Reckless Reunion (The Reckless Rockstar Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “I’m good with humans, too.” I give her a wink. She blushes. Is she thinking about the kiss? About the night neither of us can remember? I’m stalling. I don’t want to leave. Then again, she hasn’t said she’s ready to drive me home. Maybe she doesn’t want me to leave either.

  “Lunch?” she says. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me this morning.”

  “I thought you said you had a million things to do today.”

  “I may have been exaggerating.”

  “Okay then. I could eat.”

  I follow her to the kitchen. She looks in the fridge. “Sandwiches?”

  “Sounds good.”

  I sit on a barstool and watch her make lunch. The way she puts sandwiches together is almost as seductive as the way she strums her guitar.

  She places a plate in front of me and joins me at the counter. “Where do you see yourself in five or ten years?”

  “Are you asking me to tell you my hopes and dreams, Mancini?”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “That’s okay. They aren’t complicated. I want to go to Australia and study under one of the most prolific percussionists of all time. After that, bands will be fighting over me. Then I’ll be famous. Simple as that.”

  She puts down her sandwich in disgust. “Must be nice to be able to buy your way to the top.”

  “Hold on, I’m not buying my way anywhere. The truth is, I probably won’t go. The guy in Australia only accepts ten students per year. Thousands apply. I had to send him an audition tape, references, and a 3,000-word essay. The guy is rich as shit. He doesn’t charge much at all. Even let’s his students stay in his guesthouse. He does it to share his gift. He wouldn’t care how rich my parents are. In fact I didn’t mention it at all in my application. I thought it might dissuade him.”

  “So you haven’t been accepted yet? When did you apply?”

  “Last year. The application is good for two years, and then you can never apply again. If you don’t get into one of the two classes, that’s it. I didn’t get in last year, so I only have one more shot.”

  “When will you find out?”

  “Beats me. He’s a legend. He doesn’t live or work by any schedule. Last year, he didn’t send out acceptances until two weeks before class started.”

  “That’s hardly fair. How can you pick up and move to Australia so quickly?”

  “Don’t know, but you do. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  “Do you really think you have a chance?”

  I finish my sandwich. “Probably not, but I had to go for it.”

  She smiles.

  “You’re smiling at my impending failure?”

  “Maybe you’re not so cocky after all.” She wipes something off my lip. “You had a little mayo there.”

  I’m instantly hard. “Don’t let all the tats fool you. I’m actually a nice guy. Sorry if that disappoints you.”

  She moves the dirty plates to the sink and comes back to stand in front of me. “I’m happy you said that, because the last thing I need in my life is another bad boy. I grew up in the system. That’s all I’ve ever known.”

  I latch on to her hips and pull her in. “I’m not saying I’m a momma’s boy either, Mancini, but I don’t have a record, I don’t do drugs, and I don’t make it a habit of having drunken one-night stands.”

  She exhales a deep sigh. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying we already did it twice. What’s the big deal if we do it again? This time we’ll remember it.”

  Her expression sours. “This was all a ploy to get me into bed?”

  “Don’t you find me attractive when you’re sober?”

  She studies my face, then my right arm. All the while I’m growing painfully harder. “I didn’t say you weren’t hot. I’m just not looking for a fling.”

  “Reece, I’m nineteen years old, almost twenty, and I’ve been with four girls—uh, women. I’m not a love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy. Last night was atypical. I’d gotten into a fight with the old man at the reception and two drinks turned to four and then eight and so on.”

  “What did you fight about?”

  “Him wanting me to go to college. He’s bought my way into three of them. Every six months or so since I graduated from high school, he’s tried to get me to go to some Ivy League school, even though he knows I’m not interested. Last night he was bribing me. Said he’d double my trust fund if I agreed—triple it even, if I went to law school.”

  She swallows. “You have a trust fund?”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t all Richie Rich’s?”

  “And you turned him down?”

  “I told you, school’s not my thing. Music is.”

