Page 30 of A Way Out (Rock Star #2)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

S hit just got real.

There was an offer on the table. Silver Lining Entertainment wanted to sign Demigoddess Revival.

Lacey insisted on running the contract by her father’s lawyer—her dad was in the industry, so there was an assumption his lawyer knew a thing or two about contracts between record labels and musicians.

Once the lawyer gave their stamp of approval, the members of the band would all sign on the dotted line—it wasn’t dotted, actually, it was more of a rectangle on a PDF document, and they’d each be signing a computer screen, but whatever. Signed was signed.

They’d be legit. And Oz’s bank account would finally have a positive balance.

The advance he was being offered wouldn’t last long; he had to get caught up on his mother’s mortgage before they seized her home, and that would suck up nearly every penny. But starting at zero was a hell of a lot easier than being in the red with no way out.

And the money would just keep on coming after that. They’d agreed to give Silver Lining rights to the EP they’d already recorded, as well as their next three albums. That meant they’d actually be able to pay Maria a real salary to do their publicity.

No, not Maria.

They’d be able to hire a publicist, that’s what he meant.

Maria was out of the picture.

Which sucked, because he really wished he could celebrate this milestone with her. And Riley. If he closed his eyes, he could picture their happiness, their excitement for him and the band.

When he opened his eyes, his bandmates were giving him peculiar looks. And Maria wasn’t here.

“You done meditating over there, bro?” Travis asked, probably only partially joking.

“Yeah,” Oz croaked out. “I’m good. Just, you know, maybe still in shock.”

“We need to celebrate,” Cash announced.

“I’d like to, but I need to get home.” Well, to Sam and Holly’s place, because that’s where his kids and mom were still temporarily residing.

“I drove all night and still barely made it here on time.” He’d fallen asleep at a rest area in Northern California and had slept through his alarm, which put him back a good two hours.

“But, hey, Cash, can you give me the name of that champagne you bought after we recorded our EP? I’d like to pick up a bottle. I can at least have a toast with the family.”

“Sure, man.” Cash pulled out his phone. “I’ll text you a couple of excellent options that aren’t too expensive.”

He wasn’t even offended at the implication that he was still watching his pennies. “Appreciate it.”

The rep for the label returned from wherever she’d been for the last five minutes, informed them that she had their info on file and that she looked forward to hearing back once their lawyer had reviewed the contract.

Silver Lining was a fucking huge label, so Oz wasn’t too worried that they were about to get screwed, but he did appreciate Lacey’s forethought to have a professional review before they signed their lives away.

The band headed down the elevator mostly in silence. No doubt everyone else was in shock too.

The minute they exited the glass-faced skyscraper, Travis and Parker both let out whoops. Passersby tossed them dirty looks.

Lacey shrieked and threw herself into Parker’s arm. He twirled her in a circle and gave her a smacking kiss before grabbing Travis’s arm and pulling him close.

“Group hug!” Parker announced.

They all tumbled into a pile right there on the street, just outside the main entrance of the biggest record label in the country. It probably wasn’t the first time this’d happened.

As they pulled apart, Parker grasped Oz’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “Go home, check on the family. Take a shower and a power nap. We’ll all be over this evening. We need to celebrate!”

“Okay, sounds good,” he said listlessly. They probably thought it was because he was tired, and yeah, he was, but that wasn’t why he was so down.

He wanted Maria to be here, celebrating with them. He wanted Maria in his arms.

And he couldn’t have her.

Even now, with his debt cleared and the path ahead pretty damn straightforward—make really excellent music and they’d be just fine—he couldn’t see them together. Even if Demigoddess Revival became millionaires, he’d never be on the same level with Maria.

Her mother had made that point abundantly clear.

The kids were at school, so the house was quiet when he arrived. His mom’s car wasn’t here; she was probably out running errands.

But Maria’s Cadillac SUV was.

