Rise: A Second Chance Rockstar Romance (Rock God Book 1) Page 2

  My phone vibrates again, bringing me back to the now and the waitress’s over-the-top laughter. Can she be any more obvious? Sebastian isn’t going to be into her as soon as we pay the check. That’s mean but true.

  “Rock God,” a girl screams as she runs past our table.

  Time stops.

  For one terrible moment I break out in a cold sweat. I take a breath as dread slithers up my spine causing goose bumps on my arms.

  I’m hearing things. My brain is just tired. No way did I hear her correctly.

  “Gia?”

  I almost scream, or puke. Either one is close to happening. Sebastian frowns at me, but who cares. My eyes dart around to look at the crowd lined up at the entrance.

  “What did they just say?”

  Breathe. I need to breathe. He wouldn’t be here. I’m hearing things, that’s all. I blow out some air and wave my phone.

  “What are you talking about?” Sebastian snaps. “Answer your phone or turn it off.” Then he turns back to the waitress again.

  “We have to go.” I slam my hands down loud on the table, causing the silverware to clank together and water to spill onto the white tablecloth. Both Sebastian and the waitress stop.

  “What’s wrong with you? It’s a celebrity, for fuck’s sake.” He scowls and turns sideways to look over at what seems to be the coming attraction.

  “Mon Dieu, this has to be someone big.” The waitress rubs her hands up and down her pants and I want to scream numerous things at her… like I knew you spoke English, and Why didn’t you get me coffee? And most importantly, Is there an emergency exit?

  “Gia?” Sebastian’s voice makes me jump. Christ, I’m completely unraveling.

  “What?” I sound hysterical, but fuck it, I am, so why pretend. I need to save us… me, whatever… Holy shit, I’m full-on panicking. Breathe, Gia. And think.

  I’m not doing either.

  “Rock God! It’s him. Rock Godddd, I love youuu,” a woman wails as she clings to her friend.

  “Sebastian. Now.” I grab my bag and vault out of the chair, causing both waters to spill over. It’s like a bad dream that I want to wake up from but can’t. I feel rather than notice the ice water that’s soaked my white pants and drips onto my new heels.

  “Goddammit,” I say, wanting to burst into tears, but screw that. I have to get myself together and think.

  Okay. One. It’s him.

  Two. I need to either toss my phone into my purse or throw it against the wall because it’s vibrating again.

  Three. I’m acting ridiculous. Rhys Granger is a nobody. A part of my past—that’s all. Eventually, this was bound to happen. In fact, I’m surprised it took this long.

  “O-kay. I guess we’re going.” Sebastian finally stands and I’m tempted to throw myself into his arms.

  Electric energy pulses around the large space. I clear my throat and dump my phone into my purse, swinging it over my shoulder.

  “Maybe we should wait for the crowd to move.” He nods toward the door.

  “No. We need to go now. I don’t have time to get into this—”

  “Oh, it’s Granger, from The Stuffed Muffins.” His eyes focus above my head.

  “Shit.” Biting my lip, I stare at a button on his shirt.

  “Interesting… he’s coming over here.”

  “What?” I want to cry but that can wait. Don’t look back, I chant in my head.

  “Yep… and he’s got Paulette with him.”

  The waitress squeals. “I love them! Granger is magnificent…” Thankfully she switches to French. She was bugging me before. Now I really dislike her.

  I close my eyes to brace myself. He’s as bad as they come. A viper waiting to strike, and once bitten, his poison will take you down.

  The hotel is a swarm of noises: hushed, excited whispers, gasps of adoring sighs, feet pounding, and a pulsing electricity of chaos that only he can bring.

  Then silence.

  And I know he’s behind me. I can feel him. His body heat seeps into me.

  “Gia.” That voice, it goes straight to my core and slithers up to my stomach. It’s deep, melodic, almost gravelly. I haven’t heard it in years. Sounds flood back in as I take a breath and turn.

  And there he stands.

  Intoxicating. Riveting. A legend. And my greatest mistake.

  A crowd forms around him as usual. He’s like the Pied Piper, but instead of the rats following him, it’s people. He draws strength from them, lets their adoration make him grow stronger. I have no idea how he knew it was me, or maybe I do—I’ve had this sense of foreboding for the last twelve hours.

