My Rock #3 (The Rock Star Romance Series - Book #3) (5 page)

“You smoke?”
I
asked her.

She hesitated, but only for a second and then she
said, “Yeah, sure.” I raked the shit off the couch and said,

“Have a seat.”
I
lit the
bong, and sucked a long hit into my lungs.

I
handed it to Brooke then and held the lighter on it while she took her hit. As
soon as it hit her lungs she had a coughing fit. When she finished she said,
“Sorry, I’ve never used a pipe before.”

“That’s cool,”
I
told her.

“Can I ask you something?” she said. Fuck, here we
go.
I
went about taking my turn with the bong and
didn’t answer her. Typical fucking woman, she didn’t wait for one. She said,
“What’s the deal with that girl in the bar? She works for the show, right?
She’s one of the interns or something.”

“It’s nothing. Not even worth talking about,”
I
told her.

She let it go for minute and said, “Do you have your
song ready for next week yet?”

I
told her what I was singing and then said, “I still have some work to do to it
though.
I
never just sing it the way it is written.
What about you?”

“Yeah,” she said with a smile, “I’m doing a Tricia
Yearwood song.”

“Country?
Trying to get on the good side of the country star?”
I
kid her.

“No,” she said, “It’s more of a soft rock song.
I
think I might even have them pick up the tempo on it a
little.
I
have a lot of work to do between now and
then on it. I want to win this so badly that I can taste it.”

I
took another hit.
I
did too, but I wasn’t planning on
sharing that with her.
I
handed her the bong, but
instead of putting it to her lips she said, “That girl…Elly, are you sleeping
with her?”

“What difference does it make? The answer is no, but
what the fuck difference does it make?”

“It would just be weird, Tristan…if we slept
together and that girl really liked you and I had to see her all the time until
this show was over. Besides, aren’t there rules against that? Couldn’t you both
get in trouble?”

“I’m not sleeping with her, Brooke. She’s got a
thing for
me
. She’ll get over it. Let it go!”

She didn’t let it go and it was pissing
me
off.

“She seemed like she really liked you,” she said. “I
could see it on her face. She was hurt to see us together. You may not have
slept with her, but she wants to, Tristan.”

I
stood up, angry. “Fuck! Did you come over here to advocate for her or what?
I
don’t want to talk about Elly.
I
want to fuck you. Isn’t that what you came here for, Brooke?”
I
was staring into her eyes.
I
could tell that she was torn. She wanted to stay, but her conscience was
tugging at her to leave.
I
really didn’t give a fuck
either way. In about two seconds,
I
was going to make
the choice for her and show her to door. Suddenly, she made up her mind…
I
guess. She leaned in and pressed her lips against
mine
. Before
I
knew it, her tongue
was tangling up with mine and my hands were sliding up her sides and finally
getting a hold of that amazing rack.
I
could feel her
hard nipples pressing through her clothes into my hand. Her nipples felt big
and
I
couldn’t wait to get my lips around them.
I
started working her shirt up and her hands were on my belt
when my fucking phone started ringing.

She stopped what she was doing, “Do you need to get
that?” she asked
me
.

“No, ignore it, it’ll stop.” After about five rings,
it went to voicemail.
I
had my hands underneath her
shirt, on warm skin and she was just getting warmed back up.
I
was working on the latch for her bra when the phone started ringing again.

“Shit!”
I
broke the kiss
and took a hand out of her shirt and reached for it; it was Elly. “Fuck!”

I
pulled back away from Brooke and pushed the button for voicemail.
I
waited a few seconds and I heard Elly say, “Tristan,
please do me this one favor: don’t make the mistake of sleeping with Brooke
until we have a chance to talk.
I
really need to talk
to you. Please don’t sleep with her.”
I
could hear a
little catch in her voice.
I
don’t know if it was
nerves or if she was sad.

Suddenly
my
hard-on was
gone and I had no desire to fuck Brooke any longer.

I
put down the phone and told Brooke, “I think you should go.”

“What? Why? Is this about Elly?
I
really hope you’re not risking a million dollars and a record contract for her.
I mean, she’d have to be like the world’s best piece of ass.”

Close. “It’s none of your business, Brooke. I want
you to go.”

“Tristan…”

“Go home, okay? Fuck!” She grabbed her purse and
stormed out, pissed off.
I
didn’t give a shit. She’d
get over it. At least she could feel better about the fact that she didn’t
sleep with
me
before I kicked her out.

I
picked up the phone and looked at it again.
I
considered calling Elly just to see what the fuck was so important.
I
decided that I didn’t want to hear it. It was probably
just babble about
me
being with Brooke. That was none
of her fucking business.
I
failed to see why people
had such a hard time minding their own shit and staying out of mine. Whatever
the fuck she wanted to say, she should have said it the last week, after she
finished getting
me
off.

