Hidden in the Stars (Falling Stars #2) (21 page)

Ignoring him, I step in and look through the glass. Not her.

Moving on, I reenter the hallway and run into Julia, a man in all black standing next to her.

"Jackson, what's wrong?" She attempts concern.

It's fucking patronizing.

Stepping around her, I continue to hunt her down.

Red.
The thought stops me cold.
Fucking Red knew. He'd tell that girl he's fucking in a heartbeat. And she's loyal to Liza. Loyal enough to give her the inside scoop for this show.

Heat rises from my stomach and over my chest, choking my throat. Gulping down a breath, I charge forward on my mission.

"Miss, I have to stop him." A deep voice comes from behind me.

I move quicker, reaching the next door before security reaches me.

Gripping the handle, I shove. Locked.

I raise my fist and large, heavy hands wrap around my forearm, pulling me away from the door.

"Get off me," I protest, shoving the man off.

The force is enough for him to release my arm and smack the wall across from me.

"Don't you fucking touch me," I warn.

A door opens and voices carry out, catching my attention.

My eyes lock onto Liza. Her eyes widen and lips part.

A storm of lust, need, and want rages within me just from the sight of her.

Her mouth opens to speak, but my approach silences her.

The way I want her, need her, knowing she possibly used me for the show, morphs my anger to rage. I hate it. I hate the way she makes me need her.

Fucking snake charmer.

Pushing into her personal space has her stepping back against a wall.

"Hey, man," the security guy calls out.

"Is this how you play your game?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

She tries to move, but I trap her with my arms on both sides of her body. Surprise whitens her face.

"Jackson," she starts, her voice a worried whisper, "back up."

"Is it, Liza?" I press, bringing my face closer to hers.

Sweat forms on my upper lip, a combination of heavy breathing and sobering.

"What game?" Her eyes boldly meet mine.

I snort.

"Don't play stupid." Taking my left hand from the wall, I trace her cheek with my finger.

"I'm not. There's no game, Jackson." Defiance tightens her jaw.

"Who told you about me, Red or that bitch he's fucking?"

"You're high, aren't you?" she scoffs, shoving my hand away from her.

I immediately miss touching her. This just pisses me off more.

"Quit fucking evading the question," I sneer.

"No one
told
me about
you
!" she snaps. "I wish someone had." Her voice drops to a whisper and she closes her eyes, pain creasing her face.

"So, you thought you'd fuck your way to the finals or winner's circle?" The poisonous question leaves my lips.

Her eyes snap open. Pain, hurt—
fuck, again with the hurt
—and then fire.

"Move," she commands.

"Your game is good." Grabbing her thigh, I squeeze to emphasize “good”. "Maybe if you fuck all the judges they'll be just as infatuated with you."

My head snaps left from the force of her hand.

"You're a bastard," she says, the contemptuous words filled with pure venom.

Keeping my eyes on the wall to the left, I seeth.

"You want to know who told me about you, Jackson?"

I clench my jaw.
I fucking knew it.

"
You
did!" Her temper flares.

I snap my head back, meeting her angry eyes.

"When you mentioned it on the phone last night." She shakes her head. "That's when I found out and I didn't think it was a great time to mention it."

My anger lowers to a nervous simmer.

"I guess I was wrong. I should've told you then. I mean…fuck it, I should just add it to the other shit you have going on." Her voice is hard, cold.

I hate it.

Guilt rises like a flurry of hornets in my stomach. I raise my hand to cup her face.

This time, the rejection is hers to deliver. She slaps my arm down.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me," she seethes, accentuating every word. Every one of them like a knife stabbing my soul.

What have I done?

"Liza—”

"Don't." She shoves my chest, causing me to stumble back. "I don't want this."

Breathing becomes painful, restricted.

"Keep your drama and your baggage." She waves a hand in the air, motioning over me. "You need to deal with your shit." Closing her eyes, she shakes her head. "I can't do this back and forth with you."

I step forward and her eyes snap open. She puts a hand up, stopping me.

"You're like a razorblade, Jackson. And I'm not thick-skinned enough to survive you." Tears rest at the corners of her eyes.

Fuck!

"I'm sorry," I blurt. The words are simple, but I've never meant anything more in my entire fucking life.

"Sorry is just a word." She shrugs and the movement jars one tear loose. "It's like a band-aid with you."

My eyes track the tear trailing over her smooth, porcelain cheek, until it drips from her jaw. My vision blurs.

"Take care of yourself."

I blink, clearing the blur when tears escape.

Two steps forward is as far as I get before she stops me with a look and turns, pushing by onlookers.

Of its own accord, my body propels forward, needing to go after her.

Four hands press against my chest. I refocus on my surroundings, finding Gemma and Julia pushing against me.

"Let her go," Gemma says softly.

"I don't think I can." A humorless laugh escapes me.

