Read The Complete Rockstar Series Online
Authors: Heather C Leigh
The Complete Rockstar Series (52 page)
“Kate.” He grabs me, lifting me off my feet and into his arms. “You alright, angel?”
Through the salty flood of tears, I smile. I no longer need to prove anything to myself. After our talk the other day, all of my self-doubt is gone. It only took seven years and two continents for us to be honest with each other.
Dax tenderly brushes my hair back from my face and gives me one of the hottest, sexiest, toe-curling kisses I’ve ever had in my life.
The arena erupts in whistles and cheers, the fans going mental. Dax points up to the massive electronic screen where I spot us, ten meters tall, on display for everyone to see. We look…well, we look happy. I’m grinning from ear to ear cradled against Dax’s chest, my bandaged leg dangling over one of his thick arms. Dax pulls his attention from the screen back to me, whispering in my ear, “I love you,” before snogging me good and proper to the delight of everyone at Millennium Stadium.
“I think I’m ready to go home now,” I tell him.
“Home?”
“With you.”
Grinning like fools, Dax carries me off the pitch to begin our life together.
D
ax
T
wo years later
.
“
D
ax
!”
I turn to see Adam rushing to catch me as I walk into the New York studio where we’ve been recording our latest album. It’s a soundtrack for some movie I’ve never heard of, our first time doing one, which is odd seeing as we’ve been around a while.
“Dax, you won’t believe what happened last night.” Adam is panting from running through the building, presumably to locate me.
“What happened?”
His eyes dart around, looking for what, I have no idea. Adam grabs my arm and pulls me into the nearby men’s room. He checks to make sure it’s empty before calming down enough to speak.
“Is all this subterfuge really necessary?” I ask, rolling my eyes at his dramatics.
“Yes,” he hisses. “I just got a call from London.”
My mind goes a million different ways at once, mostly bad, mostly involving his fucked up family members. Did his dad die? His mum? His bastard of a brother?
“It was from a girl named Gemma. Gemma Spencer.”
“So you ran after me to tell me that your number got leaked to a fan site again?” I ask irritably. “I have plans tonight, Adam. We need to start recording so I’m not stuck here late again.”
He huffs impatiently. “No, not a fan site. Shut your gob and listen.” I scowl at Adam, but wait for him to continue. “This girl, Gemma, she says she works with Ellie!”
Ellie? That isn’t even remotely close to anything I was expecting him to say.
“What about Ellie?”
“She claims to be Ellie’s best mate.” Adam is positively beaming with excitement. I haven’t seen him this alive since…well, since Ellie.
“Adam, she could be some nutter trying to trick you,” I say, not wanting to destroy the first sliver of happiness he’s experienced in ten years, but I don’t want him to get his hopes up if it’s just some cruel prank.
“No,” he grabs my arm. “She knew things. Things only Ellie could have told her. She said Ellie’s been trying to contact me, through email, through the record label, even through regular post. I’ve never heard a word about it.” Adam’s face becomes stormy, his eyes narrow in anger.
“They probably thought she was lying. Loads of people probably ring up the label and claim to be our friends.”
“Right, well… this is the real deal. I’m going to London.”
“What?” He could have knocked me over with a feather. “You’re going to London based on the word of a random girl who rung you up?”
“No. I’m going because she’s not lying. Ellie’s mum is getting married. I’m crashing the party.”
I laugh, bending over with the hilarity of it all until I realize he’s not kidding. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious. I’m going and getting my girl, just like you did.”
I’m speechless. Kate and I eloped right after the closing ceremonies of the Olympics. We didn’t think there was any point in waiting after all those years apart. I wonder if Adam will come back married to Ellie.
“Oh, and I need to bring Zane with me. Can I borrow him?”
I sigh, my reminiscing coming to an abrupt halt. “Yeah, sure. What are best mates for?”
Indeed
.
We have our best session in years, mostly due to Adam’s upbeat attitude. He’s so spot on we finish thirty minutes early for a change.
I hurry out, jumping on my brand new Ducati, zipping out of the car park. I speed through the streets, weaving around cars and take the Holland Tunnel to the Jersey Turnpike. Thank god for the bike, otherwise I’d still be sitting in stagnant traffic back in Manhattan.
An hour later, okay, so I broke the limit a few times, I pull into the lot at Jesse Owens Memorial Stadium on the campus of Rutgers University. I kick down the stand and lean the Ducati to rest. Heading toward the entrance with my helmet tucked under my arm, more than a few heads turn my way.
Most of them know me by now and pay me no mind, but there are always girls who get excited by my appearance.
“Dax Davies, wow!”
“We heard you came by, but I can’t believe you’re really here!”
I pose for a few selfies and excuse myself. “I have to go, ladies. Don’t want to miss the start.”
They giggle and huddle together whispering like girls tend to do. I wave at Andre, one of the regular security guards at the stadium.
