Page 2 of Wicked Rockstar

Peter lived and breathed music. It was his lifeline when things got bad. So why did it seem like he was doing everything he could to ruin it?

Where was the idyllic boy I once knew eighteen years ago? The day my fiery ten-year-old self had met her other half in the charismatic twelve-year-old boy in the group home we’d both been placed in.

I sighed, nestling into the wall and hoping with every fiber of my being Leo could get him here.

“Peter, get your ass out of bed.” A splash sounded over the phone. Leo must have gone with the tried and true method of dumping water over him.

A muffled retort sounded before Peter’s voice broke through loud and clear. “What the fuck, Leo?”

Then, a thud.

“I’m not asking twice.” Leo had his deep Arnold Schwarzenegger voice in place.

“That fucking hurt. You didn’t have to drag me out of bed and drown me, asshole.”

“Did you forget the interview this morning?” Leo growled. The longtime bodyguard and special forces Sergeant had no use for Peter’s insolence and couldn’t care less that Peter was the “It” boy in rock music. It was part of the reason I’d hired him. However, I’d needed his muscle more and more lately as Peter and good decisions became a thing of the past.

“That’s not until tomorrow.” Peter’s deep baritone filtered through the phone.

What?“For the love of God. He thinks it’s Tuesday?” I whisper-shouted into the phone. “Leo, I need him here. Now. We have thirty minutes!”

“I can get him there in time.”

I didn’t know what kind of ninja driving skills he needed to make that happen, but if he said he could, he would. “Thank you.”

Peter’s grunt and Leo threatening to rip off his shirt were the last I heard before the phone disconnected.

I ran a hand over my forehead, brushing aside my longish bangs and wondering if the deep lines would become permanent. A fresh wave of anxiety swept through me as I hurried to the green room. I had no idea what condition Peter would be in when he got here. And the last thing we needed was for him to go on television hungover or high.

As though encouraging me to think positive thoughts, my screen flashed with my favorite photo. It was a selfie taken ten years earlier of me, Peter, and our childhood friend, Killian. Right before everything changed. My fingertips brushed the glass, and not for the first time, I wished we could return to that day.

In the photo, my hair was thrown up in a messy bun, much like it was today. My shirt was streaked with dirt, and my smile was bright and sunny. Not one lock of Peter’s brown hair was out of place. For some reason, his dark-green polo was in perfectshape, and his grin had a devilish tilt; a physical reminder that he could get anything he wanted with just a convincing smile. And Killian ... The dark curls that framed his face were the envy of most girls, and the smirk playing across his lips hinted at the trouble that was brewing behind his blue eyes. His obscure band t-shirt was so faded I couldn’t even recognize the name.

Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. Killian would’ve known how to handle Peter. But he’d left us behind. Walked away from our friendship without a word, striking a dagger through my heart soon after we’d taken that picture.

I still missed him.

But he wasn’t here, and he couldn’t help. I drew in a deep breath, pushing the old hurt away. I needed to focus and be “on.” I had to project to the world that Peter was still the same charismatic man his fans fell in love with ten years ago when he burst onto the music scene.

Everyone loved Peter. Most especially, me.

My crush started the day we met. He’d taken pity on me when a few of the older kids at the group home teased me. After threatening them to stay away, we spent the day sitting outside under an enormous oak tree, passing the time making up songs. He played the harmonica that was always in his hand or tucked away in his pocket. I later learned the reason he played it was because it was less likely than any other instrument to be taken from him and he could easily hide it.

That day, I fell a little bit in love with him. Having my childhood ripped away from me after my parents were killed in a car crash and with no relatives to claim me, I was forced into the foster system. Being with Peter was the first time I’d felt like my old self since that agonizing day. I’d found a new home—in Peter. For those few hours, I forgot that I’d never see my parents again. I didn’t worry about the uncertainty of my future.

I was just a girl hanging out with a cute boy.

I was justme.

I jumped as Leo’s ringtone sliced through the air. I quickly swiped to answer his call. “Please tell me you have good news.”

“Walking into the studio now.”

“You’re my favorite person today. Meet me in the green room.”

Leo grunted his consent before hanging up.

I checked my watch, not realizing that so much time had passed while I’d been lost in my thoughts.

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