Chapter 13

“Hell no!” Colt’s voice echoed through the hotel suite.

He turned to face Chelsea with a hot glare. His eyes were hard, and his jaw set. She cringed at the murderous look on his face. Why was he so mad? This would solve the problems; that’s what Reid said.

They were standing in the living room after they’d eaten. Reid told him the plan, and Colt blew a fuse. Reid knew someone at the lab that would draw Chelsea’s blood before and exchange it with the one the lab tech would extract. She would also give her urine sample.

“You think I’m guilty don’t you?” He stepped towards her, his voice deathly low.

“N-n-no. Th-that’s not why I …” she stuttered, stepping back.

“I can see it in your eyes, the doubt,” he said.

“It’s not her fault. If you had submitted to the judge’s order, she wouldn’t have offered to do it,” Reid said.

Colt hadn’t taken his eyes off her. She tried to look away, but she found that her eyes were locked with his. She was so scared that she couldn’t breathe. Her stomach churned from that fear, and she wanted to flee. His look, she could not take it.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, I just thought we should get rid of that guy,” her voice shook as she said it.

“Who the hell asked you to fight my battles?” he roared.

Reid grabbed his arm. “That’s enough Colt. She was only trying to help.”

Colt turned to his manager. “Let’s go.” He turned back to her. “You stay here; I don’t want you there.”

Her heart sank at his words and the look in his eyes. The anger seemed to be gone and was replaced by disappointment. She didn’t understand it, his mood swings and what they all meant. She did not understand why he was upset that she thought he was guilty. Reid also agreed to it, why wasn’t he accusing him?

As they left, Reid winked at her. It didn’t make her feel any better. She just knew that the work relationship with Colt was going to get worse, but for now, she had work to do. Colt’s little tantrum would not deter her from finding out what why Carl hated him. She needed to put a stop to this, finally. When she checked the website again, there were more than 3,000 comments on it. On Colt’s social media account, there were more than 50,000 comments from fans and anti-fans alike.

Chelsea started digging around the internet and news sites for anything she could find of this fellow. She pulled up everything he’d ever written, where he went to school, and where he was born. He seemed to follow Colt around the country, because wherever Colt had a concert, he would show up there. He’d always have something bad to write, and Colt made it easy to do so. She pulled up one of his articles from two years ago.

“Rock Star Abuses Fan.” There was a photo below the headline of Colt punching a man. According to the article, Colt flew into a rage because the guy said he didn’t like one of his songs. She googled the search term for the article and another dozen popped up. According to the NY Sun, the man said they got into an argument because he was drunk and accused Colt of messing with his girl. Colt was also drunk, and they got into a fight. It turned out that the star didn’t even know his girlfriend. Colt paid for the damages.

She snickered, “You mean Reid paid.”

She was busy with tracking down information on Carl that she hardly heard when the door opened. When she looked up and saw Colt standing a few feet away from her, she jumped. His mood had mellowed. His face wasn’t as hard, and his eyes weren’t firing darts. Their eyes locked for a few seconds, and she felt her cheeks become hot.

“Are you happy now?” he asked, his tone softer than she’d ever heard. “I’m disappointed in you, that you of all people would believe trash about me.”

“I don’t believe trash about you Colt,” she said. “I-I never believed a word of it. I just—just wanted to …” by this time her breathing had become shallow, and her heart started racing. What the hell’s the matter with me? “That guy, he’s after you and,” she gritted her teeth. Her anger started to rise, giving her courage. “He’s the one who needs to do a drug test!”

The way he was now looking at her made her knees weak. He moved from his spot and walked over to the desk. Chelsea didn’t know what to do. Her pounding heart was drumming loudly, almost deafening her. He stopped within inches and took her hand, pulling her to her feet.

“Now, let me see more of this, Chelsea, you’re pretty when you’re angry,” he said.

Her mouth hung open, and her eyes widened at his compliment. Was this Colt? What was his angle? Was he going to kiss her again? Her eyes flew to his lips and lingered there. Absently, her pink tongue protruded from her mouth and ran slowly over her lips. Oh, Christ, he’ll think I’m seducing him! Hell no, I couldn’t seduce a drunken dog even if I tried; there’s no way he’d even notice me.