  She shimmies into me. “I think I like you more now, Garrett Young, but I’m not going to sleep with you.”

  I frown. “Why not?”

  “Because I feel a connection with you.”

  “So you aren’t going to sleep with me?”

  “I know it sounds twisted. You’ve been with four girls. I’m younger than you, and I’ve been with a lot of men. I’m not proud of it. I was emancipated on my seventeenth birthday. I had a minimum wage job at the diner and a trash bag full of secondhand clothes. Sheila helped me find a cheap apartment. When you’re someone like me, growing up like I did, you attract a certain kind of person. And that kind of person is not someone who would give up a triple trust fund.” She rubs her jaw as if she’d just been punched. “It’s the kind of person who—”

  “Who what?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing. But I don’t want to ruin this. I like you, so I’m going to do the right thing and not sleep with you. I don’t want to give you what you want and then have you run away like most men do.”

  I’m pissed as hell at the thought of someone treating her the way I think she just told me she’s been treated “Reece, did you hear yourself play and sing? Musicians need to surround themselves with greatness. You’re about as great a musician as I’ve ever heard. You’re going places someday, and so am I. This isn’t about a quick lay. Your song spoke to me. If you don’t want to sleep with me, fine. I’ll wait, because I’m not going anywhere.”

  I lean in and kiss her, hoping she knows I’m not like the others.

  We sit on the couch for hours, getting to know each other, Reggie sleeping happily at our feet. We order pizza for dinner and eat it with a pitcher of lemonade.

  We talk about everything and anything. She tells me about the three dudes that hit her and one who stole her TV. About the six foster homes she bounced between. About the dream she had of being adopted that never came true. She says she doesn’t want kids after growing up the way she did. I tell her we have that in common. There’s no room for kids in my life with the way I plan to live it.

  The more we talk, the more I realize she’s perfect for me.

  When it starts getting dark, I tell her I should probably go.

  “Or you could stay here,” she says. “It’s a big house. I’m not all that wild about sleeping here alone.”

  “You want me to stay here and not sleep with you?”

  “Yes. Maybe just next to me.”

  “For the entire week?”

  She shrugs. “It’s not like you’re going off to college or anything. And there’s an added bonus. I’m sure being with someone like me would really piss off your father.”

  I laugh. “You’re not wrong about that, but I’d have to run home and get clothes.”

  “You and Sheila’s husband are about the same size. We’ll find you something of his. You can go home tomorrow and get your own stuff.”

  “This is kind of crazy, Reece.”

  “I know.”

  “But I really want to say yes.”

  “Then do.”

  I smile. “Under one condition. You sing me another song.”

  Before I have to ask twice, she’s racing for the guitar. Then I sit in awe, watching her play, thinking of how this mornin
g I woke up next to a stranger, and twelve hours later, I think I might be in love.

  Chapter Eight

  Reece

  Maddox puts his arm around my shoulder as we stand outside IRL. “Take a deep breath, Reece. Everything is going to be okay.”

  Someone runs past us, bumping into me as he opens the front door. “Sorry,” he says. “You coming in?”

  “Not yet.”

  I don’t miss the way he appraises me. His eyes travel the entire length of my body, stopping when he gets to my boobs. He has tattoos, plugs in his ears, and a pierced brow. A rocker for sure, but not with Reckless Alibi. He wasn’t at the meeting yesterday. He’s attractive, in a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of way.

  “Suit yourself,” he says, “but it’s damn cold out here.” He goes inside.

  I take a few steps back, feeling fear and a little nausea.

  Maddox frowns. “Where’s the confident woman I’ve come to know and love?”

  “Probably hiding under the covers back at our place.”

  “You can do this.”

  I nod, and Maddox opens the door for me. I look around. “I’m not even sure where to go.”

  Someone comes out of an office. She, too, looks me over but not in a provocative way. More like the way a predator might assess her prey. “I assume you’re the one-hit wonder?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re Reece, right?”

