Fame (23 page)

A text message alert sounded off in Cruz’s pocket, gathering Willow’s attention. She looked down at his pocket and then back at him. She studied his house, which was cleaner than usual, and there was a pile of readymade waffles on the counter of his kitchen along with fixings. Her gaze landed on Cruz’s guilty expression and she snapped.
 

“Who’s that texting you? Who is texting you?” she came after Cruz like a crazy ass banshee with high heels as hands.
 

“Holy fuck, calm down,” Cruz said, not quite understanding the massive mood swings Willow was going through.
 

“Who is it? Is it Maelani?”

Guilt flashed over Cruz’s face and Willow didn’t miss it.
 

“That fucking slut!” Willow raged, as she turned toward the door. “I told her it was okay to fuck you. I was actually happy that she was getting some action, but to go behind my back, to push me out the door because you want to fuck her alone, that is something I won’t forgive.”

What the fuck?

Confusion wasn’t a good enough word to describe the words coming out of Willow. She was making absolutely zero sense.
 

“She will regret this,” Willow waved her finger in the air. “Grey will fucking regret this.”

Grey? She was all kinds of fucked up. Before he could stop her, she walked out of his house, carrying her things, and still only wearing a bra and her skirt.
 

Concern washed over Cruz as he pulled out his phone to text Kaid. That was when he saw Maelani’s text message.
 

Maelani: Won’t be able to make it, something came up.

“Well, fuck,” Cruz mumbled. He sent her a text back, hoping to not sound too desperate.

Cruz: Not a problem. Let me know when you’re free.
 

That was casual enough, he thought. While waiting for a response from her, he sent Kaid a quick text to let him know that Willow was out on the loose, drunk as piss, and hanging on by a thread emotionally. Kaid sent him a quick text back saying thanks for the heads up.
 

Since Maelani wasn’t stopping by, Cruz fixed himself a waffle and sat down at his kitchen counter. He was pathetic. One night with a girl and he was waiting around his kitchen, eating waffles, willing his phone to make a text message sound. When was it okay for him to do that?
 

Never, he told himself. It was never okay, he was a player; he didn’t wait around for women.
 

As he settled into his couch and turned on his TV, he realized that with one grip of her pussy around his cock, he was a sunk man, he needed her, and even though it was against everything he believed in, he waited for Maelani to text back.
 

That night, he fell asleep on his couch, waiting for a text back, but never received one.
 

**Willow**

The taxi ride was a little too bumpy for her liking, especially since she was drunk off her ass and in the need of something greasy for her stomach.
 

Fuck, Cruz. That’s what she kept saying to herself.
 

“Fuck him and his stupid house and fuck Grey, I hate him,” Willow mumbled, as she flopped to one of the sides of the taxi she was in.
 

“Are you giving me directions?” the cab driver asked, looking in the rear view mirror with concern.
 

“Unless ‘fuck you, Grey’ is a road I don’t know about, then no, I’m not, so mind your own damn business,” Willow spat out as she lifted her head just enough to look at the man.
 

He scowled at her and continued to drive her to her destination. Content with putting the cabbie in his place, she rested her head back down on the seat, which was rather uncomfortable from the cracking leather.
 

The thought of millions of people sitting on the seat that she was resting her head on didn’t cross her mind. Instead, she rubbed her face against the cool leather.
 

Kaid tried calling her a couple of times, but she quickly turned her phone off, not wanting to deal with his nagging.
 

What she didn’t understand was why she was so damn unhappy. She thought she had it all with her adoring fans, the applause that she craved at the end of a concert, the paycheck in her pocket, the free clothes and free drinks…what could be wrong with that kind of lifestyle? The lifestyle of the rich and famous.
 

Grey’s face popped in her head, making her cringe. Seeing him last night was a blow to the stomach. She didn’t talk about her problems much with Kaid and Maisy, because over the past six months, attention had been focused on helping Maisy get through the heartbreak of Rook, so Willow didn’t bother bringing up the pain she felt from the loss of Grey.
 

That morning, in the hotel, he blamed her for everything, and she soaked up the brunt of his problems like a damn sponge, and she’d carried them on her shoulders for the past six months. After seeing Grey last night, all those problems came to the forefront of her mind.
 

Even though he looked apologetic and sorry, and like he might actually care about her, the verbal abuse she’d endured still hung over her head. Grey not only cut her with his words, but he brought back so many insecurities she grew up with that she felt herself start to tense up; she felt her lungs start to tighten and any chance of living freely closed off. She felt trapped, grounded by his words that kept floating through her head.
 

Normally, she would go to a therapist, like a regular person, but now that she was a celebrity, she didn’t wanted to get mixed up with wondering if she could trust talking to someone or not. There were too many celebrity scandals that tabloids were dying to get their paws on, so Willow decided to pass up on a chance at therapy and skipped to an easier approach to forget her problems…drugs and alcohol.
 

“Lady, wake up. Get the hell out of my cab,” the cab driver said, as he shook her foot from the door.
 

Raising her head and looking around, Willow noticed she was at her destination and reached into her purse for a few bills. She tossed them at the driver, grabbed her shirt and shoes, and started walking toward the front door.
 

After a couple of knocks, Declan answered the door without a shirt on and with a towel wrapped around his waist.
 

“I thought you just left here,” he smiled, while taking in her appearance.
 

“I’m out Declan, I need some more. Please, help me relax; help me forget,” Willow pleaded.
 