I
got up and packed the pipe again and got a beer out of the fridge.
I
turned on some music and spent the rest of the evening
getting high. Women were too much fucking trouble sometimes.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

ELLY

Molly and
I
were working
with the technical crew, getting things set up for round six, when I saw
Tristan come in. I pretended
like
I was enthralled in
what the technical director was saying and I didn’t see him. He acted
like
he didn’t see me either—maybe he really didn’t, I don’t
know. He hadn’t called
me
back, and after the second
call that night, I gave up. The last thing
I
wanted
was to sound like a desperate female.
I
hadn’t given
up on the idea of pitching rehab to him, but I wasn’t going to get anywhere
with him when he was in such a
pissy
mood.

Tristan went into the practice room where the band
was. While
I
was working for the next couple of hours,
I could hear him practicing. It sounded good.
I
didn’t
doubt he’d nail it again.
I
worried about the drugs
and that he’d win this competition and then just blow it all up in smoke. Or
worse yet: kill himself. I had a
pretty good
idea that
Tristan was too infatuated with himself to commit suicide, but my late
boyfriend hadn’t killed himself on purpose.

Since
I
got out of rehab, I
tried to attend at least one meeting a week.
I
’ve
heard of about five others in the past two years that had ended up the same
way. It’s easy when you’re sober to wonder why the hell you’d entrust your very
life to some scum of the earth drug dealer. No one knew what was in that shit,
how powerful it was, or how
their
body would react to
it. It was a gamble every time. When you stayed high most of the time, you
didn’t care. All that mattered was getting through to the next high, no matter
what you had to do to make that happen.
 

I
knew that I wasn’t going to be right with myself until I at least tried to talk
to Tristan about it. If he decided to get clean, then great. If not, I had at
least tried and if something bad happened, as bad as I would
feel,
at least I wouldn’t have the guilt of inaction eating away at me.

When Tristan finally came out,
I
made a point of being near the door. He started to just brush past
me
and I said, “Tristan, wait, can we talk?” He kept
walking, looking straight ahead like
I
wasn’t even
there.

Shit!
I
couldn’t very well
yell out his name and attract the whole crew’s attention.
I
walked after him, briskly since he was taking big strides with his long legs.
I
was about two feet behind him when I whispered his name,
loud enough for him to hear me, through clenched teeth since he was pissing me
off. He finally turned around and
I
could see in his
eyes how pissed off he was.

“What?” he said, too loudly. “What the fuck is the emergency?”

I
took a chance that he would follow me and I stepped into the empty conference
room next to us. He sighed loud enough to make sure that
I
could hear him. It was almost a growl.
 
Then he stepped inside.
I
closed the door
behind him and again he said, “What? Get over yourself Elly.
Me
fucking Brooke has nothing to do with you. You’re not my wife or mother, and
you are certainly not my girlfriend.”
I
knew that he
was right, I wasn’t his girlfriend. It still felt like
I
’d
been kicked in the stomach.
I
was a fool to think that
I’d been anything to him other than an easy piece of ass.
I
was beginning to wonder if anyone was anything more to him than that.

“I don’t care about Brooke,”
I
lied. Just the thought of him fucking her made
my
stomach hurt. “I want to talk to you about the drugs, Tristan. I’m worried
about you.”

He laughed.
I
wasn’t
surprised.
I
assumed that’s the way he would react.

“Tristan
listen
to me,
please.
I
’m not coming out of left field with this.
I
’ve had the same issues myself.
I
went to rehab…it was a great place.
I
’ve been clean
for a couple of years now and I’m doing great.
I
feel
so much better. I stopped by there and I got some paperwork for you….”
I
held it out towards him. He was looking at
me
as if I was crazy, but I didn’t have to guess what he was
thinking, he told me.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?
I
barely know you. You were just a good fuck to
me
. All of a sudden you’re going and picking up rehab
paperwork for
me
? Are you under some kind of delusion
that we’re anything more than that?”

“No,”
I
said, fighting the
lump in my throat that was threatening to swell and turn into tears. “I don’t
think we’re anything more than that, Tristan. But, as a human being,
I
think I’m still doing the right thing. If I stood by and
didn’t even try and something
happened
to you…I
wouldn’t forgive myself.”

He laughed again and rubbing his hands across his
face he said, “Shit!
I
thought you were calling me to
hook up. This is crazy.
I
’ve been to rehab; it’s all a
bunch of crap.
I
don’t have a problem.
I
party because I like to party. It’s fun. When I want to
stop, if I want to stop, I will.”

“That’s what all addicts say, Tristan.”

He stepped towards
me
then
and I was afraid for a second because the look in his eyes was pure fury. “
Don’t
ever fucking call me that. Addicts are trash;
I
know addicts. I’m not addicted to shit and you need to get
your own life and stop worrying about mine.”

“I wasn’t trying to put you down, Tristan, or put a
label on you.
I
’m not worried about or interested in
who you screw.
I
just care about what happens to you.
Please take the papers and at least give it some thought.
I
’m
worried about what’s going to happen when you win this thing and have a million
dollars at your disposal. What happens when you have access to enough money for
one big, never-ending party? Do you feel like you have the impulse control to
handle that?”

He was looking at
me
, but I
had no idea if he was hearing me.
I
saw something
change in his eyes and I was hoping that meant he was absorbing some of what I
was saying.
I
was wrong though, he suddenly flashed me
one of his biggest and brightest grins and said, “Why don’t we go back to my
place and talk about it?”