  He’s wearing black Ray-Bans. He must be high or inebriated. I remember a time when he’d make fun of famous people wearing sunglasses inside.

  “Rhys.” I nod, my voice slightly raspy, which aggravates me.

  I don’t need to see his bourbon eyes to know he’s dissecting me. He’s an addiction that’s always been unhealthy for me.

  His full lips turn into his signature smirk—actually, more like a slight snarl—and my heart thuds.

  Lucifer. With dark hair, looking like he hasn’t brushed it in days. My fingers tingle as I fight myself not to reach out and try to tame the untamable.

  “Who’s this, Granger?” Paulette. Her loud southern drawl breaks all his dark magic. I puff out air and smile. How did I not see her? She’s over six-feet tall and clinging to him.

  Her eyes travel up and down my body, stopping to stare daggers at my face. I stare right back. She’s everything I hate. Not because she’s a famous supermodel, but because I see myself in her desperate eyes.

  She wants him so bad she’s willing to humiliate herself for one more moment, one last scrap of his attention.

  It’s what he does best, and no matter how much self-esteem you start with, by the time Rhys is done with you, you end up exactly like her.

  “You fucking dick, you promised.” Paulette lunges for me.

  And I’m done.

  I step back and straight into a warm, hard chest. Strong, familiar hands wrap around me. I’m dizzy, completely off balance, as if the breath has been knocked out of me.

  “Let go of me,” I sneer and watch in horror as Paulette clumsily reaches for the table, misses, and grabs ahold of the tablecloth instead. The sound of her hitting the floor, along with the breaking glass, makes him move us backward.

  One tan, tattooed hand has wrapped around my stomach, while the other snakes up to my neck, bringing my head slightly back.

  I smell him.

  Fresh, clean, with a slight hint of smoke. I used to be obsessed with his scent. Loved it. For some reason it calmed me.

  Today is different. This day, I hate it because it’s gonna haunt me. It’s all happening too fast, like a whirl of colors and loud cursing with Paulette sitting in a pile of water, silverware, and glass.

  “Brat.” His voice is like a caress, and my whole body feels alive, tingling, as if liquid heat has been injected into my veins.

  I try to move, only to be jerked tighter; he has to be high. My heart is pounding so hard I know he feels it.

  People are screaming. Phones are filming and yet none of it matters.

  “Fuck you, Rhys,” I snarl, the pain I’ve kept locked up escaping. I shift so I can look up at him.

  He’s tan and his face sports days of dark stubble. A shiver of unease and excitement runs through me. He’s trying to intimidate me. His rage radiates off him, seeping into me. Like an infusion, it gives me strength.

  I’m not the same girl who worshipped him my whole life. He can play the brooding rock star. But he’s in the wrong.

  This is bad, so very bad.

  He never should have touched me. We’re like a match ready to set fire to dry brush, incinerating and destroying all in our path.

  My face is inches from his mouth; his breath kisses my lips. I’m so close I can see through his dark sunglasses.

  Our eyes lock and do battle.

  Pain.
>
  It’s a new pain, fresh and powerful. I’m actually grateful he’s holding me. Because this agony wants to steal my soul and never give it back.

  We’re ugly and damaged.

  Damaged people should never be together. But then that’s the allure: it’s forbidden, addictive.

  “Who is she?” Paulette says, her face a puffy mess.

  Sebastian reaches down to help her, frowning at Rhys.

  The restaurant is a buzz of activity. Security is clearing people out; busboys are cleaning up the glass.

  He holds me tight, and I can feel his hard cock on my ass. I hiss at his gall. Then he lets me go. I reach back for a chair to steady myself.

  “She’s nothing,” he says tightly, then turns and steps over to Sebastian. “Who the fuck are you?”

  Sebastian looks shocked. “I’m the one helping your girlfriend. The fuck’s wrong with you? Gia, get over here.” And I almost groan out loud. Because unless Rhys has changed…

  He hasn’t, and in seconds, Sebastian is on the floor.