Nodding his head, Declan pulled her into his house and sat her on his couch, while he went to get his little magical box. Relief would be coming; soon she could slip into a happy place and forget that fucked up mess inside her of head. She rested against his couch, finally starting to feel a little freer.
 

Chapter Ten

**Maisy**

“Kaid¸ this is amazing,” Maisy said, as she listened to Kaid’s new song. She didn’t even know he was working on it, and to hear that it really was such a great song made her feel so much pride for her best friend. “Why am I doing all the writing when, clearly, you’ve got it handled?” she teased.

Laughing, he said, “I got lucky with this one, and it only took me a year to actually put it all together.”

“Well, it was a year well spent. It’s seriously great.”

“You’re not just saying that?” he asked with a slight display of insecurity.

“I wouldn’t just blow steam up your ass for no reason, Kaid. Plus, you know Harper, she doesn’t just like anything. She takes her job seriously, and if she likes it, you know the song is good.”

“True, we spent a good amount of time in the studio the other day, working out all the details.” A small smile of fondness grew over his face, making Maisy wonder.
 

She poked his shoulder, leaned down, and said, “Do you have something for Harper?”

“What?! No!” Kaid denied, even though it was all over his face. His feelings were caught red-handed. “She’s not my type.”

“Yeah, okay, Kaid. Keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious. She’s not. She’s brash and rude at times…” he thought about it for a second and then smiled to himself while clearing his throat and turning away.
 

He so liked Harper, and it was funny to Maisy that he was hiding it. Kaid was always quiet when it came to his love interests and she wasn’t sure if it was because whenever he did show interest in someone, Willow would pull the little sister routine and make him regret ever mentioning anything, or if he had a hard time holding onto a relationship, so he didn’t want to talk about a possible interest.
 

Poor Kaid, he had been dumped so many times, it hurt Maisy’s soul. He was a good guy and handsome, but what it came down to was, he picked the wrong girls; they ended up using him and then they left after they got what they wanted. He needed a nice girl, someone who was looking for the family Kaid craved.
 

Thinking about Harper, even though Maisy liked her, she didn’t quite see her fitting in with what Kaid wanted. Harper was great, but she was a little too blunt; she didn’t seem like the type of person that matched up with Kaid.
 

“What are you guys up to?” Harper asked, as she walked into the studio.

Speak of the devil.
 

“Just listening to Kaid’s song,” Maisy said, as Kaid turned a shade of red she had never seen before.
 

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Maisy responded, while nudging Kaid.
 

Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, it’s a good start for the album. One down, how many more to go?”

“Probably ten or eleven,” Harper responded, starting to go into business mode. “Do you have anything for me, Maisy? Did your writing juices start to flow again?”

She hated to admit it, but after she saw Rook at the Grammys, she was able to write a couple of songs, all about heartache, of course. To clear her mind, to forget the pain she was feeling just from seeing Rook, she started writing how she was feeling, the emotions crawling through her; it wasn’t hard once she started picturing Rook’s beautiful face and that new scruff he had on it.
 

God, he was so handsome; she couldn’t stop thinking about how good he looked. She liked the new hair, the new look. He looked older, a little more aged, and a little thinner, but he still looked good and he took her breath away, literally.
 

“Um, I have a few things that you could take a look at,” Maisy said, as she pushed her notebook over to Harper.
 

Insecurity washed over her as Harper picked up her notebook and started reading. It was always hard for her to put herself out there, let someone else read her stuff, because those were her feelings, her thoughts, and she made a living being judged on them. It was a tough pill to swallow that she was slowly getting used to.
 

Harper nodded her head as she began to flip through the pages; her lips twitched to the side on occasion, making the gnawing spot at the pit of Maisy’s stomach grow larger.
 

When she was done, Harper looked up at Maisy and said, “So, I guess the little interaction you had with Rook at the Grammys hit you hard.”

“What? How do you know about that?”

“Oh, honey, everyone knows about it. The label is actually setting up a meeting for Twisted Perfection and Shattered Souls this week to go over what happened.”

“What? Why?”

“Because, the label doesn’t like it when their bands fight, and I’m pretty sure they have a nice little surprise for you.”

“What is it?” Kaid asked, growing interested.
 

“I can’t say, but all I can do is…” she laughed and shook her head. “All I can say is good fucking luck, you guys. Have fun.” Harper got out of her chair and then turned to Maisy before she left. “Keep writing, sweetie. We need more. That’s a good start, but I need more soul. I feel like you’re only skimming the surface. Dig a little deeper.”

With that, she left, leaving both Kaid and Maisy confused.
 

Maisy knew she was only skimming the surface when it came to her writing, but that was because if she dug too deep, if she really exposed her feelings, she would leave herself raw and bleeding. There was no way she was ready to open up those barely scabbed wounds just yet.
 

Being the nosy man that he was, Kaid grabbed Maisy’s notebook and flipped through it. His brow crinkled when he read her lyrics, making Maisy want to hide under a table.
 

When he was done, he cocked an eyebrow up at her and said, “Harper wants you to go deeper? This is pretty deep, girl.”

“Not as deep as it could be,” she admitted.
 

Kaid glanced back down at the notebook and read, “Your choices caused me pain and made me cry, your heart detached from mine will cause me to die…”

Grabbing the book and shutting it, she straightened and said, “Weak moment.”