The Complete Rockstar Series

We practice at Hawke’s uncle’s big house a few miles from our place. Hawke has his drums there and there’s a soundproofed room and everything. There’s something slightly odd about Hawke’s family situation, but I’m not exactly sure what it is except that he’s apparently been raised by his uncle. I can tell he doesn’t want to discuss it, so I never bother to bring it up.

“Easy for you to say, Davies. You’re getting laid left and right. My girl isn’t here yet, so sod off,” I scold him.

Turns out, Dax is a party guy too, we just never knew it until we moved to L.A., where the parties are over the top and happen every single night. Me? I’d rather have my girl here and go somewhere quiet together. Since she’s not here, I’ve become a party guy by default. Forced to interact with everyone that Gavin and Hawke invite over, and they invite over loads of people.

Dax shrugs at my statement. “I would tell you that you could get laid too, but I know you won’t, so there’s no point.”

I give him a look of disbelief and he raises an eyebrow back at me. “What? Cheat on Ellie?” I ask, making a disgusted noise. “Never, so you’re right. Don’t bother.”

He shrugs again and returns his focus to his guitar. I shake my head. No conscious, that one.

“Come on you two, cut the shit and let’s finish this. I have plans tonight,” Hawke calls out from behind the drums.

I smirk at him, “You have plans every night, Evans. Your social calendar is as busy as the King’s Cross station at rush hour.”

Everyone laughs and we get to business working on new songs to add to our set tonight.

* * *

It’s so hot in the club that I have to keep using the hem of my T-shirt to wipe the sweat out of my eyes so I can see. I knew I should have gone straight home after the gig, but the rest of the guys wanted to go out, and Hawke had the only car. A taxi ride home would have cost a fortune, which I don’t have.

“Hey gorgeous,” a sexy female voice purrs.

I startle when I feel small hands caress my exposed abs. Dropping the edge of the shirt, I see a stunning blonde in a skimpy red dress in front of me, her arms extended under my clothes. She drags her fingers across my skin, following the line of my jeans to the button at the fly. Jesus, I start to get hard from the proximity of her fingers to my dick.

I shiver at the touch, and make eye contact with the girl. Blue. Her eyes are the same clear, deep blue as Ellie’s. The girl I love. The only girl I can ever imagine loving, even though I’m so angry with her right now that I could scream. Collecting my thoughts, which are slower than usual due to the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through my blood, I take the girl’s hands in mine and gently remove them from my hips.

“Sorry, love. Not interested,” I tell her, smiling to lessen the blow.

She tilts her head and looks at me curiously. “Are you sure? Because your body says you are interested.” She gestures towards the bulge in the front of my jeans and smirks.

“Definitely not interested,” I chuckle, “regardless of what my body thinks.”

“Well, maybe some other time,” she says, reaching out and sliding a finger over my lips before she turns and walks away.

I watch her tempting backside sway as her long, tan legs bring her back to her friends at the bar.

“Whoa! Couldn’t close the deal, huh Reynolds?” Hawke’s hand smacks my back and he doubles over with laughter.

“Hardly,” I scoff. And it’s true. In L.A., the girls are not only easier than they are back home, but they practically fling themselves naked at me and Dax because of our ‘sexy British accents’. “If I were single, my dick would probably light on fire and fall off from overuse,” I joke, throwing in a dark glare to let Hawke know I’m not in the mood for his jokes.

“I’m just kidding bro. Take it easy!” Hawke says. “She didn’t answer again, huh?” he asks, handing me one of the fresh beers he’s clutching in one hand.

I bristle at the question. “I don’t want to discuss it,” I snap, gritting my teeth together. Ellie hasn’t answered my calls the last three days in a row. She’s due to be here on Monday, just two days from now, and I haven’t spoken to her in almost a week, no matter how many times I’ve rung her. Hawke knows this, and he’s pushing me, and after a few drinks I’m thoroughly pissed off.

“Dude! No big deal! I’m just seeing how you are and I’m not doing a good job of it, obviously,” Hawke says, holding his hands up to calm me down.

“It’s fine, I’m just knackered. I shouldn’t be drinking when I’m this tired.” I rub my hand down my face. “If I could just reach her…” I stop, reminding myself that I don’t want to talk about it.

“Well, the good news is that my uncle called after we left the gig tonight. He’s got us booked into the Troubadour next month for two nights,” Hawke grins. “That’s why I was looking for you.”

“That’s brilliant,” I reply, a smile replacing my perma-scowl for the first time in several days.

“Yep, things are looking good for us, my man.” Hawke holds up his bottle, bumping it with mine. “Well, gotta find a nice hottie or two for tonight. Catch ya later!” He chugs his beer and disappears into the crowded dance floor.

“Hey sexy.” I see a tiny brunette in a dress so small that it must double as a tube top. She gets in my personal space and bumps my arm with her obviously fake breasts.

I sigh. These L.A. girls are so fucking grabby and desperate. It’s going to be a long two days waiting to hold Ellie in my arms. I guzzle down the rest of the beer that Hawke bought me and push the girl away in disgust.