Chapter 61: Rock Stars Make It Official

This chapter is dedicated to Soundcrush's Superfan...MmmWhatever  Thanks for always always always giving feedback. You feel like a part of the story! Mwah!

Kat

Trace surprises me. The way he was glaring at Linley and Leed, I thought that's where we were headed straight away. Instead, he strolls us over to the security entrance.

"We need a little help for this," he says.

It seems to me like he's walking over to lend help, not get it. He's spotted Street being hassled by security. Street has made himself scarce all day, but he finally made his way backstage. He is trying to talk security into letting the cute girl he's picked up at the festival backstage with him. She doesn't have a pass.

"Hey, brother," Trace says with emphasis, and gives the security guy the chin tip. He steps aside and Street and Miss Cutie Pie wade in. I'm happy to see that although Miss Cutie seems wild-eyed and excited, she doesn't eye-fuck my boyfriend.

It's nice to know that there's one girl in the whole damn room besides Mac that doesn't seem to want my man. The roiling anger in my stomach starts to fade a little as I focus on Street and his Cutie.

Awwww, right now she's grabbing Street's arm and putting her chin on his shoulder and whispering "Who the hell are you, anyway, Fun Guy? You said you stole that pass...but you belong back here? You know Soundcrush?"

"I'm nobody," he grins, but he doesn't mean it in a resentful way. Street is more like Trace than he realizes. They both like their shit on the down-low.

"You mean this cat didn't tell you he's rich and famous?" Trace teases him. The girl just stares between Trace and Street and then looks at me, like I'm some kind of angel of normalcy that can confirm the dream she just walked into. "Yep," I assure her. "Trace and" I point to my man and then his brother, "Street, the del Marco Brothers." I tag Street with a mild backslap on the chest. "Thanks, by the way. For completely ditching me. We were supposed to hang out backstage. You left me with some real bitches to contend with." I jerk my head over my shoulder where Leed is still containing Linley.

Street's dark eyes squeeze tight in apology. "Shit. Sorry, Kat. Lost track of time." He puts an arm around the cutie.

"You can make it up to her right now." Trace assures him. "Listen...how many Instagram followers do you have?"

Street shrugs. I roll my eyes. "More than me," I tell Trace.

Trace smiles. "Perfect." Then he looks at Miss Cutie. He holds out a hand. "Hey, I'm Trace."

"Julia," she shakes his hand.

"Listen, Julia, will you help me out? I need to create a little justice for my girlfriend," Trace says, taking her by the elbow. "Can you just...stand here?" He positions her with her back to Leed and Linley. He leans and whispers to Street, Street laughs and nods at whatever instructions Trace gives him.

"The whole thing...livestream," Trace says, pointing a finger at Street as he grabs me by the hand and pulls me toward Leed and Linley.

I look over my shoulder and see Street, holding his phone up like he's taking video of Julia. Really, he's lining up over her shoulder, focusing in on Trace who stops just a few feet away and gives a "come here" gesture to Leed.

Leed wraps an arm around Linley's waist and walks her over. She looks reluctant and nervous.

"Hey, Linley," Trace says coolly.

Her eyes dart to me and they widen as she recognizes me. They flit back to him. "Hey."

"So look, we gotta problem here," Trace says to Leed. Leed takes the bait.

"Yeah, what kind of problem, man?" Leed looks down at Linley.

"Linley has violated her NDA." Trace says flatly. "She even showed pictures."

Leed removes his arm from Linley. Leed's a smart, if guileless, guy. He's onto to the fact that this is a set-up, but he's a little surprised to hear about the pictures, I think. He gives me a wince of sympathy, and then has the good grace to look a little embarrassed.

I narrow my eyes at him. You should be embarrassed, Leed. But Leed had a...weird upbringing. Who knows what happened on that hippie commune during his summers there.

But Trace!?!?! Trace should be ashamed. His mother raised him better than that. Freak. I shoot him an evil eye too, but he's got his rock star face on. He's not getting distracted from whatever game he's running.

Suddenly, Leed remembers he's got a part to play in this. "No shit!?!" He clears his throat and looks down at Linley, trying to look stern. In fact he just looks...uncomfortable. "What the hell, Lin? Why would you do that? I thought we were friends."

For the briefest second, Linley looks nervous, like she knows she's busted. But she's one of those girls that is too full of herself to ever admit being in the wrong. She pouts a little. "Look, you know the regulars talk about you guys...we have to, to make sure we keep you happy. I knew who she was...the famous Kat Ballard," she glares at me with open hostility. "I was just trying to be friendly to her, without being obvious."

