You Really Got Me (Rock Star Romance #1) (30 page)

Stripped clean of his girl. She’d taken everything. All that was left in the damp shower stall was the small white bar of Dove soap that still held her lather.

Gone. His girl was gone.

*   *   *

Slater came back into the house after a five-mile run. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He lifted his T-shirt to swipe his face but found it soaked through. Wild frustration raged through him, and he slammed the door so hard it knocked a picture off the wall.

He tipped his head back. “Jesus Christ,” he shouted.

Anxiety spun in his chest, creating a wall of sound so great he couldn’t stand it.

He’d lost her. He’d fucking lost her.

Where had he gone wrong? He’d worked so hard to balance it all—the band, Piper, Emmie. He couldn’t take it anymore. Yeah, it was three in the morning, but he couldn’t bear her absence. He called her for the hundredth time.
Please, for God’s sake, just answer the damn phone.

“Yes?” She sounded exhausted.

“Emmie.” Relief flooded him. “Emmie. Fuck.”

She was quiet for too long. And then she took in a breath that sounded pained. “Listen, it’s been a long day. I need to sleep.”

“You moved out.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Can we talk tomorrow, please? I’m exhausted.”

He hated that she didn’t sound like his Emmie. That her voice held no emotion.

“No. I’ve been out of my mind trying to talk to you. I need to explain what happened.”

“No, really, you don’t. I know you didn’t sleep with Caroline.”

Thank God for that. “Of course not. Where are you?”

“Back in the city. My apartment. Good thing I never found someone to replace me.”

Shit. Fuck. He had to get her back. He
had
to. “Em, there’s nothing between me and Piper.”

“Stop. Just . . . stop. I’ve had a really crappy day and night, and I don’t want to get into it. Are you here? In the city?”

“No, I’m in Austin. I came home to talk to you. To be with you.” His hand cupped the back of his neck as he stared down at his running shoes. “I need you, Em. Please talk to me.”

“What’s to talk about? Piper licked off all the frosting on this relationship.”

Humor.
Thank God.
“We won’t let her, Em. We can’t let anyone do that to us.”

She didn’t respond, and in that moment Slater braced for an impact he knew was coming. His senses were heightened so sharply he could feel the air-conditioning drying the perspiration on his skin, smell a hint of her fragrance in the air, and hear the contraction of muscles in his throat as he swallowed.

“Slater, you know . . .” She exhaled. “Come on. You know we’re over.”

Heat exploded out of every molecule in his body. “The fuck we are. You’re hurt, and it’s my fault. I fucked up. I didn’t want to screw things up for the band, so I—”

“Slater. Stop. I’ve already talked to my friends in PR at Amoeba. I know their plan for you, and it’s exactly as I suspected. They want you to go with the whole VaughnLee thing. They love it.”

“No. No. I won’t do it.” He wouldn’t fake a romance, period. “Our success will come because we earn it, not because I pretend to date a musician.”

“It’ll catapult you guys to the top. Best plan ever. Piper’s good.
Really
good.”

“I won’t do it. You come first.”

“Yeah, found that out on my birthday.”

“Oh, fuck, Em.” He strode into the kitchen, wanting to throw both mugs out the window. “You know I wanted to be there.” He should’ve gone to Austin. His gut had told him to go.

“Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That was a stupid thing to say. We both know you needed to be at Piper’s party. I don’t even care about my birthday. Well, intellectually, I can say I don’t care about it. But emotionally? When Derek showed up and not you? It hurt. But that’s my problem, not yours.”

“Please don’t do this, Em. I love you.”

“Maybe you do. But those pictures showed me you’re in so much deeper with Piper than you realize. And you know what? From this point on, she’s the one you need. I just don’t have anything to offer you anymore.”

“
Offer
me? What the fuck? This isn’t some business arrangement. I
love
you.”

“Oh, cut it out.” Finally, she had some emotion in her voice. “God, we knew this was coming. From the moment you went on tour with Piper, we knew this thing between us would end. We just didn’t want to let go.”

“This
thing
between us?” A billion electrical impulses fired inside him at once, lighting him up in a blinding fury. In a blur of motion he grabbed a mug and hurled it through the kitchen window. Glass shattered, shards glittering in the moonlight.

