Rock Dirty (Rock Candy #2) (18 page)

Except for the battle scar on my calf, I was unmarred, but inside I was a mass of scars and hurt, of pulsating pain seeking to push everyone else away. But I already knew it didn’t always have to be this way, because Tucker had broken through my pain and made me feel good about myself. He’d believed in me. That proved I could do better, and I
would
do better.

I strode out of the bathroom and got dressed in my red dress because I hadn’t bothered to pick up any new clothes before checking in. As I slid it on, the garment felt different today, as if the dress was a costume. It was gorgeous. There was no doubt of that. It was worth every bit of the three thousand dollars I’d paid for it. But it felt like exactly what it was—dress up.

It was all about the scared little girl trying to exude the sexiness and the confidence she’d never really felt. I was surprised that Tucker had liked me in the look as much as he had. Couldn’t he see what a ruse it all was?

But things could no longer be just about Tucker.

He deserved far, far better than me. He didn’t need to be the fireman rushing in to save me every time I set my life on fire, which seemed to be every damn day with me. I wished we could be together because I really believed I was half-way in love with him. That maybe if I weren’t such a mess he could learn to love me back.

“You have to love yourself first, you dumbass,” I said out loud.

I giggled then. I
had
been a dumbass. I couldn’t get a guy to fix me, even if poor Tucker had tried and even if Hermes was still up for the job. I had to work on me, on liking myself. On figuring out who I really was, when I wasn’t trying to win the approval of others.

Starting with footwear.

It all led back to shoes, didn’t it?

There was no way I was putting on those ridiculous gladiator heels. It was crazy. I mean, no freaking wonder all the magazines and critics had panned my stuff. They were nuts and they were uncomfortable as hell. For the first time in years it was like I was actually seeing my designs for what they were—that giant middle finger to the fashion establishment, especially Anna Lorenz. But that wasn’t fun for anyone. It wasn’t something the rest of the fashion world could dig and, frankly, having worn them for a few years, they weren’t anything a normal woman could actually wear out to work or on a date.

I needed to go all the way back to the damn drawing board.

Shaking my head, I rummaged around the suite until I found my cell phone.

My show was in a few days, but I needed to get an extension as long as I could, until the last day of the two-week event. I had a plan, but I’d be working around the clock to pull it all off now.

“Hello, Hermes?”

“Thank God, Dominique! Where you have been? Are you alright? What were you thinking?”

“Nothing good,” I muttered. “But I’m fine,” I said, stopping him from getting into things more deeply. “I’m working through everything, but I do have something huge I need. I want my show moved to the last slot.”

“You know that’s highly unusual.”

“But not impossible.”

“Of course but if this is all so you can go on another bender with that rock star of yours, I’m not going to sign off on it.”

“We broke up, Hermes. This isn’t about him.”

Hermes perked up at that. “That was wise of you, Dominique.”

“It was the best thing for him, Hermes. But as for my show, I need a little more time, Hermes.”

“For what?”

“To grow up. I’m going to show the shoes I want to, the ones I was too scared to display before. If this is the only solo show I get in Paris, I’m going to be honest about my art. Will you help me?”

After only a slight hesitation, Hermes said, “I will.”

“Then let’s get to work.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Nikki

“I don’t understand, mademoiselle,” Cristobal asked.

He was a chubby man with thinning grey hair and a distinguished mustache. He was also one of the best leather sewers in the industry. I might come up with designs, but he and his team were the ones who created my vision en masse. They’d worked for months on my line for my show, but now Hermes had pulled every string he could and had succeeded in moving my show to the last slot of the fashion event. I had to hope it would buy me enough time. Based on the bugged out eyes that Cristobal was giving me, maybe I was asking for the impossible.

Too bad cobblers’ elves weren’t real because I could really use some right now.

“No, you heard me right. I know it sounds impossible, but I’ve had a complete revelation about my line. If you can only get ten new designs ready with all your assistants, that’s fine. These are the ten that will be the cornerstone of my show.”

“But we’ve been working on
dozens
of designs for months,” he pointed out, as if we hadn’t been working on those lines together, cheek by jowl.

Maybe he thought I’d gone nuts. I couldn’t blame him, maybe I had. It wasn’t just unorthodox. What I was asking should be impossible, but succeeding in getting my show pushed out was a good sign. I had to change my life, and that meant pursuing what I’d once loved, designing shoes in a way that was right for me. And what better way to do that than putting it all out there for the critics, including my mom, to see. I was going to do the designs I actually loved, using years’ worth of sketches I had shoved into drawers for too long because I was afraid they wouldn’t fit with my brand.

“I think I can call in some extra help for the week. It will be horrendously costly, and we can’t get through more than eight.”

“I need all ten.”

Christobal bit his lower lip and frowned back at me. “I’ll get you ten but only because these designs are excellent and the best thing anyone’s brought me in ages. I’ve longed to make bold yet classic designs again. You’re not the only trendsetter out there who has made me sew things I hated.”

“Ouch,” I said, giggling a little and tossing my red hair over my shoulder. “I’ll try not to take offense at that.”

“You shouldn’t. Because I’m excited about your masterpieces here. I will do my best, Dominique. I’m honored you brought your Renaissance to me. In fact—”

My cell started blaring then, and I had to grab it fast out of my purse. I frowned apologetically at him. I had to check in case it was one of the millions of other assistants or vendors that I was working with for my show. Also, I’d promised a still extremely freaked out Hermes that I’d answer as soon as he called. He was still upset with me for what I’d pulled at the Eiffel Tower, and I could understand that. However, my heart started beating faster when I saw who was actually on the other end.

Tucker Benning
.

