The Complete Rockstar Series (93 page)

“What is wrong with you, you bloody wanker?” Kate and I stand almost the same height. She doesn’t hesitate to go toe to toe with me, eyes blazing as she shouts.

“Christ, Kate. I have no idea what you’re talking about! Fuck!” I yelp when she lands another kick to my already throbbing shins. I climb up onto the couch where my legs are hopefully out of reach.

“Why haven’t you answered your mobile?”

“What?” My brain scrambles to put everything together. “Oh, it died and I didn’t have my charger.”

“What do you mean? Where were you?” Kate’s fists uncurl but her shoulders are still tense, ready to strike at any moment.

“I went to my house in Boulder. Shit. I don’t have to tell you where I’m going or what I’m doing, Kate.”

She scowls, those green eyes of hers cutting through me. “You’re right. You don’t. But you bloody well should have called Abby, you stupid git.”

“Abby? What? Why?”

“Oh my god, Hawke!” Kate turns away and paces the room, muttering something about men and idiots under her breath. “She needed you! Get a fucking clue and charge your mobile.” She climbs right up on the sofa with me, standing until our noses almost touch. “Don’t ever hurt my friend like this again or it won’t be
me
visiting you next time.”

I swallow, trying not to let her threat get to me. But I know she’s talking about sending Dax to beat my ass. “Don’t be ridiculous. Dax wouldn’t get involved,” I huff.

Kate’s eyes narrow and she jumps gracefully to the floor, her feet making no sound as she lands. “If Dax has to come home to this…” She gestures at herself, all angry and worked up, “every day. Believe me, he’ll do anything to make me happy again.”

Shit. She’s right. He would.

“All right, all right!” I hold up my hands in defeat.

“Good. Don’t be a fuckup, Hawke. Adam is enough to deal with. I can’t deal with you as well. Charge your bloody mobile.” With that parting shot, Kate walks out and slams the door, rattling the doorframe and leaving me wondering what the fuck just happened.

I pull out my dead phone and head to my office to charge it like Kate said. She’s scary as fuck when she’s angry. No way am I going to deal with that again. Or Dax.

Seconds later, my phone lights up with notifications. I scroll through, reading the first few, and squeeze my eyes shut.

Fuck
.

Saturday rolls around and I still haven’t heard from Hawke. After he didn’t return any calls or texts on Monday, I didn’t bother to try again. I left the ball in his court and clearly, he has no intention of contacting me anytime soon about the paparazzi or the article or even the VMAs. I’m not chasing him around begging for attention.

After a long run on the beach and an even longer shower, my phone rings. For a few seconds, my heart soars, thinking maybe Hawke finally manned up and decided to call. When I see it’s Kate, I nearly choke on the despair. No matter how much I tell myself Hawke’s sudden silence doesn’t bother me, it does.

“Hello?”

“Abby. What are you up to this lovely morning?”

“I just got back from a run. Why?” I shuffle into the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee.

“Abby,” Kate says. “I’m only in LA for another week or so. The award show is over and the guys are almost done recording. I know the photographers must be getting to you by now. Do you want to discuss it?”

I sigh and put down my mug. “Kate, I really don’t want to talk about the paparazzi that have been stalking me everywhere I go. I’ve learned to deal with it and they’ve tapered off a lot in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Listen, Abby. Remember when they first found me at UCLA?”

I think back to college and that horrible time the paparazzi showed up at one of Kate’s soccer games. They caused a near riot and Kate ended up being benched. “Yeah, it was awful.”

“Let me help you deal with this. Come over and we’ll talk.” I hesitate, so she continues. “Besides, Poppy misses you.”

I laugh. “Poppy misses me, huh? She’s not even a year old, Kate. Poppy doesn’t know me from Adam.”

“Tosh. Of course she does. Adam’s a complete tosser and you’re not. Even a baby knows that. Come over, Abby. I’m at the Four Seasons, so it’s not far from your house.”

Grinning, I throw up my hands in defeat even though Kate can’t see them. “Fine. I’m leaving now.”

