Twisted Rhythm: A Dark Rockstar Romance (Twisted Rhythm Series Book 1) Read online

  “What about this?” he looked at her hopefully as he held up another long shirt. “This’ll cover your butt.”

  Amanda moaned, leaned forward in her chair and covered her face with her hands and cried.

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe this.”

  “It’s OK,” Zack attempted to soothe her. “We’ll find ya something, honest.”

  But she cried and cried. Not about the clothes. Not about her lack of rationality in coming to Portland. Not about the predatory, blood-sucking photographers and bottom feeders clamoring to document her heartache. Not about her show’s debut that she couldn’t possibly be ready for in less than a week. But about Jake, and how bad things were fucked up once again, and about how much she loved him.

  “Wait, I got an idea,” Zack laughed and grabbed his cell.

  Curled in her chair, Amanda listened as he called Billy, their drummer, and told him to find the babes from Washington who’d partied last night and to get some of their clothes. Jesus, Amanda thought, not even the groupies get thrown out naked, at least not most of the time. She’d plummeted to the ranks of road buffet, and even here she was second tier. I’ll never live through this, her mind screamed. She thought about calling Kat but didn’t bother. What the hell could she do, so far away? And if she heard just one “I told you so” from anybody she’d implode.

  “Want a beer?”

  “I want a flight.”

  Zack handed her his cell but Amanda shook her head. She had her phone but arranging a flight was just too much for her to handle at the moment.

  “Do it for me,” she said. “I just can’t right now.”

  How could she be so stupid? Asking a rockstar to make immediate travel arrangements on his own was ludicrous. Had he even wiped his own ass in years?

  “Uh,” Zack was bewildered, “what fuckin’ airline?”

  Knowing no one else in the band or entourage would oblige, she told him to call the concierge.

  “Do they book flights?” he asked.

  She really didn’t know. Kat or someone else had been handling her own travel arrangements and day to day business affairs for years.

  “They will for you,” she guessed, and she was right.

  She could barely contain herself, making small talk until the clothes arrived. Billy brought them and through he and Zack’s hushed murmurings at the door she could only make out I didn’t bring ‘em, I want no part ’a this and Get her the fuck outa here. Zack returned, grinning.

  “Here ya go. These won’t look too bad!”

  They looked hideous. Walmart specials no doubt, and gaudy too. Looking at herself in the mirror - disheveled hair, smeared makeup and Oh Christ, she hadn’t noticed the purplish-red hickey on her neck! - she’d be a shoe in for cover of Cheap Tramp Magazine. Lucky there wasn’t one. But with her luck, they’d create it in her honor.

  She tugged at the black leggings (who wears these types of pants outside the house anyway?) and yanked the black tank top down as far as it would go to cover the pants. Yellow and red sparkled along the low neckline. Nice fucking touch. She took so long in the bathroom that Zack yelled through the door twice to ask her if she was all right.

  “No!” she screamed the second time. “Far from it!”

  He’s keeping his composure, I’ll give him that, she thought after she stepped back into the suite’s bedroom area. Not even a snicker.

  “That looks OK.”

  “You’re a bad liar. Got another shirt?”

  “Uh, yeah...guess you’d better,” now he smiled.

  She shook her head vigorously at every tee and muscle shirt he held up.

  “Got any real shirts?” she laughed.

  He pulled white and red and gray men’s shirts from his suitcase. She grabbed the bright red one and retreated into the bathroom.

  “Better?” she asked stepping back out.

  “Much...but uh...fuck!”

  “What?” Amanda asked, perturbed.

  “There’s tons ’a press outside, way more than normal and a whole shitload of fans with cell phones and cameras. I wondered why there were more than usual till I saw you...” he caught himself and continued, “they’ll be crap all over the papers and on the net.”

  “So?” Amanda questioned, “You’re not the one lookin’ stupid with these leggings.”

  “Jake might recognize my red shirt.”

  Amanda’s heart jumped. Her pain, until now, had seceded to a dull, heavy ache in her chest, an aggressive cancer that defied all hope of cure. She pictured Jake slamming the brunette, his long wild locks cascading across her back as he nailed her from behind. She shuddered.

