“Sound check is in thirty minutes,” he says to the others after dismissing the two blokes. “Let’s go to the other room.” Ross directs me towards a door to the right. Once it’s closed behind us, he whirls around, concern on his face. “What’s going on? You look like you’re ready to kill someone.”
“I might just do that,” I growl, cursing under my breath as I once again try to manage my building anger. “Fuck, Ross. Why didn’t you tell us that Lila was going to be on tour with us?”
Ross jerks back in surprise. “Lila? Who’s Lila?” He is genuinely baffled.
“You didn’t know?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he admits.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Sebastian Griffin.”
“The producer of your album?” Ross asks.
“Yeah. Does he have a daughter?”
“What?” Ross seems uncertain where this conversation is headed. “Well, yes…” He presses his mouth into a tight line. “Tell me you didn’t fuck the boss’ daughter, Dax.”
That’s it. I snap and Ross has the unfortunate luck of being the closest one to me when it happens. Ross stumbles as I surge forward. He ends up with his back pressed against the door. I get as close as I can without actually touching his ridiculous thousand-dollar suit.
“No I didn’t fuck her! She’s been trying to fuck me for the past year and a half!” I roar. “She’s Kate’s old flatmate, Ross!”
His eyes widen further than I would have thought possible. “The one who stalks you at the clubs?”
“Yes, that one! I didn’t know her last name! I can’t have her on tour with me, Ross. She’s fucking mental!” I back up, pacing the room while I concentrate on not punching the wall or something else that would injure my hand and make me miss the show.
Ross steps forward, shaking his head, genuine remorse in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Dax. But she’s literally is the boss’s daughter. I can’t fire her.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do?”
Ross’s gaze hardens and he straightens out his suit, tugging at his shirtsleeves. He turns from Hawke’s kind uncle into the professional Hollywood manager in the blink of an eye. The one who doesn’t tolerate rock stars who have temper tantrums.
“I suggest you ignore her. She’s a ninety-pound girl, Dax. She can’t force you to do anything. You’ll figure something out.”
With that, he turns and exits the room, leaving me with the raging urge to punch someone and a near crippling desire to throw Lila Griffin over a cliff.
“Dax! Sound check!” Someone calls for me from the other room. I storm off, hoping the music will take my mind off of Lila and her bloody fucking shit.
It’s not until we’re getting back to our hotel, early in the morning, after one of the biggest moments of my life that I realize I never rung Kate back.
Fuck me.
Kate
“So what? You’re just never going to talk to your stony boyfriend again? That’s ridiculous and immature, Kate.” Abby is glaring at me from the opposite side of our table at a tiny Mexican restaurant near our flat.
“No. I didn’t say that. I… I need to figure out what I’m going to do, that’s all. And why are you calling him stony?”
Abby laughs. “You know, because he’s always so… composed.”
“You only notice things like that because you’re obsessed with trying to figure people out, Miss Psychologist.” He is stony and composed, but I won’t give Abby the satisfaction of being right. I drag my fork through my chile relleno, not interested in actually eating it. In fact, I’ve probably lost a half stone since hearing Dax with Lila at the New York concert.
Lila. On tour with Dax. My slutty ex-flatmate around my boyfriend twenty-four hours a day for the next six… well, now five, weeks.
“Have you decided?”
I stare at her blankly, having missed the question. “What you’re going to do about Dax. Have you decided?” Abby asks again.
“No. It’s just,” I take in a deep breath, willing myself not to cry. I’ve cried more than enough over the last week. “I can’t compete, Abby.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Compete? What does that mean?”
I huff. What would Abby know about feeling invisible? She always looks like she’s ready to pose for a swimsuit magazine, all tall, tan, and skinny, with beach-ready blonde waves cascading down her back and big blue eyes.
“What am I, Abby? Honestly? I’m nothing special. I’m not gorgeous, I’m not rich, I’m not posh… I’m just some plain girl from the East End. Why wouldn’t my boyfriend go on the pull while he’s on tour? He’ll have girls like Lila flashing their tits at him every chance they get.”
