WHAT THE FUCK WAS Rob Williams’ problem? Xavier had no clue. Who has the world crouching at their feet and chooses this?
Xavier Montgomery stared, shaking his head and trying to make the scenery before him seem more real. Trees, fields of endless trees. Like walls suffocating and enclosing him everywhere he looked. A gravel road. Why the fuck didn’t they have a paved road and driveway? What? Pavement too damn fancy? He couldn’t comprehend it. Gravel? A long, gravel road leading toward the left to another long gravel driveway where the spread of stupid trees opened up and there it was: Rob Williams’ house.
His damn country house was literally in the middle of absolutely nowhere. And no one outside the immediate area ever heard of it or would have, if not for Rob Williams, the lead singer of the now legendary band, Zenith. Rob lived there. Wrinkling his nose in disdain, Xavier had to cringe when he saw the residence up close. A typical, provincial country house that Rob shared with his wife and stepdaughters. He chose to live there? It was a rather modest, two-story house, with a long, wraparound porch along the front that some people might refer to as “cute.” Yuck. Looked more like a good place for country-folk to hang out. Honestly? Xavier had no idea why a successful rock star would consider living so modestly.
Especially since Rob had the choice of living on any property in the whole world.
Shaking his head while trying to imagine the infinite fame Rob enjoyed, his flawless reputation amongst his peers, and the exorbitant amounts of money that accompanied such celebrity, he kept asking himself why would an icon choose to make his life right there?
Fuck. Rob was nothing like him.
Tightening his grip on the steering wheel of the nondescript, brown, two-seater subcompact he drove, Xavier grimaced. What a piece of shit he had to drive. Why? Because unlike Rob Williams, Xavier didn’t have more than a few dollars and certainly no fame, no name, and no band. He didn’t have the world to command at his feet. He didn’t have anything. He never did.
The thing was: he would soon have it all. Xavier intended to procure everything that Rob Williams had and much more.
And Rob Williams was the very vehicle who would make it happen. Rob was the only reason he came there. He knew everything about Rob. Where he lived, his favorite places to hang out, along with personal details regarding his family and friends. He consumed every article from magazines to news stories to paparazzi sightings in his effort to learn everything he could about Rob’s life. Every story that the internet spat up when Rob Williams or Zenith were typed into it, had been thoroughly explored from every single link. Pictures. Words. Songs. Everything.
Xavier wasn’t a stalker. Nor a psycho. He had logical reasons for spending all of last year studying Rob Williams and his band, Zenith, as carefully and comprehensively as if he were earning a BA degree on the subject.
Xavier’s plan for success was based entirely on Rob Williams. Rob was his idol. His hero. His inspiration. Rob was exactly who and what Xavier wanted to be. Although he wished Rob were a little more traditional, like most people in the music world. Rob wasn’t like any other musician because he lived so far off the grid, and seemed so removed from the industry. But Xavier thought he could use that to his advantage by finding an innocent way to meet him. Then he would manipulate Rob into mentoring and eventually, sponsoring him and his musical debut.
But of course, the first thing he needed to do was meet him. Xavier had to devise a way to get Rob interested in him personally. To invest in him. To coach him. He needed Rob to help launch his career into the perfect image Xavier pictured and always desired for himself. Xavier’s goal? To make himself the next legend in the music world, just like Rob did.
There was no doubt in Xavier’s mind anymore; he could be that. Talent oozed out of him. It was all he could ever count on in life. Lacking only the access, money and privilege, Xavier was more than eager to hook up his talent to the kind of success he envisioned for himself.
Rob was also pretty old before his success happened. A washed-out drunk for years until he wrote a song about his ex-wife that rocketed him to the next stratosphere of