Rock Star: The Song (Book 1 of a Bad Boy Romance) (6 page)

I shook my head, and ran a hand over my face.

I waited inside the truck while she led them around the property. I saw them enter the house and ten minutes later exit. The way her lip curled up when she smiled was beautiful.

She got back in the truck.

“Well?”

“They are thinking about it. They’re not sure if it’s for them.”

“What’s the problem?”

“They want a better a deal.”

We stared out at the couple.

“You don’t want to drop the price?”

“No. I can’t afford to. It was never paid off, so I have been paying for it since my parents passed. I had thought of keeping it in the family, you know. Sentimental reasons.”

“Give me a second.”

“Chase?”

I hopped out of the truck.

“Chase, get back in.”

I waved her off. “Don’t worry. Give me a minute.”

I walked over to them and removed my sunglasses, whipped off my cap and let my hair hang. That was how most people saw me. The label wasn’t keen on having my face covered. It didn’t matter if they were into country or not. My face had been plastered over billboards, the back of buses and anywhere they could find room for advertising.

When they caught sight of me, the female gasped.

“Chase Bryan?”

“Hey guys. Listen, I hear you’re interested in the house. But you’re not sure if it’s for you. Meghan is good friend of mine. I’ll do you a deal.”

I cast a glance over my shoulder. I could see she was curious as to what was going on. I made sure she didn’t hear the deal I struck with them.

When I returned to the vehicle, I hopped back in and breathed in deeply.

“Sold.”

“What?”

“They will be in contact with your realtor.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Does this look like the face of someone who would kid?”

She screwed up her nose, her jaw dropped.

“OK, you can thank me now.”

She backhanded me playfully on the arm.

“Thank you. But you got to tell me how you did it.”

I mimicked zipping my lips closed, and tossing the key.

B
y the time
we returned it was early afternoon. As I pulled up outside Chase’s cottage, I was surprised to see Spike waiting.

“Isn’t that the guy who played guitar the other night?”

“Yeah, he’s a friend of mine. You might want to keep your head down low or duck off into the bushes.”

He laughed. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

“All right but give me a second.”

Killing the engine, I stepped out and Spike rose to his feet.

“Spike? How long have you been here?”

“A couple of hours.”

“What are you doing?”

“Sophie said you were spending a lot of time up here. Curious. Who’s the fella?”

I glanced back at the truck. Chase had his head slightly lowered. With his baseball cap and dark glasses on, it was kind of difficult to see who he was.

“Just a friend.”

Spike swiveled on his heels. “So who’s the fella that is living here?”

“Ah, just some writer.”

“A writer?”

“You know. Mystery novelist. An unknown.”

“Yeah, they all like doing that. Getting away. I should do that. Spend some time working on new riffs and licks.”

“So what are you doing here, Spike?”

“I wanted to know about this contest. From what I heard we don’t have long to come up with something. I thought we could get together, maybe you could share with me some of what you’ve written.”

“I would but I have a lot to do today.”

“Like what?”

He was pressing. One of those, I’m not going to stop until I get an answer.

“You know. I have to sign a few papers down at the realtor’s. I just sold the place.”

“Your parents’ cottage?”

“Yeah. How about that?”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ll go with you.”

“No. You don’t need to do that. I should get this cleared away by myself.”

He sniffed. “So after? Maybe we can get together at your place.”

I was getting the hint that maybe he was seeing this whole business of doing music together as something more than what it was. Don’t get me wrong. I liked Spike. We had grown up together. He lived on one side of the tracks, I lived on the other. Our parents knew each other and many a night he came over while our parents had dinner. I was the one that introduced him to Sophie. But I saw him more as a brother. A friend, nothing more. At least I didn’t think I did. I really hadn’t given it much thought. But I could tell when a guy was coming on to me. He had been a little bit more friendly. I just assumed it was our passion for music.

“Um,” I really didn’t know what to tell him. I cast a glance over my shoulder at the truck. I imagined Chase was eating this up. No doubt he would have some snarky one-liner.

Spike stepped down from the steps. “Ah, forget it. If you’re not interested.” I watched him approach his Yamaha dirt bike. Besides hovering around Sophie most of the day, he practically lived with that bike.

“No. Sure, let’s meet tonight.”

His face lit up.

“Cool. What time?”

“Seven?”

“I’ll be there, sweet cheeks.”

“Stop saying that.”

He laughed as he slid on his helmet and his bike roared to life. Within a few seconds he zipped away, leaving a plume of smoke and grit in his wake.

Chase exited the truck, and joined me in the desert cloud of dust.

“Lover boy miss you?”

