Chronicles of a Rockin' Mess Read online

  “Same,” he says. The doors open at his floor and he kisses my cheek before heading out. “Mañana.”

  “Night,” I respond as the doors close. I somehow stumble into my room and fall down on the bed.

  “It’s gonna be a long three weeks,” I say to my empty room. And just like that, I’m completely passed the fuck out.

  Lincoln

  I watch Lark leave as Gwen is discussing things with me. I know she’s going out with Cooper. It’s what they do on tour. It’s not that I don’t like Coop, it’s just Coop is trouble. Coop tends to immerse himself in having a good time, while conveniently forgetting to watch out for those with him. He’s a horrible wingman, but he’s a fucking awesome sound guy. I don’t like it when he and Lark go out alone. It means no one is looking out for her.

  I half-focus on Gwen and my job for the next few hours, but my mind keeps wandering back to Lark. That’s my fucking problem, my mind always wanders back to Lark. From the moment she walked into the room for her interview three years ago, an innocent, naïve, little eighteen-year-old, I was mesmerized. She’s captivating and she doesn’t even know it. And living with her for the past three years only has made it worse. She’s intoxicating. Every damned thing about her is intoxicating. I could watch her all day. I make up lame excuses for her to be with me. I know it, but fuck if I’d ever admit it. She deserves better than a manwhore, rocker, asshole like me. She deserves the world.

  And so, like the ass that I am, I decide to go out to a local club, find the first hot piece of ass that can take my thoughts away from Lark for a few minutes, and fuck her until Lark’s face is erased from my mind. I’m about to go out when Coop sends me a text. It’s a photo of him and Lark doing a shot at some bar. I clench my jaw.

  Fuck it, I think as I head out the door to find a distraction.

  Chapter 4

  Lark

  When my alarm goes off, I’m confused, because I feel like it’s Groundhog Day. Almost every night of this tour, Coop has taken me out to get drunk. He’s calling it Coop and Lark’s Epic European Pub Crawl. And it has been epic. Coop’s antics have kept me from thinking too much about Lincoln, which is a good thing.

  I honestly am beginning to have a hard time deciphering one city from the next. It takes me the better part of two minutes to remember this is not London now but Rome. We have one more stop, Barcelona, and then back home to prep for the final leg of the tour in Asia.

  I roll out of bed, down a water, and shower. There’s a knock at my door which surprises me. I’m not expecting anyone. I open it and find a very disheveled Lincoln.

  “Where the fuck were you last night?” he grumbles, pushing past me into my room.

  “Please, by all means, do come in and make yourself at home,” I mumble, shutting the door behind him.

  “Well?” he asks again as he sits down on a chair.

  “I went out with Coop. Is that OK?” I snarl. Lincoln has been a royal pain in the ass on this entire tour. He’s had a different woman in every city. Gwen and I have spent the whole time covering up for him and dealing with the women. Some have been fine with a night of fun with Lincoln, but others spend one night with him and suddenly have visions of matrimony.

  And to make matters worse, Lincoln has been riding my ass about having fun with Coop. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Lincoln was jealous that I’ve been hanging out with someone else, but I know better.

  “Well, today I need you with me,” he states.

  “Oh?” I ask, cocking my head to one side.

  “Yeah, you’re going to play tour guide,” he announces.

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you,” he says again.

  “Lincoln, I don’t know anything about Rome. Hold on, I’ll get you a tour guide,” I say as I hold up a finger and pick up the hotel phone to call the concierge. Lincoln stands and places his hand over mine.

  “Please, just help me navigate the city. Just you and me,” he says. “We haven’t hung out at all, come on.”

  I look at him, and he grins. “It’ll be fun,” he adds as he plasters on his famous panty-dropping smile. Damn him, it’s my kryptonite. He knows I can’t turn him down when he uses it.

  “Define fun,” I ask as I raise an eyebrow.

  He grabs my hand. “Come on,” he urges. “Our flight to Barcelona isn’t until late tonight. We have all day to play.”