“
S
o you haven’t heard
from Hawke at all about the articles or the paparazzi?”

I shake my head and bounce Kate and Dax’s adorable daughter in my lap as she plucks bits of cereal off the kitchen table and stuffs the pieces into her mouth. “No. I told you that on Thursday.”

“That asshole,” Kate hisses under her breath.

“What?” I stop bouncing Poppy long enough for her to grab a hunk of my hair. “Ouch!”

“Hawke. I paid him a little visit yesterday.” Kate sits back in her chair, sipping her mimosa.

“Honestly, Kate! I can’t believe you did that.” I pry Poppy’s pudgy little fist open and extract my hair.

“What?” she exclaims, acting wide-eyed and innocent. “He deserved it, the stupid sod.”

“Deserved what? Oh no.” I remember stories of Kate laying into Adam back when he used to get drunk. Heck, I’ve
seen
her lay into Adam. It’s been years, but she was brutal. “You didn’t kick him, did you?”

Kate doesn’t get to answer, because Dax comes into the room, laughing loudly into his cell phone. He opens the refrigerator and pulls out a bunch of food, stacking it on the counter.

“No, he did. I swear!” Dax practically shouts into the phone.

Kate and I exchange glances. She shrugs, not wanting to continue talking about Hawke with her husband in the room.

Dax assembles a massive sandwich, slicing it in half with the phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder. “Adam, I’m telling you I heard a rumor from this guy I know and he confirmed it when I called to ask if it was true. He banged Jessica Hamby.”

In my peripheral vision, I see Kate’s mouth fall open. Ice trickles through my veins, making it seem too cold in the previously warm kitchen.

“Right, mate. Yeah. And on the flight to Denver, can you believe it? Lucky bastard.”

“What was that about being lucky, Dax?” Kate asks, her arms crossed over her chest.

His wide smile drops off his face and he covers the phone with his hand. “I didn’t say I want to shag Jessica Hamby on a flight, angel.”

“Uh-huh.” She glares at her husband.

His mouth drops as he realizes how far he stuck his foot in it. “Adam, I gotta run, mate.” Dax ends the call and grabs his lunch. “You know I didn’t mean it like that, angel. Hawke is the one who shagged that Jessica girl, not me.” Kate’s eyes harden and Dax stammers. “I don’t want to shag her… Shit.”

Kate frowns. “Dax. Do yourself a favor and leave.”

He moves faster than I’ve ever seen, sandwich in hand, and flees the kitchen.

The ice in my blood congeals around my heart, squeezing it tight in its cruel fist. I’m so stupid. Once again, I let Hawke Evans shatter me with his push and pull, his darkness and his light, his ability to keep me under his thumb with absolutely no effort on his part.

“That’s why he didn’t call,” I whisper. “He was too busy getting laid to be bothered with me and my ridiculous problems.”

Kate swoops the baby out of my hands, replacing her with a mimosa-filled champagne flute so I can bury my imminent meltdown under a tidal wave of alcohol.

“I think I need something stronger, Kate.”

“Right.” She leaps to her feet, puts Poppy in her high chair, and brings back a bottle of vodka, adding a generous amount to my glass.

I raise the flute to my lips. “Cheers.” It’s gone in three quick gulps.

Friends
. If Hawke and I are only friends, then it’s time for me to get someone new in my life.

It’s time to get over Hawke Evans for good.

“
T
hose waves were killer
!” Gavin says, dripping wet and out of breath. He brushes his hand through his hair, dropping onto his towel. When he finally gets settled, he digs his feet in the warm sand.

I lie back on my own towel, covering my eyes with one arm to block the sun as I catch my breath. “They were.”

Topanga Canyon State Beach always has the best waves, but they come with a price. Even though it’s still early in the morning, the ocean is crowded with experienced surfers, everyone fighting for the perfect ride. It’s also a good place for Gavin and me because no one here pays us any attention, if they notice us at all. Not like the Malibu beaches where tourists and sunbathers outnumber surfers. We’d get mobbed if we tried to surf there.

