JAGGED: A Rockstar Romance Read online

  She nodded and I thought I saw tears in her eyes before she blinked them away. "Okay," she said and only then did I loosen my grip on her arm. Only then did I feel like it was safe to let her walk away.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Celia

  There is no reason I should be feeling bad for leaving. I have a job, an important job. One that is actually really important for his future too, as a matter of fact, so he has no right to make me feel like I'm making a mistake for hurrying away. This is business, after all. There's a reason you don't mix business with pleasure.

  Pleasure.

  Just the very word was enough to stop my rambling inner monologue in its tracks. I stumbled on the cracked pavement, feeling the heat rising to my face, and no matter how hard I tried to brush them away, the traces that last night's amazingness had left on my body demanded that I pay attention to them. No matter how fast I was rushed along the suddenly crowded sidewalks, there was no outrunning the gentle, insistent throb between my legs, the burning chafe of my licked and bitten nipples. There were twinges and aches and little bruised tender places all over me and each one of them insisted that I pause and remember exactly how they came about. They insisted that I slow down and remember how his face had looked as he peered down at me, the way he'd felt as he moved inside of me.

  He'd sworn he was only interested in something that lasted, and for a moment I'd believed him. That is, until I came to my senses and remembered that it really didn't matter what he wanted because he could never actually give it. I of all people should know that. The contract in my bag right now pretty much guaranteed it. He and the rest of Wreckage were right at the very edge of everything. Once I filed this contact with legal, they would be plunged back into the world of rehearsing and recording and massive world tours. And it wasn't like I was going to go with him. I had a career I was building from the ground up, and his wasn't the only band I needed to worry about. Now that I'd signed them, my work with them was near done. It was time for me to start thinking about the next band, the next big thing.

  But the raw scratch of my stubble-burned cheek insisted that I think about Ewan some more. That I think about Ewan....only.

  He had been a dick this morning. There was no denying that. But before he'd been a dick, I'd been a cold fish. I'd pulled back, tried to pretend that what I'd felt last night had only been a fluke.

  He owed me an apology, but I was pretty sure I owed him one too.

  My mouth twitched and I let out a heavy sigh. I knew this wasn't going to be a long-term thing, how could it be? But that didn't mean I needed to make it a bad thing. In a few days, I could go to his show, patch things up, maybe give him one last kiss for good luck and then we could both move on.

  Yes, that was the best thing to do. The most professional thing. To part on good terms and move on. But no matter how many times my brain tried to assert that fact, my body was still stuck on the idea of getting to kiss Ewan again. Just the idea had my heart racing and soon I was breathless and sweaty for reasons that had nothing to do with the relatively mild summer morning I'd walked through.

  It was only when my hand was on the door handle, ready to push my way into the offices of Anthem, that I caught a glimpse of myself reflected in the glass. In my rush to get away from Ewan, I hadn't bothered to check myself in a mirror. I was still wearing last night's grimy, wrinkled clothes. My hair was a tumbled-down mess of tangles and my cheeks were flushed and glowing with little rivulets of eye makeup still clinging to my lashes.

  I looked like I'd spent the night getting fucked, and fucked well.

  "Shit," I breathed and for a second I considered just bailing and running home to take a shower. Scrubbing my skin free of the memory of his touch so I'd stop feeling that unresolved ache between my legs.

  But I needed to file this contract. Anthony was waiting and my reputation depended on it.

  This early, things were still pretty quiet at Anthem. With how late live shows could run, most A&R reps didn't start rolling into the office until after ten. I could just dash in and scan this contract in, and then head home to change. Anthony would come in around 9:30 and see that it was filed first thing and be able to start passing along the info to the PR and recording departments while I got myself primped and primed to bask in the triumph of signing my first band.

  I pushed open the door, eager to get started even if that triumph felt altogether hollow.

  Just as I'd figured, the A&R floor was a ghost town. Grateful for the quiet, I dashed over to my computer. While it booted up, I turned on the desktop scanner which came to life in a series of grunts and beeps.