"She needs space, Jack." Gemma wraps an arm around mine, leading me back to the sound studio.

I take a deep breath and pull my arm from hers.

"Where are you going?" Julia asks, her question riddled with panic.

"Restroom," I answer without looking back.

Locking the multi-stall room, my shaky hands retrieve the last of my coke from my back pocket. I line it up on the counter, catching a glimpse of myself before leaning over and snorting the rails. Straightening, I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to risk seeing the truth of what I've become.

I pull out my cell phone and scroll until I find his name.

"Yeah," his familiar voice answers.

"Randall, it's Jack. I need a package." I turn, leaning back against the sink. The drugs are taking longer to feel the effect.

"Christ, already?" He laughs. "You're a machine, but don't worry, I got some killer shit in yesterday. I'll personally deliver and we can party at your place."

"Sounds like a plan." Closing my eyes, I savor the numbness of my mouth.

Liza

"Sid, call me back. Please," I beg, leaving my third voicemail.

"Still no luck?" Bethany slouches in her dressing table chair.

I shake my head.

"I'm not Sid, but if you need to talk, Liza," her body turns toward me, "I'm here."

Looking up from my phone, I force a smile.

"Thanks. I appreciate that," I say, and I mean it, but I haven't been able to get past my confrontation with Jackson.

Damn him for being an asshole. And damn me for allowing myself to care enough to be this hurt.

I swallow down the lump of tears in my throat. A knock on the door pulls our attention.

"Come in," Bethany calls.

Red's wide body slips inside the room.

"Can I talk to Liza for a minute?" Red asks, his question directed at Bethany.

Her eyes come to me, waiting for my okay. I nod and she turns back to Red.

"Sure." Standing, she shrugs and walks to the door.

Before she can exit, he wraps an arm around her waist. Pulling her to him, he kisses her quick and hard. When he releases her, she tries to look annoyed, but even I can see her fighting a smile.

The minute the door closes behind her, Red steps further into the room, taking a seat on a small, worn loveseat. He bounces and presses his hand to the cushion.

"This thing is shit." He bounces once more. "I need to replace this."

His eyes come to mine. I give my second forced smile since I left stage rehearsal.

"That's not what I want to talk to you about." He clears his throat. "You aren't yourself tonight, Liza. Everything okay?"

Red's never given off the vibe of a jerk, but the tenderness in his question surprises me. He's usually loud, boisterous, and funny. In this moment, I see why Bethany likes him so much.

"Just a rough day." I shrug and sigh.

"I'm not one of the girls," he motions around the dressing room, "but you can come to me with shit."

The total guy attempt to be there makes me giggle.

"I'm serious." His brow wrinkles.

"I'm sorry." My giggle grows. "I don't mean to laugh."

I take a deep breath, getting myself under control.

"I really appreciate you checking on me. And I really appreciate you making me smile for real tonight, even if it was unintentional."

He grins, satisfied with himself.

"I need to talk to you about something else." His face grows more serious.

Worry assaults me for no real good reason.

"Don't look so panicked." He puts his hands up. "I think this is a good thing. I want to make you a featured performer."

I raise one brow, confused.

"I'm not sure I understand," I say, voicing said confusion.

"Liza, you're an amazing performer. Not just because of your voice," he rushes to clarify. "When you step onto the stage, you become another person. You know how to play off the crowd. Fuck, you make them play off you."

The compliments feel a bit uncomfortable, but a pleasant warmness fills my belly.

"Instead of you becoming what they want, you make them want what you give them. That's fucking talent." He rubs the back of his neck. "I want to do a photo shoot, and the leads—like Bethany and you—will have solo shots, but…" he pauses, getting serious, "basically, you are getting top billing. You're going to be the
feature
everyone comes to see."

I open my mouth to protest.

"I know who my best players are, Liza." Red stops me before I can get a word out. "Bethany and Jennifer will still do their solos and we may even bring in some new singers. But I've thought long and hard about this, I've watched the crowd and all of you. You're going to be the spotlight."

This time, I don't know what to say at all.

"Which means your photoshoot is going to be a bit more intense. Once I find the right photographer—”

"My cousin," I blurt.

"What?" It's Red's turn to be confused.

"My cousin, Sid, is a great photographer. I can get her portfolio or the online site she keeps."

"Her?"

"Yeah, it's short for Sidra. She hates it and goes by Sid," I explain. "She went to college for graphic design and online marketing, but she's studied photography since she was in high school."

Opening the browser app on my phone, I scroll through my favorites, knowing I have her Deviant Art account favorited. I adore the photos she posts there.

"Well, yeah, I mean, I really want to take these pictures to an edgy, sexy place. I was thinking of contacting some of the photographers I've worked with for Corrosive Velocity, but if you have her send some pictures, I guess I can take a look at—”

Shoving my phone in his face silences him.

Red's eyes widen and his chin drops a bit. He takes my phone.