Star Crossed Page 8

  * * *

  Chris dropped the hammer and slid his hands around her waist. He moved his mouth in motion with Kate’s, tongues colliding in a heated frenzy. He picked her up, walked over to the railing, and sat her on it. Kate kicked off her open-toe shoes and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  Chris broke away. “I missed you.”

  “You fixed my deck.” She smiled.

  Chris continued kissing Kate and began backing her into the house. They clumsily made their way to Kate’s bedroom. Chris kicked the door closed. He loved Merlot, but he didn’t want his furry friend breaking up the groove.

  Both he and Kate tried mercilessly to disrobe one another. Finally, sweaty and naked, they fell onto her bed. Kate wrapped her long legs around his waist while he reached over to her nightstand and grabbed a condom.

  “I have condoms?”

  “I put them in there the other day. I hate getting interrupted when I’m in a good groove.”

  She laughed. “Been rifling through my drawers? Peeking into my secret places?”

  “I’ve been waiting to get back into the secret treasure between your legs. It’s been a long week. I pulled on Chris Jr. so much I almost broke him.” Chris pressed himself against her.

  “He doesn’t feel like he’s broken or even under the weather.”

  Chris trailed kisses down Kate’s neck until he reached her breasts. He carefully licked, pulled, and lightly nipped until he couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Sabrina showed me an article someone did on Chris Jr., and I gotta tell you…they didn’t do you any justice.” She giggled.

  “So you mean calling my penis a massive, throbbing Polish sausage isn’t a compliment?”

  “Of course you would remember what the article said.”

  “I make it my business to know everything someone prints about me. Truth or lies.”

  Tired of talking, Chris thrust into her, taking her by surprise. She responded by putting a death grip on his shoulders.

  The song that was playing when she came in was on a loop, so as it began again. He gained momentum. He had every inch of Kate’s body pressed against the mattress. He was getting that feeling again. Slow, methodical strokes were being replaced by a faster, heavier tempo. He wanted her to feel his weight on her, so she would be his love prisoner, even if for a little while. Kate cupped his ass and sent a rhythm through his nerve endings.

  “Chris…right there.”

  He’d found her g-spot in record time. Kate’s legs began shake. He stopped. Kate slapped him.

  He smiled. “What was that for?”

  “You stopped.” She bit her lip.

  “Do I need to get the riding crop I found and use it on your bottom?”

  “You obviously had a lot of time on your hands. Don’t you act for a living?”

  “Just keeping myself busy until my mistress returned from New York.”

  Kate ran her hands down his back.

  Chris slid back into Kate slowly and then started his manic rhythm again. He finally relented when she repeated his name over and over again and gave her what they both wanted. Whoever that singer was, Chris was going to make sure Kate signed her even if she only made CDs for him to play at the house.

  Chapter Seven

  Kate loved being in the studio. When she signed the group Manic Stature, one of the contract clauses was that she personally work on their album. She didn’t mind; she loved the lead guitar player, Ethan Halliwell. They had met in a dive outside Las Vegas two years prior. One look at the tortured man singing of soul redemption and she knew she had to sign him.

  She usually arrived in the studio a few hours ahead of everyone and enjoyed the silence. A photo of Malik graced the walls of this studio. The picture had been taken years ago, when they worked on his first album in a half-functioning studio in New York. It had been late and Malik was tired. He had a wool cap on and was wearing his trademark headphones. He was in prayer mode, as she called it, saying a private prayer just before he unleashed the fury in his heart on the world.

  She put an instrumental track on a loop, placed a pair of headphones on, and let the world fade away. Kate pulled up a chair in front of a live microphone and sang a bit of the lyrics Ethan had written—a song called “Unforgiven.” Ethan still felt guilty about how he conducted his life those years he was drug-addled and wild. Sometimes redemption could come through a singing a song. And peace could be achieved by listening to one. Visions of musical notes danced around in her head. No matter what was going on in her life, this was her time to do the thing she loved.

  After an hour or so, her favorite sound engineer, Todd McElroy, came in. Todd had been with them during the early days and transplanted with them to California. He was a simple man with simple needs and had never gotten caught up in the hype of his musical success. As the others started filtering in, Kate did a sound check and went over a few things with Todd. Ethan and his band arrived on time.

  “Kate! My favorite person in the music business!” He gave her a big bear hug.

  “Nice to see you too.” She laughed.

  “Got a new man? Chris Cavanaugh is a kick-ass actor.”

  “I’ll tell him you said that. He’s a fan of yours. Maybe we can have dinner sometime.”

  “Excellent. Did you check my levels?”

  “As always.”

  “Gonna sing with me on this album?”

  “Uhhh…no.” She laughed.

  “Still pretending you can’t sing? I know you were singing my lyrics before I got here.”

  “And how do you know that?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s my creation. I can feel the vibrations in the air. And you did it justice. The room feels serene and balanced.”

  “Only you can infuse mysticism into a recording session.”

  “My words are my children. And like a good parent, I know where they’ve been and what they’re up to.”

  “That’s deep, man.”

