Blue Shoes #1: New Adult Rock Star Erotic Romance (Morris Music Book 6) (7 page)

“Right. So, when do we leave? Next Monday?”

“Thursday.”

I think it over for a minute. It’s soon, but I can swing it.

I spend the rest of the day running around in a mad panic getting things off my desk.

Wednesday goes about the same.

I’m totally stressed by the end of the day.

I work right through dinner, wrapping up the final things, then I go straight from work to The Roxy in West Hollywood.

The girls insisted on throwing me a Bon Voyage party. I want to go home to Dylan, but he’s not even there. He has an interview with
Rolling Stone
. I’ll see him later tonight. We’ll have one last night in L.A., then see each other again in Italy.

I’m actually looking forward to this trip.

The Roxy is packed as usual. A local band that’s made it pretty big, Star Maps, is playing. They’ve been a favorite of mine since Dylan introduced me to them personally. I’ve always liked their blend of styles, and they’re just as fun in person.

Amanda gets us a table and squeals with excitement. We order drinks just as the band starts to play their signature song about Hollywood’s most famous residents. I truly hope Dylan and I won’t ever be in one of their songs. I’d much rather fly under the radar.

The atmosphere inside The Roxy is energetic. I’m nervous and excited about the flight tomorrow, but I’m having fun.

Riley whoops as they finish their song. Our waitress comes over with a tray full of shots.

“These are from the men by the bar.” She nods in their direction. Three guys are standing at the bar, smiling at us. They lift their drinks in a toast. I quickly turn back to Amanda and Riley.

“They’re totally cute,” Amanda says. She waves and shouts, “Thank you!”

Riley waves and gets a flirty look I don’t see often. She’s usually more into sarcasm.

Amanda keeps staring over, then winks at the guys.

“Ahem,” I say to Amanda. “Aren’t you and Caleb exclusive now?”

“I can look.” She turns to me. “I’m not blind and neither are you. Don’t you think they’re cute?”

The drinks are hitting my system. It’s only two drinks, but I forgot to eat dinner. I steal another peek. She’s right about them being cute.

“The light-haired guy isn’t bad,” I admit. Now that I’ve said it, I feel my cheeks heat up.

“Leave her alone,” Riley says. “She only has eyes for Dylan.”

“True. You and Dylan are perfect.” Amanda knocks back her shot. “Perfectly boring.” She laughs. “Perfectly old and married. Like my parents.” She shudders. “Yuck.”

“Boring?” I let out a chortle. “No way. Remember how I went to the hospital on Saturday after that giant ape knocked me down?” They lean forward, listening. I shouldn’t tell them, but I know I will eventually, so what the hell. “We had sex in the hospital exam room. Behind nothing but a curtain.”

Riley frowns. “No, you didn’t. You were whacked out on sedatives and imagining things.”

I laugh. “Fine. Don’t believe me.”

The waitress comes by with more shots.

“This is my last one,” I tell the girls. “Big flight tomorrow.”

Amanda slams her shot back, then waves at the cute guys again.

I kick her chair under the table. “Stop it. I’m paying for these drinks. Stop looking at those guys. Don’t be a skank.”

She bristles at me calling her a skank, but whatever.

The band finishes another song, and we all clap. The crowd yells out song requests. They introduce the next song, and the three of us watch. There’s a great buzz in here. I can’t really relax when Dylan is playing. I get too nervous for him. But this is perfect.

After the band stops for a break, Amanda turns back around and picks up where she left off, making sexy-eyes at the cute guys by the bar. I kick her chair.

She scowls at me and says, “I don’t get you, Jess. You were a virgin when you moved here. Then you met Dylan and now you’re getting married. You’ve never been with anyone else. Not even for one night. Aren’t you curious?”

I shake my head. “I’ve heard plenty from you.”

Riley laughs, because it’s true.

Amanda keeps scowling. “But hearing about it isn’t the same as experiencing it. Feeling it.”

I scrunch up my face. “I’ve heard enough of your sex stories to last a lifetime.”

“But it’s not fair!” Amanda’s getting loud, which means she’s drunk. There are a bunch of empty shot glasses on the table in front of her, which is not a good sign. “It’s not fair. I mean, Dylan’s been with other women.”

“Amanda!” Riley swats Amanda’s arm.

