deven’s parents. His mum and dad sit bolt upright on an immaculate sofa, inside a huge Victorian house.

‘
We’re so proud of you son,’ says Deven’s father, smiling indulgently. ‘We always knew you’d make it.’

Hmmm. That’s not what I remember
Deven telling me.

I think back to my ill-fated date with
Deven. From memory, he told me that his parents were ashamed of him when he worked as a male model. And they weren’t too keen on the singing thing either.

I look back at the screen.
Deven’s mother is talking now, her eyes shining with pride. She sits perfectly poised, hands in lap and ankles neatly crossed.

‘
We know you’re going to win,’ she says with a steely glint in her eye. ‘We didn’t bring you up to come second.’

Wow. I can see where
Deven gets his competitive spirit from.

I send up a silent prayer of thanks that my parents aren’t like that. They wouldn’t mind if I came last, so long as I did my best.

The TV blacks out, and the word ‘Scandelous’ flashes up.

But instead of a loving mum and dad, Scandelous’s pep talk comes from a gaggle of five
highly-preened girls.

They look like carbon copies of Scandelous before the RnB
make-over – blonde highlights, caked-on make-up and long fingernails.

The text at the bottom of the screen reads:
‘Scandelous’s friends’.

Huh. So I guess mum and dad didn’t show up to encourage their little darlings.

Scandelous’s girlfriends giggle and deliver a loud message of support in unison. Then the screen cuts again and my name flashes up: Summer Evans.

It always gives
me goose bumps to see my name on screen.

Suddenly my mum, dad, sister and nephew appear on the TV.

My smile threatens to split my face.

I gaze adoringly as my mum stutters a few shy words, blushing furiously. My nephew bounces up and down shouting how much he likes to see Auntie Summer sing. And my dad surprises me by looking straight at the camera and saying how talented I am.

When the screen fades again there are tears in my eyes.

I am so lucky.

I feel a little sorry for Scandelous and Deven. I don’t know their family circumstances, but compared to my support message, theirs seemed stifled and false.

I wonder if Scandelous’s parents are ashamed of their skimpy outfits, or if there’s some other reason for them not appearing.

Maybe it’s just an image thing – perhaps it was decided that Scandelous would come over better as a young girl band with lots of fun friends.

Susie is finishing up my make-up now, and I notice she’s give
n me a different look to when I was performing with She’s All That.

It’s as though someone has finally explained my punk-pop
style. Susie has made me up perfectly, with turquoise eye-shadow, which makes my brown eyes pop.

‘
Thanks,’ I say gratefully. Susie waves away the compliment.

Jenny Grogan sweeps in, as the make-up artist brushes a final sweep of powder over me, and nods approvingly.

‘It’s only a short filming session today,’ she says, her brightly lipsticked mouth twisting a little as she eyes me. I get the impression that Jenny is not sure what to make of me anymore.

Since She’s All That had an all
-out catfight with Scandelous, and now we’ve split, I guess Jenny must see me as a loose cannon. But her professional instincts mean she won’t let herself treat me any differently.

‘
You’ll be finding out who your mentor is,’ Jenny adds, with a little nod of her head. Her lacquered blonde chignon doesn’t move an inch.

I smile at her, hoping to channel that I’m not planning to make her life difficult.

‘I guess it doesn’t matter if I get Lisa, Adam, or Martin,’ I say. ‘They’re all so experienced.’

The truth is
, I’d hate to get Martin Clarke as a mentor. Since She’s All That refused his tacky costumes, he’s made it clear he doesn’t like me. But I’d rather take the risk, than let Adam manipulate the show unfairly.

Jenny looks surprised.

‘It won’t be Martin,’ she says. ‘Haven’t you heard? He left when the show was signed over to Adam.’

My eyes widen in shock.

‘It’s been all over the papers this morning,’ adds Jenny. ‘I thought you kids were always up to date on music news.’

What can I tell her?
‘I was in bed all morning with Adam Morgan, and the news slipped me by.’

‘
I… I didn’t know that,’ I say, privately resolving to kill Adam for letting me find out this way.

‘
Well that’s what’s happened,’ says Jenny, eyeing me strangely. ‘I’m shocked you didn’t know.’

Me too.

‘So who is his replacement?’ I ask.

Jenny’s
neat eyebrows make a little motion of displeasure.

‘
We don’t know yet,’ she says. ‘It’s all part of TV. Keep everyone in the dark. Get the best reaction for the cameras.’

She looks as though she’s a little tired of this.

‘Must be hard for you,’ I say sympathetically, imagining how difficult it must be to organise things which are constantly in flux.

‘It is,’ she says. Her face flashes with a tired look, and I have a sudden insight into how hard Jenny must work. It must be exhausting.