"You had no idea who I was," I snap. "You just thought I was a stand-out that might take attention away from you. You were trying to get rid of me before the band got here."

"Standout? Honey, your plain-Jane looks were obvious. I was trying to help you out, and clue you in that you are just one of the girls in the club now. And that eventually, these two will expect you to act like one. They'll expect to share you."

I take a reflexive step forward, fulling intending to bitchslap Little Lying Linley, but Trace grabs my arm quickly and hauls me back. "You can't hit her," he whispers. "Wait for it."

He holds me tight, and speaks easily.

"Linley, there are so many things we need to discuss right now, but I'm gonna let the lawyers handle most of it. The one thing I will say to you is that you are way out of line, comparing your...former arrangement with Soundcrush to Kat's relationship with me. You see, Kat Ballard is my girlfriend. I love her, and we are committed and exclusive. I would never share her with anyone. In fact, I would destroy this motherfucker," he tags Leed on the shoulder, "if he even thought about putting his paws on her."

Leed cuts his eyes toward Street. "It's true, he would."

Goddammit, Leed.

Fortunately, Trace smirks, thinking Leed was playing to the camera. And more fortunately, Linley's too busy hating me right now, to notice Leed pretending to play to the camera while he was calling out Street.

"Enjoy being in the club while it lasts, bitch," she spits at me.

"Wow. You just signed your death warrant, Lin," Trace laughs and squeezes my hand. "Take her, HellKat."

Linley takes a step back, but Leed puts his arm around her, keeping her. "Where you going, Linley? I think you need to apologize to Kat."

"It's okay, Leed. She doesn't have to apologize. She just has to listen and understand that she and I are NOT in the same club when it comes to Trace. Linley, even though you may have had...experiences with Trace that I will never have," I swing Trace a glare, he holds up his hands in surrender as I slide my glare to Leed and he laughs while I return my glare to Linley, "I don't think you know Trace nearly as well as I do." I wrap my arm around him possessively. "Baby, did you grow up being friends with Linley your whole life?"

Trace puts a protective arm around me. "No. Just you, KitKat."

"Oh, so Linley doesn't have a special nickname like KitKat? You don't call her LinLin or Loonley or something cute like that?"

"Oh, Leed and I have nicknames for her, but I'm too much of a gentlemen to repeat them in public. What we call her is definitely not cute and funny like your nickname. You were always my KittyKat." He kisses my nose.

"So no mischievous adolescent bonding experiences with Linley, Trace? Ever steal anything with her?"

"Nope. But I stole a lot of shit with you. Lots of liquor, your sister's Christmas candy, Mrs. Gregson's jams of the month package, my dad's car a couple times, weed one time, but you didn't smoke it... "

I pat him on the arm, "Point made, baby. Shut up before you get sued, arrested, or dumped by a brand."

He nods. "Yeah, okay."

"Ever climb on your roof and play the guitar while she sang along from her window?"

"Nope. No idea where she lives."

"Ever go skinny dipping with her when you were a teenager?"

"No, but I didn't skinny dip with you, either, Kitty. You didn't take off your bra or underwear, and I didn't take of my athletic shorts, so I don't think it really qualifies as skinny-dipping," Trace objects. "It was more like regular swimming, except in the middle of the night."

"I was fourteen," I say.

"Which is why it was a good thing we weren't naked," Trace concedes. "Shit. You know, since we are having this conversation...I have a question for you. Katheryn Ballard, did I ever sleep with you or try anything on you when you were underage?"

"No, we never had sex, no heavy petting, no touchy-toucy. You gave me the best kiss of my life at fifteen, though—and I had already been kissed alot so I can say for sure that was true. It was so amazing you freaked the fuck out."

He smiles—the first genuine smile since I told him about Linley. "I totally freaked. You scared the shit out of me. So much so that I ran away from you until you turned eighteen, because Trailbait is really not my style."

I risk a sneak peak at Street's phone. "Yep. That's what the song is about. A kiss. Everybody should really chill out about it. But speaking of that song, tell me—did you write a multi-platinum song about kissing Linley?"

"Most definitely not, because I didn't kiss her." Linley's livid now, but she's too much of a proud bitch to wrestle away from Leed's grasp, tuck tail and run away, like she should.

"Oh, on that I beg to differ," she snaps at Trace. "You kissed me. In a lot of places."

"Not on the lips." his eyes narrow in disgust at her. "I never kiss the fangirls on the lips."