“What happened?” She sounded anxious. “Slater, are you all right?”

He wasn’t all right. He was going out of his mind. His body shook in a cold sweat. “I want you back. I want to fix whatever I’ve done wrong and get you back.”

But he didn’t know how.

*   *   *

Dawn poured peach light into the living room. Too wired to sleep, Slater had finally collapsed on the couch an hour ago.

His mind would not slow down. But he didn’t want to head to the airport until he’d gotten at least a few hours of sleep. Unfortunately, until he saw her in person, he didn’t think sleep would happen.

His phone rang. Slater lunged for his cell, sending it flying off the coffee table. “Shit.” He dropped to his knees, snatched it up, and hit Answer. “Em?”

“No, it’s Derek.”

“What do you want?”

“I want your ass in Minneapolis.”

Fuck that
.

“Listen, I know it sucks, but you need to finish the tour. We have an obligation—
you
have an obligation to this band.”

“I’m going to New York. I have to talk to Em.”

“Jesus, Slater, leave her alone.”

“Never.”

“You want her back?”

He didn’t need to answer that.

“Then give her some space. Let her get a handle on her job situation. All you’ll do right now is push her further away. I know my sister, man. She needs to get her head on right.”

What Derek said cut right through the panic. Slater could feel his shoulders relaxing. It made sense. She needed time. The shit she’d seen on that blog? Yeah, she just needed some time. He didn’t know how to give her that, but he would. He had to.

“And you need to finish up this tour.”

He sat up. “Performing is the last thing on my mind. And I don’t want to be anywhere near Piper Lee.”

“I’ll keep her away from you. You don’t have to talk to her, don’t have to be anywhere near the greenroom. I swear I’ll keep her away from you.”

“You can’t. It’s a bus. I can’t do it, man. I can’t be anywhere near that calculating bitch.”

“Slater. Stop it. Look,
we
didn’t do this. Okay? You did it. Remember our rule? No girlfriends? This is why.”

“Jesus, Derek. She’s not a girlfriend. She’s my fucking heart.”

Derek blew out a breath into the receiver. “Shit, man. You’re killing me here. I’m sorry it went down this way. Dude, I am. But right now you’ve got a job to do. And you can’t let us down.”

Everything Slater’d done, he’d done for the band. And look what it’d gotten him.

Still, he knew Derek was right. Irwin’s continued radio silence allowed the guys to hang on to a single thread of hope. Slater couldn’t do anything to take it all away from them.

He thought of Piper and his stomach clenched. “You keep that bitch away from me.”

*   *   *

Every time exhaustion came to pull him under, he’d remember. Adrenaline would spurt into his veins, bringing him fully awake, and then he’d lie there obsessing over her. Why had she given up on them so easily? He understood she’d been upset, but why wasn’t she fighting for them?

She couldn’t have moved on from this—from them. Not possible.

Okay, show time. Slater rolled out of his bunk, head thick, body sluggish. He knew his performance sucked, but he only had two more nights. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Hope thundered in his chest—Emmie?—but when he pulled it out, he saw a text from Derek.

Just got the word from Amoeba. Irwin’s done with us. No contract.

Shit. Fuck. How had he fucked everything up so colossally?

He wrote him back.
Reason?

He’s “turned his attention to pressing issues with other bands.”

Hell.
But he knows I didn’t fuck Caroline.

Yep. Forget it. We’ll go to another label. Get ur ass out here. Sound check.

And that was the thing Slater couldn’t understand—how cool Derek was being. All of the guys had accepted his unwillingness to play the fake romance card. He didn’t think they agreed with him—he was pretty sure they’d go along with it if they were in his situation. But they understood he needed success based on his talent. Not because he was Piper’s arm candy.

He hated that he’d let them down so badly.

He headed down the stairs, his body reacting violently to the sight of feminine legs covered in black leggings, the toenails a bright bloodred. True to his word, Derek had kept Piper away from him. Other than passing her backstage a few times, he hadn’t come into contact with her at all.

Until now. Their gazes caught, and a shitstorm of anger kicked up inside him. His fingers curled around the handrail, and he squeezed tightly.

