The Complete Rockstar Series (21 page)

A
dam

“
S
orry mate
, I can’t make it.” Dax grunts and raises an accusatory eyebrow at me.

“Bros before hos, isn’t that what they say here?” Dax asks.

I chuckle at his sad attempt at American sarcasm. “I believe that is what they say,” I agree, “but I promised Kiera I’d take her to her movie premiere. It’s her first big role and she needs me to be there.”

Dax rolls his eyes and huffs loud enough for me to hear.
Oh Christ, this again?

“What?” I snap. “If you’ve got something to say, then say it.”

He stomps over to me, stopping when he’s only a few inches away. His huge shoulders are hunched over so we’re almost eye-to-eye. “Alright, you want to know what I think? I think she’s using you for your name, for the exposure. She’s a star-fucker and she’s a bitch. I can’t stand her, Adam.”

Dax crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a look that dares me to argue with him. I can’t, of course, because he’s right. Kiera
is
a bitch, and she
is
most likely using me for my name. I can’t explain to Dax that I feel like I deserve someone like her, that I’m not worthy of someone good, someone like Ellie. I’m sure that any good psychiatrist could figure out why I’m with Kiera. She looks so much like Ellie it’s scary, certainly Dax has noticed it, he just hasn’t said anything. I know damn well that I’m with her to punish myself.

“So what if she’s
using me. I really don’t care. Ever think that I’m using her?”

Dax shakes his head, “I have thought that. I know what you’re doing and it’s not a pretty fucking picture that comes up. In fact, it’s fucking twisted.” He waves a disinterested hand at me. “It’s your life, mate. When she fucks up and the tabloids ferret out every last humiliating detail, don’t be surprised.”

“Like I said, I don’t care. Kiera is fun and great in the sack, that’s all I need from her.”

“Then I guess you’re all set.” He gives me on last sidelong glance and turns to walk away. “If you change your mind, we’ll all be at Gavin’s new place.”

“Right, I’ll try to swing by.” I know I have no intention of going to Gavin’s house warming party tonight. I’m a masochistic bastard these days, so spending the night on the red carpet with Kiera shining and prattling on about herself and her stupid acting while I smile dutifully, is exactly what I deserve.

Dax gathers up his belongings and leaves our record label’s largest conference room. We had an early morning meeting with the executives regarding our next album. I’m recording a solo album in New York instead of L.A. this autumn and winter, and it’s caused a bit of a ruckus.

The guys are happy for me, so the solo part isn’t the issue, It’s the location that’s the problem. I can’t stand Los Angeles anymore. It’s so fake and backstabbing and goddamn sunny every single day. It’s as if God took the most beautiful place on earth and dropped the most miserable, petty human beings on it.

Gavin and Hawke argued against New York City and since they’re from L.A., I expected it, but there’s not enough time to write and record an entire album this summer, then I’ll be in New York starting in September. I even bought a house in the U.K. sight unseen just to feel like I had a home outside of the misery of L.A. where I’ve never bought a single thing. I always stay at the Chateau Marmont so I won’t have a single tie to this godforsaken city.

I pushed hard for the change of venue and Dax agreed that it might do us all some good to try the east coast, so we compromised. We’ll write in New York, then come back to L.A. after the holidays to record. Dax knows that if I have to come back to L.A. too soon, I’ll end up on another six-month long piss up. My mood swings have been out of control lately, which is a pretty good sign that I’m already halfway down the road that ends with an empty bottle next to my bed and nameless, naked women everywhere. I’m lucky that he still gives a shit after all the crap I’ve done.

I rub my tired, red eyes and head out of the building, putting on my ‘happy Adam’ face for everyone who wishes me well as I pass by even though my head feels like it might explode any second. At least I know that I’m still keeping up appearances, because I don’t get a single strange look from anyone, only big smiles and flirty eyes.

As I step outside and am greeted by fans and tabloid reporters, I smile and sign autographs, laughing and stopping for pictures. I can fool them, but for how much longer can I fool myself?

A
utumn in New York City
is even better than I imagined. After living in California on and off for six years, the change of seasons and cooler weather is more than just welcome, it’s as necessary to me surviving as breathing.