That surprises me. "Really?" I ask.

He looks down at me and puts his hand on his heart. "Swear to god. I could never bring myself to kiss fangirls. Since that New Year's...I only ever wanted to kiss you, KitKat."

I feel tears pricking in my eyes, but I hold them back, cause we aren't not quite done. "Awwww, baby, that's one of the sweetest things you've ever said to me. I forgive you for being a total manwhore and sharing girls with Leed while I was growing up and getting ready for you."

He looks relieved. "Christ, I'm glad. You are fucking unbelievable, Katheryn Ballard."

I peck his lips. "I'm glad you think so. But just to be clear...Linley's not in the same club as me?" I ask him, squeezing his arm.

He links hands with me and pulls mine up to kiss, "No, Kitty. You are in a club all by yourself."

"That makes me happy," I smile back brightly. "But you did have another club—the fangirl club. And that's okay, I knew about them going into this." I pat his arm, and turn back to Linley. "Linley, probably most of the girls in your club are nicer than you and wouldn't act like a bitch to me. But I want to thank you for being in that club anyway. You know why? Trace was always a stud but you and those other girls put him through his paces. And I can't thank you enough, because he fucks like a stallion. By the way, you and the other members might want to look for other clubs to join. The Trace Gallant Fangirl club is currently inactive, because he only fucks me right now, you got it, Linley? So take your special memories of Trace—cause you won't be getting any others any time soon--and turn your catty ass around, and retreat." Leed releases her and I take a step forward in front of Trace and go toe to toe with her. There's some movement—one of the security guys, but Trace puts his hand out to stop him.

"Fucking bitch," Linley hisses and stalks away. Security ushers her out. Everyone cheers. Street laughs. "It's going viral," he assures Trace.

Trace's phone is ringing. He ignores it. "Marcy," he murmurs.

"I'll take care of it," Leed says, pulling out his phone.

Trace is is staring at me. His face does not look like I expect. He doesn't look happy. He looks beyond confused...like a man lost.

Like a person whose whole world is turning upside down.

"I need to talk to you. Now." He looks to the security guy. "Is there a private place?" Trace snaps at him.

The man moves at once, leading us to trailer off the backstage where two guys are monitoring festival ground cameras. "I just want the room for a minute. Alone." Trace growls. They reluctantly rise and leave.

Trace has his back to me, one hand leaning on the door, one hand shoved in his pocket, his head bowed. What the hell is his problem? Did he not just tell me to put Linley in her place? Now he regrets it?

If he thinks I'm going to stand-by and let his fangirls treat me like that, he's wrong. Dead wrong.

"Trace," I say harshly. "What's your problem?"

He moves so fast I can't register the expression on his face. Next thing I know, I'm being pressed against the wall, his hot mouth demanding my mine.

Trace is all about the kiss. It goes on and on. He's never kissed me like he wanted to own me before. He won't relent. His onslaught slays my lips as if they were nothing but a paltry line of resistance. He conquers my tongue, subduing it, trapping it, sucking it, owning it. He wages a war for my breath, and my will. The battle becomes a sweet surrender as my mouth, my body, my soul—all of me—yields to him.

And still he pursues me. The kiss goes deeper, wetter, uglier. It's not pretty, but oh my god, is it ecstasy.

This can't go on. My heart is beating wildly, pulsing beyond a normal rhythm. My heartbeat is convulsing into one long frantic seizure. It sounds horrible, but it's actually the most euphoric thing I have ever felt.

Let me assure you, death from a rock star's ravaging is the most pleasant way to go.

I have almost passed out when he finally breaks the kiss. The back of my head hits the wall like I'm nothing more than a rag doll. I float, feeling perfectly at peace with whatever he wants to do to me. I really hope he's planning to have sex with me against the wall right now.

He's not. He moves away from me slightly, gently massaging my limp neck, cradling my wobbly head, making me look up at him.

"That was fantastic," he says, but his eyebrows are hunched with intensity.

I shake my head in disagreement. My heart is still struggling to squeeze normally again. I'm damn near dead.

I think, if I die, I'd like to go with Trace watching me. But I don't like the way his eyebrows are furrowed right now. I can't resist smoothing them with my thumbs as I continue to shake my head at him.

"You didn't think it was fantastic?" he laughs.

"That kiss was not fantastic. It was an epic battle and you defeated me. Why aren't you enjoying the spoils of war right now?" I rub my hand along his hard on.

He grins. "Because I'm planning on fully pillaging you, after the show. But when I said fantastic, I wasn't talking about the kiss."

