How to Be a Rockstar's Girlfriend: a fake dating, small town, rockstar romantic comedy (Cash &

Chapter 29

Wake up call – something Gibson is in dire need of

Gibson

“Wake up, asshole!” Jett shouts before kicking my feet.

“Fuck off,” I say as I roll over.

The mattress tilts to the side and I find myself crashing to the floor. I open my eyes to glare at Jett but he’s not alone. Fender is holding the mattress while Cash, Dylan, and Jett glare at me.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“Get dressed. We need to talk,” Cash orders before marching out of the room.

Fender grunts and drops the mattress back in place on the bed before following him out.

Dylan glowers at me. “You brought this on yourself.”

I wait until Jett and I are alone before speaking again. “Did you tattletale on me?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “You have a problem. You need to deal with it.”

I get to my feet. “My only problem is my bandmates are a bunch of meddling bastards who keep poking their noses in my business.”

He sighs. “We care about you. We’re your family.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Whatever. Get dressed. We’ll be downstairs.”

I wait until he closes the door behind him before sinking onto the bed. Damn. My head hurts. My stomach gurgles. How much did I drink yesterday? I remember speaking to my dad and ordering a beer at the brewery. And then I bought a case of twenty-four beers before coming home and drinking the rest of it.

Except for the beers Mercy emptied down the kitchen drain. I frown. Mercy. I remember her stopping by but it’s all kind of fuzzy. She’s probably pissed I broke my promise not to drink.

I better apologize to her. I snatch my phone from the night stand and send her a message.

Sorry about yesterday.

I tap my foot as I wait for her to answer. I check the time. She’s probably at work and can’t answer.

I throw on a pair of jeans and sweatshirt before making my way downstairs. I might as well get this bullshit with the band over in the meantime.

My bandmates are waiting for me in the living room. Fender is standing guard in front of the door with his arms crossed over his chest. Jett is pacing the floor. And Cash and Dylan are sitting on the couch whispering. They immediately stop when I walk in.

I ignore them and continue to the kitchen. I rummage in the drawers for some painkillers. I pop two in my mouth and swallow them with a glass of water. I hope these work quickly because I don’t want to deal with my band with this headache.

I take my time finding a mug and pouring a coffee. I debate making myself breakfast but my stomach rebels at the idea.

“Are you done delaying?” Cash asks when I enter the living room.

I shrug as I plop down on a chair.

“The band is officially on break,” Dylan declares.

I rub a hand through my hair. What is going on here?

“What the hell do you mean? We have a new record out. Our next single is dropping soon. We need to promote it. And we have a tour planned.”

“Dylan is being nice,” Cash says.

“What he means,” Jett continues before Cash can. “Is you’re out of the band until you get clean.”

I rear back. “Get clean? I’m not an addict. I’m not the one who tried mushrooms and nearly caused our bus to crash.”

Jett grits his teeth. “And what happened when I came down? I agreed to never ingest mushrooms again.”

“I never agreed to not drink again.”

Jett raises his eyebrow. “But you did promise Mercy you wouldn’t drink.”

I snort. “Are you serious? You’re bringing up my agreement with Mercy when you don’t even like her?”

“I like her well enough.”

“Which is why you bring up our pact not to fall in love every time she’s around.”

“I can like Mercy but be mad at you for breaking our pact at the same time.”

“Since when can you multi-task?”

“Guys,” Cash interrupts. “We’re getting off topic here.”

“What is the topic? Oh right. The topic is how you’re a bunch of assholes who want to kick me out of the band because I had a few beers yesterday after my dad called.”

“Fuck,” Dylan mutters. “You didn’t tell us his dad called.”

Jett glances away, but not before there’s a flash of guilt in his eyes. He deliberately kept the information about my dad to himself. “Does it matter?”

Dylan frowns. “Of course it matters. We could have been more gentle with him.”

“Being gentle isn’t going to work. He needs his ass kicked,” Jett says.

“And you’re the one who’s going to do it?” I chuckle.

Jett points to Fender. “No, he will.”

I glance over my shoulder at Fender. “You would really hit me?”

“I tried to help you,” he grumbles. “I’m out of options.”

“Help me? Hiding my beer wasn’t helping me.”

Cash clears his throat. “Can we stop going around in circles? This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

I jump to my feet. My temples throb and my stomach revolts but I ignore the pain. It’s nothing compared to the pain of the only family I have left abandoning me.

