Beautiful Distraction

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” I say.

“You need to understand. My family’s just ordinary folks. We weren’t poor, but we weren’t rich either. It was my opportunity to support my family and the people in this town. So it was a closed deal. Five days later, I moved to Los Angeles, where I met Casper, Derrick, and Rock. They became my new band members. From there, our whole image was created for us, and we were told what to do, who we could date, how we should dress. It’s all part of branding and image building. We started six years ago, and now we have six studio albums, two remix albums, and I have a net worth of ninety-five million.”

I almost choke on my breath, shocked that he’d just divulge that last piece of information so honestly. “Wow. That’s a lot of money.”

I don’t know how to take that.

That is a lot of money. No wonder he doesn’t trust anyone.

“Yeah, it is,” Kellan says. “But it doesn’t matter if it makes me miserable. I’ve come to a point where I realize there’s so much more I want to do with my life, but I have so little time to explore my interests. I mean, Ryder loves his job. And Cash has built up an entire string of nightclubs from nothing and turned them into a huge success over night.” He looks at me, his eyes meeting mine, and his expression softens. “That’s one of the reasons I quit.”

“You quit?” I ask, confused.

Did I miss something?

What did he quit?

Being a rock star?

It sounds too far-fetched, incredulous.

“I got out of my contract four weeks ago,” he goes on to explain. “I’m not the lead singer of Mile High anymore.”

“Four weeks ago?”

That was around the time I won the tickets.

“Today was my last gig. It all started here, and this is where it all ends.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Wrapping my arms around my waist, I stare at him, my mind devoid of any thoughts. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” His arms go around my waist, and he pulls me to his chest. “It’s what I want.”

The weak moonlight bathes his face in a golden glow. I take in his beautiful features, the soft smile on his lips, and can’t help but wonder whether someone like him could really be content with the relatively boring life out here—compared to that of a rock star, of course.

“What brought on such a huge decision?”

He shrugs. “You know how people say fame and wealth change you? It’s true. I grew up here; I’m rooted in this kind of life, and yet life on the road still changed me. Rock fell into a crack addiction. Derrick’s eight-year marriage broke down because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. And Casper’s suicidal because he’s gay and in love with our makeup artist, but his contract stipulates that he has to stay in the closet.” Kellan shakes his head. “It changed us all for the worse. Even me. That night you met me? I was an asshole. I didn’t get why you wouldn’t throw yourself at my feet.”

His honesty renders me speechless.

“My life consisted of groupies, parties, sex. There were drugs everywhere,” Kellan continues.

“Sounds like every guy’s dream come true,” I mutter.

“In the beginning, it was,” he says, his lips twitching but not with humor. “I grew sick of it pretty fast. However, the easy sex rubbed off on me. I thought every woman was the same.”

I think of Mandy mentioning the groupies. I remember the banners at tonight’s gig and can’t help but feel jealous of all the women Kellan must have met—and fucked.

As if sensing my thoughts, he touches my cheek gently. “None of them mattered, Ava.”

I know that, otherwise he wouldn’t be here with me, and yet—

“It’s your life. What you do is none of my business,” I say. His grip tightens around my waist. I can feel his gaze on me. He’s looking at me. Through me. His eyes are penetrating every layer of my soul, settling somewhere deep inside me.

“You asked what made me quit,” he says softly. “It was my sister’s death. It was a wake-up call. If it weren’t for that damn tour, I would have seen her before she died. I might have changed her mind about going back.” A shaky breath escapes his lips. I reach out to touch his cheek the way he touched me a few minutes ago.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes shimmer in the weak light of the moon. “She was always worried about me. Yes, it was just a job, but if it weren’t for her, I think I would have fallen into the usual drug crap. But she made sure to call whenever she could. And she always listened. I still remember the last time we Skyped. She begged me to quit.”

Which couldn’t have been easy. A contract with a label spans years and countless albums. It’s hard to break out of, and even more so when a lot of money is involved.

“How did you get out?” I ask.