“What?” Amanda won’t shut up. “Jess, he was married before. He had sex with Mrs. Evil Pants. The one who tried to murder him! The murderess!”

Riley clamps a hand over Amanda’s mouth. “Calm down. We’re in The Roxy. Those guys at the bar are probably reporters. Don’t be dumb.”

I stare down at the table as the world swirls around me. I didn’t like where this conversation was going, before Amanda started yelling about Dylan’s wife. The woman is dead now, killed by some mechanic who was also her lover. Dylan’s past has so much ugliness.

I take my glass of water and sip it slowly. I don’t like thinking about the pain in Dylan’s past. I think maybe that trauma is why he loses his temper sometimes. I can’t say I blame him. It upsets me, and it didn’t even happen to me.

Riley finishes lecturing Amanda and removes the hand from her mouth.

“I’m just saying,” Amanda says at a reasonable volume, “that if Jess is curious, she’s running out of time. Soon she’ll be a married woman.”

“Sooner than you think.”

They both look at me.

“What do you mean?” Riley asks.

“Nothing,” I lie. “Just that we’ll probably set a date soon. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want the paparazzi crashing it.”

“You don’t have much choice,” Riley says. “You’re a celebrity, whether you like it or not.”

Amanda nods, her movements exaggerated. “Totally. Anyone can be a celebrity, if people take an interest. Remember how they hounded that fighter couple? The guy… the one who’s friends with Dylan?”

“You mean Colt.” I just saw some pictures of Colt McClure and Jo the other day. They looked happy, but you never know. Half of the stuff the press runs is fiction.

Amanda’s eyes grow big. “Oh yeah. She kept changing her hair and trying to blend into the background. But that only made them want her more.”

Riley adds in, “Plus there were those other people beating the hell out of them all the time.” Riley shakes her head. “Some people will do anything to steal a little fame. They’ll kill you for it.”

Panic starts to rise inside me.

“And don’t forget when you have kids,” Amanda says as she signals the waitress for more drinks. “The paparazzi will be all over your baby bump, then your kids, then your cellulite. Plus all those stories about Dylan cheating on you.”

“They’re saying Dylan’s cheating on me?”

The volume on the music seems to be getting louder and louder. I don’t want to be here anymore.

Amanda shakes her head. “Of course he’s not cheating on you. He loves you. But that doesn’t make money. The reporters don’t care. They just want money.”

I remember what Dylan said and repeat his words, “It’s not personal. It’s not about us. Just money.”

The waitress places new glasses in front of us. I leave my drink and stick to the water.

I look over to Riley. She’s frowning, and she looks like she’s having even less fun than I am.

“Riley? Are you tired? We can go any time.”

“I’m not tired.” She takes a sip of her drink, then licks her lips and looks thoughtful. “Jess, the photographers aren’t the only ones who are after money.”

“I know. It’s the people who run the blogs and sell the magazines.”

Riley looks down at the table, unable to meet my eyes. “I’ve been getting calls from people in the family. Everyone’s asking how much money Dylan has and—” Riley shakes her head. “They can go to hell. I’ve been telling them to leave you alone, but you know how certain people in our family are.” She keeps looking down, her upper lip curling in disgust. “Uncle Danny’s okay, and Nan, of course, but the rest of them… I’m going to change my phone number.”

I can’t believe my ears.

My family did nothing for me when I was kid. Nan was the only one who cared about me. Uncle Danny is okay, but the rest of them are awful. It makes me so angry, thinking of them scheming about how they can get money from Dylan.

The girls ask if I’m okay, and if I want to go home.

I put on a brave smile and lie. “Just one more drink.” I nod to the stage, where the band is playing another set. “And a few more songs. It’s not much of a Bon Voyage party if we go home at nine.”

Riley and Amanda cheer and turn to watch the singer introduce the next song.

I space out, staring into my glass of water.

The photographers are going to keep coming after us.

My family is going to jump into the chase.

For the rest of my life, I’ll be running from people who want something from me.

What if I can’t take the pressure?

What if Dylan can’t? Before we met, he’d been hiding away in a cabin for almost a year.

He seems to be taking all this fame stuff in stride. He wasn’t even nervous about the
Rolling Stone
interview.

But what if it’s just an act, and everything is about to come crashing down?

Will he come and meet me in Rome?