She blocked his way, her expression holding a hint of challenge.

“What do you want?” He sounded menacing. Good. He felt menacing. She’d ruined his life and gotten away scot-free.

“I want to know what your fucking problem is.” Her lip curled. “We could have had it all.”

He ignored her, shifting sideways to get past her.

“Did you know Irwin was going to sign me, too?”

He stopped, eyed her warily. Let the words sink in. “No.”

“Bullshit.” She shoved him. “Your stupid girlfriend works for him.”

“You’re with Flow. How could he sign you?”

“My contract’s up.”

“Wait, you set up that whole fiasco to get Emmie out of the picture and turn us into an overnight sensation—and you used
Irwin Ledger’s
daughter? Are you stupid?”

Hard as she tried to hold on to her composure, he could see the fear in her eyes. “Of course not. I didn’t set anybody up. I turned the situation to my advantage.”

“You sure as fuck did.”

She obviously didn’t appreciate his sarcasm. “I didn’t take any of those pictures, nor did I have anything to do with which ones went to print. I just
arranged
the evening.”

He shook his head. “You arranged it brilliantly.”

“No, you know what’s brilliant? VaughnLee. That’s brilliant. And all you had to do was play the part for a couple of months. And then we’d both have gotten signed by Amoeba, our careers would’ve been directed by Irwin Ledger, and you could’ve had all the pretty little girlfriends you wanted.” She leaned toward him. “It’s not too late for you to get your head out of your ass and play along. I can get us back on track. I can still make it happen.”

“Yeah, see, that’s the difference between you and me. I don’t play games.” He shoved between her and the wall, relieved when he cleared her.

“Why? How does it hurt anybody?”

“It hurt Emmie.”

She rolled her eyes. “There are a million Emmies out there, you moron. And you can have every one of them. Right now, you need me. I can take you all the way.”

“But, see, I don’t want you.” He drew in a breath to force himself to calm down. “And if it’s a choice between having you and nothing at all?”

He walked away.

*   *   *

For some reason, the guys were being really nice to him. Even though he’d killed their dreams, they still went out of their way to make him coffee or throw his clothes in with their loads in the washing machine. They still invited him out.

He hated constantly rejecting them, so tonight he’d gone out with them. Not that he’d stay long, but he couldn’t keep blowing them off while they kept being so damn patient.

He hadn’t written a song in weeks. He felt useless, old, and . . . well, he
ached
.

The guys sat around a table in the club, a girl on each lap, others loitering around them, waiting for an opening. Tiana and Ben had their hands all over each other, and Slater wondered if his friend had learned a lesson from what had happened to him and Emmie. Maybe Ben would finally appreciate what he had in Tiana.

“Hey, handsome,” a female voice said, sidling up to him.

The woman looked familiar. Blond, big tits . . . blah, blah, blah. “Not tonight.”

She made to sit on his lap, but he blocked her. “So, when are you guys going to play here again? We miss you.”

He couldn’t do this. Nothing felt right. He got up, taking his glass with him. “Excuse me.” Heading to the bar, the press of bodies made him feel claustrophobic. He’d never felt so much unrelenting pain. Where was she? What was she doing right then?

He wondered if Irwin had finally promoted her. If so, had she found the happiness she sought?

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked. A new one. An older guy.

The usual bartender stepped in, set Slater’s usual beer on the counter. “I got this. How’s it going, Slater?”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Hey, you guys gonna play here soon or what? Been a while.”

“Takin’ a break.” Slater glanced back to the table. Derek looked up at him with concern. After a moment, he got up and walked over.

“Glad you came out with us tonight, dude.” Derek slapped Slater on the back.

He turned away from the bar, using his body to block the bartender and patrons around them. “Why are you being so cool with me? I fucked everything up. Again.”

“You did?” Derek held Slater’s gaze, steady, strong. “What’d you do, exactly?”

Irritation sparked the fuse of anger that had smoldered in his chest. “What are you talking about? I lost the record contract.” He nodded toward the band’s table. “Back to square one. That is completely on me.”

“What did you do?”

“Piper—”

“Yeah, I know what Piper did. What did
you
do?”

“Irwin won’t even talk to us, man. He’ll never get over that goddamn picture.”