“I can’t believe all of you. You’re supposed to be my family. And this is how you treat me? Kick me out because I’m not behaving in the manner you want me to?”

Dylan sighs and stands before approaching me. “You have a problem, Gibson. We’re out of options here. Go into rehab and get sober or you’re out.”

“Why the hell would I go into rehab? I’m not an alcoholic.”

“You ruined your relationship with the woman you love for a few beers,” Dylan claims.

I frown. “I didn’t ruin my relationship with Mercy.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “The girls are with Mercy now while she cries her eyes out because you broke her heart.”

“I didn’t break her heart. We argued about my drinking and she left.”

His face softens. “Gibson, you called her a bitch.”

“I wouldn’t call Mercy a bitch.”

“She asked you to not use the word and you called her a bitch again. She said she loves you and you called her a bitch.”

I shake my head. “No, this isn’t right.”

Mercy never said she loves me. I would remember her saying those words. I would remember the woman I’m falling for declaring her love for me. And there’s no way I would call her a bitch. No way.

“I don’t believe you.”

I walk away while digging my phone out of my pocket. Fender blocks my path to the front porch so I make my way to the back patio instead. I dial Mercy’s number. When she answers on the first ring, relief fills me. I knew it wasn’t as bad as Dylan made out.

“This is Mercy’s phone.”

“Virginia? Why are you answering Mercy’s phone?”

“Because she doesn’t want to speak to you.”

My stomach falls. Is Dylan right? Did I say those horrible things to Mercy? I need to make this right. I can’t lose her. I love her.

I wait for the freak out those three words should cause but it doesn’t come. Instead, peace settles over me. I love Mercy. She’s the woman I’ve been waiting for. And apparently I treated her worse than crap yesterday. Shit.

“I need to apologize,” I tell Virginia. I’ll beg if I have to. I’ll do whatever’s necessary.

“Hold on.”

I pace the porch as I wait for Mercy to come to the phone.

“Gibson?”

I frown. “Indigo, where’s Mercy? I want to speak to her. I don’t want to play phone tag.”

“You’re stuck with me. Virginia is trying to calm Mercy down.”

“Calm her down? Why does she need to be calmed down? Is Uncle Mercury okay?”

“Old Man Mercury is fine. He’s going to outlive us all. You, on the other hand, are going to be dead if Mercy gets her hands on you.”

I can’t blame her. I know she hates the word bitch. It’s what her mother calls her whenever Mercy tries to help get her sober. My stomach flips. I didn’t mess up yesterday. I completely and totally fucked up.

“Let me apologize to her.”

“What do you want to apologize for?”

I blow out a breath. “For how I treated her yesterday.”

“And how did you treat her yesterday?”

“Not very well.”

She sighs. “You don’t remember, do you?”

Shit. This is bad. I open my mouth to lie but stop. Lying is not the way to make this right. “Dylan told me.”

“I’m sorry, Gibson, but it’s not a good idea for you to speak with her now.” Indigo hangs up before I have a chance to argue with her.

I scream and launch the phone across the yard before falling to my knees. What am I going to do? Mercy is never going to forgive me for a drunken rant. Not with her history. She hates drunks and for good reason.

I’ve lost her. I’ve lost the best thing to ever happen to me in my life. Better than meeting my bandmates. Better than getting our first number one hit. Better than female fans throwing themselves at me.

None of that matters. Mercy does.

I need to win her back. I can’t live without her. But how?

There’s only one way I can think of to even have a remote chance of getting her back. I stand and march back into the house.

“What’s the plan?” I ask.

Jett grins. “I told you threatening to kick him out of the band would work.”

“Asshole, I don’t give a shit about the band. I need to win Mercy back.”

“There’s a private clinic about two hours away. They’re expecting you today. Fender will drive you,” Cash says.

“What about the band? And the publicity?”

Dylan snorts. “Mike is eating this shit up.”

Figures our manager would find a way to turn my visit to rehab into a marketing opportunity.

“You ready?” I ask Fender.

“Whenever you are.”

I motion to the door he’s still guarding. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t want to pack a bag?” Cash asks.

“I’m good.” I point to Jett. “Try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

He grins. “Who me?”

I say goodbye to Cash and Dylan and then it’s time to go.