  I roll my eyes. He waits while I shower, and then I follow him out into the city. Three hours later, we are semi-lost while looking for the Spanish Steps.

  “I think it’s east of here,” I say as I study the map on my phone.

  “Let’s just walk,” he suggests. I shrug and follow him. If I’m being honest with myself, I’d follow this man into a burning building. And right now, I’m enjoying my view of his fine ass. I’m also feeling like I’ve burned three days’ worth of calories.

  I’m fairly certain…strike that…one hundred percent certain because my Fitbit says so…that we walked ten miles today. My feet kill, and I really just want to grab a quick shower before we leave in about two hours.

  A few minutes later, and we are in a park. I trudge behind Lincoln as he walks over to a ledge, and I stare out at the city. I can see the Vatican from here. He leans against the ledge, and I lean on the wall too. We just stare in silence for a long time.

  “It’s really a beautiful view,” I finally say, wishing a photo would do it justice.

  “It is,” he agrees. I turn to see him looking at me. “Thanks for hanging out today.”

  “Sure. It was…fun,”

  He laughs. “You say that like I’m a chore to be with.” He almost seems hurt, almost.

  “Well, come on now. You have been…challenging lately.” I turn and look at his profile as he glances out at the city. He really does have the perfect profile. Everything about him is…perfect. Well, everything except his behavior as of late.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles.

  “What was that?” I ask.

  He turns to me. “Sorry,” he states again.

  “Maybe a little louder?” I suggest.

  I see him fight a grin. “I’m sorry, Lark, the best PA in the world!” he shouts.

  I laugh. “Forgiven,” I sing. He laughs and looks back out at the city.

  “Carrie would have loved it here,” he says softly.

  I’m momentarily taken aback because he almost never mentions his kid sister. She remains sort of an enigma. I know his parents didn’t take her death well. They don’t speak of her often either.

  “You don’t talk about her often,” I point out.

  He shrugs. “Not much to say. She’s dead,” he says, turning back to me.

  “Were you close?” I ask him.

  “Yes,” he answers.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “Still, it must have been very hard for you,” I tell him.

  “It was,” he says with a pause. “She was…very special…beautiful, funny, smart…so smart.” He’s quiet for a long moment, as though remembering something. “She’s the reason I turned to music, you know?”

  I shake my head because, in the three years that I’ve known him, he’s never said this much about her.

  “She played the piano, and I played the guitar. We used to jam together. When she got sick, she would make me bring the guitar to the hospital and sing for her. She made me promise to never stop singing because she said it was my destiny,” he remembers. A faint smile ghosts his lips but his eyes are so very sad.

  “And you didn’t stop because of her?” I prod.

  “I did. But then a year after she died, I had this dream…” He trails off.

  “About?” I ask him, placing a hand over his.

  “She came to me and told me I’d better fucking start playing again, or she would haunt my ass forever,” he says with a bitter laugh. “The next day, after not playing, I came into my room and my guitar case was open. I decided then and there, I bett
er get on it, or Carrie would never rest in death. So, I got back to playing. Something about it was…therapeutic. And once I started, I couldn’t stop.”

  “Music is good like that, for healing the soul,” I say to him.

  “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” he agrees. I look at him one last time. I can see the pain in his eyes. Lincoln is a broken man, and I would love nothing more than if he let me try to fix him, but I know he would never look at me like I look at him. I sigh internally, why couldn’t I just fall for a nice guy like Kade?

  We both look back out at the city before turning and heading back to the hotel. We’re about to step toward the pathway into the park when I notice a car with a group of teenagers next to it. The car is…shaking.

  I notice feet pressed against a window, and I cover my face as I laugh. I nudge Lincoln, and he looks over just in time to see a hand join the foot on the window. He busts out laughing.

  The teenagers standing by the car glance in our direction, and for some reason, we take off running. We don’t stop until we reach the front of the park, where we collapse against a wall in a fit of giggles.

  I bend over with my hands on my knees. “Oh my god, were those kids waiting for their friends…” I trail off as I laugh some more.