  “I thought you got over that shy shit. You have a set of pipes on you.” He turned toward the sound engineer. “Todd? Back me up, my man.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, Ethan.” Todd kept his gaze on the soundboard, still adjusting levers.

  “I should have asked for that in my contract.”

  “Considering you have a clause for the president of your record company to work on your albums, attend your parties, and babysit your guitars when you are on vacation, I think we are a wee bit spoiled.”

  Ethan smiled. “I want the best. You are the best. You heard me when I was singing in hellholes. You are here to keep me honest and true to the music.”

  “And that will never change, my friend.” Kate hugged him.

  The phone rang. Todd passed it to Kate; it was John.

  “Hey, beautiful, did you get that CD I sent to your house?”

  “Yes. Very sultry and borderlining on raunchy. Who is it?”

  “Lana.”

  “Get out of here.”

  “I wanted you to listen unbiased.”

  “You’re right. She really is trying to change her image.”

  “So?”

  “The song was hot. Satisfied?”

  “Workable without getting involved in her personal life?”

  “I suppose.” She sighed.

  “Great. I’ll schedule lunch with her this week.”

  For the next four hours Kate and Ethan were in their collaborative creative zone. Cell phones were not allowed in the studio, so for all she knew World War III could be going on. There had been days when she and John would spend sixteen hours in the studio to perfect Malik’s lyrical acerbic rage. John now loved the corporate office, but she still wanted to be in the dark, making music.

  * * *

  Holding his ribs, Danny stumbled over to a payphone and dialed the person responsible for his latest predicament.

  “Canaan, you dumb fuck, pick me up.”

  Danny listened into the phone receiver.

  “Carlo
s and his boys grabbed me on my way to work this morning. Long story short, I’m in some shithole town in Nevada after jumping out a moving car on the highway.” He paused. “I don’t give a shit. You got me into this mess, now pick me up. My phone is damaged but it’s still on. Get my GPS coordinates and come get me. Some genius you’re supposed to be.” Danny closed his eyes. “How about this, if you don’t, the next call I’m gonna make is to your momma giving her my condolences on the loss of her son.” Danny slammed the phone back on the receiver.

  “Cut!” Jack stood from his chair. “It’s good.”

  A prop guy walked into the scene and began untwisting the cord of the payphone. “Good job, Chris.”

  Chris nodded and snuck a peek at Jack. He wasn’t mumbling and talking to his assistant, so Chris assumed it was a good take. These days Jack’s enigmatic mumbling was his only positive reinforcement.

  He checked his cell. Darwin had texted him. He wanted to know if Chris coming by to work on the car later. He didn’t have the time tonight. He was going to a party at Marvin and Clara’s house with Kate. He didn’t see Darwin too much these days.

  Other than his drug predilection, Darwin was a kick-ass mechanic. But Chris’s near miss with infamy had him rethinking who he spent his time with. Now that he and Kate were supposed to be a couple, he had to consider getting her name mixed up with another scandal.

  Hugh Martin, the actor playing Danny’s best friend, Jacob, caught up with Chris as he was walking back to his trailer. Hugh asked him if he wanted to run lines for the next scene, but Chris knew it was bullshit. Hugh had been chatting him up since the movie started, trying to get the inside scoop on his feud with Jack. But he noticed that Hugh also spent a lot of time kissing up to Jack. How Hugh thought Chris didn’t see it was beyond him. Chris begged off and told Hugh he was going to take a nap.

  * * *

  Chris didn’t suck, but Jack made that admission to himself with a heavy heart. He was nailing the scenes, and Jack was running out of excuses to do extra takes, anything that would delay him from going home to the beach house to Kate. He knew Chris’s reputation as a ladies’ man and also knew Kate was sweet to the point of being a born-again virgin. The idea of Chris taking his place made him angry all over again. He should be the one living with her at that palatial beach house, taking walks on the beach with her, and talking about film and music. What the hell could Chris Cavanaugh talk to her about? Surfing? His motorcycle? The Hollywood scene?

  Kate had taken a special interest when he had mentioned Chris for the role of Danny. Hell, she talked him into it. She had good instincts with music, and he was beginning to trust her instincts with actors too. Never in a million years would he have thought it was due to a crush she had on Chris. Where could they have met? Had they been seeing one another behind his back? Kate wasn’t like that. But she never did tell him how they met.

  He hadn’t talked to Brianna in a few days, which was a relief. His spies informed him she was out of town doing a movie. He’d have some peace and quiet for a little while. He could have been going home to Kate and living in a beach house, but instead he was on his way home to order some takeout. Sleeping with Brianna was the biggest mistake of his life.

  He opened the door to his condo and thought he was dreaming. Kate sat poised on his couch. He dropped his satchel and entered the living room, anxious to see his wife.

  “Have a seat, Jack.”

  This woman may have looked like his wife, but she didn’t sound like her.

  “Billie? What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to help you do the right thing while you still have the option.”

  * * *

  Marvin had asked Kate to attend a soiree at his house. Every now and again he liked to bring together what he called the top minds in the music business to see how the industry was taking shape. He’d even invited his son Henry at times, but that never turned out well. Last time Henry attended he was high and someone had to throw him out. Marvin was pissed. Clara was mortified.

