Beautiful Distraction (22 page)

I’m drowning in the
ocean of your body

I’m lost in the
beating of your heart

I’m falling as you
laugh

And yet, you walk away
from me

You walk away from me

Under the starry night

You walk away from me

Days have passed

Soon the weeks will
turn into years

I’ll always remember
you with silent tears

With a prayer on my
lips that I’ll see you again

Kiss your lips, hold
you tight

Coz you’re the one I
want to know

You’re the one I don’t
want gone

The percussion takes center stage, and the melody changes.
My heart slams in my chest. The sudden change in rhythm is more truculent, and
it’s throwing me off.

Yoooou said…

I’m not interested in
you

Not now. Not ever

But I know you’re
lying

A liar spots a liar….

Behind this shell, you
set me free

Sheeeeee said…

I’m not interested in
you

Not now. Not ever.

But I know she’s lying

A liar spots a liar….

Behind this shell, she
sets me free

Yoooou said…

I’m not interested in
you

Not now. Not ever

I know you’re lying

A liar spots a liar

Behind this shell, you
set me free

Sheeeeee said…

I’m not interested in
you

Not now. Not ever

But I know she’s lying

A liar spots a liar

A liar spots a liar

Behind this shell, she
sets me free

As Kellan continues to sing the last line, the crowd chimes
in. I don’t know when the song was released, but he must have sung it before
because people know the lyrics; they’re familiar with the rhythm. He stops
singing, but the guitarist continues to play.

The crowd starts to chant, “TAYLOR! TAYLOR! TAYLOR!”

But instead of turning to the crowd, he turns to me and
cocks a sexy eyebrow.

A smile tugs at his lips. And then he leans forward and
clasps my chin between his fingers as he kisses me on the lips in front of the
audience.

My breath hitches.

My head’s swirling.

My heart’s pounding.

At some point, the song ends. Kellan lets go of me and says
something into the microphone. But I can’t make out his words. It’s like the
world around us has dissolved into nothingness. From the periphery of my mind,
I know that a security guy is ushering me back to my spot, while all I can do
is focus on making it down the stage without taking a tumble.

I feel Mandy’s shock a moment before she whispers in my ear,
“What the hell, Ava? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I open my mouth to explain that I had no idea, but the words
remain trapped on my tongue.

I need to get away.

Numb from the shock, I take off, squeezing through the
crowd, until I’ve reached the back of the tent. I need the distance and for
Mandy to stop her questions.

The band continues their set. I get an hour of watching him.
Of listening to his magnificent voice while he sings one song after another. An
hour during which my shock is slowly subsiding, making room for a throbbing
sense of suspicion and anger.

Once or twice, I think I see his eyes roaming over the
crowd, probably in search of me, but I can’t be sure. I hide in the shadows
nonetheless, out of his view. I don’t want him to call me up there again.

A cowboy turned rock star!

I shake my head.

What. The. Hell.

And I was stupid enough to fall for him.

That was about the worst move I could have made in my life.

“Are you okay?” Mandy asks for the umpteenth time, her
concern growing with each second that passes. When I nod, she whispers, “You
didn’t know, did you?”

I shake my head and follow Josh to his truck.

I don’t want to make a big fuss out of the fact that
Kellan’s a rock star but—

Holy shit!

He’s a rock star.

I still can’t believe it.

That’s why he was so secretive. He probably thought I might
sell his story to the tabloids.

What’s wrong with me?

Why can’t I show enthusiasm for the fact that the cowboy I
met is a famous rock star?

Josh says something about an after party, when all I want is
to lock myself inside my bedroom and Google the life out of Mile High.

There must have been some indication, some clue, and I was
too blind to catch it. But I know better than to believe that. I just wasn’t
interested. I might never be.

I blame my parents and their crazy obsession with the
orchestra. They’ve ruined music for me, and now I just can’t be like any normal
woman and squeal and wear fan T-shirts.

“Please take me home,” I say, my voice shaky.

“I’ve been instructed not to do that,” Josh replies.

I don’t need to ask who ordered that. “I’m not feeling very
well.”

Mandy shoots me a concerned look.

“In spite of what he’s doing, he’s a good guy, Ava,” Josh
says.

