EPIC (Book 1 of the Soundcrush series)

Chapter 10: Rock Stars Don't Do Details

Trace

Surprisingly, when Ashlynn leaves with Riley, I feel calmer than I've felt in twenty-four hours. Once she gets her money, she'll be gone. My interaction with Ashlynn is over, for at least a couple of months. I wish it weren't that way, but as soon as I made the decision to give her the cash, all other decisions about Ashlynn's welfare were taken out of my hands, until she needs more cash. Whether I'm doing the right thing by her, or as Riley says, just enabling a drug addict; there's no point in debating it in my mind for the rest of the day. I gave her the cash and it's done.

So today, we'll just have fun. I wonder if Kat has forgotten fun. I know I have. Last night was the most fun I've had in ages. Flirting with Kat, and teasing her, and touching her. God, we need to have more fun, me and Kat. Real soon.

I get back to my room and the first thing I hear is a phone alert. Not mine. Kat's. I pick it up automatically and before I can stop myself, I'm reading the text preview.

This is the last text I'm sending. Answer me now, or we are done.

Ah, dickwad is seriously pissed. He's probably been blowing her up all night, and from the sounds of it, she's ignored him. I have half a mind to pocket her phone and let some more time drag out. Instead, I find myself padding down the hall to her room. I smile. Maybe I'll catch her in the shower and we'll have some more fun, flirting. Maybe she'll let me join her. Maybe we'll have wet skin cuddles.

I walk in her room. I don't get to play my shower cuddles move. Our stylist Tamara is here and the room is littered with clothes.

Kat is in underwear—hot pink lace. Oh sweet Jesus, she looks even better than I imagined. Her eyes meet mine, and she jerks, like it's her instinct to cover up, but she stops herself and arches her spine a little, that booty pop thing hot girls do. Oh baby girl, I like that bold attitude. I make a show of checking her out. She smiles. And she picks up a jean skirt from the bed and slides it up. Then she frowns. The skirt hangs off her.

"I don't think that's going to work, Tam." I say.

Our stylist rakes her hands through her hair—the kind where it's dark at the roots and blond at the ends—and shoots me a dirty look. "No shit, Trace. Your fault."

"My fault? You're supposed to be the clothes expert."

"Yeah, but when I asked you her size, you said, 'I dunno. She's...curvy.'"

"You think I'm curvy?" Kat's eyes fly wide in alarm.

"You are, babe," I assure her, my eyes lingering over all the pleasant parts. She shoots me a narrow look and hastily dons a shirt, also two sizes too big. Not good, between the skirt and oversized T, I can't enjoy any of her curves. She scoops up a handful of clothes and mumbles, "I'll see if any of these will work," and she heads to the bathroom.

"He doesn't mean that," Tamara says hastily and as soon as Kat is in the bathroom, she turns and slaps me on the arm. "You're an idiot, Trace," she hisses. " As soon as I saw her in the hallway this morning, I knew none of the clothes I bought were going to fit. You've been fucking too many girls who live on diet pills."

Suddenly I get it. Curvy is some kind of secret code. Christ, do girls think guys put hidden meaning into words besides their actual meaning?

"Sorry, Tamara. I'm a guy, okay? To be perfectly honest, when I said curvy, I meant the T and A."

"Well I wasn't asking how hot for her bod you were. I was asking her size. You said she was bigger than Ash—"

I put up a quelling hand and give Tamara a murderous look and shake my head. She pulls me out into the hall and shuts the door quietly. "She doesn't know about Ashlynn? They're sisters, right?"

"It's complicated."

"It always is, with you rockstars," Tamara sighs.

I grin. "Come on, Tam, you know you love the drama we bring."

"I like the money you pay me," she says but she smiles begrudgingly. Tamara is like family. Actually, she is family—Bodie's second cousin or something. Tamara's been with us through two tours now, and works for the whole band full-time in LA. She used to take care of Ashlynn's clothes, before she split.

"What are you gonna do?" she asks.

"Take her shopping?" I suggest.

"You think that going to make up for keeping her sister's whereabouts a secret?" Ha, that's the least of the secrets, Tam. Tamara, knows more than the general public but even she just thinks that Ashlynn is a strung-out friend that I let stay with me. She doesn't know the full story.

"No, I meant to apologize for this curvy thing," I say quickly. "One clusterfuck at a time, right?"

Tamara rolls her perfectly make-upped eyes. "You can't take her shopping here, you know that. You'll get mobbed and pictures of your busted face will be everywhere. Just tell her the truth—you like her boobs and her butt. I'll see if I can find something of Mac's for her to wear..."

"That's gonna cause another problem, and you know it." Kat is super hot, but even I can see that Mac is smaller than her. Mac and Ashlynn are both tiny. Although in Mac's case, I think it's because of the combination of a naturally petite frame and an insane LA trainer, and in Ashlynn's case she doesn't eat.

"Well she can't go dressed like that," Tamara says. "I guess I'm off to the stores again."

If we have to wait for Tamara to get more clothes, Kat and I won't get any time to ourselves. I run my hands through my hair, getting a little frustrated. Why are these small things so complicated? I usually never worry about anything, except you know, big stuff like Ashlynn's welfare or writing a new album. Now suddenly I'm hung up on these tiny details of my day.

I put a hand on Tamara's shoulders. "Don't worry about it. She lives half an hour away. We were going for drive anyway. Thanks very much for your help."

"Make sure I see the next girl, before I have to shop?" Tamara saunters down the hall.

I don't tell her there might not be a next girl. I want this one to stick.

I'm fucking desperate to get things settled with Kat and be with her, but there's all this big heavy stuff I've got to work out, and now I've got to deal with my super hot girl thinking I don't think she's super hot because I described her curves as curvy?

My phone alerts—the priority alert from one of the management team—and I dutifully check it. Shit. Like I don't have enough to deal with.

The publicist is alerting me that Kat's identity has broken. The world knows Little Sister is Katheryn Ballard. She's coming over right now to the morning meeting to talk about spin. She sends me a sampling of the articles. Some of them inferring that I may have been dating Kat for some time. Some of them speculating about the meaning of Little Sister—all the intense, violent speculations I've heard before. Exactly what I don't need...the press investigating me in conjunction with a girl of the last name Ballard. I paid alot of money to "bury" certain documents in the public record, but nothing in this age of computer documentation is truly irretrievable.

I've got to figure out how to tell Katheryn about Ashlynn before the press does it for me.

What do you think about Trace and Kat's misunderstanding? Is Trace being a typical dense guy, or is Kat jumping to conclusions about a rock star's expectations? Will it turn into a thing or will they smooth it out? Or will Trace ignore it in favor of bigger worries?

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