A sharp rap on the door lets me know that the dinner I ordered is here. I leave the gorgeous brick patio of my suite at the Bowery Hotel and let the smartly dressed employee bring in the room service.

“Mr. Reynolds, where would you like it set up?”

The young man’s voice is nervous, odd for an employee at such a posh hotel. I’d think he’d be used to celebrities by now.

“The table, right there.” I point to the obvious, the small table in the lounge area of the suite. Then I have another idea. “No wait, can I have it on the patio?”

The employee lifts an eyebrow at my request. “Sure thing, Mr. Reynolds.” He quickly distributes my order on top of the large outdoor dining table until it decked out as if dinner were being served in a five star restaurant.

“Wow, that was impressive.” The kid blushes madly under my praise.

“Are you okay,” I check his nametag, “Roger?”

“I’m fine, yes sir. Sorry.” Roger pauses before continuing. “I’m not supposed to converse with you.”

“Well, you’re here and I’m asking you to, so go on then,” I encourage. It’s not often I get to speak to people one on one, without hordes of other fans crushing and screaming to get close.

“I’m, well, I’m a huge fan.” His face turns even redder than before. “I play guitar and I love your music.”

“You play? For how long?” I ask, genuinely interested.

“Ten years.”

That’s a long time, he doesn’t look very old, which means he started young like Dax and me.

“Tell you what,” I reach into my pocket for my wallet. “Take this,” I hand him a generous tip and a business card. “That’s my work email. Send me a few songs and if you’re good, I’ll see if I can’t get someone to take a listen. And don’t give that email out, I’d hate to have to change it again.”

Roger takes the card, dumfounded, and stares at it. Then he smiles. “You’d really listen to my stuff?”

His response makes me grin. “Sure. We all have to start somewhere, don’t we? Hey, you can do me a favor. Where can I get a good cup of coffee round here? Your hotel may be five star, but the coffee is complete rubbish.”

Roger laughs and scribbles down the name of a café with the address on the back of my credit slip then thanks me profusely and leaves me to eat my dinner. I figure that’s my good deed for the month, to negate me being a giant useless arsehole the rest of the time. Maybe the kid’s really talented, who knows?

I
t’s
a nice walk from the hotel to the little café that Roger recommended. The bonus is that it’s also near the studio where I’ll start recording my album. One of the many things I won’t miss about L.A. is having to be driven everywhere. It was fucking maddening. This morning, I have a meeting with the band about our next album. We’re going to work on writing while I record my solo, so the guys are in town for a while.

I tug my brand new New York Giants hat down low over my eyes, put on fake glasses and pull the collar up on my lightweight coat. No sense getting mobbed at a coffee shop before my first day at work. The place is easy to find and busy, but not overcrowded. That’s good for me because it means that it’s easier to go unnoticed.

I order a massive coffee with cream and sugar and it’s in my hand within seconds. This detour was much faster than I thought, leaving me twenty minutes until I have to start walking to the studio.

Scanning the cozy shop for a spot to hide for a few minutes, I see a table being vacated by a couple of school-aged kids in the back corner. Perfect. I duck behind them and slump down in the seat, staying buried under my hat and coat while I pull out my phone to check my email. Great, one from Kiera. Sighing, I open it.

T
o
: Adam Reynolds

From: Kiera Radcliff

A
dam honey
, when are you back in L.A.? I need you to go with me to the opening of Freddy’s restaurant. It’s next Saturday at 5. You should see the scripts I’m getting now, it’s unbelievable!

xoxo

K

S
haking my head
, I can’t help but laugh. Kiera is so fucking self-centered. She didn’t even ask a single thing about me, or even how my flight went or if my hotel is nice. It’s only ever about what she needs me to do for her. I can’t be mad though, I knew this getting into it with her. After nine months of her selfishness, it doesn’t even faze me anymore.

Kiera’s not stupid, that’s for sure. She has a way of manipulating everyone into giving her what she wants. Kiera has no idea that I know exactly what she’s doing, because I never say a word. I certainly don’t deserve to be treated any better, so I usually go along with whatever she demands. L.A. however, isn’t going to happen. There’s no way I’m going back there for her or anyone else.