  “Take this one,” Zack held out the white shirt. “You look great in white anyway.”

  She grabbed it, spun and stormed back into the bathroom. She couldn’t blame Zack, really, for being paranoid. Jake was the machine driving Steel Demon, the rock icon, the legend and incomparable force powering the band’s success. Without him there was no band. And he’d go absolutely ballistic if he discovered Zack helped her. Not only Zack’s career, but quite possibly his life, were at stake.

  “Let me guess, I look like a virgin in white,” Amanda tried to lighten the mood as she appeared from the bathroom once again.

  Zack laughed genuinely, shaking his head, “Ah, don’t know about virgin but white becomes ya.”

  “If you say I look great in this get up I’ll kick your ass.”

  They both laughed, sitting down.

  “Seriously though, thanks Zack. I’m so grateful, really. You’ve always been the only person around Jake who’s ever been nice to me.”

  He chuckled, “The only person with a heart.”

  “You read Heart of Steel?” Amanda was shocked.

  “Shhh,” he leaned forward, emphasizing covert operations, “Around here, the walls have ears.”

  “Not as thin as you think, I assure you,” she said sharply.

  He looked puzzled.

  “Or else we’d hear Jake banging the piece of meat I saw slither into his room.”

  Zack’s mouth dropped open.

  “Then...then where were ya comin’ from?” he asked. “It’s none ‘a my business but I guess I just assumed...”

  “Jake’s room.”

  Zack stood and paced nervously for a second, then turned towards her.

  “I don’t think I even wanna hear this,” but he looked open for explanations, and sympathetic.

  “Then don’t. It’s really not your problem anyway, is it?” Amanda slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this Zack. Forgive me.”

  He sat down quickly across from her, on the bed as she remained seated in her chair, and took her hand.

  “Ah fuck, I feel so bad for ya. I don’t wanna get involved but fuck, I know Jake can be an asshole sometimes.”

  “Yeah,” she laughed bitterly. “Just a little bit, huh?”

  He sighed, “Ya better get goin’ to the airport.”

  He actually looked pained. No wonder Jake’s always hated Zack around me, Amanda thought. He’s so sincere and so unassumingly nice. Even so, she marveled at the fact that Jake was jealous of any guy. She’d done pretty well everything to assure him he was superior, except assert he walked on water. But, she smirked internally, guess she’d done that too, in a ridiculously shameless amount of ways.

  “Is there anything else I can do for ya before ya go?” Zack asked.

  And that was when it hit her. Like a nuclear bomb.

  “Yes,” she smiled, leaning closer.

  She wasn’t surprised when she missed her plane.

  It wasn’t that she’d planned it, or that she was some evil, sociopathic bitch scheming to put Zack in jeopardy. It was more of a need, no, an insatiable hunger, she decided later, to exact excruciating, irrevocable punishment and revenge on Jake. Her pain and anger were without boundaries, snuffing out all reason, all acumen and all rational fear of consequences.

  It’s just that the situation presented itse
lf, Amanda rationalized later, and her agony had been so tremendous it obliterated each and every other realistic alternative and thought. It certainly wasn’t because she’d ever had the minutest romantic affection for or attraction to Zack. And it definitely wasn’t because she’d mistakenly thought he’d be good in bed. He was anything but. What he was, was reasonably easy for a woman of her looks and wiles to get there.

  She leaned even closer, till her breath heated his lips, and looked him beguilingly in the eyes. Perfectly imitating determined, hot, and ready. Although nowhere near as breathtaking as Jake, Zack was Steel Demon’s bassist and no stranger to groupies and women’s advances. Then again, Amanda came on so strong not even a seventeen year old boy could have misinterpreted. He jumped backwards and clambered off the bed.

  “Whoa! What the fuck are ya doin’?”

  She gave it her best smile, “You get one guess...” and melted towards him.

  Cupped his face gently in her hands before he jumped away.

  “Relax,” he croaked, “You’re just upset.”

  “You bet I am.”

  His shirt came off her. Then her bra.

  “OK, OK...stop this now,” he said, but his eyes said continue.