“I got your bike covered man,” he says as we shake hands.
The first time I brought the Ducati, students climbed all over my unattended bike, snapping pictures and messing around with it. It fell over and had quite a bit of damage. After that, I made sure to park close to the entrance and have someone watch it for me. The guards here know me and never mind keeping an eye out.
“Thanks mate.”
I find my usual seat and relax. It’s a perfect evening for a game, unseasonably warm for late September in New Jersey. Kate spots me and smiles. The stadium is still filling up, so she takes a minute and walks over to my section. My seat is in the front row, just off the pitch. There are perks to being married to the head coach.
“Hi angel.” I lean over and give her a kiss, just a small one since she’s at work. Nowhere near the sloppy, wet, tongue kiss I want to lie on her.
“Dax. You made it in time tonight.” She winks. Kate knows that I’ve been frustrated with all of the late recording sessions that have made me miss more than one of her games.
“Yeah, well, Adam was in a good mood today. We got done early if you can believe that.” I’ll tell her about Ellie later. No need to distract her before a game.
We ignore the whispers and pings of mobile phones as people nearby sneak pictures of us. We’re used to it by now. Everyone who sits around me is friends and family of the staff and players. They’re used to me and treat me like a regular bloke. It’s nice to be normal.
The video of Kate and I at the Olympics went viral minutes after it happened. By the next day, most of the world had seen it, or was talking about it. It took forever for the attention to die out. No more hiding behind the front man anymore. I’m thoroughly recognizable all on my own.
I lean over the half wall. “Is your helmet still in your car?”
Kate eyes me curiously. “Yes.”
“Ride home with me.” We have a beautiful house about a half-hour north, midway between here and the city.
A spark of interest flashes across her face. “Why?”
I lean in as close as I can get. “So I can feel that fit body pressed up against me while the Ducati growls between your thighs, angel. Why else?”
“Dirty, dirty, Dax.” Kate pulls back and smirks. I can tell she likes the idea.
“I’ll bring you back tomorrow to fetch your car. What do you say, Mrs. Davies? Ride with me?”
Kate shifts to whisper in my ear, her hot breath causing me to shiver under my leather jacket. That raspy, sexy voice of hers sends testosterone racing through my veins. “I’ll do anything for you, Mr. Davies. Anything.”
Kate winks, then turns and trots over to her team. I watch that tight ass and sit back in my seat, loving the hell out of my life.
Fuck the rules, my way is much, much better.
T
he End
1. Family first
2. Never let your emotions show
3. No fucking, shagging, wanking, sucking, or getting off for seven days leading up to a fight. You win, you get your reward.
4. Women who act like slags can be treated like slags, but never disrespect a proper lady.
5. Defend what’s yours.
T
hanks for reading
STRIKE
. I hope you enjoyed it!
C
ontinue reading
for an excerpt of Incite: Adam, Book 1 in the Rockstar Series.
W
ould
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Adam
T
he screams
from the flat next door start up like clockwork at ten p.m., just like they do every night. After six months of listening to the couple argue, I know that there’s nothing I can do to shut out their voices, not a pillow over my head, not cotton wool stuffed in my ears, not even turning up the ancient radio on the filthy floor next to my crappy mattress will stop me from hearing them.
Instead, I do what I always do when the neighbors get loud. I pull out my well worn, second-hand guitar and create. As the music flows from my calloused fingers and through the strings beneath them, I swear to myself for the millionth time that I will get the fuck out of this hellhole someday.
As usual, my crackhead mum is out for the night, probably on a piss up or selling herself for drugs. If I’m lucky, I’ll see her once a week, maybe twice. My dad, well… who the hell knows where that tosser is? Whenever he graces us with his presence, all he does is beat the shite out of me and my mum. Not that she gives a crap if he does. She sits there with her drugged-up, glazed-over eyes and lets him pound on her or me until he’s bored.
Unable to block out the neighbors, I squeeze my eyes shut, adding words to the strumming. Softly singing as the yelling becomes violent next door.
“I’m not going to die in this pit of despair…”
Something or someone slams against the wall behind me. The sketches I have plastered all over it flutter outward from the shaking. I’ve learned not to cringe anymore, so the trembling wall doesn’t cause me to react, not even a blink.
“I’ll pull myself out…. Get the fuck out of here….”
Only one more term. One more term until I’m done with school and can leave this shitty town, this shitty flat, and this shitty life.
I play until it’s quiet on the other side of my bedroom wall and my fingers are numb, then collapse under the covers passing out instantly.
“
R
eynolds
!”
I don’t even need to look back to know that my best mate Dax Davies is rushing to catch up to me in the hallway. A dozen or so girls leaning on lockers turn their heads to watch him walk by. Yeah, he’s popular with them, we both are.
“Dax.” I remain unaffected, pretending not to notice the sighs and giggles that are thrown our way.