Dance With Me Page 2

  “Can it be that simple?”

  “Rest isn’t simple. As you know, or you’d do it more often.”

  I nod, and after he prescribes me sleeping aids that I won’t take, I put my hat and sunglasses on and hurry out to my car.

  I didn’t see any paparazzi when I arrived, but we’re in Hollywood. You never know when and where they’ll pop up, and I don’t need TMZ splashing Starla leaves renowned doctor’s office—is her career over? all over the place.

  Once I’m in the car and headed toward my house in the hills, I call Meredith.

  “How did it go?” she asks. It sounds like she’s chewing on something. “Sorry, hold on. Do not hit her with that!”

  I laugh, imagining what’s going on in Meredith’s house in Seattle.

  “Sorry about that. How was it?”

  “Horrible.”

  “Oh, God. Star, do you have a tumor?”

  “I don’t think so. He says I need to rest.” I roll my eyes and turn up the road to my house. “As in, no performing or recording for three months.”

  “Awesome,” she says, making me scowl.

  “Not awesome.”

  “No, it kind of is. You need a break.”

  I drive through the gate to my house and park in the garage.

  “Why does everyone think they know what’s best for me? I don’t need to rest, I need to work.”

  I grab my Hermes bag and climb out of the Mercedes, then have to brace myself against the side of the car when the dizziness returns.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “Breathe,” she says soothingly. “Seriously, this is perfect timing. You just wrapped up the tour. No one expects you to jump back into another one after that. It’s been too many months of non-stop concerts.”

  If I don’t work, I dwell. I don’t want to do that.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do for three months?”

  “Sleep. Write music. Shop. Go to the movies. Eat pizza. Should I continue?”

  “Okay, so those things don’t sound so bad. Particularly the shopping.”

  I set my bag on the kitchen counter and sit on a stool at the massive island. This house is ridiculously enormous, especially for just one person. I’ve never cooked in this kitchen.

  I’m never here.

  “I’m going to be so fucking bored.”

  “I have the best idea ever,” she says. I can hear the excitement in her voice. “Come to Seattle. You can dance with Jax and me to stay in shape, and you’ll have us nearby. You don’t have anyone in LA. Not really.”

  She’s not wrong, and I don’t know if I should be sad about that. I have acquaintances here, and a few friends, but no one that I trust the way I do Meredith and Jax.

  “I love you, but I don’t want to live with you,” I reply with a laugh. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” she says. “Jax and Logan just bought a house that looks over the Sound, near Natalie’s old place. I know Nat’s place is empty, and she’ll totally let you live there for a while.”

  “Are you sure? That seems like a huge imposition.”

  “No, it’s really not. That house sits empty most of the time unless someone in the family needs it. Whenever they think about selling, someone wants to use it. It’s like the Universe is against Nat selling it or something.”

  “If she’s okay with it, that might be perfect. And it’s near Jax and Logan?”

  “Yep, right up the street. And I’m only twenty minutes away. It’s perfect.”

  “I don’t think I should drive up.” I nibble my lip. “Not while I’m dizzy like this.”

  “I’m sure someone here has a car you can borrow.”

  “Dude, I have more money than Midas. I could just buy one when I get there.”

  “Fun! Car shopping.” I can hear the excitement in her voice, and it makes me excited, too. The thought of being close to her for several months isn’t a horrible thing.

  “Go ahead and call Natalie, see if it’s available.” I bite my lip, thinking it over while I look around the big, white kitchen. “Why did I buy this huge house again?”

  “Investment. And you have to have a home base,” she says. “Also, that closet. I could live in your damn closet.”

  “Ah, yes,” I say with a smile. “The closet. Anyway, I have to call Donald and fill him in so he can get the word out that I won’t need the studio. And I hate to say it, but we have some shows to cancel.”

  Donald is my manager, and will not be happy about this change in plans.