  Except for Jake, Amanda always got what she wanted. And right now, she wanted Zack with all she was worth. Well, not really. She wanted to alleviate the excruciating agony that engulfed her, the unrelenting, smothering betrayal scraping at her soul. What she craved with every fiber of her being was Jake but since he wasn’t possible at the moment, or maybe ever, in his stead she lusted for revenge with all her body and soul. Despite her growing guilt and rising trepidation, she cornered Zack at the door. My God, was he actually going to run? Wrapping her arms around his neck, inwardly cringing, she gently kissed his chest, stroked his long wavy blonde hair and gazed up into his startled eyes.

  “Aren’t you sick of cowering in Jake’s shadow?” she whispered softly. “Aren’t you tired of living life by his rules?”

  He pushed her gently backwards and stepped away, pressing his back against the door. How loyal was he, they both wondered. She slithered closer. Ran her finger slowly down his chest, his stomach, and looked down, her fingers playing with the waistband of his jeans. Never in a million years had he pictured this happening, never in a billion years had he pictured his response.

  “Fuck Amanda, what about Jake?! He’ll hear us!”

  So much for loyalty in rock n’ roll.

  Chapter 8

  God, how I hate Rachel, Katelyn stewed as she yanked her Calais chair underneath her and settled in to face her computer and the mound of paperwork, screening and adept discarding that awaited her. Lately, looking around at the plush surroundings of her quarters in Amanda’s house did nothing to quiet her mind or ease her thoughts from the unwelcome reality that basically she wasn’t much more than a glorified servant, extremely well paid, well looked after and trusted but one of Amanda’s shielding attendants nonetheless.

  Her familiar remonstrances arose - I’m her best friend, long-time confidante - but invariably did little to satiate her. Friends had things in common, activities and beliefs and values they shared. Friendship was a reciprocal relationship, each giving while the other gained. Friends, in at least some aspect, were on the same level. She and Amanda were not. At least not anymore. She realized that on one level, perhaps on many, she remained Kathrine just as Rachel had claimed.

  “Fuck this shit,” she hissed, dismissing again the intrusive thoughts that threatened her comfort, her income, the A-list prestige she’d clawed at to attain as Amanda’s personal assistant and unofficial guardian of her elite, exclusive and protected world.

  Fifty-two emails. She cringed. Despite the fact that even her own email wasn’t public domain, she knew that the next few hours would be wasted with junk removal, polite responses to unwanted requests. Thank you for your offer, however Amanda’s full schedule does not allow her to entertain the prospect of new projects at this time. Thank you for your interest in interviewing Amanda, however, the opening of her new Beast Mistress show has facilitated an already full interview schedule at the moment. Thank you for fucking up my already screwed afternoon she thought as she scanned her inbox for anything or anyone of significance.

  Damn, an email from Rachel. What did that bitch want now?

  Don’t give me the fucking runaround Kathrine. Amanda’s not answering my texts. Is she still with Jake? Do you know if she’s OK? I’m getting really worried.

  Yeah, sure you are, Katelyn thought as she typed her reply. A reply she’d never have given except for Amanda’s explicit instructions to always respond to family and friends. Never mind that her family had so much as discarded her in the gutter as white trash and left her to rot, that is until she began experiencing some level of popularity, not to mention financial success.

  Amanda’s fine, she typed, wishing she could add and why the fuck is Amanda not Alison when I’m Kathrine? She continued, She’s really busy and I’m sure she’ll get back to you as soon as she can. Like she ever gets back to you, you stupid lying backstabbing bitch. No, getting back to you is my cross to bear most of the time. She sighed. Amanda got to pick and choose, in fact, got her pick of almost anyone and anything, while she merely got some chance at trying for second tier and whoever, whatever, was also shoved to the side.

  She was about ten minutes into the rest of the emails when the telephone rang. Rachel again. Damn her.

  “Yes Rachel, I just emailed...”

  “You seen Wade’s Facebook?”

  “What?!” she was floored. “No, why would I ever look at...”

  “He’s talkin’ about Jake’s tweet and Amanda and how his night with her caused the whole final incident thing, saying how Jake’s up to his old shit again and calling him names and challenging him.”

  Katelyn snickered, although finding none of this funny. A cold chill quickly iced its way up her spine.