“I never doubted that,” I lie.

“He likes you. That’s why he went through all the trouble to
arrange you winning the tickets.”

My head snaps to him. “What?”

“Sorry. What was I thinking?” He slaps his forehead. “I
should never have mentioned it. Let’s forget what I just said.“ His mouth
clamps shut. In the rearview mirror, I see his expression darkening, like he’s
already said too much.

“It’s okay. You can tell me,” I say, my voice faint.

He takes a sharp breath. “Look, I don’t know what’s
happening between you two, but I can tell you he’s never been like this. He’s
never done this for any woman. I think you need to talk. Just listen to him, and
then make up your mind. Please.”

“Listen to what?” I stare at Josh’s back, waiting for him to
elaborate. He just shrugs and keeps quiet.

Mandy’s eyes are big and mirror my countless questions. But
even she remains silent as Josh stops the truck. He gets out of the car, and
she turns to me, whispering, “Look, I had no idea.”

I glare at her. “How could you not know? You’ve been a fan
for ages.”

‘Probably the biggest of them,’ I want to add, but don’t.

“They never take off the masks.”

“What about in interviews?” I ask incredulously.

“They wear heavy makeup,” Mandy says. “Besides, I don’t
follow their every move. I’m not obsessed with them.”

“Still.” I shake my head. “You should have recognized the
voice.” I’m so mad at Mandy. It’s all her fault that we landed at Kellan’s
door.

Josh opens the door for us, waiting for me to get out. I
glance out of the window and realize we’re at the same bar we visited more than
a week ago, surrounded by hundreds of girls and women, all waiting to get in.

My heart lurches.

Huge, angry bouncers are guarding the door.

“Are you coming?” Mandy asks.

I shake my head again. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“He’s inside, waiting for you,” Josh says. When I make no
move to exit, he leans against the car, his dark expression betraying his
determination. “Look, I promised him to bring you here. Can you just do me a
favor and see him?”

I let out a sigh, then get out of the car. “Fine, but you
owe me.”

Just like before, Josh mentioning his name grants us instant
entry. The bar is full with what I assume are mostly locals. I spy Kellan
sitting with three other guys at a table near the back, his face turned to
overlook the entrance. The mask and makeup are gone. The man I see is both
familiar and a stranger to me.

My heart does a summersault. I realize it’s been doing that
ever since I met him.

But that can’t be. Summersaults remind me of stories of
people falling in love and happy endings. Before he left, I knew I was about to
fall for him. Surely, it hasn’t happened already.

My legs are frozen to the spot as I realize I loved my ex,
and it hurt like hell when he cheated on me. But it was different.

Summersaults are new to me. I never had them before Kellan.

I can’t be in love with him.

Right?

I turn on my heels, ready to bolt out the door, when Josh
steps behind me, blocking my way.

“They’re over there,” he says. His hand goes around my upper
arm to guide me, but I know he just wants to make sure I’m not trying to get
away.

Which is the plan.

I wish I could run away from the man I thought was only a
nightclub owner. And then only a cowboy.

I have all of three seconds before Kellan’s sweeping gaze
meets mine, and he stands a moment before we reach him.

 
“You came.” He
sounds surprised. I look into his impossibly green eyes. He leans into me, and
his lips brush my cheek. He smells faintly of aftershave and warmth. A stunning
smile tugs at his lips, but there’s a strange glint in his eyes. As though he’s
nervous. As though he cares what I might think about him now that I know who he
is.

I want to lean into him and tell him that I wish he weren’t
who he is because it matters to me.

I also want to tell him that I had no choice but to come
here, whether I wanted to see him or not. It was either this or jump out of a
moving car while praying I wouldn’t break a few bones in the process.

I want to ask him the one question that’s been pestering me.
Why didn’t you tell me?

But my mouth remains shut, all those unspoken words trapped
inside my chest.

“You want anything to drink?” Kellan pulls up a chair and points
at the countless bottles on the table.

I shake my head in response.

While I’m all for a little liquid courage in situations like
these, I need to keep my head clear.

He sighs and sits down, his leg brushing mine. “These are my
band mates, Casper, Derrick, and Rock. Guys, this is Ava.”