  Although Kate didn’t like going to industry parties, she had met some prominent people at Marvin’s—people who would have never given her a second glance had Marvin not gushed about her musical genius. Retired or not, people still listened to Marvin Weismann. At least two invites from powerhouses in the music and movie industries had come because Marvin told them to do it.

  Chris was happy to escort her to the party. He rushed into the house, showering and changing in record time. He was handsomely dressed in a lavender dress shirt and black suit. They skipped the normal trek through the sand and took her Jaguar the short distance.

  “This ought to be fun.” They walked past a classic black Bentley. “Kingston Shane is here.”

  “The Kingston Shane?”

  “Yes, the one and only.”

  “The Hell Cats were an awesome band.”

  “I preferred Duran Duran myself.”

  “How are you even old enough to know about Duran Duran?” He laughed.

  “Are you kidding me? I’ve been to four of their concerts. The eighties were all about glamorous male rockers.” Kate rang the doorbell.

  Clara opened the door. “Kate. Chris.”

  “Hi, Clara. You look beautiful. Doesn’t she, Chris?”

  “Yes, she does.”

  Clara was smiling so hard at Chris that Kate thought Clara’s jaw was going to lock. Marvin had understated his wife’s crush on Chris.

  They made their way through the partygoers. Most people she recognized, but she saw a few new faces. Kingston Shane was the main attraction. These days he lazed around the state of California condemning all new rock music efforts but refusing to toss his hat back into the ring and release a new album solo or with his old band the Hell Cats. Kingston was having a lively conversation with Marvin when Marvin motioned for Kate to join them. She turned around to see that Clara had kidnapped Chris and was introducing him to her cougar friends. Kate would probably have to fight to get him out of the house at the end of the evening.

  “And here’s my proof that the industry isn’t going to hell in a handbasket, King. Meet Kate Garrison, president of Atlantis Records.” Marvin slapped his hand gently onto Kate’s shoulder.

  Kingston peered at her behind a pair of oversized sunglasses. Could he have been more of a cliché? Standing there in black leather pants and jacket, with no shirt on and a pair of cowboy boots. Every hair on his body was gray, including the ones in his nose. He’d gotten even thinner since she saw him at the music awards the year prior. Rumors of drugs, diseases, and other dastardly things swirled around this man’s reputation.

  “I’ve heard of her. I’m not impressed.” King barely moved his mouth as he spoke.

  “I would be offended by that comment, but considering your last recording is only available on eight-track, the barb just doesn’t resonate with me.”

  Marvin laughed.

  Kingston pursed his scrawny lips. “I know more about the music business—”

  “I doubt that, considering how many brain cells you’ve killed doing drugs. I bet you couldn’t strum one chord on that famous guitar of yours, Bethany.”

  “All you young people know is sound machines and making everything louder so you can’t decipher that it’s a piece of crap you produced. The average singer can’t play the triangle, let alone a complicated instrument like a guitar.” He swirled his scotch in his glass and sipped it with a satisfied smirk.

  “I play the piano, acoustic guitar, drums, bass guitar, violin, cello, and the triangle. And I expect nothing less from the people I sign.”

  “Kate is the real McCoy, King. You should let her produce that album you’ve been talking about for twenty years.”

  “Who knows?” Kate nodded her head toward the front of the house. “You may even earn enough money to get your Bentley detailed.”

  Kingston gave a slight huff and a smile.

  Chris stepped behind Kate and put his arm around her waist.

  Kingston c
ocked his head toward Chris. “Don’t worry, man. I’m not trying to steal your girl.” He looked back to Kate. “She is beautiful, but I learned a long time ago that the beautiful, smart ones only end up taking your money and your pride when they leave.”

  “She could keep up with you.”

  “Please, Marvin, those dainty corporate hands, playing the drums? Give me a break.” He laughed.

  “I learned to play the drums from my godfather. He was pretty good. He’s—”

  “Whoever he is, sweetheart, he can’t compare with the big boys.”

  Marvin tapped Kingston’s thin bicep with the back of his hand. “OK, you’re performing at the Eighties Rocks benefit next month, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let Kate play the drums.”

  “Are you mad?”

  A crowd had formed, craning their necks waiting for Kingston’s answer.

  “I’ll bet good money she’s the best.”

  “What’s the wager?” Kingston studied Kate’s figure.

  She looked up for a moment, contemplating, and then faced Kingston again. “If I don’t live up to your expectations, I’ll buy you a new Bentley.”

  “And if you win?”

  “I get Bethany.”

  “You’re on, sweetheart.”

  * * *

  Billie enjoyed the view of Los Angeles from Andre’s penthouse. He didn’t seem surprised when she appeared at his door—almost as if he had been expecting her.

  “You didn’t have to come all the way out here. I could have had a chat with Pierce.”

  Billie motioned toward a sliding glass door. “I was afraid you would dangle him off your balcony.”

  “So how’s your pretty-boy husband?”

  “Dominic is fine. Thanks for asking.”

  “Don’t mention it. Really.”

  “Very funny. Did you enjoy your trip?”

  “Had a good time.”