  “I think so,” Lincoln says as he wipes tears from his eyes.

  “In broad daylight!”

  “It gives a whole new meaning to don’t come knocking if the car is a rocking,” he says through laughter.

  “Come on, let’s get back,” I say to him after we pull ourselves together. We link arms and meander back through the city streets while making car and sex jokes the entire time. As I lean my head on his shoulder, I’m reminded of why I have a crush on Lincoln. When he’s like this, he’s amazing.

  Chapter 5

  The next few hours are a rush as we are whisked away to Barcelona for the final show. The setup for the concert seems to be going well, so Coop bails out early, leaving Jerry, his second-in-command, to oversee a few last details.

  “Come on, Lark. Last city, last pub,” he says. I really just want to crawl in bed and sleep, but how often do I get to see Barcelona. We don’t have a whole day here. We arrived first thing this morning, after a few hours we went for soundcheck, and now Coop and I have four hours to wander around the city before we need to get back. Gwen is handling the band along with Gary, so Lincoln graciously excused me from the media events this morning. We are closing out a small festival on the edge of the city. I’m looking forward to seeing some of the other bands like Magnolia Tear, a jazz band that I’ve come to love.

  “Let’s just grab one drink at a pub, OK? I really want to mingle with the bands today,” I tell Coop.

  “Fine, woman, but seriously, we should live it up, it’s our last night in Europe!” he exclaims enthusiastically.

  “Coop, I may be twenty-one, but I think twenty-one days of partying is beyond my maximum,” I retort.

  He takes my arm in his and leads me down Las Ramblas. It’s a lovely day out, and we find a little pub and settle in for our last hurrah.

  Two drinks later, we are heading back toward the festival. We pass beautiful buildings like La Sagrada Familia on our way, and I pull out my phone to take photos.

  We pull up at the festival just in time for me to see Magnolia Tear taking the stage. I grab Coop’s hand and pull him to the side stage to listen. I just love them. Hank, Leo, and Joe are amazing, and the crowd loves them too. They only play one soulfully slow song, and the rest is fairly lively jazz that has even the youngest in the crowd on their feet and dancing.

  Hank sees me off to the side and beckons me on stage. I shake my head.

  “How about you all help me welcome a good friend of mine?” he says to the crowd. The crowd gets loud. I roll my eyes. Hank’s done this once before, and I wanted to kill him. Lincoln doesn’t know I still sing other than the coffee shop; so, fortunately, he’s never asked me out on stage. Kade knows, but he also knows I hate big crowds and that’s all we’ve played for lately. Harry, well, Harry’s in his own little world when they play. Coop pushes me out on stage.

  Hank takes my hand and walks me over to a microphone. “Let’s do a duet,” he suggests. I smile as he starts singing one of my favorite duets, “Dream a Little Dream.” I comply and close my eyes as the song fills my senses. I forget about the audience as I let the music flow through my soul, and when I’m through I hear the roar of the applause from the audience.

  “Let’s hear it for my good friend, Lark,” Hank yells to more wild applause. I bow and oblige Hank to sing backup on one final song.

  The roar of the crowd continues as we head off stage after; it’s overwhelming and exhilarating.

  “You were great!” Hank exclaims as he hugs me. “You got a spot with us anytime you want to sing, little lady.”

  “Damn right!” Joe says as he claps me on the back.

  “You just come on down to Nola, and we’ll hook you up,” Leo adds in his deep Southern drawl.

  I grin at them. “That was fun, thanks for dragging me out there.”

  “Holy shit! You can sing! Like really, really sing,” Coop says, his mouth still hanging open.

  I slap his arm. “Geez, Coop, don’t look so shocked, I did come out to LA to sing originally, you know.”

  “Well, lots of kids do, but…why haven’t you ever sang for me before?” he asks with a frown.

  I shake my head and laugh. “I have, but mostly karaoke after way too much alcohol,” I point out. Coop doesn’t know about my Thursday sets at a local coffee shop, where I play for the same four old people every week.