  “I know you hate it. But, Star, it’s for the best.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Good God, you’ve been here for a week, and you’re already getting more deliveries than me,” Jax says as he walks inside the house in Seattle that Natalie is leasing to me while I’m on medical leave. Donald worked out all of the details for my recording and performance schedule, and I’m officially on an extended vacation.

  The best part is, Jax and his husband Logan are right down the street. They come over often for dinner or breakfast or just to chat.

  Jax carries two boxes stacked on top of each other, and Logan has two plastic bags full of Chipotle.

  “I’m actually hungry,” I say as they join me in the dining room that looks out over the pool in the backyard. The house is gorgeous, and the view of the Sound from the upstairs is even better. I’ll be writing plenty of songs up there.

  “So your office is sending up your fan mail?” Logan asks as he opens a box. Inside is a pile of letters and gifts.

  “Yeah, they’re sending it once a week.” I pull a burrito out of the bag and take a big bite. I’ve eaten more since I’ve been here than I did a whole month on the road. I’m always hungry now, which is new for me.

  It also means that I feel a few extra pounds making their way onto my frame. I need to get back to working out.

  But whether I like to admit it or not, the dizziness is less frequent. So, maybe some time off and away from the chaos that is a pop star’s life is exactly what I needed.

  “Okay, let’s read them,” Jax says as he reaches for an envelope. “Dear Starla, I’m your biggest fan ever. Dance With Me is my favorite song, and I sing it all the time to my kids.”

  Jax looks up at me and bats his eyelashes. “Aww, so sweet.”

  “Don’t be a dick.” I toss a chip at him, but he catches it out of the air and pops it into his mouth.

  “Listen to this one,” Logan says, joining in on the fun. “Dear Starla, I don’t usually write letters like this—”

  “Which is code for they write them all the time,” Jax adds.

  “—but I need to tell you that your music has changed my life. I started dancing, at home at first, but then at the gym in an Oula class when I got more confident. I’ve lost a hundred and twenty pounds.”

  “Holy shit,” Jax says and whistles through his teeth. “I take it back, that’s a cool letter.”

  “Very cool,” I agree before taking another big bite of my burrito. “What’s in that puffy envelope?”

  Jax reaches for it and opens it, revealing a necklace in a black velvet pouch. The pendant is half of a heart that says Best.

  “I’m assuming whoever sent this kept the friend part?” Jax asks.

  “Is that creepy to anyone but me?” I ask thoughtfully.

  “Kinda creepy,” Logan agrees. “But maybe it’s a young girl.”

  “If that’s the case, it’s not creepy.” I nod in agreement.

  “How are things?” Jax asks, finally setting aside the letters and opening his own burrito. “How are you feeling?”

  “A little better,” I admit. “The house is great. Seeing you guys helps, too.”

  “She loves us,” Jax says to Logan, who just smirks. They’ve been married for more than five years now. I can’t believe how fast the time has gone. Back in the early days of my career, Jax and Meredith were dancers on my first tour. They’ve choreographed every show since, even though they don’t travel anymore. They
’ve settled down in Seattle, running a dance studio and loving their lives.

  They’re my best friends in the world, and I miss them. Meredith was totally right to suggest I spend a few months here. I would be going nuts in that mausoleum I own in LA.

  “Are you resting like the doctor told you to?” Logan asks. He’s the more laid back of the two of them. But both are stupidly attractive.

  “I’ve never slept well,” I reply honestly. “But I’m not dancing and singing my ass off every night anymore. I’m taking it easy.”

  “Dizzy?” Jax asks.

  “Nope. It’s gotten better. So I’m ready to get back into the studio and dance.”

  Logan frowns. “Is that a good idea?”

  “I’ll take it easy on her,” Jax says, watching me. He knows me. “She should stay active so she doesn’t lose her fitness level.”

  “Exactly,” I agree. “And so I don’t resort to murder.”

