29. Noah
29
NOAH
S he was gone when I woke up, though at first I didn’t believe it.
I woke up slowly, full of memories of the night before. Standing with her pinned against the wall, taking her like a man out of his fucking mind with lust. I had been, at that point. Laying there in my boxers, spread out before her like a feast waiting to be devoured, had driven me mad with lust. I hadn’t realized that watching her work would be so sexy, though maybe that was because she was working on me at the time. Her movements as she shot the film, her direct orders about where to lay and how to do it, had wound me up until I could barely think for how much I wanted her.
When I caught her staring at me rather than working, her thoughts plain on her face, I’d thought she might be mine for the taking. And I’d been right.
Then, of course, I’d brought her back to bed and made sweet, slow love to her all night. All gentle kisses and teasing movements. Laying behind her while I moved inside her, holding her against me as she cried out in pleasure. Sharing our bodies and our souls.
It had been the most wonderful night of my life.
And now…
Wait.
My hand shot out to where she should have been and I abruptly sat up, all the hazy dreams of Molly’s body fleeing. Where was Molly’s body? Or more accurately, where was Molly herself?
My eyes flew around the room, searching. Bathroom? No; the door was open and the lights off. She wasn’t in the shower. In the sitting room? I jumped out of bed and made for the second room of the suite, some part of me hating that the tour kept booking me into such large rooms. It gave Molly more places to be hiding. But she wasn’t out there either, and though I searched the entire suite, Whiskey trotting along behind me like he was equally concerned, I couldn’t find her.
Or her camera case or clothes or shoes.
Molly was gone. Why? what had happened? Had she… Had she decided that this was a mistake? Realized that she was on her way up in the world, primed to do amazing things, while I was stuck in this same band, touring small towns and venues and trying desperately to stay relevant? She had the big job and all the talent and now maybe even a dad, and the last thing she needed was some deadbeat rocker who may or may not be a business genius, but came with a trashed reputation and questionable dating history.
She wouldn’t care, I argued with myself. She knew me well enough to know how much I was worth. And she’d been there with me last night. She experienced the same thing I did.
Right?
But then I came to the final argument against myself. The one I’d been ignoring. Yes, she was there last night and might have felt all the same things I did. But she’d lose her job if she gave in to them. She’d already told me that. The magazine had rules about her fraternizing with the enemy, or at least the stars, and breaking that rule meant the end of her contract.
And given how short a time she’d been there, probably the end of her career. Getting that job at Tempest had been a long shot, and if it only lasted a couple of weeks...
I was no employment expert. I’d never had a real job. But I didn’t think a couple of weeks before you were fired for breaking the rules looked very good on your resume. And sure, I would have taken care of her. I would have done anything to keep her happy and safe.
But could she trust me?
Would she trust me with something that important?
No. Why should she? She knew how I felt about people depending on me, or me depending on other people, and she’d seen me discard girl after girl over the years. More importantly, she was Molly Rush. She didn’t believe in depending on other people, because they had never come through for her before.
Of course she’d left. She wasn’t going to risk her job for me, because I wasn’t a good prospect.
“Shit,” I muttered to myself, dropping into a chair.
Whiskey sat directly on my feet and whined, as if he agreed.
“God, buddy, do you need to go outside?” I asked, jumping up. I was terrible at this dad thing. I needed to think of the puppy before I sat around moping about the girl I wanted and couldn’t seem to catch. I hustled over to the sliding door to the patio and opened it, ushering the puppy out. I didn’t know this hotel’s policy on pets—Molly and I hadn’t exactly been asking permission—but I’d clean up after him so they didn’t have anything to complain about.
While the puppy was outside sniffing the air like someone had been murdered and he was solving the crime, my phone started ringing. I turned and went back into the room, wondering what time it was and who the hell called this early in the morning. No one with good news. Nothing good happened before the sun was even fully up.
Unless Molly was in my bed.
I looked at the screen and groaned out loud. Taylor. Now I knew it was bad news.