Weird. They’d left it at the airport when they went out to Missouri, and after Oz and the rest of the band had flown home on Tuesday, without Maria, he hadn’t mentioned her vehicle still parked there. They didn’t have the keys anyway.

Maybe she’d arranged with Holly to have it brought over here instead of continuing to pay for airport parking.

Whatever. Not his problem.

Which was too bad, but he was already sick of dwelling. He’d spent that entire drive from Seattle to LA wallowing in his misery. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d considered turning around so he could talk to her one last time. Only today’s meeting deadline had kept him going.

And it had been worth it, hadn’t it?

He headed up the porch steps, pressed the code to get into the house, but when he stepped inside, the alarm’s familiar beep, beep, beep didn’t go off.

Had his mom forgotten to set the alarm when she left? It wasn’t a big deal to him—if a burglar had gotten this far, that alarm probably wasn’t going to stop them—but Holly and Sam would feel otherwise. He needed to remind his mother to always set the alarm when she left the house.

“Congratulations.”

The voice whispered across his senses. He was so far in his own head that he actually thought he was imagining it for a moment.

But there was Maria, standing in the foyer, her smooth, dark hair tumbling around her shoulders; she wore a flouncy little sundress, a nervous smile on her lips, and held a glass of champagne in each hand.

Guess he didn’t need the bottle he was holding.

Wait. “What are you doing here?”

Her smile faltered, and Christ, he wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go. But seriously, what was she doing here? She had to have realized he’d be here.

“Did you say congratulations?” he asked.

She nodded. “I talked to Lacey. She told me you don’t need me anymore.”

I’ll always need you . “How do you figure?”

She waved one of the glasses. “You were offered a contract. The band. You did it. Your hard work paid off.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “You, uh, actually had a lot to do with our success, so, um, thanks. But I still don’t get why you’re here.”

She stepped forward and pressed one of the glasses into his hand. Touching her rim to his, she drank deeply before sighing. “I’ve needed that drink for an hour now, but I didn’t want to take it until you got here.”

“Okay.” What the hell else was he supposed to say right now?

“Try it,” she encouraged. “Cash isn’t the only one around here with good taste in champagne.”

And there it was. The reminder that they were from different worlds. And those two worlds did not connect.

They collided.

He sipped the champagne to give himself a moment to collect his thoughts. It really was as good as she said. He’d never be able to stomach the cheap stuff again.

The reality was, he’d never have to, unless the band really, truly fucked up. Which wouldn’t happen. They all wanted this too badly. All of them. That’s part of what made them such solid partners.

He’d told Maria once that they could be partners. But he hadn’t held up his end of the bargain. He’d held back, not given her all the knowledge she needed to make an informed decision.

Well hell.

It probably wouldn’t matter—she’d already made up her mind about him—but he said, “Do you want me to explain?”

“I don’t need you to, but I think you need to say it.”

Well, if that wasn’t introspective as hell. He swallowed thickly and nodded at the patio doors. “Want to sit outside?”

Without a word, she turned. He followed her to two lounge chairs parked under the shade of the pergola, stopping to put the bottle of champagne in his hand into the mini fridge under the outdoor bar.

Someday, he might actually be able to afford a house like this. It was an odd sensation. He’d only ever wanted to be comfortable and make his family happy.

Resting his head against the cushioned chairback, he told her his sister’s story. How she’d gotten knocked up, how everything had seemed fine while she was pregnant with Elana. How the signs of an obsessive, controlling partner started after she had the baby.

But then she got pregnant with Daniel, and her boyfriend went back to being the sweet, loving guy she had fallen in love with.

Oz paused to take a drink and a breath. He hadn’t talked about this stuff in years. Telling this story was hard. It was easier not to. Plus, who would he tell? The family all knew, and none of them wanted to constantly dredge it up either.

“He proposed, and they got married at the justice of the peace. She insisted she was happy. But then she had Izzie, and everything got worse.