  “That would be unfortunate.” Logan chuckles and wads his empty wrapper in his hands, then tosses it into the bag it came in. “Let me read another letter from an admirer.”

  “I want admirers,” Jax says.

  “I admire you, darling,” Logan replies, blowing his husband a kiss.

  “You guys are ridiculously adorable.” I laugh as I shut the lid on the letters. “I’ll go through these later.”

  “They should sort them for you,” Jax says. “Like, read ahead and categorize them in case there’s anything creepy in there.”

  “Like an earlobe or something?” I ask with a raised brow.

  “Ew. No, serial killer. Like just weird stalker-type stuff.”

  Like the email I got this morning.

  I clear my throat, and Jax’s eyes narrow.

  “What happened?”

  “What are you talking about? Nothing.”

  He shakes his head, and Logan’s gaze bounces back and forth between us.

  “What’s up?” Logan asks.

  “Nothing,” I repeat.

  “You’re a bad liar,” Jax says.

  “Stop harassing me. You’ll make me dizzy.”

  “You’re going to milk that for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

  I smile angelically and pop another chip into my mouth.

  “When do we get to dance?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Today, if you want.”

  “I want.”

  “That’s my cue to get back to work,” Logan says, standing and gathering our mess to throw away. “I’ll see you later. Are we still going car shopping tomorrow?”

  “If you have time, yes,” I say with a smile. “I need some wheels, and I’m feeling well enough to drive. Finally.”

  “Then wheels the lady shall have,” Logan replies. He kisses Jax, then gives me a hug and walks out.

  “He’s hot.” My voice is casual in a matter-of-fact way.

  “Girl, you have no idea,” Jax replies with a laugh. He cues up some music on his phone and scoots the couch out of the way, giving us plenty of space on the hardwood floor to dance.

  “I love that we can do this anywhere.”

  “Me, too.”

  The music starts, pulsing through the room. The song isn’t one of mine, which I prefer. I don’t want this to feel like work.

  We immediately move into an old routine from my previous tour. It’s not acrobatic, which is good as my muscles loosen, warming up.

  Jax takes my hand and spins me to him, then lifts me and sets me down again. God, the music feels amazing.

  I’ve missed this. Dancing for the fun of it. For the love of it.

  The song finishes, but we continue through two more.

  When the final song ends, I’m panting, my hands planted on my hips.

  “I’ve only been out of the game for two weeks.”

  “That’ll do it,” he says, passing me a towel to wipe the sweat off my face. “You’ll get it back quickly.”

  “I hope so.” I sigh and immediately start to stretch. I don’t want to cramp up. “But it’s okay if I’m not tour-ready for a while.”

  “I agree. I’m glad you’re taking some time off.”

  I nod, but I don’t know that I’d call what I feel glad. There’s relief there, for sure. Always mixed with some guilt.

  Jax gathers his things and kisses my forehead. “I have to get to class. Do you need anything, little girl?”

  I grin. He’s called me little girl for years. “No, I’m good.”

  “I’ll call you later.”

  He waves, and then he’s gone. I start to march up the stairs to take a shower, but the doorbell rings.

  “Did you forget something?” I call out with a smile and jog over to the door, opening it without looking through the peephole.

  Only it’s not Jax on the other side.

  It’s Levi.

  Levi from that night several months ago. The best sex of my life, Levi.

  What the hell is he doing here?

  “Hello, Starla.”

  “Well, shit.”

  ~Levi~

  “This is heavy as fuck,” I grunt as I help my brother Wyatt push a wrought iron bench across the concrete of his pool area. “Why did you pick out the heaviest stuff they had?”

  “I didn’t pick it out,” he says. “My gorgeous wife did.”

  “Figures.” Wyatt motions for me to stop. I stand and prop my hands on my hips, surveying the area. Despite the size and sheer weight of the new pool furniture, I have to concede that it looks nice. “Where are the cushions?”

  “Back here.”