Abby sits back in her chair with her arms crossed, looking bored. “Are you done?”
Heat fills my cheeks in embarrassment.
“Now, look at me and listen up.” Her harsh tone gets my attention right quick. “You are not,” she puts up her fingers and makes quotes, “‘some plain girl from the East End’. You’re beautiful, smart, and one of the most talented soccer players I’ve ever seen. You have to stop putting yourself down all the time, Kate. If Dax didn’t want you, he wouldn’t be with you. It’s as simple as that.” She finishes drinking her lemonade and fishes out an ice cube to munch on. “And what makes him so much better than you anyway?”
I shrug, not knowing what she’s looking for me to say.
“Hmph. He’s not better than you, that’s why.” She swallows down the remainder of the ice. “Money, fame, good looks… those things don’t make anyone better than you. Some of the most attractive people I’ve ever met are actually quite hideous on the inside.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t use your psychology crap on me, Abby.”
“It’s not crap. It’s true. God, you need a shrink to help with that low self-esteem of yours. You have to trust that Dax loves you. If he doesn’t, then you’ll find out.” Abby pushes her plate away and signals for our server.
“He’s never even told me he loves me, Abby. It’s just that…” I sigh. “I’ve loved him for so long. He was always unattainable to me. I guess I’m afraid it won’t last.”
“He’s not a guy who lays his feeling out there, Kate. You’re looking for reasons to end things so you don’t have to be hurt if he’s the one to end it.”
“I hate that you’re so smart.” I throw some money down on top of Abby’s when the check comes.
“It’s the psychology major in me,” she giggles. “So, will you answer when he calls?”
Abby bumps my hip with hers as we exit onto the crowded sidewalk. “Yeah, I will.”
“Awesome. Now, let’s go work on our tans. The beach is calling.” She flips down her sunglasses and I do the same. Arms linked, we begin the three-block walk to the nearest beach.
As much as I want to believe Abby, the insecure girl inside is begging me to end things with Dax so he can’t hurt me. I have to swallow down the bile that threatens to rise at the thought of never seeing him again. From that reaction, I’d say there’s a big part of me doesn’t want to let him go.
Dax
“Daxey! I need you!”
Fuck!
I cringe at the sound of that squeaky, high-pitched voice. It’s like nails on a chalkboard. Avoiding her is exhausting and it’s only been two weeks.
“Daxey! I need you!” Adam mocks in a singsong voice, strumming his guitar along with. Hawke and Gavin crack up—at my expense, naturally.
“Sod off, Reynolds.” I give him a quick punch in the arm, earning a loud “ouch” for my effort.
I’ve only just gotten Kate to start speaking to me again after we found out Lila is going to be on the tour. I don’t want to have to deal with any more of Lila’s bullshit that could cock up my relationship again. One week of the cold shoulder from Kate was plenty.
With quick knock on the door of our dressing room, Lila enters without waiting for an invite.
“Fuck, Lila. What if one of us was
changing in here?” I snarl.
She rolls her eyes, teetering on her ridiculous heels as she crosses the room towards me. “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before, Daxey. Not that I wouldn’t mind seeing what you’re packing.” Lila licks her lips and stares at my crotch. My damn traitorous dick twitches from the scrutiny of a hot woman. It doesn’t seem to care that I despise her.
Son of a bitch!
“Whatever.” I turn my back to her and pick up my guitar plucking on it randomly, determined to do what Ross suggested and ignore her.
“Can we help you, Lila?” Hawke asks, thankfully coming to my rescue.
Lila starts to sneer at him, but fixes a plastic smile on her face. There’s something more going on between Hawke and Lila, some history I don’t know. Not that I’d ask, but they truly despise each other, and it seems to go further back than just this tour.
“Rachel wanted you to know that there’s a mandatory appearance tonight after the show at a club ten minutes from here.”