“So…” Gavin says after a few minutes of watching surfers catch waves, doing expert tricks with their boards. “What the fuck has been going through your idiot brain lately?”

I sit up, glancing around to make sure no one can overhear us. Hardly anyone is sitting on the beach. We have a large area to ourselves.

“What the hell, Gav? What are you talking about?”

My best friend—the only one in my life who knows the real story about my parents and my sister, about the guilt that eats away at my soul—looks like he wants to punch my lights out.

“Shit.” He runs his hand through his blond mop of hair again and huffs out a laugh. “Mitch would kill me if he knew I was talking to you about this. He told me to, and I quote, ‘stay the fuck out of it.’”

I frown. “Out of what? Just say it, man. How long have I known you?”

“You’re right. We have known each other a long time. You were there for me when I needed someone. Which is why I have to be the one to talk to you.” Gavin reaches into his duffel bag, producing the small, heart-shaped rock I gave him over ten years ago when we were both messed-up teenagers locked in a mental institution.

I flinch back. The sight of my sister’s good luck charm sends a searing pain right into the hollow space where my heart should be.

“That. Right there, Hawke. That’s the problem. It’s been over a decade and you can’t even look at a rock without losing it.”

“Don’t start that shit with me.” I recline again, this time propped on my elbows. My good mood is gone. Now I’m thoroughly pissed at Gavin for bringing up all this crap.

My friend isn’t done yet. “No,
you
listen, Hawke. I’ve watched you self-destruct for eleven fucking years. I’m done waiting for you to successfully kill yourself.” Gavin is dead serious, his tone cold, as if he’s protecting himself by not showing any emotion. “I’m begging you, Hawke. As someone who cares. Please do something. See someone. You’ve lost everything over this guilt you hang on to. Hell, you fucked up with Abby how many times now because of it? Three? Four? Don’t make me stand over your grave, man. I can’t do it.”

He’s right about Abby. I haven’t spoken to her since the VMAs. After I got back from Colorado and found out she’d been harassed by the paparazzi while I was getting laid, I was too ashamed of my shitty behavior to talk to her.

Gavin puts his feet flat on the sand, resting his arms on his knees and letting his head hang between them.

I’m speechless. This isn’t the first time Gavin has tried to push me into getting help, seeing a shrink or whatever. This is, however, the first time he’s sounded so hopeless. Like he’s given up. Like Ross. Like Abby did back when we were dating.

“I’m sorry, Gav.”

“Don’t be sorry, Hawke. You only get one chance at life. One. Don’t throw it away because some asshole drunk driver decided to get behind the wheel of a car.”

I shake my head. “It was my fault—”

“Fuuuck!” Gavin leaps to his feet, towering over me. The flat tone is gone from his voice, his face contorted in anger. “It wasn’t your fucking fault!” he roars. “You were seventeen years old! You think you’re the only kid to ever call his parents for a ride?” He looks up at the sky, laughing out loud. “Jesus, Hawke. Is this what you want? To pay penance for the rest of your life for a fucking accident? For surviving?”

I stare at the ocean, unable to meet Gavin’s eyes. He swipes his towel off the ground, shoving it into his bag. I’m fully expecting him to storm off and leave me stranded here. I wouldn’t blame him if he did. Instead, he drops to his knees and grabs my hand.

“What—?”

Gavin opens my palm and puts the stone in the center, curling my fingers around it and holding them shut by wrapping both of his hands around mine.

“You need it more than me now.” He lets go and climbs to his feet. “I’ll meet you at the car.”

Gavin trudges across the sand, hitching his surfboard under his arm. I turn back to watch the waves crash on the beach, dark green and swirling with white foam tips. They call out to me as the ever-present anxiety raises its shadowy head. I tighten my fist around the smooth object, determined for once to beat back the blackness inside. If not for me, then for Gavin, for Abby, for everyone I’ve failed.

My throat tightens as the fear continues closing in. Somehow, I swallow past the rising swell of panic until my pulse is no longer drumming in my ears. I squeeze my hand and hold Hannah’s stone for the first time in over ten years.

Maybe I can do this.

