Page 5 of California Love Songs
Damien carefully set his guitar in the stand and then descended the steps. As he walked, his hair was tossed by the breeze. He went first to Margot, giving her a kiss on the cheek and accepting a slice of the delicious-looking birthday cake.
Margot was obviously delighted with him and they chatted for a few minutes. Then she watched as Damien was absorbed into the rest of the party, accepting handshakes and no doubt streams of praise for his performance, embracing the guests he knew with big bear hugs––the kind his father, Howie Davenport, was famous for.
Everything was going so smoothly, the waiters circling with more canapés and slices of birthday cake, that Crystal allowed herself to enjoy the party a little. Another, less famous, band took their place up on the stage and, looking around at the happy faces, she knew she’d helped create another successful and fun event. She wasn’t going to fool herself—getting Damien to play had been the cherry on top of a particularly rich and expensive birthday cake.
While she was musing on whether or not to accept a piece of cake, Damien reached her side and silently handed her his own. She smiled, discreetly taking the china plate from him. He liked to eat clean. He also avoided alcohol and drugs, having seen too many rock stars derailed by excess. He’d cut into the cake with his fork, probably so it would look like he was eating it.
Taking a bite, she said, “You have no idea what you’re missing.”
“A lot of refined sugar and white flour.”
She raised her eyebrows and gave him a teasing look. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we could find some raw carrots in the kitchen for you.”
He snorted with laughter, accepting the ginger drink a waiter presented to him on a silver tray. She’d told the waitstaff to keep an eye on Damien and make sure he was supplied with his favorite soda, poured into a fancy crystal glass, of course, and topped up with ice.
He raised his glass to Crystal. “You really do think of everything. This is another great event. Congratulations.”
She fought the blush that threatened to color her cheeks. “You were what made this so successful. And you were— That was—” She paused, trying to find the right words. “It was incredible,” Crystal half-whispered, her chest tight with a confusing mix of emotions. Pride, certainly; she’d always known Damien had this in him, before the rest of the world even knew his name. But there was something else there too, a warmth that spread through her body when their eyes met. His gaze searched hers and she wondered for a moment if he could be feeling it too—that special warmth reserved only for him.
The moment broke when a fan came to ask for Damien’s autograph and a selfie. With an apologetic look, Damien allowed himself to be dragged away. Crystal forced a bright smile. She knew this was part of his lifestyle, that he was never truly not working when he was out in the world. He had to give his fans what they wanted. To be gracious and generous, at any given moment. She was surprised by how easily it seemed to come to him. No, that wasn’t true—she wasn’t surprised. Damien was just a good person through and through. She was impressed, not surprised.
As the party continued, Crystal found herself gravitating toward the water’s edge. The Pacific stretched out before her, an inky expanse dotted with starlight. She breathed in the salty air, trying to steady her racing thoughts.
“Hiding from your own party?” Damien’s voice, warm with amusement, came from behind her.
Crystal turned, a smile tugging at her lips. “Just needed a moment. It’s been quite a night.”
Damien nodded, moving to stand beside her. “You outdid yourself, Crys. I haven’t seen this many rich and famous people in one place since I was a guest artist at the Oscars.”
She shrugged like it was nothing, though she had worked her butt off to make this party perfect. They stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the mesmerizing ocean, the sounds of the party fading into the background. Crystal glanced back toward the dwindling crowd, spotting all the familiar faces.
“Your family seemed to enjoy themselves,” she said. “I saw Erin in fits of giggles with Jay earlier. And Archer and Tessa practically never left the dance floor.”
Damien chuckled. “Yeah, Archer’s got it bad. I can’t believe how loved up he is even after getting married. Poor Tessa.” He laughed again, then narrowed his gaze as he looked over to where Jay had one arm slung around Smith Sullivan’s neck and the other around Erin’s. “As for Jay Malone, he knows I’m watching him. He’d better be good to Erin.”
Crystal smiled, knowing how protective Damien was of his little sister, and how much she didn’t need him or anyone else smothering her. Erin was strong and she knew her own mind—perhaps more than any of the other Davenport siblings. To Damien she simply said, “She’s really happy.”
Damien turned to her. “And you’d know. You’ve been best friends for what? Twenty years?”
“Something like that. Although now you’re making me feel old.” Crystal laughed, then asked, “Where’s Nick? I didn’t see much of him this evening.”
“He’s probably behind a potted plant, coding the next big app on his phone,” Damien said with a fond eye roll. “You know how he gets at parties. He’s introverted enough that he’ll use any excuse to crawl off into a corner, press a few buttons, and make a few more million.”
Crystal scoffed. “I doubt it’s that easy.”
Damien looked serious for a moment. “He thinks all I do is pick up a guitar, bang out a few chords, and a few more million roll in.”
“But you both love and respect each other, and that’s what matters.” She almost felt like another Davenport sister, smoothing the jokey rivalries between the brothers. The breeze picked up, and Crystal shivered slightly. Without a word, Damien shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The gesture, so simple and thoughtful, made her heart swell.
“Thanks,” she murmured, pulling the jacket closer. It smelled like him—a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely Damien. “So, rock star, how does it feel to play for the hometown crowd?”
“It felt good. But this is where I’m always happiest.” He glanced at the curving beach below them, deserted at this hour. “This is home.”
Crystal leaned against him for a moment, enjoying his warmth, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips. “Remember when you used to play for much smaller crowds? Just you, your guitar, and whoever happened to be on the beach?”
“How could I forget? That’s where it all started.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Who would’ve thought some record exec would be strolling by one day and hear me?”
“I did,” Crystal said softly, nudging his shoulder. “I always knew you’d make it big.”