  “Rhys, stop it, you maniac. You’re going to get arrested.” I grab his arm, looking around at all the phones filming us.

  He looks up at me, then down at Sebastian as he stands, sneering.

  “Has his cock been inside you?” His eyes narrow, and I hate that my stomach dips.

  “Stay away from me.” I drop to my knees to help Sebastian.

  “What is wrong with you?” I hiss up at him. A jolt of energy zings through me as it dawns on me that I can see his eyes. His sunglasses must have come off when he attacked Sebastian. For a split second, I swear I see pain. But it’s gone so fast, I might have imagined it.

  “Here. Breakfast is on me.” Rhys snorts. Reaching into his pocket to toss a wad of money at us, he takes Paulette’s hand and drags her toward the exit.

  “Jesus, Sebastian.” I grab a napkin from the table to dab his bloody lip. “Are you okay?”

  He pushes my hand away. “I’m suing that motherfucker. What the hell just happened?” He glares at me, kicking the pile of hundred-dollar bills away in disgust.

  “He’s a friend of Axel’s.” As if that should explain why he acted like a lunatic. “I’m so sorry.”

  He looks over at the crowd following Rhys. “I’m calling a lawyer. Take pictures, Gia.” He motions for the police who were talking to the manager.

  Suddenly I’m forgotten as he switches to rapid French. I assume he’s telling them that Rhys Granger attacked him for no apparent reason.

  I sit down in the chair and wait for Sebastian to finish, trying not to think about Rhys, his smell, and the past. Rhys Granger was a fantasy. He’s clearly not stable. The drugs and booze have caught up to him. Another cliché fallen rock star, only he’s far from fallen. If anything, he’s at the top of his career.

  Rock God… that’s what they call him.

  But to me, he’ll always be the one who makes all the girls cry.

  RHYS

  Past – Seventeen years old

  Burbank, California

  “Dude, hurry the fuck up.” I glance over at Nuke. He stands, twirling his drumsticks completely interrupting me and Stephanie.

  “Give me five more minutes.” I’m a dick, but Nuke’s an asshole. Can’t he see I’m dealing with shit? It’s pretty obvious that she’s hysterical. I can’t even understand her.

  “Steph, it’s gonna be okay,” I say half-heartedly because there’s no silver lining here.

  We’re fucked.

  Stephanie lives down the street. I wouldn’t call her my girlfriend since I don’t believe in labels. But she’s someone I fuck and apparently got pregnant.

  “How? How is it ever going to be okay?” She pulls back to look up at me. Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and her hair looks as if she forgot to brush it. She’s always so perfect; it’s kind of jarring seeing her like this. I sigh. My head pounds. I glance to where Nuke was standing. Thankfully he’s gone.

  “Just… everything will be fine tomorrow.” God, I really am a dick, but what else can I say?

  “Stop it!” She jerks away, which is fine. I’m not one for physical affection unless I’m getting off.

  “God, what am I going to do?” She stares, almost dazed, at my mom’s latest boyfriend’s truck.

  I stay silent. We’ve been through this. Neither one of us is parent material. I’m seventeen, don’t want a kid, and neither does she. So, her incessant talking about what we’re gonna do has to be her anxiety about getting it done.

  “It’s gonna be over tomorrow, and we can pretend it never happened,” I say again, reaching into my pocket to light a cigarette. Her eyes grow huge as she waves a hand in front of her face.

  “Oh my God, you can’t smoke in front of me. I’m pregnant.”

  “Jesus, Steph, what is wrong with you? We’re not keeping it, so stop.” I’m losing patience. This has been a fucking nightmare, and the way she’s looking at me makes sweat trickle down my back.

  “We’re still on board with tomorrow, right?” I’m not being mean, but I’m definitely not being nice. We both agreed on this. “Right?”

  She jumps at my harsh tone, then covers her face and silently weeps. Christ, I’m completely out of my league. I hate women crying.

  “Look.” I glance around my backyard, which is mostly concrete. Good thing since we can’t afford a gardener. “You said you were on the pill. I’m gonna be really honest, Stephanie. I can’t be a dad—”

  “This is not my fault.” She drops her hands and screams, causing the next-door neighbor’s dog to bark.

