“Back at the coffee shop, that guy was so bowled over by meeting you, and before that you’d said something about me having to ‘play rock star’ later. You don’t have to play—you’re coolallthe time. I’m not a rock star.” He was conscious his voice was rising but wasn’t able to stop it. “I’m not sure I can do this.”
“Listen.” Rafe squeezed his hand. “The way I look? I’m lucky. I’m comfortable in black and in the clothes I choose, and I’ve mostly always dressed this way. I’d look like this with or without the music career and the band. And when I’m with you and the guys, I’m me. Sure, when I meet fans, then I make an effort to be nice and play up to them a bit, but that’s just the job. I don’t necessarily like having to be ‘on’ and work twenty-four seven but it comes with the territory. But you’re perfect the way you are, Parker. You don’t have to change a thing, and I don’t want you to be like me.”
Parker could feel himself flushing. Who didn’t like compliments? “But the rock star bit? Even I’m not stupid enough to think that I can stand up on stage in my boring denim jeans and T-shirt.”
Rafe snorted. “Actually, you could. Quite honestly, you could wear whatever you want, but I get it. What do you think you should be wearing to perform?”
Parker shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t you guys have someone who does this kind of thing for you? A stylist or something?”
Rafe huffed out a laugh, and Parker wondered if he’d said something ridiculous. “To be honest, we came up through the pub scene and we just wore what we each felt comfortable in. We didn’t change our image much when we hit the big time. Did you see any big change in Harvey? The only change for me is the black leather instead of black denim, and for others,” Rafe shrugged, “not much change at all. Maybe more designer labels and better hair stylists—”
“See? I don’t even have a hair stylist. I just go to the barber.”
Rafe gave a full-on belly laugh.
Parker was tempted to stamp a foot.Damn! This isn’t a joke!“For fuck’s sake, Rafe. This is serious. It’s bad enough that I have to get up on stage. I don’t want to stand out like a sore thumb.”
“I’m sorry.” Rafe scrubbed a hand down his face, and his smile faded. “I know this is important to you. I’ll tell you what, I’ll be your stylist.”
“Really?”
“Sure. We can head up to Third Street Promenade. We’ll easily find boutiques that will have what we need.”
Parker nodded enthusiastically with relief. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
“But Parker? This isn’t about creating a fake rock star version of you; it’s about working with your own personality. This is about getting you something to wear so you feel comfortable. It’s not about anyone else, it’s about you.”
They were nice words, but deep down Parker knew that appearancesdidmatter.
17
“Let me take that for you.”
Rafe took the garment bags from Parker’s hands and headed to the bedroom and that immense walk-in closet where he hung the suits and shirts they’d bought. He was so damn glad they’d found exactly what they’d needed. Parker, being Parker, had been reluctant at first, but he’d gradually come around, and it looked like he’d actually enjoyed the shopping expedition. He’d even put up with every one of Rafe’s requests, trying on multiple pieces until they’d found the perfect combinations. Parker was now the proud owner of some stage outfits, and some other clothes he’d need for interviews and social occasions. Speaking of which, Rafe had no desire to be social, at least, not tonight.
He left the closet to find Parker unpacking a few of his other purchases.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. I hate to say it, but I think Nigel was right about needing a few days to wind down. I can’t be stuffed to go out tonight.”
Parker looked up from his task of pulling the stuffing out of a new pair of shoes and pressed his hand to his chest. “Shock! Horror! Are you telling me the great Rafe Moreno is too tired to go out? What happened to the exciting life of a rock star?”
Rafe chuckled at Parker’s theatrics. “I keep telling you, I’m boring. I don’t know what I need to do for you to believe me.”
“Just keep telling me how tired you are and how you want to stay in instead of painting the town red like a normal red-blooded guy.” Parker laughed.
Rafe threw himself down on the bed, bouncing on the mattress then scooting up to put his hands behind his head on the pillow. “You just wait. Once you reach the ripe old age of nearly thirty, you’ll be wanting your beauty sleep too.”
“Beauty sleep, huh? Well, it sure is working.”
“You charmer, you.” Rafe laughed, but he warmed inside at the compliment. It mattered that Parker liked what he saw. Funny, because usually Rafe didn’t give a shit what people thought. No, actually that wasn’t exactly true.
Rafe cared that fans and the press commented on his outer appearance, but only because that’s what they focused on. They didn’t seem to see much past his exterior and his position in the band. Guys and girls wanted to be with him for what he represented, but when Parker said something, it felt honest. It didn’t feel like he was just paying lip service or that Rafe’s exterior was theonlything he was seeing.
“Well, young whippersnapper, what exciting things will you get up to in the City of Angels? Hitting the clubs? Checking out the scene?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Checking out the locals?”
Parker snorted. “Firstly, I’m not that young. Despite appearances, I’m only four years younger than you. Secondly, if I was going out, it wouldn’t be to the clubs or to check out the locals, as you so nicely put it. With limited time, there are other things I’d much rather see and do, and I wouldn’t want to do them on my own, and finally, my feet are fucking killing me so I won’t be going anywhere either.” He threw himself back onto the bed next to Rafe.
Rafe exhaled with relief when he heard Parker deny wanting to hit the clubs, maybe meet some other people. Parker was his—My what?He turned his head and took in Parker’s profile. From this angle, his nose looked patrician, the slight crookedness not obvious. His eyes were open as Parker stared at the ceiling, his pale eyelashes surprisingly long. His jaw was brushed with the faintest touch of auburn stubble. Rafe wanted to reach out and touch—