I nod at the three pairs of eyes staring at me. They look
like nice guys, maybe a bit worse for wear, but I guess that’s what the rock
star lifestyle does to you.

“Ava, huh?” Rock says. I can almost see the wheels of his mind
working. His blue eyes seem slightly glossed over; his movements are a little
bit slow. “
That
Ava?”

And then it dawns on me.

He’s high on something.

Of course he is.

Most musicians are. My parents thought I’d follow in their
footsteps and always warned me of the dangers of getting involved with someone
in the music industry.

“Kellan made us play this gig just for you,” Derrick says.
“I hope you know how to thank him tonight.”

His band mates begin to guffaw.

I peer at Kellan, who’s watching me intently, analyzing my
every move.

“The women just soak it up, huh?” Derrick says to Rock.
“Remember that chick, Kellan’s last girl? She kept stalking him.”

The words sting. They only confirm that I was just another
conquest in a long list of them. That I was only a good fuck.

Isn’t that what he called me?

“I’m sorry. I should go.” I get up and turn, dashing past
tables, through the door, heedless of the people rushing to get out of my way,
until I’m outside.

Above me, the moon and billions of stars are shining, their
presence my only company as I head down the dark road. I’m walking fast, feet
pounding, trying hard not to think or analyze the last week of my life.

I need the solitude and the detachment to keep myself from going
crazy.

I don’t ever do crazy. I forbid myself from doing it.

It happened once, and it made me obsessive. It made me love
and swear off relationships for good.

Fucking a rock star with all the fans, the drama, and the
emotional entanglements that come with it—that’s a whole new level of
crazy.

It tops all the charts.

A cold gust of wind seeps through my clothes, sending a
shudder through me. I wrap my jacket tighter around me, cursing the fact that
Josh was nowhere to be found when I left the bar. I would have liked him to
drive me to Kellan’s place to get my car, but I couldn’t wait for him. I
couldn’t ask around, go looking for him. The chance of bumping into Kellan was
too great.

It was either risk having to face Kellan again or head back
without Josh driving me.

I chose to walk.

Now, I’m freezing my butt off.

I’m far past the point where I even care if Mandy’s joining
me. She’ll be fine with Josh. I know she will. She made it pretty clear when
she left me alone with Kellan on his ranch.

It’s all her fault.

If it weren’t for Mandy, I wouldn’t have to deal with my
emotions.

If it were not for her, I would have sold the tickets and
never met someone like Kellan. Someone so sexy, he’s every woman’s dream.

But that’s exactly what he is.

A dream.

Not realistic.

The sooner I grasp the facts the better, before my stupid
heart wants to confess that I have fallen in love with him.

Somewhere in the distance, a car’s approaching. I turn and
see the headlights. For a moment, I consider signaling it to hitchhike to Kellan’s
place, then realize it’s Kellan’s truck.

Even though I know that I’m being ridiculous, I turn my back
to it and hasten my steps.

The truck pulls up next to me, and the window rolls down.

“Ava?”

I continue walking, mumbling, “Leave me alone.”

The truck speeds up, coming to a halt a few yards down the
road. Leaving the engine running, Kellan jumps out and slams the door shut. I
try to ignore him as he plants himself in front of me, until I have no choice
but to look up into his face.

“What are you doing? You cannot walk out here all alone.”
His expression is a mixture of worry and anger.

“I’m an adult.”

“And I’m your host, and I say you can’t be here alone.”

I shrug. “Why not? You said it was safe. What changed your
mind?”

“I wasn’t talking about the people, Ava. We have wild
animals, and they can be dangerous.” He sighs. “Look. I know you’re pissed.”

“Pissed?” I scoff and stare at him, pointing to my face.
“Does my face look pissed? I’m hurt, Kellan. Disappointed. You told me you
wouldn’t return before the weekend. I thought that was our goodbye. A really
crappy one, by the way. And then I find out that the sole reason I’m here is
because you arranged for me to win tickets.” My anger’s choking me, but I don’t
care. I have so much to say to him. “The past week, I told you everything about
my life, and you barely fed me morsels of information about yours. You kept the
fact that you’re a famous rock star to yourself. How is that fair?”

