Page 49 of Rock Strong

I hoped Abby wasn’t watching. I was being an asshole, a rock ’n’ roll bad boy, and there was a lot that was comforting about that. Being who I was, who I worked hard to be, living the life, the dream, relishing in my earned persona. With Abby, I’d been a much more guarded Liam, a best-behavior Liam, which I could do for a while, but…could I keep it up forever just for her?

I wasn’t sure of anything anymore, and my extreme wastedness wasn’t helping either.

“Fuck yeah!” Tucker screamed by my ear for some reason. The VIP room spun in colors, and then I realized I was standing next to two or three adult film stars I’d seen at other shows, and they were making out, squeezing and slapping each other’s tits, while my friends, roadies, and some new people I didn’t even know all stood around and cheered them on in drunken revelry.

I rolled into a corner, stumbled over a chair to more applause and cheers. Corbin set me straight, and Wes asked if I was okay, and I was, but I wasn’t. The only way to know if Abby was The One was to try to drive her out of my brain, be the worst fucking possible Liam I could be, and if at the end of the night, she was still on my mind, then I’d have my answer.

I was pretty sure that was a stupid move, but vodka ruled me, and nobody tried to stop me. Shitty thing about being a rock star…nobody steps in when you’re being a dick. They just let you be one.

“Dude.” Tucker spoke in my ear with his alcohol breath.

I slapped him away. “Bro, stop that. It tickles.”

He cackled then laid his head on my shoulder and burped—stupid fucker—but there was something comforting about that, too. Good ol’ Tucker the Fucker. “Come in here, bro.” He led me to a closed door and reached for the handle.

“Why?”

“Just come here. I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?” I felt the room spin around me as I fought to maintain even footing. All around, people gathered, watching me carefully, laughing, whispering. I was Liam on Parade. “What are you doing, Tuck?”

“Nothing but a favor, my man.” He smiled, the handsome devil, and for giving me that smile when I needed it most, I instantly forgave him for all the stupid shit he’d done to me over the years. He threw open the door and shoved me inside another room, wherever the fuck I was. “Make me proud, son.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder, high-fived Corbin, and began closing the door slowly.

Behind him, a pileup of faces watched The Liam Show. Like I was a rat being thrown into a snake’s tank. I spun around. The room’s light clicked on, and—what the fuck?

There, on a long, red sofa, was a vision—an angel. Literally. A hallucination in sparkling white bra and panties, smooth, tanned, gorgeous fucking legs, and fucking huge, perfect, round tits. Tits I’d sucked on before.

“Fuck my life,” I mumbled.

It was Giselle. Fucking wonderful. For a split second, I didn’t know if I should rip my pants off and let her ravage me, or run the fuck out of there screaming like I’d faced Medusa in a dead-end alley.

Giselle split into two, beaming angels, then back to one again. “Bonjour, beau,” she meowed in her perfect lingerie-ad voice. “I’ve missed you.”

Chapter 15

Abby

“How do I look?” I stood before Rosemary in all my terrified glory. This afternoon, after my hallway encounter with Liam, I took my first tour paycheck and hit the streets in search of a hot dress I could wear for him tonight post-show. If I was going to tip Liam over the edge, make him fall my way over the fence, I had to keep his visual interest.

Rosemary’s eyes took on a shiny glow. “Wow.”

“Is that wow bad or wow good?” I glanced down at my tight, red minidress with black boots laced up to the knee. I had my reservations about the outfit, feeling like a fille de joie from a house of ill repute, but when I’d told the sales lady I’d be wearing it to the Point Break concert tonight without offering any more details, she assured me it would get me into Liam Collier’s pants.

Rosemary choked on her laughter.

Ha. If she’d only known.

“Abby, you look H-O-T. You could easily give Emilie Autumn a run for her money.”

“So I look like a clown rag doll?”

“No!” She scoffed, losing patience. “You look theatrical, provocative, a goddess of strings, the complete opposite of stuffiness and boring black and white.” She gave me two thumbs up. “I approve of this dress. Perfect makeup, too. Go get ’im.”

“Okay…” I breathed out a heavy sigh, grabbing her squarely by the shoulders. “Then wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it. You got this. Liam is going to forget everyone and everything from his pre-Abby days. Giselle? Giselle, who?” She hugged me tightly.

“You’re my best friend,” I said. “I think I’ll keep you. You sure you don’t want to come?”

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