  I extend my hand. “Yes, and you are?”

  “Follow me,” she says, ignoring my gesture.

  I swallow hard, glance at Maddox, and then follow her down a hallway. She opens a door to a large music studio. I’m instantly taken back six years when I hear a drum solo I’m sure is one of Garrett’s. As soon as he sees me, he stops and sits stoically on his stool. Everyone turns and stares.

  “Reece is here,” the woman says. “And she’s brought her boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Good,” she says. “There’s no room for anyone else on the tour bus.”

  “I wasn’t, uh, he’s not. No, it’ll just be me.”

  A man I recognize from the meeting yesterday appears in the door. “Ah, Ms. Mancini. Right on time.” He glances around the room, surely feeling the tension. “As we’ll all be working together for many months, why don’t we get acquainted.”

  “Didn’t you do that yesterday?” the bitchy woman asks.

  “It was a legal proceeding, Ronni. Hardly the time for a meet-and-greet.” He steps forward. “I’m Jeremy Halstead, Reckless Alibi’s manager, and this is Ronni Collins, their rep at IRL.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I motion. “This is my roommate, Maddox McBride.”

  Jeremy nods at him, then turns to the band, none of whom seem eager to meet me, except maybe the guy in the corner, the one we ran into outside. He strides over and holds out his hand. “Iggy Smart, bassist.”

  I shake his hand. He holds on a bit too long.

  “Iggy is our newest member,” Jeremy says. “This is his first week. He replaced Brad Templeton.”

  “Guess that makes us the odd men out,” Iggy says. “It’s cool, though. You can hang with me. The rest of the band seems a bit uptight, but I get the feeling once we impress them, they’ll come around.”

  “We’re not uptight,” someone says. “Just cautious.” He walks over. “Liam Campbell, lead guitar. These two are Chris Rewey and Brianna Cash, and we call them Crew and Bria. And of course you know Garrett.”

  I dare to look at him. He doesn’t bother moving off his stool, and I don’t miss the obvious fact that he’s staring at Maddox.

  Jeremy heads for the door. “I guess we’ll leave you to it then. Ronni?”

  Ronni’s glaring at me. On her way out, she says, “I’ll be watching you.”

  Garrett finally speaks, still peering at Maddox. “Still feels crowded in here.”

  Maddox grabs a nearby stool, takes it to a corner, and perches on it. “If you think I’m leaving after that icy reception, think again. I’m not about to let you gang up on her.”

  “Stop, Maddox. I can speak for myself.”

  “That would be something new,” Garrett says, heavy on the sarcasm.

  “Listen, I know you guys don’t like me, but none of this is my fault. You used my lyrics. You took something from me without my permission. Do you have any idea what that feels like? When I heard the song on the radio, I felt … violated. I have a right to everything we agreed on yesterday, and I’m not going to let you make me feel bad about being here.”

  Liam nods, looking guilty. “You’re right. Reece, I’m sorry if we made you feel like you’re not entitled to the song. It’s yours. We’re the ones in the wrong here.” He glances at Garrett. “Some of us may need more time to realize it than others.”

  “I like you,” Iggy says.

  Garrett shoots daggers at Iggy. “Can we get on with this shit?”

  “How’s this going to work?” I ask.

  Crew guides me to one of the mics. “As discussed, you’ll be lead singer for ‘Swerve.’ Bria will play keyboards. Liam will be on lead guitar with me on backup. Bria, Garrett, and I will sing background vocals.”

  I’m surprised to hear that Garrett sings. He wouldn’t do it with me back then, claiming his voice was too raspy. I thought that made it sexy. I think of all the Reckless Alibi songs I’ve listened to and wonder which ones Garrett sings on.

  “The melody may not be what you imagined when you wrote the lyrics,” Crew says, “but hopefully you’ve practiced it our way.”

  “Once or twice,” I lie. I think I’ve sung it a hundred times since yesterday, trying to capture every one of Bria’s inflections. Every nuance in her voice. I don’t want to give them anything to complain about.

