The Redemption (24 page)

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Authors: S. L. Scott

Tags: #Contemporary

BOOK: The Redemption
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“Surprised you’re talking to me.”

“It was only a yep. Don’t get your hopes too high.” I roll my eyes.

“I’ll take one word over the silent treatment.”

When I look up, he has the most sincere smile on his face. He’s hard to resist. “Anyway, I thought you weren’t talking to me after our fight, so we’re even.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Let’s not get too deep. Haven’t had my first cup yet.”

He chuckles lightly. “Maybe later then.”

I shrug and looked toward the baked goods display. “Yeah, maybe later.”

A guy in line starts saying, “Dude… dude. Oh shit. Dude.”

I see him pointing at Dex and Dex instantly tenses, so I offer, “How about I buy you a coffee this time and I’ll see you at the meeting?”

“Deal.” He steps out of line quickly and hurries away before the fan can fully comprehend that he was standing next to greatness.

“Dude,” the guy says again, this time into his phone. “He was right in front of me…”

I finally reach the front of the line and order the coffees. I decide to buy a to-go container for the guys just in case they haven’t had any. When I reach my room, I struggle opening the door with my hands full, but Kaz shows up and helps.

We go inside and I situate the coffee in the living room portion of the suite near the couch. He settles in and closes his eyes. I let him rest. I know how touring tears you down physically, remembering the old days when I toured with Cory.

Everyone arrives on time, some not as happy with the ten o’clock meeting time, but it is what it is. And what it is, is business we must get done. I go over the proposals with them and they decide which ones to move forward on and which ones to eliminate.

As a group, they seem satisfied, so I am. When they leave, I start making calls and getting contracts sent over. I log onto the latest batch of paparazzi photos taken of the band members that their press agent sent over. It’s the usual boring stuff which I like to see. Nothing salacious. Nothing newsworthy in their personal lives. These are the kinds of pics that don’t get bought by tabloids or blogs.

But when I scroll to the fourth page, I see me—me and Chad Spears from our kind-of-sort-of date.
Shit!
My heart starts pounding and my hands start shaking while I reach for my phone. I immediately call Rory, the band’s public relations agent.

He picks up on the first ring. “I’ve been expecting this phone call.”

“Can you kill the pics?”

“Too late. They were sold to two sites last night. That’s when I found out about them.”

“Make them go away, Rory.” I beg, “Please.”

“Rochelle, you should have given me a heads up. I could have done something then, but now, it’s too late. I’m sorry. I can look into the story they’ll post with it and try to use some tactics to get them to go easy, but it’s Chad Spears. He sells magazines. He gets people clicking online. You being a widow of a famous musician and with him gets
even
more
hits.”

“I can’t… These photos will upset people. Cory’s Mother for one.”

“And Dex.”

The way he says it so casually as if the whole world knows our secret makes me cringe. “What do you know about that?”

“Everything. That story of you kissing at the bar—another time you should have forewarned me.”

“I’m new to this. Cut me some slack.”

“Slacks been cut. Now it’s time to play hardball. I’m gonna send you an email that I usually send my clients when I first bring them on. It’s how to stay out of the headlines when you don’t want to make headlines. I suggest you memorize it if you don’t want the attention. If you do want it, I can help you out there as well, but I’ll need some forewarning next time.”

“I don’t want the attention. How much time do we have before this story comes out?”

“Less than twenty-four hours I would say, but probably closer to an hour. The online blogs are fast with this kind of news and it’s already a few days old.”

Looking out my room window, I stare at a nearby building that’s blocking the sun, casting a shadow over the hotel. Very ominous. Very fitting. I sigh, dropping my head down.

“Hey Rochelle, I’ll do my best,” he says, his voice sympathetic. “I’ve already got calls into them.”

“Thank you, Rory. I appreciate it.”

Shit! What have I done?
I need to tell Dex before he hears about it.

A hard knock on the door foreshadows things to come. I stand slowly, the weight of a thousand waves pulling me back, begging me not to answer. I have to though. I peek through the peephole and my fears are confirmed. When I open the door, Dex walks in and straight for the window. His body is stiff as he paces back in forth. I remain standing near the door. “Hi,” I say, a fake happy tone failing me.

His eyes hit me like daggers when he asks, “Do you want to talk about anything?”

Cowering a bit, I reply, “Not really.”

Turning his back on me, he nods and stares out the window. His voice is alarmingly calm like lava boiling at the base of a volcano. “I only asked you not to date one person.” When he looks at me again, he narrows his eyes and asks, “Do you remember who that one person was?”

It’s not a question and we both know it. “Chad Spears,” I answer begrudgingly.

“God damn it, Rochelle.” He closes his eyes as if he can calm himself by not seeing me. When he opens them again, he shakes his head. Instead of saying anything else, he comes toward me, closing the gap in a few long strides. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps going and leaves the room. The disappointment I feel is abruptly halted as the door flies open before it has time to latch. His body is pressing against mine and he kisses me. I push back but he holds tightly to him. And just as fast as he kissed me, he stops. Brushing his lips against mine, he whispers, “That was the last time I will ever kiss you.”