  "You're in early."

  I jumped, startled to see Matt Gracie peering over the wall of my cube. "Hey!" I squeaked, staring up at him. "Uh, yeah I am. I guess you are too, huh?"

  He shrugged and sipped coffee from a plastic travel mug that advertised some long defunct band. "Easier to get my work done early."

  I nodded, clicking through the various menus to get to PDF support. Matt watched me, making the most disgusting slurping noises as he sipped his coffee. "Got a contract, huh?" he asked as I pulled the document from my bag.

  "That's right," I agreed, double checking if I needed to load it face up or face down.

  "Is that for that band of yours?"

  I glanced up at him. "Of mine?"

  I didn't like the way his eyes were darting everywhere. Like he was memorizing everything and filing it away for future use. "Yeah, your band. Baggage."

  "Wreckage?" I corrected, feeding the document in.

  "Yeah, those guys. How's it going with them?"

  I patted the contract in the scanner. "Pretty well, I'd say." And I wasn't lying, not really anyway. The way things were going with Ewan and me was not the same thing as how it was going with signing his band. That part was going, "Great, actually."

  "That's good," he said, schlurrrrping his coffee again. "I'm glad." His gaze that was deeply unsettling, but I couldn't put my finger on why.

  I shifted. There was an implication hanging in the air. I could feel it in the way he was watching me. He thought I was lying. Like I hadn't really done anything. Like I was just sitting here feeding an empty ream of paper into my document scanner just so I'd look like I knew what I was doing. "Yup!" I said, discomfort making my voice unnaturally loud in the empty office. Like I could shout him into believing me. "Things are going great! They actually have a two-night stint at the Sound Garden coming up soon, so that should be great for buzz, and like I know their manager wants to get them recording as soon as they finish writing the new material..."

  "Great job, Cecelia." Matt sounded bored. "Anthony's gonna be thrilled we've got some new blood on our roster."

  "Celia, actually."

  "You know I never actually got your last name?" he said. "Sorry about that, you know? You just kind of...appeared one day." He took another sip of his coffee. "It was weird. Usually, they bring in new hires and introduce them around on the floor, but you just kind of showed up without anyone knowing."

  "Yeah, well," I hedged.

  "Matt Gracie," he said, sticking out his hand.

  I hesitated before I reluctantly extended my hand. "Celia Gilbert," I said, allowing his hand to envelope mine. It was hot from the coffee and disquietingly damp.

  "Gilbert, huh?" He nodded. "I'll remember that." He nodded again before wandering off, coffee cup in hand. As I sat back in my chair and watched the pages feed through my scanner one at a time, I wondered how he had made my fake name sound so much like a threat.

  Chapter Thirty

  Ewan

  "Did you want to go over the set list again, Hudson?" Niall asked. We were assembled in the green room, waiting for the go-ahead to head upstairs. Our pre-show warm-up and mic check had gone eerily perfectly and that made us all nervous.

  Hudson looked a little green around the gills. "Nah man," he said. "We've got the list taped down right by my feet, you know? And we've been rehearsing eight hours a day for t
he past four days."

  "If we don't know it by now," Jules agreed.

  "We're fucked?" I supplied.

  Hudson roared with laughter and then took another sip of his tea-with-honey. He lifted it in salute. "To being fucked."

  "Cheers, mate!" Jules lifted his pre-show pint. "To the Wreckage. May we rise like phoenixes from the ashes of..."

  "Our bullshit past?" Niall finished.

  "Exactly that," Jules replied. He clinked his glass with Hudson and Niall and then glared at me. "Oi!" he called. "Where the fuck is your beer, mate? You're gonna jinx the toast!"

  I was saved from a beat down by a soft knock on the door. "That's our cue," I called, sliding from my brooding perch on the arm of the couch.

  But instead of a stage manager letting us know we could go up, a straight-laced looking guy in a polo shirt and khakis peeked in.

  "Can I fucking help you?" growled Jules.