“Kind of late notice, don’t you think?” Adam growls from where he’s slumped on one of the plush recliners backstage at the United Center in Chicago.
Rachel is in charge of promotions for the band, appearances, media events, interviews… all the crap that comes with celebrity. I continue ignoring Lila as she argues with Adam, thankful for the stupid bastard. I’m lucky to have him running interference for me.
After a minute of everyone ignoring her, she huffs in annoyance. “You have to be there. That’s all I can say. You don’t like it, take it up with Rachel.” I can hear the impatience in her voice, waiting for me to acknowledge her. When I don’t, she huffs again and stomps out the door.
I wait until I hear the door slam shut before I speak to Adam. “You got her to leave you fucking brilliant bastard!” We burst out laughing, so overcome with hilarity at Lila’s fury that even Gavin and Hawke join in the fun. Suddenly it feels like we’re back in the U.K. hanging in a dark, dusty basement, just a bunch of kids with a dream.
“I gotta look out for my best mate,” Adam quips.
We exchange a look and I know that in his own way, he’s thanking me for being there after the whole Ellie thing happened and he fell to pieces. I nod, smiling before returning to my guitar.
The concert is a blast and after a quick check-in with Kate, we’re whisked away in a massive SUV to a party at some club called Whipped.
“Ever been to Chicago before?” Lila asks everyone while she directs her unwavering gaze at me—well, at my crotch.
“Can’t say I have,” Adam answers, once again playing defense for me.
Lila purses her lips, annoyed by Adam as usual.
“I have,” Gavin quips. A quick glance shows the bass player hiding his mouth with his hand. Even though it’s dark in here, I can still see him squelching a laugh.
Bloody arseholes. They think Lila’s obsession with me is so fucking hilarious. Adam doesn’t, but Gavin and Hawke… they have a laugh at my expense whenever they can.
“Here we are!” Lila chirps in that damn screechy voice.
One look out the window and I’m flabbergasted. Paparazzi line the sidewalk in front of the club, swarming the car as we pull up. I am not ready for this.
“What the fuck, Lila!” I snap.
“Daxey, you’re a star now. This is how it is.” She flutters her eyelashes and acts all innocent, but I know her. There’s evil shining in those soulless eyes of hers. Something isn’t right with this situation.
“C’mon Dax.” Adam tugs at my arm, pulling me back in my seat. I hadn’t realized how close I had gotten to Lila, snarling right in her face.
Jesus. I have got to control my temper around this girl. I find it so easy to fall back on dad’s rules around everyone but Lila and Kate. Breaking them for good reasons… and bad reasons.
“Fine.” I unclench my hand and breathe deep, returning to my icy exterior. Adam looks at me oddly. “I’m fine,” I snarl. “Let’s go.”
“You look like you’re going to pop a blood vessel,” he mutters.
Lila grins. “Your fans await boys!”
The driver hops out and opens the door, holding back the paparazzi as he helps Lila down to the walkway. The rest of us pile out behind her, Adam, Gavin, and Hawke smiling and chatting with the fans who line the sidewalk in front of the club.
Me? I remain unapproachable. I’ve been bottling it up for so long, it’s second nature. I’m not about to let these parasites see me lose it.
Lila trips and I smack into her back, grabbing her arm to keep from flat out knocking her arse over tit in front of the media.
“Thanks Daxey.” She grins like I hung the moon and I have to refrain from rolling my eyes.
“Let’s get inside, okay?”
“Sure thing, Daxey.” She pats my chest with her free arm.
Fuck it. The second we get past the cameras, I roll my eyes and damned if it doesn’t feel great.
Kate
“Shannon, can you grab my gloves?”
My teammate slams the locker next to mine, tossing a pair of thick gloves over my head to Bridget, our keeper.
The locker room is in complete chaos as I lace up my own shoes and pull my socks over my shin guards. Quickly, I whip my hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of my face. Today’s game is pivotal. We’re playing Oregon, one of our biggest rivals, and it’s our first conference game this year.