“Hello, do you mind if I sit here?”

I jerk up so fast at the voice that my knee bashes the table, making a bit of my coffee slosh out onto my hand. “Christ! That’s hot!”

Shit!
Not drawing attention to myself isn’t achieved by screeching in a crowded cafe. I slouch back down into my coat and pull my hat down lower.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The same person who surprised me says, handing me a stack of napkins. I wipe my hand off and finally get a look at the woman who startled me and do a double take.

Bloody hell, she’s gorgeous!

“I’m Sydney. I’m so embarrassed that I made you spill your drink,” she says earnestly. “It’s just…” she glances around the full café nervously, then back at me, “I have some work to do and I usually sit here.”

She’s so charming that I can’t help but smile. “It’s fine by me, if you still even want to sit with me now that you know that I scream like a girl.”

Sydney laughs with me and lowers herself into the other chair. “You’re British,” she says, taking a sip of her own huge coffee.

“Far as I know.” She hasn’t said anything about knowing who I am. Maybe she’s not into music. “I’m Adam.” I extend my hand across the table to meet her properly She takes it, but hesitantly, her eyes dropping down to the table instead of looking at me as her small fingers clasp mine.

Jesus, she’s unbelievably shy and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. She’s fucking stunning, all long red hair and pouty pink lips. Then she lifts her lashes and meets my expectant gaze.

Fucking hell!

I yank my hand back from the shock. Her eyes, they’re Ellie’s eyes. It’s unbelievable actually, how much Sydney’s eyes remind me of Ellie. They’re the same exact color, even the way the blue looks like hardened steel in the light, with a gaze that suggests they’re both used to keeping people at arm’s length.

“Hi Adam. New in town?” she correctly guesses, lowering her hand to her lap.

“Yeah, just got here yesterday. I’ll be around for a few months for work.” I sit back and wait for her to ask what I do for a living.

“That’s nice.” Instead of asking more questions, she pulls a laptop out of her massive handbag and plops it on the table.

That’s it?
No twenty questions? No squealing and asking for tickets or trying to get in my pants? I’m literally shocked speechless.

“Are you okay?” Sydney asks. I look up and see a tiny line between her furrowed brows.

I close my gaping mouth and fix my expression to hide the disbelief. “Yeah, I’m great, brilliant really.” She has no earthly clue who I am and I love it.

I start to think that if Ellie had a little sister, she would be just like Sydney. Kind, caring, and innocent outwardly but a bit jaded inside. It makes me want to curl my arms around her and protect her from all the fucking bastards out there, the Callum Murray’s of the world. I’m no savior though. I’m a fucked up asshole, no better than Murray when it comes right down to it.

Sydney smiles and continues working on her laptop, perfectly happy to share a table with me and not drill me with questions. It’s been so long since I’ve had companionable silence, that the next time I look at my phone, I realize I’m going to be late to the studio.

“Crap!” I yank down my hat before jumping out of my seat. “I’m going to be late for a meeting. Maybe I’ll see you here again?” I can hope for that, right?

She looks a bit alarmed at the prospect, then her face softens into a shy smile. “Sure, Adam. I’ll be around.”

“Okay, well then… I guess I’ll see you.”
Jesus, I’m so pathetic!
I rush out of the café, head down with a stupid grin behind my upturned collar.

I get to the studio over thirty minutes late and everyone gives me the hairy eyeball when I enter the room. I recognize the looks on the faces in front of me, the disappointment, the resignation. They think I’m back on the piss again as if it’s as inevitable as the sun rising tomorrow.

“Sorry,” I quickly spit out, removing my coat and hat and tossing them into an empty chair. “I got caught up at this little café and didn’t realize the time.”

One glance at the guys tells me that they don’t believe a word I say.

“It’s the truth! There was this girl there and she just seemed so… I don’t know, nervous and kind of sweet… So I hung out with her for a little while. Plus, get this, she didn’t recognize me!”

“Bullshit,” Hawke says angrily. “Are we idiots, Adam? You don’t have to make up a fake story about a girl just because you’re hung over and can’t get here in time!” He leaps up and tries to get in my face, but Dax gets between us and puts a huge hand on Hawke’s chest.