  “Challenging Jake? To what, a goddamn duel?” she laughed convincingly even as she quickly opened another browser window and clicked Wade’s Facebook.

  A page she knew well although she’d never admit it to Rachel. She’d visited it far less often as the years rolled on after the final incident but still, she monitored it occasionally to be ready if trouble brewed. Twice now, just today, Rachel had one-upped her with important news concerning Amanda. Christ, she thought bitterly, maybe the bitch should have my job. She casually asked for the URL but was already reading Wade’s last entry.

  Jake. Message to you if you dare acknowledge, you cowardly piece of shit excuse for a man. Try smacking down someone without a pussy for once. Or is that the only way you can hold onto Amanda? She never did nothing but run from you when you deserved it. I’m who you got the real beef with. Ready anytime you got the balls to try.

  “Oh fuck...” Katelyn moaned low, under her breath.

  This was big, huge trouble, especially since Amanda was probably still with Jake. She had to warn her, get her out of there. Jesus, Jake’s gonna blame Amanda for this. He’ll kill Wade when he gets ahold of him, but he’ll take down Amanda on the way.

  “Kathrine, you there?” Rachel’s hardened voice echoed in her ear, jolting her from stunned silence and frantic whirlwind of thoughts.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she composed herself. “Listen, I’m gonna go but don’t worry. I’ll talk to Amanda right now. Wade’s just an idiot. Jake won’t even give him the time of day.”

  “Kathrine, who are you kidding?! Jake’s gonna fuckin’ explode...”

  “Gotta go, talk to you later.”

  Even as she hung up the phone with her left hand she reached for her cell with her right. It’d been hours since she’d been curtly dismissed by Amanda’s text. This time she called but was rewarded only by Amanda’s voicemail. Where in the fucking hell was she?

  I’m in hell, Amanda thought, and if not I’m surely going there for what I’m doing. But she ran her hand softly up Zack’s naked chest, lovingly massaged his n
eck and entwined her fingers in his long silky blonde hair. He really doesn’t look so bad, Amanda rationalized as she forced herself to look at his face and into his eyes. She realized she could actually see what the groupies craved and what millions of Steel Demon’s female fans gushed over.

  Bright azure blue eyes, the color of water and sky on a radiant Caribbean day. Slightly slanted upwards, partially obscured by long wisps of wavy platinum bangs, Zack’s eyes contributed to his cat-like appearance. He was tall and lean and muscular and as Amanda gazed slowly down his attentively toned body lounging next to hers, she understood how he so easily slank and slithered and glided like a panther on stage. True tier-one rockstar yes, but nevertheless, nowhere near as magnificent and electrifying as Jake. Ignoring the sharp pang of realization, the raw fresh memory of Jake and her current situation seeping into a thudding ache deep within her chest, she smiled.

  I should have been an actress, she thought, but merely whispered, “Baby everything’s all right. You OK now?”

  “Uh, think so,” Zack smirked, fidgeting and laughing softly, “Sorry ‘bout all that but I guess I’m OK.”

  Brushing back silky blonde locks framing his face he thought a moment, then added, “Actually I’m good, reaaaal good.”

  Just peachy, Amanda thought, but said only “Told ya it was just a panic attack.”

  Zack’s first ever in his life, according to him, and Amanda’s first ever experienced second hand during pre-coital escapades. Jesus, she thought, you’d think I was the rockstar and he was some over-exuberant groupie staggered by the gift the gods had bestowed upon him, blind-sided by his luck at bagging the goddess of his wet dreams. Well, not bagging exactly and no wet dreams, they hadn’t gotten nearly that far. She came precariously close to laughing at recent events but struggling, remained in control.

  They’d been kissing at the door where she’d finally cornered him. Not surprisingly, he’d been tender and gentle, holding her shoulders, barely touching her waist, being a real gentleman about things. Treating her like she was made of porcelain deserving utmost respect and tenderness or she’d break. Getting him to the bed had taken an absolute eternity, finally coaxing him to take off his shirt had been nothing short of monumental. She’d pictured a crowd roaring in appreciation, a humungous gold cup handed to her for going far beyond the call of duty, for making possible an impossible task.