I’ve got to be crazy to be diving headfirst into dating, but I know it’s the right thing to do. It’s way past time I move on and find someone to spend the rest of my life with. Someone who isn’t running away from me at every turn. Someone I don’t need to “fix” to make up for my failures with my brother.

I stand in front of the mirror in my bedroom for what feels like the millionth time in the last ten minutes. Hair? Check. Hanging in perfect blonde waves. Clothes? Check. Sexy but not slutty light blue halter dress. Face? Meh. Makeup light and in place without smudges, but the expression on my face is pathetic. In fact, it’s downright depressing.

I look sad, something no amount of makeup will fix.

Discouraged, I force my legs to turn around and march out of the bedroom so I can stop obsessing. Instead, I get my phone from my purse to continue a different obsession. My finger hovers over the contact info for my date. I run through all the different reasons I should cancel. Mostly, because I’m a mess and clearly in no condition to go out tonight. When I notice the time and realize he’ll be here in fifteen minutes, I freak out.

Too late. I’m going on a date whether I like it or not.

I’m contemplating having a pre-date drink to calm my nerves when the doorbell rings.

Crud. He’s early.

I shove the half-empty bottle of wine back in the fridge and smooth out my dress. Taking a deep breath, I put on my best smile and open the door, only to have the wind knocked out of me.

Holy crap, it’s not my date.

Hawke is standing on my front step. “Hi,” he says quietly, his eyes darting all around, never quite landing on me. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, his shoulders hunched over.

After an uncomfortable silence, I push past the shock and find my voice. “Hawke? What are you doing here?”

He glances up and chews on his lip ring. “Can I come in?”

This is not a good idea, but I can’t leave him out on my front step. Paparazzi could have followed him over, or heck, they could still be following
me
even though I haven’t seen them in several days.

“Sure.” I step back so he can enter, making sure to keep a respectable distance between us. Friends distance.

Hawke walks into my tiny living room slash kitchen, looking around as if he’s never seen the inside of my house before. He has yet to actually make eye contact with me or tell me why he’s turned up unannounced on a Saturday night.

Since it doesn’t seem like he’s going to be speaking anytime soon, I decide to go first. “What do you need, Hawke? I’m going out in a few minutes, so if you have something to say, say it.”

My no-nonsense tone gets through to him, because he finally meets my gaze. Those two-toned eyes flick up and down my body, sending a flush of warmth across my skin.

“You look nice.”

I want to smile, to say thank you, to laugh and joke like we used to, but I can’t. I have to stay strong so I can move on. I’m done letting Hawke suck me in only to spit me out in pieces.

“What. Do. You. Want?” I repeat, crossing my arms over my chest. I glance at the clock. Crap. Ezra is going to be here any minute. Hawke hesitates again, and I lose what little remaining patience I had. “Listen. I’m waiting for someone who is due to arrive any second. You need to leave. We can talk tomorrow.”

I move to open the door when Hawke is suddenly at my back. “Who’s coming over?”

“No,” I snap, spinning around to meet Hawke’s scowl. “You do not get to ask me that.” I stab his chest with my finger.

Hawke opens his mouth to argue and the doorbell rings.
Oh my god. This is so awful
.

“Great.” I turn to Hawke, throwing up my hands. I thrust a finger in his face. “Don’t be an ass.”

His frown deepens and my eyes are drawn to the shiny metal in his furrowed brow. God, I’m such a sucker for those piercings. Heat sparks at the base of my spine, the flames licking up my back inch by inch until I feel like I’m on fire. The doorbell rings again, tearing me from the wave of lust about to crash over me.

“Be nice,” I hiss through clenched teeth before opening the door and smiling at the man on my doorstep. “Hi, Ezra. Come on in.”

“Hey, Abby. You look gorge—”

Ezra halts in his tracks when he spots Hawke hovering at my side. Hawke is giving Ezra a glacial look that would make any serial killer proud.

“Sorry.” I step between the two men. “Ezra, this is my friend, Hawke Evans. Hawke, this is Ezra Thorpe.”

Ezra extends a hand, which Hawke reluctantly shakes.

