What if Piper couldn’t forgive her for stealing her most private songs?
Chase squeezed her tighter to his chest. “It’s Quinny, Pipes. She’ll come back when she needs something.”
“I just want her to need me.” That was the bottom of it, wasn’t it? She didn’t want Quinn to need the songs Piper wrote or the work as assistant Piper did. They were sisters. That should have been enough.
Chase pushed her away and put a hand on each shoulder, bending his neck to look her in the eyes. “You have to stop letting Quinn control you.”
Footsteps sounded against the tile as Ben rounded the corner. Piper straightened, erasing the emotion from her face.
Chase leaned back against the counter, eyeing his brother. “Piper and I are going out.”
Ben shrugged. “Have fun.”
Chase pushed away from the counter and crossed the kitchen to throw an arm over Ben’s shoulders. “No so fast, Benny boy. You’re coming with us.”
“I don’t think so. I’m kind of tired.”
Piper met his gaze, uttering a single word. “Please.” She wanted, needed him to come, to experience the pub with her and Chase. She didn’t know if he spent any time there when he was a teenager, but it had once been everything to her, saving her every time she started veering down a dark path.
Ben held her gaze, his throat bobbing as he nodded his head. “Okay.”
Her lips twitched up, and her worries from moments before melted away. Quinn was a problem for another time. Ben’s career didn’t matter tonight.
All that existed was Piper, Chase, and Ben and their need to disappear into the music.
The State Street Pub didn’t change. Throughout the years, the clientele evolved, but the atmosphere never did. Piper stood on the threshold of the place that had once been a second home, leaving behind wind-strewn streets. No rain had fallen yet, but it was a matter of time.
Yet, inside, no storm could touch the calm.
Piper stepped onto the dark bamboo flooring, her eyes sweeping the cozy room full of black tables and deep blue booths and chairs. Light blue lights hung from the ceiling, their soft white bulbs turned low.
The walls held pictures depicting local musicians, each signed. Some went on to fame—like Gary LeVox—others, not so much, people like Piper Hayes herself. The owner made her sign a picture when she was fourteen years old, convinced she’d be famous one day. Well, her songs were, but no one knew that.
“Usual booth?” Chase asked, gesturing to the empty booth she’d sat in countless times.
She nodded with a smile. “Yeah, that sounds good.” Stepping through the doors was like setting foot back in time when everything was both simpler and more painful. It took her years to move on from her parents’ deaths. It wasn’t until Jonathan brought her here that she’d started to become herself again.
Chase slid behind the booth, and Piper sat next to him, leaving the other side for Ben. It was odd seeing him there across from her in the pub. He didn’t belong to the memories she associated with the place.
“I’ve never been here.” Ben eyed the menu.
“Really?” It shouldn’t have surprised her. It wasn’t a hangout for high school students, and he left town when he was eighteen, only returning for short visits.
A familiar voice wound through the pub. “Someone call an ambulance, I think I’m having hallucinations.”
At the loud voice, Ben pulled his hat down further to cover his eyes and slouched in the booth. Piper wanted to tell him he didn’t have to hide, but her attention fell to the older man rushing toward them.
“Piper Hayes,” he boomed. “There’s my girl.”
Piper stood to sink into the man’s embrace. “Good to see you, Tommy.” He practically squeezed the air from her lungs before releasing her and reaching a hand down to fist bump Chase.
“I see Chase here sometimes, but how long has it been since you graced my door?”
She shrugged. “A while.”
His attention fell on the still-trying-to-disappear-Ben. “Bring me a stray?”
Chase laughed. “Nah, this is my brother. Ben, meet Tommy. He owns the pub.”
Tommy’s eyes widened so far they practically fell out of his head. “Ben Evans? In my establishment? Hold me up, Piper. I think I’m going to faint.”
Piper bumped his shoulder. “Stop it, Tommy. You’re embarrassing him.”
Red coated Ben’s face from his neck to his ears.
Tommy laughed. “If all it takes to embarrass Mr. Superstar here is attention from an old man like me, he chose the wrong profession.” He held a hand out to Ben. “Welcome to the pub, Mr. Evans. A place where no one will care who you are or how good you are, only how much you love music.”
Ben took Tommy’s hand. “I love music, sir.”
Tommy released him and cackled. “Piper, he called me sir. I like this guy. He can stay.” He pinned her with a look. “You, on the other hand, only stay if I get a song.”
“I’m not here to sing.” Piper sat back down next to Chase.
“Tough cookies, darlin’.” He pointed to the back wall, and Piper didn’t need to turn to see what he pointed to. “That girl never came here without a song bursting to get out.”
Ben turned to look at what Tommy meant, and Piper groaned.
Tommy winked. “Consider my kitchen closed to you until you sing.”
“What?” Chase thumped the table. “You’re going to withhold the fried tomatoes from me? I never thought you were cruel, Tommy. Does it count if I put on a wig and pretend I’m Piper?”
Tommy laughed. “No one wants to hear you sing, son. I’ll leave you to convincing Piper.” He sauntered away.
