Reckless Obsession (The Reckless Rockstar Series) - Samantha Christy Page 0,1

then I’d gotten to know the guys well, and I knew Adam Stuart never asked a girl out. He never needed to. Not with all the Aimees around. So when he did, I knew it was going to be different, and it was. We’ve been dating for two months. Me, dating the lead singer of White Poison.

Aimee hands me the song lineup for tonight. It’s almost always the same. “When you’re out there, watch out for the step down behind you.”

“Thanks. I saw it earlier during the sound check.”

“Of course you did,” she says, her tone laced with condescension.

Aimee, like most of the other roadies, is jealous of my relationship with Adam. In the beginning, I tried to make friends with her and some of the others. It worked until I started dating Adam. Now they barely talk to me unless they’re required to. Hell, I’m surprised she even warned me of the potential hazard onstage. You’d think she’d want me to fall and break my leg or something.

We pass the guys’ dressing room. Their door is open, and they’re huddled together like a team around a quarterback before a play. They shout something in unison and then take a shot of liquor.

Adam sees me and gives me a wink. I blow him a kiss.

I wouldn’t even think about going in there before a show. I was explicitly told not to mingle with the band unless asked by one of the members. Almost all the stereotypes I’ve heard about successful bands are true: the drugs, the frivolous parties, the law-breaking that authorities turn a blind eye to, and the women.

I sigh, thinking I hit the jackpot with Adam. He’s not squeaky-clean, but he’s not into the bad stuff some of the others are.

Aimee and I step aside when four guys walk down the hall. I recognize them from the YouTube video I watched minutes ago. The smiles on their faces are miles wide. They’re patting each other on the back. I can tell they’re hyped up.

“Great job,” I say as they pass.

“Thanks,” they reply.

“Good luck out there,” one of them says to me. I think he’s the guitar player.

I hear their boisterous banter trail down the hallway. I don’t blame them. This was probably the largest venue they’ve ever played. Based on what I heard, it could lead to their big break.

Aimee leads me to the wings, where roadies are putting the finishing touches on the set. I peek at the crowd. It’s another sellout. White Poison has sold out every concert they’ve played for the past eight years.

I remember listening to them when I was fourteen years old, and now I’m one of them. Well, kind of. It’s still surreal.

A hand goes up the back of my short skirt and grabs my ass. I spin around, ready to deck whoever it is.

“Easy, luv,” Adam says, stopping my hand mid-slap.

I pull my skirt back down. “I didn’t know it was you.”

He smirks. “Just how many other chaps are grabbing your arse?”

“You’re the only ass grabbing my arse,” I say in a hideous attempt at a British accent.

He laughs.

“Hey, did you hear Reckless Alibi?” I ask. “They’re really good.”

He’s only half-listening to me, as he’s looking over my shoulder. “You want to do something reckless with me? That can be arranged.”

“No. The opening band, Reckless Alibi. They’re good. Great, in fact.”

“Reckless who?” He drinks something handed to him by a young girl with ten miles of cleavage.

I put a finger on his chin, turning his head away from her boobs and back to me. He shoves my hand away, irritated. And now I’m irritated at him for being irritated with me. Why should he get to ogle the cleavage of another woman?

“I think you should invite them to the after-party,” I say.

He glances again at the girl’s boobs, and I swear he thinks I’m suggesting he invite her breasts.

“The opening band,” I clarify, frustrated.

“Have you gone bonkers? Why the bloody hell should I care about some blokes who don’t mean two shits to me?”

I take a step back. “Because you were them, Adam. A long time ago, you were an opening band, too. They’re good. You should listen to their stuff.”

His eyebrows shoot up. Suddenly he seems interested. Well, not interested but maybe jealous. “They’re not coming. Do not invite them, Bria. They won’t be welcome. You’re lucky you were invited.”

“I know. You never fail to remind me of that.”

“What the fuck has put a bug up your arse?”

“Nothing,” I say,