  The guy had eyes just like a shark. He scanned the green room like he was looking for something, or someone, and was disappointed when he didn't see it. "Hey guys," he said. "I'm from the label, I just wanted to wish you luck tonight."

  My heart quickened at the mention of the label. "Yeah?" I asked, perking up. "You know CeCe?"

  Something distasteful flickered across his face. "Celia? Yeah, I know her."

  "Who the fuck did you say you were, mate?" Jules rumbled, suspicion tightening his jaw.

  "I'm Matt," the dorky guy replied, reaching out to shake Jules' hand. "From the label."

  "Yeah mate, you mentioned that," Jules said, slowly shaking his hand.

  I narrowed my eyes. Something about this shit wasn't sitting right. "Right, Matt from the label," I said, sliding back onto my perch on the couch. "Well, we have some shit to hash out still, so if you wouldn't mind..."

  "Oh sure, sure," Matt said, backing up. "Good luck out there." He turned and shut the door behind him.

  "The fuck was that?" Hudson asked, looking at each of us like we had some explanation.

  But there was none. I shrugged. "Some try-hard wanting to ingratiate himself, maybe?" I wondered.

  "Maybe trying to poach us from C," Jules said, nodding sagely, then turned to look at me. "Oi mate, she coming tonight?"

  I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "No idea."

  "Really?"

  "Nope."

  "Huh," was all he said.

  I swallowed. The way CeCe and I had left it left too many things wide open. I'd wanted to give her space to figure things out, but now I was wondering if I'd left it too long.

  "Gentlemen?" There was a knock at the door and a petite, harried looking stage manager shoved her head inside. "Fifteen minute warning. We're ready for you to take your places."

  I nodded once and then looked back at the band. Everyone was silent, focused. We followed the stage manager up the concrete stairs and the noise of the crowd was like a sonic wave over our heads. This was the moment, where everything was poised at the edge, like a giant inhalation of a great beast ready to roar itself awake. I knew this feeling. This feeling hadn't changed even though so much else had.

  What also hadn't changed were the little pre-show rituals we fell into, almost immediately. Jules headed right over to the corner, out of the way of the technicians and started doing that same shadowboxing routine as he always did. After all these years of watching it, I could predict his movements. Down, duck, jab, hook, it was the same as always, and he bounced with light precision on his toes, completely engrossed in his imaginary opponent. That hadn't changed.

  But Niall's little ritual had changed completely. Back in the Killian days, he used to spend his time pre-show just drinking as much as he possibly could. It was gratifying to see him now, just sitting on the floor cross-legged with his earbuds in, probably listening to the classical music that his mother had raised him hearing. She thought he was going to play cello in an orchestra. How wrong she turned out to be.

  The biggest change though, that had to be Hudson over there. He was down on the ground, doing a series of ten push-ups, then jumping to his feet to sip from his tea with honey, then dropping back down again. It looked exhausting, and I turned away.

  Five minutes to show time.

  My pre-show routine used to involve just standing in the corner, fretting, watching Killian for any signs of breakdown, going through the set list in my head and double checking all of my instruments one last time.

  But now, well now it just felt right to lie in flat on my back staring into the rafters and watching the lights flick on and off as the technicians did their checks. I felt like I was floating, in a daze. It was strange how peaceful the chaos around me could be. How routine it felt. How right it felt. Things that I hadn't even realized that I needed, until I was experiencing them again. Everything felt like it should be except for one missing piece.

  CeCe.

  Four days of radio silence was killing me slowly. Since the morning she'd walked out of my apartment, I'd been holed up in rehearsals, working out the set list for this two-night stint of shows, but the whole time my mind had been wandering. Waiting.

  I didn't dare hope she'd show up tonight. August had made no mention of it, but that hope was still there. And if she did come, I had a surprise for her.

  "Go time!" the stage manager hissed. I stood up. The roar of the crowd was like static on my skin. "Holy shit, man!" Hudson cried, leaping up and grabbing me in a quick bear hug.

  I slapped him hard on the back. "Ready?"