“Hawke was just leaving,” I tell Ezra. I grab Hawke by the arm and pull him toward the door.

“Wait,” Ezra holds up a hand. “Are you the Hawke Evans from
Sphere of Irony
?”

“He really has to go,” I interrupt, all but shoving Hawke out the door.

Not to be dissuaded, Hawke turns to face Ezra. “Yes. That’s me.” He flicks his eyes up and down, taking stock of Ezra, sizing him up I’m sure.

Ezra is no waif. He’s tall, maybe six feet, all lean muscle, with short brown hair styled into a tousled mess. He has several tattoos decorating the visible skin of his forearms. I blush when I realize that based on the two men in front of me, and the few I’ve dated in the past, I have a “type.”

“Cool.” Ezra grins and Hawke’s scowl turns murderous.

“Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. Bye!” I push a gaping Hawke onto the porch steps and shut the door behind him.

My heart is pounding against my ribs. I lean my forehead on the doorframe to get myself composed, but all I can think about is the way my body burst into flames just from Hawke’s proximity. He doesn’t even have to touch me to get me going.

“So, how do you know the drummer from
Sphere of Irony
?”

Ezra’s voice reminds me that I still have a date tonight. Thanks to Hawke, now I’m thinking about him naked and my date probably has about a million questions.

Damn.

“Want another?” Dax dangles his beer in front of my face. “I can have the staff fetch you one.”

“Nah.” I sink back on the comfortable lounge chair by his hotel’s pool and people-watch from behind my dark sunglasses. We’re partially hidden by a large cabana, but not completely. I’ve caught a few guests pointing at us and sneaking pictures.

“We’re all going out tonight, you coming along?” he asks, pulling my attention from a couple of college-aged girls who I can tell are working up the courage to approach us.

“Where are you planning to go?” The three girls giggle and keep sneaking glances our way.

Fuck, I hope they don’t come over. I’ve been in a shitty mood ever since Gavin’s verbal lashing the other day. That combined with coming face to face with Abby’s douchebag of a date has me acting like an asshole pretty much nonstop. Something about that guy rubbed me wrong. It was the look in his eyes. I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t trust him at all. I was tempted to follow them to make sure he didn’t touch Abby with his slimy hands, but decided that sounded crazy and went home to sulk instead.

“Adam was invited to some big party for the newest Warren Hotel club opening here in LA. Victory? Vector? Versus?” Dax shakes his head. “Bloody hell, I don’t know. Some ‘v’ name I can’t recall. Anyway, you remember Adam’s friend Sydney? It’s her launch party.”

“Sydney Tannen?”

“Yeah, that’s her name.”

My heart sinks. Of course I remember her. My parents were at her house, her famous parents’ house, the night of the accident. Pretending nothing is wrong, I answer Dax. “I didn’t know she was still doing work for the Warren.” Dax shrugs at my statement. “Sure, why not?”

All I have planned is a night of torturing myself with images of that asshole Ezra rutting on top of
my
Abby like a pig in heat.
Fuck!
I fist my hand in my lap, pissed at Abby for going out with that dipshit, pissed at myself for getting pissed, and pissed at life for shitting on me so spectacularly.

Plus, she’s not
mine
.

The only benefit to my now murderously dark mood is that my scowling manages to scare away the trio of tittering girls. They stare at me wide-eyed and gaping as I fantasize about dismembering Abby’s date. Soon after, they pack up and leave the pool area. Thank god. I couldn’t deal with squealing fans today.

Well, at least something went my way. And I only had to contemplate homicide to make it happen.

W
hy the hell
I agreed to this is beyond comprehension. Sitting at home, gouging my own eyes out with a broken drumstick would be more pleasurable than this. I’m sitting in the VIP section of a fancy new club, watching Ezra the douchebag touch Abby all night while he shoots disgusting leers at every woman in the place. The backless, microscopic dress Abby is wearing has my dick hard enough to pound nails. Combined with the red-tinged fury surging through my veins from that asshole’s hands all over her while his eyes are all over anything in the room with a pair of tits, I’m an enraged mess.