“He lost his job and he was pissed about it, because of course it wasn’t his fault it happened.

I think that’s when he started hitting Raquel.

I’m pretty sure it was all verbal and emotional abuse until that point.

I just don’t think my sister would have put up with the violence for all those years.

But by that point, she had three kids to worry about, and she’d quit working, at her husband’s insistence, so she could take care of them.

“One day, it got so bad that she finally left him. Took the kids and went to my mom’s house. Spent the night and drove the kids to school in the morning.

“Then, according to a text she sent to my mom, her husband called and apologized and swore he’d never do it again—all the same bullshit, but when you feel trapped, you don’t see the words for what they are. All he wanted was to lure her back under his control.

“She called the school and asked them to let the kids know to get on the bus and go home after school instead of to their grandmother’s. And then she went home…”

“You don’t have to finish,” Maria said gently. “I know the ending.”

He nodded, appreciating her consideration. “Once he went to prison, I decided the one thing I could do for those kids was to take him out of their lives as much as possible. So I hired a lawyer to get his parental rights taken away and to have their last name legally changed to Garcia.”

“That’s where the debt came from,” Maria guessed. He could hear the tears in her voice.

He dragged his hand through his hair. “I’ve been drowning for a while now. But I’ve been too afraid to take a chance on the band that might have paid it off sooner. And all I was doing was sinking deeper and deeper.”

Maria stood—shit, was she about to walk away? But she stepped closer and sat on the edge of his seat.

“Scooch over,” she said. He inched to the side, and she adjusted to lie next to him on the lounger. The chair was only meant for one body, so it was a tight squeeze, but that was okay. He liked having her this close.

“I’d offer to help, but I’m sure you’ll turn me down,” she finally said.

He shook his head. “Assuming there’s nothing wonky about this contract, they’re giving us each an advance. It’s plenty big enough to pay off my debt.”

“That’s great.”

He shrugged. “It’ll still be a struggle for a little while, until we start growing as a band, but I see that happening pretty quickly.”

“Me too.”

“It’d help if you stayed on as our publicist. We should be able to actually start paying you.”

She smiled. Her hand rested on his thigh. “I like that idea. I really didn’t want to walk away from the band.”

“What about me?”

“I really didn’t want to walk away from you.”

He rolled onto his side and cupped her face. “Then don’t.”

“I’m not.”

He kissed her, a gentle press of the lips. “Where’s Riley?”

She gave him another smile. “With her dad. Vic’s decided he wants to figure out how to parent. And I’m going to help him. We’re going to share custody.”

“All that stuff your mother said…”

“Was all her. And I don’t care about any of it. Vic has seen the light too. He’s planning to distance himself so she can’t influence him anymore. I’m not saying it will be easy by any means, but I do believe we can make this work. So long as?—”

“I love you.”

“Oh.” She blinked owlishly, clearly not having expected him to blurt out such an important proclamation. He hadn’t either, but he didn’t take it back.

He meant it.

She stroked his cheek with one finger. Her smile was wobbly. “I’m so very much in love with you, Oz. I don’t ever want to leave you again.”

He leaned back so he could look her in the eye. “If this thing between us works out?—”

“If?”

He chuckled and kissed her nose, but then he sobered. “ When we decide to get married, I want a prenup.”

“Expecting the band to be that huge, huh?” she teased.

He shook his head. “I mean, yes, but that’s not why. I want you to have confidence that I’m not marrying you for your money.”

She cupped his cheek. “I already have that confidence.”

He moved their champagne glasses safely out of reach and unlatched the back of the lounger so that it lay flat, and then he rolled them both until Maria was underneath him.

“We have a couple hours before the kids will be home. Oh, and the band is coming over tonight to celebrate.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Plenty of time to do our own celebrating first.”

He chuckled. And kissed her. And the only words they expressed were the kind meant for the bedroom. Or the lounger, as it were.

And it was absolutely perfect. Just as he knew it would always be, from this point forward.