“You are a mystery,” he said in a gruff tone, lifting a hand and brushing her cheek.

She flinched as he raised the other hand, held her glasses by the handles, gently pulling them from her face. She wanted to ask what he was doing, but her voice stuck in her throat. When he reached for her bun and pulled the elastic band, allowing her hair to fall free midway down her back, she gasped.

“That’s better,” he murmured.

He was standing so close that his male scent penetrated her nostrils. His body heat was so strong; she felt it warm her. She wanted to sag into him, feel his hard body against hers. Her breasts were rising and falling at a rapid rate as she tried to breathe normally, but failed.

“What are you doing?” she finally managed to squeeze out. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I just wanted to see the other Chelsea, the one who lets her hair down.”

With a deep blush, she touched her hair. She didn’t understand this. Why was Colt acting this way? She raised her eyes to his. There he held her mesmerized for a moment. Just when she thought he was going to do something again, he broke the spell and walked away. Her knees gave way, and she slumped back into the chair, trying to still her rapid breathing.

* * * *

Colt clenched his jaw. What the fuck was he doing? First, he kissed her; now he was fondling her hair. His anger at her had flared quickly and died as quickly. Something strange overcame him when she offered to give her blood sample for the drug test. A pain had sliced through him when Reid made the announcement. It was a strange pain, one he never felt. Hurt. That was it. He was hurt by her offer. He knew it was a noble thing she did, but it seemed she did not trust him, and he was hurt.

It was getting late. In 24 hours, they would be on their way to LA for another concert, a bigger one that NY. He needed rest, but most of all he needed to stop himself from obsessing over the nerd assistant. What the hell was wrong with him?

He was peeling off his shirt when a knock came at the door. He dropped the garment on the bed and yanked the door open. She was standing there. Her large emerald eyes were wide, and her lips parted. She was staring at his chest. A smile crossed his face as he watched her swallow, and she flushed.

“Yeah,” he said.

She raised her eyes and handed him the cordless phone. “There’s a call from your producer,” she croaked.

He took the phone and brought it to his ears, “Robert, what can I do for you?”

“Colt, what’s going on? We need you to complete the album you started working on nine months ago,” the voice said into his ears.

He grimaced. “I’ll be done in a couple of weeks, trust me,” he replied and glanced at Chelsea who had returned to her desk. “I got myself a muse.”

“Stop messing around and get serious. I don’t care what you do in your spare time, that’s Reid’s business, but we need to put out something fresh, a single, anything,” the producer insisted.

“I told you, I have it locked. As a matter of fact, I wrote a new song, and I want to record for LA,” he said.

There was a slight pause before Robert replied, “Are you crazy? You’re leaving for LA in a few hours. The concert is five days away, how can you have a song out before the concert? You know what it takes to record a song. The guys will need to rehearse.”

“No, it’s acoustic. Just me,” he replied in a low voice. “Listen. I can do it and send to you, and you work your magic.”

“I don’t know, Colt. I know what I said, but …”

“No buts, it’s as good as done, man. Just follow my lead.”

He ended the conversation and hung up the phone. What Robert didn’t know was that he’d written three songs in the last twenty-four hours. He started on the album nine months ago and had four half-written songs that he could not finish. Since he kissed Chelsea, in just a few hours the lyrics of three songs just rushed from his brain. It was as if they were sitting there just waiting for something to set them free.

“Set me free,” he hummed as he cradled the phone at the desk and walked back to his room. “I’ve been trapped by the chains of the past. Set me free.”

Like a rushing wind, he trotted to his room and pulled out the notebook. Another slew of words rushed onto the paper through his pen. He was grinning from ear to ear as the words came forth. What could not happen in a year was now happening all in one day. It was amazing. After he was done, he leaned back on the pillow and closed his eyes. His shoulders relaxed as the new song played in his mind. Slowly he drifted off.