After his meteoric rise to superstardom, Jim O'Brien is no longer a small-town boy who plays in bars and dreams of success. His handsome face is plastered on the covers of celebrity gossip magazines, and his voice alone is enough to make girls swoon...
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Dec's heavy hand squeezed my shoulder.
"It'll be okay, boy."
"No." I rubbed my temple. "It's my fault, Dec. I screwed up. I hurt her. She'd felt miserable and betrayed for hours, and I was clueless."
"You need to do something," said Declan. "Give her time and space, but you need a big gesture to make her forgive you."
"The big gesture was supposed to happen tonight."
The streetlight reflected off the small metal object in my hand. Taking the key from her hand hurt. How the hell would I convince Ava that the only real guy was the Jim she knew, not his public alter-ego?
I would've begged. I would've done anything if she'd let me. Ava was too hurt to listen, and I felt too guilty to insist.
Declan shifted in the driver's seat. "I told you it would backfire, but I'm not gonna rub more salt into that wound. We have to seek solutions. I'll help you with whatever I can; just say it."
"Thanks."
My voice came out hoarse. I was hanging on by a thread, and Declan knew me well enough not to push.
He turned the key in the ignition and drove away, leaving Ava's neighborhood behind.
I managed to calm down some by the time Declan's Toyota stopped at the entrance to Rave — the club my bandmates chose to celebrate our show.
If things had gone as planned, there would be my surprise and dinner for two in the hotel suite I'd booked. Ava and I would marvel at the city skyline and talk all night.
"Thanks for the ride," I said to Declan. "Take a day off tomorrow. I have things to take care of."
"Are you sure? You might need a ride in the morning."
"I'll crash at Nick's with the guys. No worries, okay?"
Dec sighed. "Don't give up, boy. We'll figure something out. Lord knows I did my share of groveling."
"I'll leave her alone for now," I said. "Thank you for everything."
Dec's pitiful gaze accompanied me as I got out of the vehicle and strolled to the club entrance. The bouncer let me in, and less than two minutes after, the sea of moving bodies engulfed me.
I pushed through the crowd of dancers, desperate to get to the private room in the back.
A tall, brawny, square-jawed guy gave me a curt nod before stepping aside to let me in. His name was Richie, and it was the first time we'd used his services. Despite my initial reluctance to have a security detail, I ended up caving in.
"Fuck, man, you had us worried." Jay jumped to his feet, nearly spilling the Jack onto his clothes. "How's your back?"
It hurt like a bitch, but the other kind of pain overpowered it.