“I know how that sounds.”

“You do?” I ask, doubting it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He hesitates. “I wasn’t sure you’d understand.”

I shake my head. “Of course. What else?” I move past him to
resume walking, when his hand grips my upper arm to stop me.

“I mean it,” Kellan says. “I thought you wouldn’t
understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand? It’s not like you have to be
embarrassed for your job.” I try to look up into his eyes, which isn’t
possible. He’s standing so close, I have to tilt my head back, and it hurts.
“Fuck, everyone would want to be in your shoes.”

“Exactly. That’s why I kept it from you.”

“I don’t understand.” I frown at him. “You thought I’d be
jealous? That I might want to be a rock star?”

The assumption is so ridiculous, I find myself laughing.

“No, Ava,” he says sharply, “I thought you would judge me.”

“Why would I judge you?”

“Are you kidding me?” He pauses, hesitating, as though what
he has to say is hard for him. “People change when they find out I’m K. Taylor.
They go crazy, especially once they realize I have money. I can’t risk telling
someone I don’t trust who I am, out of fear that they might go to the papers
and seek their own five minutes of fame. People think because they know my name
and read made-up stories about me, that they know me. They don’t.” He grimaces,
and his expression contorts into one of disgust. From up close, in the bright
lights of his truck, I can see every line on his face. The tiredness. The
frustration. “You have absolutely no idea what fame does to people or how far
they’d go to get it. I’ve reached a point where I can’t trust anyone. It has
nothing to do with you. I just can’t trust people. Too many have betrayed my
trust and invaded my privacy. The only people I can trust are the ones I grew
up with, and they are here in this town. My brothers. A few close friends.
Sharon.”

That’s not a lot.

I’m sorry for him.

At last, I draw a deep breath and let it out slowly before I
say, “You still could have tried me. I would have understood.”

“Yeah.” He cringes. “Except you hate Mile High, and you’re a
journalist. That’s a great combination.”

“I don’t hate Mile High,” I protest weakly, ignoring the latter
part.

“You said you did. Do you want me to reiterate your exact
words?” He lets go off my arm. “You called us a boring, over the top, overrated,
untalented bunch of idiots.”

I did?

I cringe at my choice of words. “I’m sorry. I might have
said all of that, and I admit it’s horrible. The truth is, I think you have an
amazing voice. I do. But I never really listened to any of your songs. My
parents made me biased toward the music business and anything commercial.
Toward music in general. But just because I’m not a fan doesn’t mean I hate the
band. I just didn’t care to give you guys a try. That’s all. And I’ll be honest
with you, just because you’re the lead singer doesn’t mean I’ll change my opinion
about what the music industry stands for.” The words are out before I can stop
them. I can feel the offense in the air, and I couldn’t blame him if he turned
around and left without a look back.

I expect Kellan to unleash his annoyance with me, but he
just laughs.

“I know, and I would never expect you to,” he says. “Look,
it’s hard for me, too.”

I frown at his words. “What’s hard for you?”

“To like the business. To be excited about it. I hate my
job.”

Unsure whether I’ve heard him right, I stare at him. “I
don’t understand. I thought it was your dream. You and your brothers had a
band.”

“There’s a difference between a hobby and doing it for fun,
and a job, which basically forces you to sell your soul and kills any
creativity,” Kellan says. “Now don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for what I’ve
accomplished, but this job, this lifestyle—” he shakes his head “—it
didn’t turn out like I expected. I still enjoy making music. I love writing
songs, but in the end, the label decides which songs are recorded. Most of them
aren’t even mine.”

I remain quiet as he continues, “The pressure. The fame. The
constant traveling. Being stuck on a tour bus. Not able to sing my own songs or
play my own music. It gets to be too much. I kind of realized that being famous
and under the wings of a huge record label isn’t how I envisioned my life. My
own songs being buried just because they wouldn’t appeal to thirteen-year-old
girls sucks.” He sighs. I sense more is coming, so I remain silent out of fear
that pushing him to open up might have the opposite effect. “Look, there’s no
denying that I love singing and playing the guitar, but I don’t want to do it
professionally. Everything you saw up there, on that stage…that’s not me. Not
the real me anyway. It never was. I just stumbled into it. Ask my brothers, and
they’ll tell you how I was discovered.”