I need to leave for the airport at four in the morning, so when I get home from The Roxy, I make some coffee and curl up on the couch.

There’s no way I’ll get a full night’s sleep at home, so my plan is to stay up, then sleep on the plane.

I click on the TV and quickly put on some old movies so I won’t have to see anything about me or Dylan on the late-night talk shows.

Midnight comes and goes. Dylan still hasn’t returned from his
Rolling Stone
interview.

I call his number and wait for his voice.

He answers, but I can barely hear him over the background noise.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“You didn’t get my messages?”

“No, hang on.” I pull the phone from my ear and check for incoming text messages. Something must be wrong with my phone, because I haven’t gotten anything from him in days.

I mutter about my phone problems, but Dylan doesn’t seem to be listening.

In the background, I can hear a crowd chanting his name.

“When’s your flight?” he asks hurriedly.

“I have to leave the house at four.”

“Ouch,” he says. “I’m sorry, Jess. My publicist called, and there was this opening tonight at the Avalon Hollywood. I’m going to try out some new material.” He pauses, just in time for me to hear someone announce his name. The crowd goes wild. “It’s important,” Dylan says.

“Of course it is.” I try not to let my irritation show in my voice, but it still comes through. There’s no way he’ll be done in time and back home before I have to leave.

“I’ll see you in Rome,” he says.

“I love you.”

“Jess, I—” The call ends before he can finish.

I do a reset on my phone to see if my missing messages will show up. The phone takes forever, saying it’s downloading a software update.

The living room feels chilly. I reach for a chenille throw and pull it over myself.

I start the movie again and get comfortable on the couch. I would set an alarm clock if I thought I was going to get any sleep, but I’m wide awake.

At four o’clock, Chet comes by the house to pick me up.

He looks even more wired than me.

We finish putting my bags in the trunk and I get into the passenger seat.

“Dylan’s sleeping?” he asks.

I explain that he’s probably signing autographs right now.

“That must be awkward, dating someone famous.” He steers his car carefully down the winding streets, out of the neighborhood. “How do you really feel about sharing the person you love with the rest of the world?”

“That part’s okay. He’s a bit of a workaholic, though.”

Chet snorts. “Takes one to know one.”

“I have a really cruel boss. He works me to the bone.”

“Your boss isn’t so bad. He upgraded the seats to First Class.”

“You did not,” I gasp. “But those seats are so expensive.”

He checks the car’s navigation and turns in the direction of LAX. “You’ll understand why when we get on the plane.”

* * *

The flight to Rome is my first international trip, and it’s a long one.

Thirteen hours and eleven minutes.

You really don’t know how long thirteen hours is until you spend it on a plane.

Chet did really upgrade us to First Class, and I can see why. The seats roll down until they’re nearly flat. It’s not as comfortable as my bed at home, but I am able to catch a few hours of sleep.

ROME, ITALY

When the plane lands in Rome, my body is in a time warp. The sun is rising. It’s early in the morning, but I’m ready to go to bed.

The airport is huge and overwhelming. There are about a million signs everywhere, all of them confusing. I’d be completely lost without Chet. He travels a lot for business, and seems to fit right in.

“Ready for Rome?” he asks.

I give him a weak smile and speed up my walk to keep up with him.

“Totally ready,” I say.

I put on a cheerful, professional attitude for Chet’s benefit. He and I work well together, and I respect and admire him. He’s done a lot for Morris Music since he took over for his father.

Still, I would give anything to be here with Dylan instead of Chet.

We leave the airport and get into a taxi. The air is hot and humid, but not oppressive.

My phone seems to be working again, and there’s a new text message from Dylan:
Blue Shoes, I miss you already. Dylan.

My heart jumps at the sight of his words. I wish there was more, but I’m glad he misses me.

I send him back a picture of myself in the taxi, with a blurry background of Italian traffic behind me.

Chet is already on his phone, confirming meetings for today. I keep my phone in my hand so I can steal looks at Dylan’s text.

The taxi driver tells us, in thickly-accented English, “I can take you to the hotel by the fast way, which is not so nice. Or we can go the medium way. It’s very beautiful, the other way.” He turns and gives me a lingering, flirtatious look. I have to smile at his optimism, because the driver must be about fifty. “
Bellissima
, what is your wish?”