Piper slumped back against the booth and crossed her arms over her chest. “Not doing it.”
“Piper—” Chase started.
“Why is your picture up in here?” He turned to look at her, but she glanced behind him to where fourteen-year-old Piper—braces and all—smiled back at her.
Chase slung an arm over the back of the booth. “Our girl here was something of a celebrity at the pub.”
“No, I wasn’t.” Piper laughed at the idea. The other patrons tolerated a teenager singing on stage, but Tommy encouraged her, pushed her. He’d been the only fan she ever had other than Chase. Not even Julia or Jonathan knew how often she sang here.
Heck, her own sister didn’t even know she could sing.
Ben’s gaze bore into her, willing her to tell him all her secrets. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and shifted her eyes away. “Tommy was convinced that picture would be worth something one day. He didn’t know it would never be worth more than the day it was taken.” She shrugged. “I never wanted to be famous.” She’d only wanted to write her music.
Ben shook his head as if taking himself out of a trance. “My dad mentioned you used to sing and wrote a few songs, but I assumed he meant a school talent show or something.”
Piper’s face heated. She’d never have been able to sing in front of her classmates, certainly not one of her original songs. “This was my safe place.” She should have stopped there, should have ended this conversation before he saw too much. “My mom loved music. It’s where Quinn discovered it, I think. I didn’t take to music until after the accident.” Her voice lowered. “My way to connect with her, I guess.”
Chase’s hand gripped hers on the table, lending her the strength she’d always taken from him.
Tommy stepped up onto the small stage at the front of the pub. It housed an electric keyboard along with a microphone and a stool. He tapped the mic before leaning in. “Welcome to State Street Pub.”
The small crowd cheered.
Tommy’s lips pulled into a grin. “The mic is open tonight, but first, I have a treat for you. Have you ever known someone with the ability to make you feel every one of their words?”
A few people replied with yesses.
Tommy went on. “Well, there is a girl who walked back into my life toni
ght. She doesn’t want to come up here, so I’m going to need your help. Her name is Piper, and I promise once you hear her, you’ll never be the same.”
16
Ben
Piper sings.
Piper Hayes was a singer.
Ben had known this girl for a long time, but everything about her was new. She wasn’t the kid who’d lost her parents, the one hiding from the world.
She wasn’t the assistant letting Quinn nag her into submission.
No, she was the girl sitting frozen as a room full of people chanted her name.
Ben was accustomed to crowds—thousands—calling for him, paying to see him and doing crazy things to get near him. That was the job.
But this was different. These people didn’t know Piper. They hadn’t listened to her on the radio or seen one of the ads the big machine that was a label pushed out to the masses. There was nothing manufactured, nothing false.
They only wanted music, and someone they trusted told them Piper could give it to them.
“They’re chanting your name, Pipes.” Chase grinned as he nudged Piper to the end of the booth. “You can’t let them down.”
At first, Ben wanted to reach across the table and tell Piper she didn’t have to do this. Then, he met her gaze, not seeing the fear he expected. Instead, her eyes shone with something else, some kind of strength.
She wanted to do this.
So, he didn’t give her an out. He didn’t let her slink back into the shadows that made her so comfortable. He brushed her hand with his, and her lips parted. “You’ve got this, Piper.”
More than anything, in that moment, he wanted to see her on stage, to hear her in a way he never had before, to let her music pull him in further until he no longer remembered why they were in Ohio, or why he wasn’t allowed to acknowledge the feelings swirling in his chest.
With a small nod, she made her decision. As people continued chanting her name—led by Tommy—Piper stood, holding her head high, and walked to the stage. She climbed the steps with confidence, and the sounds died down until all Ben heard was the thrumming of his pulse.
Piper stepped forward and gripped the microphone stand. “I, um, don’t have a guitar.”
“She knows how to play guitar?” Ben asked.
Chase gave him a strange look. “Wow, you really don’t know anything about her.”
Piper continued. “I have a song I wrote yesterday, but I haven’t worked it out on piano yet, so it’ll have to be acappella, if that’s okay.”
Ben shook his head, and Chase shot him a glare. “Let me guess, you didn’t know she played piano either.”
“I…” He sighed. “I left home about the time she moved in.”
“And for the last two years, she’s been on tour with you or living in L.A. with Quinn. Did you ignore her the entire time?”
He had. Not all the time and not all of her. He’d gone to her when he needed help with songs or needed to know schedules she kept for the band. His stomach sank as he realized he’d been no better than Quinn.
All thoughts froze in his mind as the first words left Piper’s mouth.
When I was an Ohio girl.
Living in the big wide world.
Ben couldn’t take his eyes from her or her imperfect voice. She missed occasional notes and lacked the polish he’d grown accustomed to in the business, but if someone buffed the roughness out of Piper, they’d steal away something important.
Soul.
Her song had it.
Her voice definitely had it.