“How?” I ask softly.

“We used to play the weekend gig at the local bar. It was
our way to connect with friends and family. Someone uploaded us on the Internet.
One day, a scout saw us live, and he liked what he saw. The next thing I knew,
I was offered the lead singer position in a band he was working on creating. I
took him up on the offer, because—” he sighs again “—well, I was
young, and vain, and yes, I wanted to be rich.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” I say.

“You need to understand. My family’s just ordinary folks. We
weren’t poor, but we weren’t rich either. It was my opportunity to support my
family and the people in this town. So it was a closed deal. Five days later, I
moved to Los Angeles, where I met Casper, Derrick, and Rock. They became my new
band members. From there, our whole image was created for us, and we were told
what to do, who we could date, how we should dress. It’s all part of branding
and image building.
 
We started six years
ago, and now we have six studio albums, two remix albums, and I have a net
worth of ninety-five million.”

I almost choke on my breath, shocked that he’d just divulge
that last piece of information so honestly. “Wow. That’s a lot of money.”

I don’t know how to take that.

That
is
a lot of
money. No wonder he doesn’t trust anyone.

“Yeah, it is,” Kellan says. “But it doesn’t matter if it
makes me miserable. I’ve come to a point where I realize there’s so much more I
want to do with my life, but I have so little time to explore my interests. I
mean, Ryder loves his job. And Cash has built up an entire string of nightclubs
from nothing and turned them into a huge success over night.” He looks at me,
his eyes meeting mine, and his expression softens. “That’s one of the reasons I
quit.”

“You quit?” I ask, confused.

Did I miss something?

What did he quit?

Being a rock star?

It sounds too far-fetched, incredulous.

“I got out of my contract four weeks ago,” he goes on to
explain. “I’m not the lead singer of Mile High anymore.”

“Four weeks ago?”

That was around the time I won the tickets.

“Today was my last gig. It all started here, and this is
where it all ends.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Wrapping my arms around my
waist, I stare at him, my mind devoid of any thoughts. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” His arms go around my waist, and he pulls me to his
chest. “It’s what I want.”

The weak moonlight bathes his face in a golden glow. I take
in his beautiful features, the soft smile on his lips, and can’t help but
wonder whether someone like him could really be content with the relatively
boring life out here—compared to that of a rock star, of course.

“What brought on such a huge decision?”

He shrugs. “You know how people say fame and wealth change
you? It’s true. I grew up here; I’m rooted in this kind of life, and yet life
on the road still changed
me. Rock fell into a
crack addiction. Derrick’s eight-year marriage broke down because he couldn’t
keep it in his pants. And Casper’s suicidal because he’s gay and in love with
our makeup artist, but his contract stipulates that he has to stay in the
closet.” Kellan shakes his head. “It changed us all for the worse. Even me. That
night you met me? I was an asshole. I didn’t get why you wouldn’t throw
yourself at my feet.”

His honesty renders me speechless.

“My life consisted of groupies, parties, sex. There were
drugs everywhere,” Kellan continues.

“Sounds like every guy’s dream come true,” I mutter.

“In the beginning, it was,” he says, his lips twitching but
not with humor. “I grew sick of it pretty fast. However, the easy sex rubbed
off on me. I thought every woman was the same.”

I think of Mandy mentioning the groupies. I remember the
banners at tonight’s gig and can’t help but feel jealous of all the women Kellan
must have met—and fucked.

As if sensing my thoughts, he touches my cheek gently. “None
of them mattered, Ava.”

I know that, otherwise he wouldn’t be here with me, and
yet—

“It’s your life. What you do is none of my business,” I say.
His grip tightens around my waist. I can feel his gaze on me. He’s looking at
me. Through me. His eyes are penetrating every layer of my soul, settling somewhere
deep inside me.

“You asked what made me quit,” he says softly. “It was my
sister’s death. It was a wake-up call. If it weren’t for that damn tour, I
would have seen her before she died. I might have changed her mind about going
back.” A shaky breath escapes his lips. I reach out to touch his cheek the way
he touched me a few minutes ago.