  "Fucking born ready, dude," he crowed. "Let's do this shit!"

  I looked behind me to Jules and Niall. "You heard our frontman. Let's do this shit!"

  Jules roared with laughter and we ran out, following Hudson, who was already whipping the crowd into a frenzy. I nodded to Jules, who nodded back and then I turned to catch Niall's eye to give him the go-ahead. With a quick four count, we slammed into the opening licks of Jagged. It was polished to a high sheen, the final version we'd worked out the past four days of endless rehearsal, and I knew it was crazy but still I hoped like hell that somehow I could make CeCe hear it.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Celia

  "You're coming to the show."

  Once again, August hadn't been asking a question.

  I'd leaned back in my desk chair, ducking a little to avoid Matt's creepily intense gaze as he walked past me heading for the door. "I might," I finally exhaled when he'd finally left the building.

  "Thank fucking god," August exploded. "Christ, Ewan's been such a mopey bitch in rehearsal these past four days. What the hell did you do to him?"

  "What makes you think I'm to blame?" I demanded, while at the same time I felt a tug of guilt. All week I had been waiting for tonight to come so I could have an excuse to see him again without having to call or text him first. I felt like the worst kind of coward and that feeling made me defensive as hell. "He was a dick too you know."

  "Mmhmmm," August drawled in a suspicious sigh. "Look, whatever weird fuck-me dance you two are waltzing over here, I need you to figure it out. Tonight is a huge fucking deal for them and they need to have their head in the game. Ewan in particular."

  My heart started racing without my permission. "Are they excited?"

  "Well, Hudson is ready to climb Mount Everest right after the show is over. The dude is that pumped. But as for the rest of them?" I could almost hear her shrugging. "They're a bunch of Brits. I think Niall smiled a little bit on Thursday so yeah, obviously he's super stoked." She raised her voice over the sound of my laughter. "No seriously C, I need to know. When you guys fucked, did Ewan make any noise at all? Or did he just say "jolly good show" and offer you tea afterward?"

  I nearly choked on my drink of water. "Um..."

  "Yeah?" August was immediately on to me.

  "Stop!" I laughed.

  "Oh my god, is he a dirty talker? I bet he is, the repressed fuck."

  "August, please!" I hissed, lowering my voice. "If I promise to come tonight, will you please sto
p asking these kinds of questions?"

  She was quiet for a lot longer than I expected. "Fine...." She finally huffed in a drawn out whine. "You're no fun, but that's okay because tonight I'm having enough fun for both of us."

  "By ogling Jules with his shirt off?" I teased.

  "Hey!" August snapped. "I'm not ogling anything, that guy is a pain in my ass."

  It was my turn to drawl out an "Mmhmmm." But at least that got her off the phone faster. I had hung up and immediately tried to convince myself that I was coming out tonight to support August.

  But as I stood in the VIP section and watched the crowd surging in front of the stage, I knew all at once that I was full of shit. I was here for one reason only, and that reason was walking onstage right now with his guitar slung down low around his waist.

  I gaped at how casual it was. No dimming lights, no pump-you-up music, just the four of them casually sauntering onto the stage in front of us like they had nothing to hide. It was the opposite of rockstar pretension and the sheer sexy confidence it required made my knees weak. The crowd was on their feet already, and Hudson waved with an aw-shucks grin that sent the ladies screaming, but my eyes were on Ewan, bending lovingly over his guitar.

  "Just like the old days," August crowed, leaning into me. "You and me, C-dawg!"

  I laughed and leaned into her. "We're in the VIP section, Junebug," I shouted. The watered down beer we'd already pounded was making my head spin around deliciously. "We're about to watch the band I signed and you manage. How is this anything like the old days?"

  "I know!" she laughed. "It's nothing like it, isn't it great!"

  It was nothing like the old days. I held my breath as Jules tapped out a four-count and I waited to hear one of the old standbys, maybe Smoke and Embers, a crowd favorite.

  But then the first shimmery note of Jagged pierced the chaotic applause, sending a rippling murmur through the crowd.