“He’s not my lover, and it’s none of your business.”

We walked on up to the cottage.

“So what did he want?”

“Curious, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

I smiled and waited for him to open the door.

“You coming in for a drink?”

“It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

“So?”

“Don’t you have a song to write?”

He unlocked the door and swung it open. “That’s where you come in.”

“What?”

“I need some input, and you could use my input musically for your song. Maybe we could work together.”

“I already have a guitarist.” I gestured over my shoulder as if Spike was still there.

“Oh, lover boy.”

I rolled my eyes and brushed past him. He seemed to enjoy the closeness. Inside I took a seat while he opened the sliding door and let in a gust of warm air.

“Tell him something’s come up. You’ve been given the opportunity to work one-on-one with a professional. You know, make it sound like you really don’t have an option.”

“You mean lie?”

“Well, if you don’t want to candy-coat it. Sure.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Everyone lies.”

“Not to my friends I don’t.”

“It’s just business. Not personal.”

“You are starting to sound an awful lot like the labels you say you hate.”

He moved in close and took a hold of my hands. I inwardly shivered, wondering if he was going to kiss me again.

“I’m just saying we’ve both got an opportunity here. You need to come up with a song that is going to floor them. I know you might have wowed them with your last one, but trust me. I know they don’t just bring in anyone to the final round. It’s a tough call. You are up against thousands. Now I can help. Musically that’s my strong point. I know how to take lyrics and create the emotion that makes a winning track. You’ve got the talent. It’s raw. Maybe a little rough around the edges.”

“Rough?”

“I’m just saying, with a little bit of work this could be a win-win situation.”

“But Spike?”

He exhaled hard.

“He’ll understand. At least if he cares about you.”

“I don’t think you know Spike.”

“Well, the offer is there. I don’t think these things come along very often. I know I could use your help. I’m sure you could use mine.”

It made sense. No one got a second shot at this kind of thing. I needed to go in with a song that was better than what had got their attention. I was writing but it wasn’t great. Spike was good at translating humming, but he was no Chase Bryan. This guy knew how to put out hit after hit.

“OK, let’s do it.”

He clapped his hands together.

“Magic!”

T
he afternoon
soon gave way to a gorgeous evening. Deep oranges and reds spread out across the horizon. I had spent the better part of the day learning about Chase’s process of writing songs and how it differed from mine. It was odd to sit with someone who did it for a living, and to have them peppering me with questions, as if I was some sort of professional. I never really gave much thought to song writing. I hadn’t taken any classes. I never really got bogged down in the details of how it all came together. I simply showed up, pen in hand and attacked the paper with random thoughts. If words came, great, if not, I didn’t push it.

Chase was a different story altogether. I could see how anxious he was, as if someone was about to tear away from him his life savings. No doubt, he had more money in his bank than I could have ever obtained in several lifetimes of serving lattes.

But that didn’t register for him.

It was almost like he had been conditioned to believe that his self-worth was wrapped up in that next hit song. He’d said that it did worry him that people would forget him. With so many up-and-coming artists, the pressure to stay relevant was more than ever.

Sitting side by side sharing what I had written wasn’t like it was with Spike. Spike was always in a hurry to get to the solo. As if it somehow would impress me.

What was the deal with him today? Coming out, when he could have texted or waited? I hadn’t seen that side to him before, but then again, he always was hovering around Sophie.

Being around Chase was different.

It wasn’t just that he was known, but he listened intently. He weighed my suggestions and took them seriously as if he was collaborating with an equally talented peer.

“So you want to stay for supper?”

“Um,” I glanced down at my watch. “Shoot.” I had completely forgotten to text Spike. It was close to eight o’clock.

“Listen, I have to go.”

“Sure. You going to swing by tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” I paused at the door. “It was good. Today, I mean. To do this.”

“So I passed your he’s-not-a-dick test?”

I offered a warm smile. “Well, for today.”

As I turned to leave I looked back again.

“And Chase.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for stepping in today. I don’t know what you told them but I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

For a brief moment I felt the inclination to stay. I wanted to stay. But I knew Spike was probably livid by now, and if I didn’t show up, no doubt he would make his way out here.

* * *

W
hen I arrived
at the café, there he was, slumped down inside the front entranceway. All the lights were off inside. A few people were on the street. An old couple passed by from an evening walk, or maybe a late-night dinner.

“Spike. I’m sorry, I completely lost track of time.”

“You think? Where were you?”

“Running errands. Finalizing the sale on my father’s house.”

He got up and strolled over to his bike.