  He laughs too. “Touché.”

  “Come on. You have setup, and I have to go check in on his royal highness,” I say to him.

  Lincoln

  My jaw may never come back off the floor where it has fallen. The second Lark began to sing on stage, she transformed, like a butterfly. She’s a songbird, not just because I call her my “little birdie” but because she can really sing, like really, really sing. Her voice…is amazing.

  I knew she liked to go play around at some local coffee shop, but I always figured she didn’t really love it or was really not good from what she had told me when I hired her. She had always said she was told she’d never make it as a singer. I felt bad for her, but thousands of people don’t make it as singers, so it’s not shocking or unusual. If I’m being honest, I’ve been a dick. I should have gone to see her perform before tonight. I should have shown interest in her music. Christ, I’m an idiot. I’ve been so sucked into my career that I don’t even show support to the ones I care about. I can’t believe I haven’t seen her music skills before this moment. She is a bona fide star.

  As I contemplate this, two things become clear in my mind, and I swallow as I realize I don’t like either. One, Lark needs to pursue her own singing career. And two, I’m in love with her, but she deserves so much more than me. I push aside both thoughts because, right now, I have to compose myself and go perform. I can’t have a mindfuck like this in my head while I’m on stage.

  I hurry back to the dressing room and find a bottle of vodka and down several large swigs. Kade walks in and glares at me.

  “What?” I snarl.

  “Try not to get wasted before our set, man,” he chides.

  “Whatever,” I growl at him as I set the bottle down and head out to the hallway to join Harry and him in our pre-set ritual. The alcohol quells my thoughts, but not my feelings.

  Lark

  Two hours later, I’m back on the side stage watching Voltage Drop. Lincoln has just taken off his shirt and tossed it to some lady in the crowd, and the women are going wild. I roll my eyes, but I am also completely transfixed by Lincoln’s body. He’s ripped from all his gym time. And he doesn’t possess that slender running-man look of so many lead vocalists, he’s almost six foot two, and he has broad shoulders and well-muscled arms and legs. He’s a vision, and the crowd knows it.

  I’m half paying attention as th
ey wrap up their encore, and I start to step back to clear a path for them to exit when my arm hits something. I try to steady myself, and then everything goes black.

  “Lark! Lark!” I hear my name.

  “Call a doctor,” I hear. I start to open my eyes, but everything seems so bright. I close them again.

  “Hey, Lark, little birdie, wake up.” I hear Lincoln’s obnoxious nickname for me. He heard me whistling a tune in the shower my second week working for him. He said he thought it was a songbird, and since my name is Lark, well, you can guess the rest.

  I slowly open my eyes, and all I see is Lincoln’s worried face.

  “Hey, are you OK? How does your head feel?” he starts asking me. I blink and try to comprehend his words. I’m confused and reach up to touch my head. I don’t feel my skin at first, and it takes a moment to realize that he’s holding an icepack on it.

  “You are one lucky lady,” a second voice says. It has a thick accent.

  I try to get up, but Lincoln presses a palm on my stomach. “Oh no, we are waiting for the doctor. This medic, Juan, was here and helped me get you backstage, but I want you properly examined.”

  “Why? Did I fall?” I ask, trying to remember.

  “You don’t remember?” Lincoln asks.

  I shake my head slowly.

  “Your arm knocked into a bracket on the side of the stage that helped hold up a speaker. It was not properly secured, and a metal rod fell right on your head,” he says.

  “Oh?” I answer.

  “How many fingers am I holding up, Miss Lark?” the medic asks.

  “Two,” I say.

  He pinches my fingers and feet. “Can you feel this?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “I think she can sit up,” he says to Lincoln.

  It’s then that I realize I am in Lincoln’s arms.

  “I’d rather we wait for the doctor,” Lincoln says, grasping me tighter. He’s sweaty and has a new t-shirt on, but I don’t mind being in his arms, not one little bit.

  “Hey, the doctor’s here,” Kade says as he rushes in the room with an older woman behind him.