  “Shh. Jesus, Stephanie, be quiet. I gave you all my money, and your mom is taking you. It’s done.”

  Why am I trying to reason with her? This is her fault. I mean, yeah, I should have listened to everyone and wrapped it up, but she promised she was on the pill.

  “I need you to go with me.” She hiccups and looks up at me.

  Tomorrow is school—not that I can’t forge a note—but her mom is taking her. I already feel like shit. And she wants me to sit there and be like what… a boyfriend?

  I stare down and take a long, hard look at her. I don’t know if I ever really have. She’s not hot, but she’s cute with short brown hair. I’ve known her for years, and yet I couldn’t tell you what her favorite color is.

  This is a horror show. I just want it fucking over and done. I take a deep inhale and toss the cigarette onto the concrete as I try to think. As soon as she said she was late, I knew, and it’s messed with my head. It also doesn’t help that my friends seem to think it’s not a big deal.

  She tries to wrap her cold hands around my neck, almost startling me. She tilts her head back.

  What the fuck? One second she’s screaming, the next she wants me to kiss her? This is over, has been for a while.

  “Steph, look at me.” Her eyes pop open.

  “If you absolutely need me tomorrow, I’ll go, but I’d rather not.” The one thing I owe her is honesty.

  She slides her hands down to hang at her sides and looks up at the sky. “No, my mom is taking me, and this is the right thing for both of us. I don’t want to be a mom any more than you want to be a dad.”

  Before I can say anything, she turns and walks toward her house. I close my eyes, trying to get ahold of these emotions that I should feel, but the truth is I’m relieved.

  All my dreams would have been just that, dreams, because I would have had to get a job and help out. I mean, I never had a dad, and look at me.

  A flash of dark hair and dirty bare feet make me look up. “Christ.” I rub my hands up and down my face.

  “What the freak? What’s happening to Stephanie?” Gia Fontaine sits perched on top of one of the trees in our backyard.

  “What are you doing? And I told you to stop saying that,” I say, looking around. You never know with Gia. I call her the Brat because she really is. She’s Axel’s baby sister.

  She’s seven, almost eight, and is like my shadow. If I had a pet puppy I don’
t think it would be more loyal.

  Lately, she’s started spying on me, taking pictures with the camera she got for Christmas. It’s a nice camera, older version, a Nikon and she loves it.

  “Freak is not a bad word.” She waves the camera that’s around her neck at me. “And what does it look like I’m doing?” Both her knees are skinned, and the bottoms of her feet are black from running around with no shoes.

  Sighing, I hear Nuke playing the drums. “Gia, get down. You can’t spy on people.” I hold out my arms for her to jump. She leaps like a frog, and not for the first time do I wish I were her.

  She’s fearless.

  I know it makes Axel crazy, but I think when she grows up it will be an asset. Her zest for life is usually infectious. Today, she’s testing my patience.

  “You made her cry, Rhys. Why do all the girls cry around you?” I stop for a second as if she’s gut punched me. Leave it to the Brat to tell the truth.

  “I guess I’m just not good.” I shake my head. “Look, Gia, this is grown-up shi… stuff. You wouldn’t understand. Steph will be fine. Let’s just go to your house,” I grumble, not bothering to see if she’s following. I know she is.

  “Why is she saying she’s gonna have a baby?” She runs so that she’s at my side, then brings the camera to her face and snaps a picture of me. Jesus Christ, I didn’t think this day could get much worse, but two minutes with Gia has done it.

  I stop. She almost trips on the sidewalk, which is broken and elevated from the roots of a tree. I take a deep breath. This fucking seven-year-old brat is making me feel worse than Stephanie.

  “You misunderstood her. She’s sad about—”

  “I heard her. She’s sad about the baby. I know all about it. I asked my mom last night.”

  “What?” My temples pound. “Wait.” I crouch down so I’m on her level. “Did you tell your mom about Steph and me?” Because if she did, I know Mrs. Fontaine will call my mom, and that is something I can’t handle right now. My mom has all of a sudden found religion. Her last hospital stay she met a man, and together they think that through prayer they can cure all ailments.