“Where are you going, didn’t you want to —”

Sliding onto his bike, he replied, “You’re not very good at lying.”

“What?”

“You weren’t at the realtor’s today.”

I screwed up my face. “Are you spying on me?”

“Of course that’s what you’d think. Ol’ Spike would go out of his way, to spy on you.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of this. What the hell was his problem? Ok, I was a little late, but I had never seen this side to him. He’d always been carefree, and now he was so interested in where I’d been.

“If you don’t want to work together, just say so, Meghan, but don’t lie to me.”

I stood with mouth agape. With that he peeled away into the night without another word. Pushing my key into the door and letting myself inside, I climbed the stairs to my apartment. My feet felt heavy, but my heart felt even heavier. Why was I made to feel bad about this? I did apologize for being late. What was his deal?

As I made my way inside my apartment, I thought about what Chase had said earlier that day. About how people changed around him once doors started opening in the music world. He said it couldn’t be helped. Some felt that the very fact that they hadn’t had the opportunity handed to them, meant that it shouldn’t be given to anyone else. There was a sense of entitlement in others as most thought you should bring them along for the ride. Or that if you mentioned anything related to what you did, you were bragging.

When I asked him how he’d handled that, he simply replied that over time he’d stopped discussing how well his songs did, or how many award shows he’d attended. Or who he’d rubbed shoulders with. What others initially saw as a cool opportunity now only shined a light on what they hadn’t been able to achieve.

It made sense. No one wants to feel less of a person because they don’t have a career that shines the spotlight on them.

But that hadn’t happened to me. I was still unknown. I didn’t have fans clamoring for an autograph or scaling my backyard fence to try and steal my panties from the clothesline. Hell, for all I knew I would send in the next song I wrote and it would be laughed at. The music world was fickle and so was having high hopes.

I tossed my bag on the bed, and lay back gazing up at my ceiling, pondering it all.

* * *

“
Y
eah
, I’m making real progress here. Hell, I might even have a few more songs that we can use,” I said to Mia who seemed ecstatic to hear good news after two weeks of me telling her to stop calling.

“So when can I hear it?”

“Uh, well, I…” I stumbled over my words. Truth was, today had gone well. But there was no song. It was just the beginning. These things took time. We would need several days together. Sure there were songs that I wrote in the past in under ten minutes. But those were rare, and more often than not, it was an agonizing process of getting an idea here, a hook over there and chewing it over. Where did songs come from? There was no store that sold them. It came by pure grunt work.

“Chase?”

“By the end of the week.”

“Why do I get the feeling you are up to your old tricks again?”

“Mia. Have I ever let you down?”

“Yes, countless times, especially in bed.”

“Ooh, that was below the belt.”

“Just keeping it real.”

When I got off the phone, I could feel a weight push down on my shoulders. The same one that had been there until earlier that day. For a short while, she made me forget about the pressing need to deliver. Meghan’s approach to writing was simple. The way it should be. The way it used to be before I got wrapped up in the circus of meeting deadlines.

She waited for a tune to come into her head. She’d hum it into her iPhone and then play it back until words started to flow. It was neat. I was used to mostly grabbing a guitar or moving to the piano. But more often than not that broke the magic of what was being heard.

A wrong note hit, the wrong key and you could find yourself giving up and forgetting the original melody.

I decided to pour myself a drink. I kind of wished she had stuck around. Being with her all day, only made me want to know her more. She didn’t run off at the mouth like some women I’d dated had. She wasn’t quiet, shy of saying what she liked or didn’t like. There was a balance, an almost hidden strength in her that was attractive.

Taking a deep pull on my drink, I thought about her body. It was hard not to think about her body. Her painted toes on her perfectly shaped feet. Those long legs, that led up to an ass that I needed to squeeze badly. Her curvy hips, and delicate but plump breasts.

I exhaled hard.
Get a hold of yourself. You can’t get involved. It wouldn’t work.

And anyway, I was leaving at the end of this week. Who knows what Mia had in store? For all I knew I could be halfway around the world. Or knee-deep in the studio, recording the next album. That meant months of time away from regular life.

I grabbed up my guitar, and went over a chord progression that I had been playing around with using some of the lines that Meghan had written. Every time I played it I could hear her voice in my head.

As I was sitting there strumming away, there was a knock at the door.

I jumped up and went over fully expecting to find Meghan. No doubt she was back. Changed her mind and was probably up for a good romp. They all came around eventually. A little bit of time together, a taste of lips and an act of good gesture worked even with the most stubborn.

I swung the door open and was about to deliver another one-liner, when I found myself face-to-face with the same guy who had showed up earlier that day.