And then he leaves me standing there breathless and agitated.

 

 

Here I stand, just seconds separating us, in shock as my door slams closed, automatically locking with a thud.
The last kiss he’ll ever give me?
The last kiss
he’ll
ever give me!

His egotism is exasperating.

The nerve of him swooping in here and kissing
me
like I was the one who wanted it. He took it without my permission. It was him…
clearly
. And now I’ve been rendered speechless while my lips continue to tingle even after he’s gone.

The one thing I didn’t count on when I was planning this trip was how I would feel about Dex. Sure, I’d let a million scenarios play out in my head, but they were ones based on harsher realities. When I saw him, all of those thunderous emotions weakened. I had somehow forgotten how handsome he was or that he has this innate ability to win people over with just his smile. The boy is gifted and no heart stands a chance against him. Obviously, I’m no different. Compound that with his nerve to threaten me with kisses or lack thereof and my mood sours.

Frustrated, I fist my hands and go to my computer to look up flights.
Screw this!
I don’t need this added headache, this added heartache. Tommy can get any additional contracts signed. For my own sanity, I need to get the hell out of here.

A knock matching the last one sounds out and I stomp my way over. I glare at the back of the wood door gathering my anger together and ready to direct it at Dex. I swing the door wide open and spew, “How dare you—”

“How dare I what?” Johnny asks, his eyebrows knitted together.

“Oh!” I lean, easing back. “Hi. I thought you were someone else.”

“Clearly.”

I roll my eyes when I hear that damn word again.

He walks in like he owns the place. “Are we gonna keep pretending like no one knows what’s going on between you and Dex?”

Exhaling heavily, I reply with sarcasm and a tilted grin, “Sounds good to me.”

He sits at the desk, kicking his feet up next to my laptop. With a glance over at the screen that shows the different airline options, he asks, “Going somewhere?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Tomorrow.”

Shaking my head, I say, “No, tonight, Johnny.”

“You can’t tonight. I don’t have anyone to eat dinner with.”

“You have the band, Tommy, thirty stagehands, fans, radio DJ’s, press—”

He chuckles. “Yeah, sure. I’ll call up the press and ask if anyone wants to have dinner with me.”

Lowering his feet, he leans forward and looks down. I sit on the edge of the bed, still trying to calm down, and wait. I’m not sure if I’m going to get a lecture or what, but I let him lead the conversation. After a minute or so, he says, “I’d like to have dinner with you and talk.” His voice is softer and sincere, more Jack Dalton than Johnny Outlaw. “Will you have dinner with me?”

Our eyes meet and my anger starts to dissipate. “Just like old times. Almost.” Cory’s not here.

“Yeah,” he says, knowing exactly what I mean. “Almost.”

Always a sucker for his charming side, I guess I’m staying the night. “I will. But I don’t want to talk about Dex, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

 

“So when did you and Dex start up?” Johnny asks right before taking a bite of his steak.

I set my fork down, but continue chewing the bite in my mouth before speaking. “You said we wouldn’t talk about him.”

Pointing his fork at me, he says, “No, you said you didn’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about what’s going on with you. The band knows. Hell, everyone on the tour knows. You guys can’t hide your relationship for shit. Like, you’re the worst secret lovers that ever were. I mean—”

“All right. All right. Stop it. First of all, we are not in a relationship. Secondly, we are not
secret
lovers.”

“I know. That’s my point. You suck at hiding these things.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. As much as he’s frustrating, he’s kind of funny too. “Stop teasing. We aren’t lovers at all.”

“Have you had sex?”

“Johnny!”

“You’ve had sex with Dex.” His face scrunches in disgust. “And besides that rhyming, gross by the way. I’m totally judging you for that.”

“You sound like Holli.”

He shrugs, not ashamed. God love him.

As he drinks his beer, I say, “Look, I’ll tell you what we’re not. We’re not lovers, secret or otherwise. We’re not friends because we can’t seem to do that without other stuff getting in the way—”

“Like your attraction for each other?”

“Settle down, Mr. Quicky with the Comebacks. No, I meant all of this baggage both of us are lugging around.”

“Maybe it’s time to lighten the load, Rochelle.”

“I can’t. I’m held to different standards. Impossible standards.”

“Not by me. I don’t like the idea of you and Dex. I mean Dex can’t do better than you, so I see why he’s in it. But as for you, Dex is pretty much rock bottom. So what’s your excuse?”

I look around the restaurant. It’s a traditional steakhouse and dim, candles on the tables, and us in a booth in the corner. I spin my wine glass around a few times before lifting it and taking a sip. He’s stopped eating and is waiting for my reply, but I’m not sure what to say, so I go with the truth, tired of hiding my real feelings. “I’m lonely.”

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