"No?" I'm still touching his eyebrows. I love them. I love everything about this boy. I'm a fool for him when he kisses me like that.

I think my hand playing in front of his vision is annoying him. He takes it away, holding it to his heart. "No baby, the way you stood up for yourself was fantastic. Hottest fucking thing I've ever seen. You were amazing."

"You're not mad? I thought maybe...I crossed a line. Maybe I showed off too much...gave TMI..."

"You kinda did. You told the world all about us, baby." He nibbles at my throat. "And you know what? I liked it. I'm so used to everything in my life being private. I thought we needed to stay on the down-low, too. But I was wrong. Everything is different now. I love the idea of being your man—in private, in public, everywhere. I love the idea of you being my woman. Forever. And having the whole world know it. "

He's kissing near my ear now. "Kat...what I said awhile back in Vegas when we first started dating—about never ever getting married again—that was so fucking stupid. I was just having a flashback or some shit. I'm not ready now, but I'm sure one day...it will sound like a great idea again."

"Yeah?" I murmur distractedly as his tongue trails the curve of my ear. "I remember you sounded like you meant it. I think right now you're just horny. Everything sounds better when you are horny."

"I am most definitely horny, but that's not why I've changed my mind about the idea of marriage."

"No?"

"No."

"Why then? What has suddenly reversed your opinion on the institution of marriage?" His hands are cupping my breasts as he licks my favorite spot—the place where my neck meets my shoulder. He sucks and I moan.

"You know what."

"Mmmm, I really don't."

"You," he whispers hoarsely. "You are fucking amazing. The whole thing with Linley made me see how fierce you are. You are so strong and feisty and funny and forgiving and you're my fucking girl."

"And I know you're only eighteen, and I'm still mostly a kid, too. I know we've got some growing up to do. I know you've got to figure out what kind of lifework you want, and grow to be your own woman. I've got to get all that shit with my dad—with Ross—figured out. Either learn how to forgive him, or how to move on, I'm not sure. But all that...it's just icing, baby. None of it is ever going to change who we are, to each other."

He keeps whispering roughly into my ear. "I guess what I'm just saying is...will you grow with me? Will you work with me on all that shit and really believe in us? Cause I will if you will, and then one day, I know we'll be ready. So...what do you think? You want to? Get married someday?"

He pulls back from lavishing his breath, his speech and his kisses on my throat. He's still got my head in his hands. His eyebrows are all furrowed again, this time in hard concentration. His eyes are colorless, his pupils near pin pricks, as he searches my face for a response.

Finally, after a long moment, I swallow heavily. "Trace...was that a...proposal? I couldn't tell."

He bites his lip. "Well, I guess it was a pre-proposal. I'll do it again, with a ring and shit, when we are ready ready. If you want me to? If you think you want to marry me one day and live a rock and roll lifestyle with me and have del Marco babies and raise them up to be bad-asses and then probably end up chasing our crazy ass kids around Vegas trying to prevent them from eloping and—"

I shut his rant up with a kiss. A simple press on the lips, one, two, three, times. Then the slow sweet slip of my tongue into his mouth—as close as I can remember to the way he kissed me on New Year's. Because that's what this feels like. A new beginning. Finally on the right track.

He sighs in satisfaction. "Is that a yes? You want me to propose to you someday?"

"Yes," I tell him. "But I want you to do it with a song because you ramble too much when you make a speech."

"Yeah, I can do that," he murmurs. "We'll need a new song anyway. No way are we playing Little Sister at our wedding."

And then, Trace takes me by the hand and pulls me out into public view, his arm around me, his smile all for me. Cameras flash as he escorts me to side stage and the band gathers for their pre-show shot.

I watch my official boyfriend take the stage and thousands of fans scream in elation. They've been waiting all day for Soundcrush. I know exactly how they feel.   When the thing you've been waiting forever for finally happens, it's the best feeling in the world.

THE END

Well, there it is, folks! Like the ending?

We might do an Epilogue and check in with Kat and Trace at New Year's. I might also write some bonus chapters for the supporting characters. Don't forget, Kat and Trace might be officially committed and all-but engaged, but they still have some ISSUES to deal with--like what happens when Trace finds out Street painted Kat's tats, and why...and what mysterious regret Trace has from their time apart. We'll see alot of Trace and Kat in the second Soundcrush Series Book---URGENT.  But URGENT's main story is about the urgent and life altering decisions Mac and Adam are facing. Chapters of URGENT already posting--please check it out!