He’d been back in New York for a few days. I knew that because I’d seen a photo of him in Central Park taken with his friend Liam on the internet. Seeing it, knowing that he was now thousands of miles away from me, had been a punch in the gut. I’d almost been laid low again, but I’d pulled myself together.

But why was he calling me now?

To check in, probably.

Because Tucker Benning might be a cocky rock star, but he was also a sweet, caring man. It would be the right thing to do—call on crazy Nikki Lorenz and make sure she was doing okay. I was. Or at least I would be. And he needed to get on with his life.

I had to let him off the hook, so he could put my cray cray behind him.

Frowning apologetically at Cristobal, I held up my index finger. “I’m really sorry. Can you give me about five minutes? I just need to take this call. I’m truly sorry.”

I didn’t have the heart to screen out Tucker and focus on work entirely. I was terrified if I didn’t answer that he’d take my actions as a slight on him. Like I blamed him somehow when I don’t. I was finally taking full responsibility and I needed to keep doing it.

Cristobal nodded and started eyeing my designs more thoroughly. “Of course. You’re the client after all, mademoiselle.”

I nodded and hurried back to the entry hall and away from prying ears.

“Hey, uh, it’s me,” I said once I clicked on the line. I hoped he didn’t change his mind just hearing my voice and then hang up on me. “You did want to reach me, right? I’m not making you feel like this was all a mistake already?”

Tucker laughed sedately on the other end. It was a little bit more than a forced, polite laugh, but not by much. “Nik, it’s good to hear your voice.”

“Why?” I blurted, even as I closed my eyes and wanted to slam my forehead against a wall. I wasn’t being smooth in the least. God, how dense could a girl be. “I mean, I didn’t expect to hear from you. I never would have blamed you if you never called me again. Hell, I wouldn’t have called me again, not at all.”

“Look, let me talk. I have to get this out first,” he said, and his tone was kind and soft. “I was wrong to leave.”

“What?” I asked, not even sure I’d heard him correctly. Oh God, maybe I was having some weird hallucination or seizure. Everything he was saying was far more than I deserved, especially after how much I’d whipped him back and forth and confused the hell out of him. “I don’t understand.”

“Look, I was hurt and upset and confused, otherwise I never would have let you walk out of my hotel room. I never would have gotten on a plane to New York. I’m here now, but I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you, too,” I whispered, blinking fast to hold back my tears.

“Yeah? Because well, I talked to Liam. I told him my concerns, that I want to write songs, that I want to sing, and he’s on board. You helped me gather the courage to do that, Nikki.”

“That’s not true, you would have done it eventually. You go after what you want, Tucker, even if you sometimes falter.”

As soon as I said the words, I held my breath. Then he said, “I want you, Nikki. I want to come back to you. I’m going to buy a ticket back to Paris, and then we can talk, okay?”

For a few second I couldn’t breathe. I felt hot tears sting my cheeks, and I couldn’t believe any of this was happening. It was everything I’d wanted, someone stable and kind who loved me, who really supported me, and even though Tucker hadn’t said he loved me, that’s how I interpreted what he was saying. Tucker was the first good guy I’d had in my life who seemed to believe in me.

But he deserved better. I’d realized that the morning I’d stumbled out of his hotel room, and hearing the warmth and genuine concern in his voice even after all I’d put him through just confirmed it.

“You don’t have to come back, Tucker. Not right now.”

“Nik, you don’t need to test me. I’m coming back, I promise.”

“No, you were right. You were the dose of truth and tough love I needed. You made a great point. I need to get help. I have a lot of issues that I haven’t been dealing with. But I will. First, I’m redoing my show. I pushed it to the very last possible slot at the fashion event. I don’t want to be Dominique Lorenz: Designer Out To Shock. I want to be Nikki, and I want to create the fashions I really care about, the classic lines and the substance with the pizazz and the flair.”

“I…that’s great, but we can still be together.”

“No, Tucker. Not yet. I need to get help first. Maybe then I’ll deserve you. I hope you’ll wait for me, that you’ll want to be with me when I’m better, but I’m so lost, and I have to find myself again before I can be anything for you. Who I find might not be who you want, so you don’t have to make any promises until you meet the best possible me I can be.”

He laughed again. “If you’re willing to get help, then you already are the best possible you, Nikki. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

“I hope so,” I added, scared shitless. The life of a rock star was far more fast-paced and exciting than even that of a designer. Tucker really could mean that he’d wait for me, but then in a month or two he could be in Prague or Vienna or London and see an adoring fan with a perfect figure and start thinking, “Nikki who?”

But I had to get better for myself. There was no question I loved Tucker now; I was going to work on loving me.

“Au revoir, Tucker. I hope I’ll see you soon.”

“Nikki, wait—”

I clicked off the call. I didn’t have the strength to stay on the line. If I did talk for any longer, I was positive that I was going to break down and beg him to come back to Paris. I had to be strong.

But I also had an idea, something that would give Tucker a little piece of me while he waited for me to get better. Something to show just how much hope and strength he’d given me. It didn’t matter whether my show flopped or the critics loved me. Either way, I’d be okay.

Shoving my phone in my pants’ pocket, I rushed into Cristobal’s main office. I was going to add a few designs to Cristobal’s workload. Designs for the man who’d inspired me: Tucker.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Tucker

After talking to Nikki, I spent over a week in New York, longer than I’d intended because Wes and Corbin had come for a visit. But in between rebonding with my band mates, I kept up with news about Nikki, and there was plenty of it. Sites mentioned how wild child Nikki Lorenz had moved her show to the absolute last spot of the Paris fashion event. Many made snide digs, saying she’d gotten cold feet or had messed up in some way. But I knew what she was planning. Nikki was going to buck all the pressure she’d been under and abandon all the extreme designs (or most of them). She needed all the time she could get if she was going to get her best stuff up and ready for the show.