The song held a familiar rhythm, but he couldn’t pinpoint why, and he didn’t care. He let it wash over him as she sang of an unworthy girl experiencing the world from a different vantage point.
She sang of herself, a peek into the girl who only ever wanted to take care of other people.
The conversation Ben overheard came back to him, and his heart fractured. She never should have been brought into their messed up rock-and-roll world, a world that snuffed out all goodness.
And Piper, she was good.
He closed his eyes, letting himself fall into her song, letting her voice heal him, if even just a little.
As her voice tapered off, he opened his eyes to find Chase staring at him, a question in his eyes.
They stayed in a silent standoff until the applause from the crowd snapped them back to reality. Chase turned his attention to Piper and whistled as she rushed off the stage as fast as she could.
She slid back into the booth as if she hadn’t just shifted the world on its axis.
As if Ben could ever forget the sound of her voice.
Ben could only stare at Piper, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes as she wrung her hands together on the table. Someone else stepped up to the stage, and before long, piano music filtered through the pub, but it didn’t matter.
None of that mattered.
Not when he now knew the girl he’d overlooked in favor of her flashier sister needed the music just as much as he did.
“Piper…”
She lifted her eyes to his, her lips parting to release a breath.
“I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t want you to.”
Why? Why had she hidden everything she could do, everything she could make him feel? A voice was a powerful tool, a way to connect with the world. And she’d chosen to keep it to herself, locked away within the walls of this pub.
“Does Quinn know?” His question snapped something between them, and she looked away again. That was his answer. If Quinn had any inkling her sister was more than what Piper let on, more than a coffee fetcher or laundry folder, she’d have done everything in her power to suppress it, to snuff the light out of Piper’s talent.
How could he have ever thought he loved someone like that?
He knew now he’d tricked himself into it, thinking the music mattered more than the heart.
“Piper!” Tommy rushed toward the table, breaking their spell. He balanced a tray on his hand and set plate after plate in front of them. “You were wonderful. I’ve missed that voice around here.” He tucked the now-empty tray under one arm and grinned. “I hope you’ve kept singing because a talent like yours isn’t meant to sit on a dusty shelf.”
Her face reddened. “Um, I’ve been writing, but my singing is a little rusty.”
She’d been writing? Still? When Ben’s dad told him Piper wrote lyrics, he assumed it was a teenage hobby, something that helped her cope. And now?
“Well,” Tommy leaned in, “that’s something at least. Don’t go wasting your youth, dear. Your dreams won’t wait for you.” He straightened. “I need to get back to the kitchen, but don’t forget to say goodbye before you leave. Food is on the house tonight, but I want another song.” He rapped his knuckles on the wood and sauntered away.
Ben stared at the variety of food in front of them. Fried tomatoes, some kind of wonton taco, pulled pork sliders, baked pretzels. “He expects us to eat all this?”
Chase and Piper shared a look before both smiled. “He knows we will.” Chase reached for a slider, but Ben wasn’t hungry, at least not for food. All he wanted was answers.
“You dreamed of becoming a singer?”
Piper chewed a bite of pretzel and swallowed. “No.”
Chase shrugged, not looking at either of them. “She dreamed of writing songs for other people to sing.”
Piper elbowed him, and he yelped, shooting her a glare.
Ben looked from Chase to Piper. She’d wanted to be a songwriter? He could still hear the song from moments before with the haunting lyrics.
“Why haven’t you tried to become a lyricist then? I’m sure Melanie would help you talk to the right people.”
17
Piper
It was so easy for him, wasn’t it?
“Why haven’t you tried?”
That, right there, was one of the many reasons she couldn’t tell him the truth. She hadn’t talked to Melanie about meeting with anyone at the label,
she hadn’t told Ben or Conner she was a songwriter because if she did, the lies would unravel quickly, destroying both her and Quinn.
She was a lyricist. Radio stations nationwide played her songs over and over. Fans requested them, sang along at concerts to her words.
Words that didn’t belong to her but to Fate.
So, Ben Evans, she hadn’t shared her words with the world because they’d already been stolen.
Chase was a silent source of strength beside her. She clutched his hand underneath the table. He didn’t know what Quinn had done when Piper wrote the song Fate when she was fifteen. He didn’t know Ben named the band after the song Quinn stole, the one that made them famous.
Piper spent the last six years writing the songs Fate’s fans loved, and Ben asked why she’d never tried to achieve her dream?
She clenched her jaw, trying not to be angry about something that wasn’t his fault, something she’d let happen out of a misguided notion of being her sister’s rock.
“Piper?” Ben cocked his head with a worried frown.
She schooled her face, wiping away any emotion, and offered him a smile. “Some of us just aren’t meant to be dream catchers, Ben. But it’s okay. I’m happy with my life.” She enjoyed being a part of the music world, surrounding herself with those who’d made it. And now that she’d work for Drew, maybe things would improve.
He didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t have the energy for more lies, white or otherwise.
Just like she’d always done with Quinn, she had to protect Ben, this time from the truth.
Love is a Lyric (Rockstars Anonymous) Page 12