  “Let’s get started then.”

  I gulp a mouthful of water, hand the bottle to Maddox, and position myself at the mic so I can’t see Garrett. I’m not sure I can do this while looking at him. The song is about us. Us. Oh God—it’s about us. So why, after six years, would he suddenly think it’s okay to use the lyrics?

  I try not to think too hard about it. I close my eyes and let out a long breath as Liam plays the guitar. Then I hear the drums and freeze. The music stops.

  “You missed your cue,” Bria says. “Do you want me to sing it with you the first time?”

  I am a colossal loser. “I can do it. Sorry. I’m nervous.”

  “It’s okay,” she says. “We have plenty of time.”

  “We have five weeks,” Garrett says. “She’s only here Friday afternoons. That’s not plenty of time. She needs to do it right now.”

  “Shut up, G,” Liam says. “Give her a minute before throwing her under the bus, why don’t you?” He turns to me. “Ready to go again?”

  I look to Maddox for reassurance. He nods and smiles. I wonder if bringing him was a mistake. Maybe everyone will think I need someone to protect me. I don’t want them thinking that. Especially Garrett. I know he thinks I’m still the helpless eighteen-year-old I used to be. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

  The music starts. I make my cue, but my voice cracks on the second verse. I cringe when Garrett stops playing.

  “I fucking told you so,” he says to the others.

  I turn, angry. “You arrogant asshole. Can you for two seconds stop to think what it’s like to be me right now? I’ve been thrown to the wolves here. So my voice cracked. I’m an imperfect person. I’m nervous, you narcissistic neanderthal. If you give me a minute to get acclimated, I’m sure you’ll find I’m goddamn amazing.” I turn away. “Start again.”

  Bria stares at me. She’s smiling.

  The music starts. I clear my head. These are my lyrics. I wrote them, and I’m damn well going to sing them. I belt them out, clearly and confidently, not missing a single word, inflection, or cue. I sing like I own the damn room, like nothing in the world can take them from me. Like Garrett Young didn’t break me in so many ways.

  After the song ends, there is dea
d silence. “Holy shit,” Crew finally says.

  Bria is still smiling. “Uh, Reece? Please don’t steal my job.”

  Maddox looks like the proud best friend, still perched on the stool in the corner.

  Liam nods approval and then turns to Garrett. “Any more questions?”

  Chapter Nine

  Garrett

  After she picks her jaw up off the floor, Bria asks Reece to play another one of her songs.

  “I didn’t bring my guitar,” she says. Liam holds out his. She eyes it like it’s a newborn baby. “You don’t mind?”

  “Got two others just like it.”

  She snickers and takes it from him. “Of course. Thank you.”

  She sits on a stool, strumming for a second before she breaks into song. I’ve heard her play. She was good then, but now … I don’t want to listen. Maybe because I don’t want to admit how incredibly talented she is.

  Everyone looks at me like I’ve been keeping the secret of the century. “What?”

  “Dude.” Crew pulls me aside. “You never said you knew the next Ariana Grande.”

  “She’s not.”

  “Then you and I just heard completely different songs.”

  “That was fantastic,” Bria says. “Even without a band to back you up.”

  “Speaking of bands,” Liam says. “Have you found one yet?”

  Reece raises a snarky brow. “You mean since yesterday?”

  Jeremy enters the room and stares at Reece in awe. He was obviously listening from the booth. “I’ll help you find one.”

  All eyes turn to him. “You jumping ship?” Crew jokes.

  Jeremy laughs. “No, but when I see someone with this much potential, I feel it would be a waste not to help her succeed.”

  I flash Jeremy a traitorous look. Liam shakes his head at me.

  “Maybe she could use the IRL house band,” Bria says.

  I press my lips into a thin line. “She’s not using them.”

  “Why not? It would make things easier,” she says.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Jeremy says. “They’re good, but what we’re really showcasing is Reece’s talent.”