“Kate! Get your butt out here!”
Whoops! Coach’s angry shout from the locker room door has me moving. I must have been lost in thought longer than I realized.
“Sorry Coach Russo.” I jog past him to join the team at the entrance to the pitch.
“As long as your head’s in the game out there,” he points towards the stadium, “I don’t care what you do otherwise. You ready?”
I nod.
“Alright ladies! Let’s get out there and kick some ass!”
Amid the hollers and cheers of my teammates and the fans, we run out onto the pitch. After the preliminaries, everyone gets into place. I inhale the scent of fresh cut grass, loving the cool breeze, the clapping from the stands… everything about this game. With Dax gone and my parents far away, this is what keeps me grounded. I’d be lost without the sport I love.
I catch the sight of Mateo and some of the other men’s footy players in the stands. They’re standing up cheering for us. We support each other when we can, the men’s and women’s teams. When we can, a bunch of us girls go to their matches. Football doesn’t get the same massive crowds that the American gridiron team pulls in.
The referee blows her whistle, I tense up for the drop, and the game begins.
“Get up!”
My head is so groggy with sleep it takes me a minute to realize that Abby is in my bedroom.
“Go away!” I pull the covers over my head to block out the bright morning sun.
“Kate. Get up.”
The impatience in my flatmate’s voice is obvious, but I’m shattered. “Abby. I’ve had a late night. We went to a frat party to celebrate after our win and I didn’t get home until three. I’m having a lie-in, so sod off.”
Of course, the men’s footy team joined us at the party, since some of them are members of the frat. I chatted with blokes when appropriate and got a few lustful stares from several of them. They left me alone for the most part. I must have been giving off unapproachable vibes or something.
One or two of my teammates were caught snogging a few of the blokes in different back corners of the frat house. That’s par for the course at university. Especially around a bunch of horny athletes.
My duvet is suddenly ripped off of the bed, exposing me to both the chill of the room and the ever-present L.A. sun.
“Christ, Abby! What the hell is it?” I snap, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.
“This! That’s what!” A magazine lands on my lap, the pages fanning open.
“So? What is it? A gossip mag?” I glance at the cover. Hmmm, tha
t Andrew Forrester bloke from that new movie. I run my finger down hi picture. “He’s quite the hottie, yeah?” Frowning, I feel as if he looks familiar, but can’t remember where I’ve seen him before.
Abby huffs. “Not him.” She flicks the pages to one that is folded down and stabs at a picture with her finger. “Right here.”
My brain hasn’t woken up yet, so I process the information slowly. But once I figure out exactly what I’m looking at, I’m most definitely awake.
“What in the bloody fucking hell is this?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Abby says. She flops down on my bed next to me, waiting for me to say something.
My mouth opens and closes like a fish, unable to come up with anything more than a few creative curses. “I knew it! That stupid cow and that lying, cheating bastard!”
“You don’t know that he’s cheating, Kate. It’s only a picture.”
I stare at Abby in disbelief. “You’re the one who brought me the sodding magazine, Abby! It’s right here in print, plain as day!”
On the “Who’s Out and About” page of CelebWeekly is a large color photo of Dax and Lila, looking quite cozy at a dance club in Chicago where they went to a party a few days ago. Dax’s usual icy expression is gone, and in its place is someone who is laughing and smiling and having a fantastic time.
Lila, the whore, is wearing the skimpiest white dress I’ve ever laid eyes on and has her arm threaded through Dax’s elbow, her pouty face looking right at the camera.
Abby reads the caption out loud. “Lila Griffin, gorgeous socialite daughter of Sebastian Griffin, Hollywood mogul and producer for Sphere of Irony’s first album, is seen out on the town with Dax Davies, lead guitarist for the band. The couple has been spotted together on various stops along the band’s U.S. tour with U2, which kicked off last month in New York City.”
One photo. Two sentences. That’s how little it took to rip away every shred of confidence I had built over the last five months with Dax.