  I follow him around the side of the house where the cushions are stacked and waiting to be placed. By the time we haul them and get them set up, we’re both panting.

  “Even the cushions are heavy,” Wyatt says with a laugh. “The store offered to deliver and set up, but it’s just patio furniture. How hard can it be?”

  “Hard enough to pay the store to do the work.” I shake my head and wipe my brow with the handkerchief I keep in my back pocket. “You owe me a beer.”

  “I can pay that debt.”

  I follow him into the house and sit at the kitchen island. Wyatt grabs two bottles of beer from his beverage fridge, pops the tops, and passes me one.

  “Thanks for your help.”

  “You’re welcome.” I take a pull on the beer. It’s cold and refreshing on my dry throat, so I take another drink. “Where is Lia?”

  “She’s in L.A. for a couple of days, going over marketing plans for her new makeup line.”

  “Good for her.” I’m proud of my new sister-in-law. What started as a hobby—showing women how to apply their makeup on YouTube—has grown into millions of fans and a seven-figure makeup deal. Lia’s living her dream.

  “It launches just before Christmas.”

  “Excellent timing. Not that I know how the retail world works, but Christmas has to be a good time.”

  “Agreed.” Wyatt smiles and drinks his beer. “How have you been?”

  Exhausted.

  “Busy,” I say instead. “It seems the good people of Seattle enjoy ripping each other off.”

  I am a detective in the property crimes division of the Seattle Police Department.

  The shit I see on a daily basis would make anyone lose their faith in humanity.

  “Job security, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “You don’t love this new job.”

  I sigh and shrug a shoulder. I transferred to this division about two years ago. “There’s an opening in homicide. I’m thinking of throwing my hat in for it.”

  “Homicide.” My brother raises a brow. “You’ll be all gray by the end of the year.”

  “Funny.” I stand and pace his kitchen, thinking it over. “I think I need a new challenge. I’ve been interested in homicide for a long time.”

  “Well, I hope you get it, then.” His eyes tell me there’s something more.

  “But?”

  “You already live and breathe the job,�
� he reminds me. “Homicide would be more.”

  “Depends on how many people turn up dead.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I stand with my back to him, looking out his front windows toward the house across the street. The house Lia lived in when Wyatt met her.

  There’s a car parked out front, making me frown. “I thought that house was empty?”

  “It usually is,” he confirms. “But Natalie Williams is letting Starla stay there for a few months.”

  My gaze whips to my brother’s, and he cringes.

  “I was looking for the right time to tell you.”

  “Jesus.” I set my half-empty bottle on a nearby table and shove my hands into my pockets. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  It’s a big fucking deal.

  “Bullshit,” he says. Wyatt’s really the only one who knows that after I spent the night with Starla, I tried to contact her, but she ghosted me.

  It was humiliating. I didn’t consider what we did to be a one-night stand.

  One-night stands don’t feel like that.

  But she never replied to my texts, and I wasn’t willing to beg for her attention.

  “How long has she been there?”

  “A week.”

  I turn to him now and raise a brow.

  “I know, I should have called you. But she messed you up, man. I—”

  “You should have called me. If the roles were reversed, you’d be pissed.”

  He blows out a breath and hangs his head. “Yeah. You’re right.”

  I look back at the house, just as a man leaves and walks down to his car, whistling.

  “Who the fuck is that?”

  “Jax,” Wyatt says immediately. “You’ve met him, remember? He’s married to Logan?”

  I consciously make my hands relax and nod stiffly. “Right.”

  “Dude, you’ve got it bad. Jax is her friend. If you want to stake a claim, go do it.”

  Been there, done that. Have the broken heart to show for it.

  I shrug. “That ship has sailed. Enjoy your new pool furniture. Tell Lia I said hi.”

  “Will do. Keep me posted about the homicide thing.”

  “I will.”

  I wave and walk out toward my 4-Runner, but stop and shake my head in frustration.