“Taylor, I haven’t had coffee yet,” I warned. “You’re not getting the best version of me.”
“I don’t need any version of you, idiot,” she snapped. “You’ve already made enough trouble.”
Typical Taylor. Sometimes I wondered why we kept this woman around. She was like dealing with a pit bull who dressed up in heels and pretended to be sweet.
“What did I do this time? Tell me what it was and how to fix it so I can go back to my morning.”
“Stop joking, Noah, this times it’s real. You’re in trouble. Someone was in the bar last night taking pictures of you drunk off your ass. Nothing new there. If that was all, I wouldn’t be worried. The entire world knows you’re a drunk and it hasn’t killed you yet. The problem is, you weren’t the only one there. They sold those pictures and they’re everywhere.”
I fought to remember what she was talking about. Pictures of me in a bar? When had I been in a bar with anyone else? I mean, there were almost always other people, but they never mattered. The only time I’d done anything?—
Oh God. Two nights ago I’d been in the bar after the meeting with the band. Matt had been there, and he’d called for reinforcements. And when the backup got there…
Molly.
I’d kissed her. I remembered it distinctly. She’d laughed and said it was the middle of the night and no one would be there to see.
“Molly,” I breathed.
“Oh, you are awake enough to remember,” Taylor snapped. “This is bad, Noah. Molly’s your little sister, practically, and your roadie. What the fuck were you thinking?”
That didn’t matter, and I didn’t think she expected an answer, so I didn’t bother. “How bad is it?”
“Bad. Worse than you can imagine. She’s in trouble with her magazine for reasons I don’t know and your reputation is getting trashed all over the press right now. No one is surprised. Everyone is horrified. Your roadie, for fuck’s sake! What the fuck were you thinking?”
Another question that didn’t need an answer. I also needed time to come up with a story that they might believe. God, I wished Molly was here. She was so much better at that stuff than I was, and it would be best if our stories matched.
But she wasn’t. Because I’d pushed things far enough in public that she was about to be fired. I wondered if she was even still in town or if she’d already flown back to LA to try to fix things.
“Is she still here?” I asked.
“God, Noah, are you that stupid?” Taylor hissed. “Who cares if she’s still here? You’ve got to manage yourself, not her! The labels have all been bailing because of your reputation, and now it’s even worse. You’re never going to get another deal now! You’ve fucked everything up! All the work Lila and Rivers did to fix the band’s reputation is spiraling down the drain. The labels are bailing because they think the band is just as bad as it’s every been. And you’re taking Molly down with you. Get your head in the game, boy, or you’re going to ruin everything. If you can’t take care of yourself, take care of her. Leave her the fuck alone. Come up with a cover story. And meet me downstairs in the cafe in half an hour. We have to plan for war.”
She hung up just as abruptly as she’d called and I stared at the phone for several moments, trying to wrap my head around everything. Pictures. God of course there were pictures. There always were. But this time they were hurting someone I loved. And it was my fault.
Unless.
My brain finally turned on and started going through what Taylor had said. I was taking Molly down with me. Take care of her. Come up with a story. Plan for war.
Taylor wanted me to take care of Molly if I couldn’t take care of myself.
She wanted a story that the press would buy.
What if… What if I could do all of that with one simple plan?
Oh my God. It came together so quickly I almost missed it the first time, but once I grabbed it, I thought it might be the best thing I’d ever thought of. Help Molly. Save her from herself, give her what she didn’t even know she wanted. And in the meantime, give the press something else to talk about. The story that might save both Molly and me. Save the band.
Okay, it might not save me and it might not save the band. But it would save Molly.
And for the first time since we were very young, saving Molly was the only thing I could think of. I’d done it when we were kids—running right into a fight where I was going to get my ass kicked, just so she could get away. I’d thrown my body on the flames time after time, wanting to save her. I’d forgotten that somewhere along the way, when I started living for myself instead of her. I’d forgotten that she needed a hero.
I remembered now.
And I was going to be the best hero she could have asked for. Even if she hated me for it when all was said and done.