Serenade Me: A Rockstar Romance (Rock Chamber Boys Book 3)

by Daisy Allen

  I just look at him, willing my shoulders not to shrug and my mouth not to ask.

  “Neither do I.”

  “Then what do you call that little lame-o soliloquy you gave me back there?” I gesture with my head to the table at the back.

  “That wasn’t a soliloquy, or a speech of lies. It was… a display. Of how to win an argument. You said I could never surprise you. So, I thought I’d show you the importance of never saying never.”

  “Ah, well, my initial speechlessness, did not necessarily imply surprise.”

  “Then what, what did it?”

  “Ridicule.”

  “Nice try.”

  “Is it your turn to be surprised?”

  “Oh, I’m in a rock band, I’ve seen it all, babe. There’s no way you can surprise me.” He says. And it’s so arrogant I can’t even stop myself laughing.

  He laughs as well and I hold a hand out, stopping him.

  “No, please, stop. I’m not laughing with you, I’m definitely laughing at you.”

  “So? I can laugh alongside. I’m a happy, laughing type of guy.”

  “You’re an arrogant ass, is what you are.”

  “There’s no reason I can’t be both. My parents always said I was an overachiever. I bet yours said the same.”

  I stop laughing. And I don’t mean to, but my face freezes for a second, and then falls. Shit. After all this time, I still can’t control it.

  He notices. Damn, he fucking notices, and asks, “What’s wrong?”

  The last thing I’m worried about, though, is sparing his feelings, so I don’t bother.

  “I don’t have parents, hotshot. But thanks for reminding me that I had no one to care if I was achieving or not. See you ‘round. Try not to depress anyone else tonight.” I hoist the strap of my handbag higher on my shoulder and spin to leave.

  His hand on my arm stops me, and I fight with myself to tear it away, ignore him. But I know I can’t.

  “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” There’s something genuine in his voice. Probably the first I’ve heard out of everything he’s said to me. I inwardly roll my eyes, knowing I might’ve gone too far and face him again.

  My shoulders rise in a quick shrug, like I’ve brushed it up. “It’s fine.”

  “No, really, um,” he lets out a short laugh exhale. “fuck, I feel really bad. Let me make it up to you, buy you a drink, prove I’m not really an asshole… unless you’re a recovering alcoholic, in which case I’ve stepped in it again and am just going to go stab myself with a breadstick.”

  “Make it an ice pick and I might consider giving up alcohol for life.”

  “Come on, one drink. It can be orange juice, just to prove I’m not trying to get you plastered and into bed.”

  “I’d rather not, Lothario. But fine, I’ll accept your apology. Good night.”

  “I’m not a Lothario.”

  “You had me fooled with your speech and all. Do you roll that out for every woman you meet or is it just for weekends and public holidays? Because, either way, it needs work.”

  “Seemed to work on you.”

  “You seem to have mistaken my politeness for some sort of implication that you had any effect on me.”

  “Oh, so your silence…”

  “I was trying to think of something to let you down easy, buddy. You know, because you were so taken with me. I realize now that you actually do liiiike me, and all that tosh about it just being to win an argument is to spare your poor playboy rejected feelings.”

  “Hmmm, one does seem to be feeling a sense of nostalgia for that silence.”

  “You got it.”

  “Surely you can’t let me have the last word.”

  “You don’t.”

  “Fine, good night.”

  “No, I said good night first!”

  “Well, I said it second. And last. Good night, silent girl.”

  “NO!” I suddenly realize I’m chasing after him. “Hey, come back here!”

  He spoons around, with that shit. Eating. Fucking. Grin. Again. “Hey, if you want me so bad, you just had to say.”

  “Say what?”

  “Say I win.”

  “Like hell. Like you could ever win, you manwhore!”

  “Anca?”

  I spin around and come face to face with one of the cellists from the band. I’d hoped to sneak out of here tonight without being spotted. But the manwhore foiled even that plan.

  “Jez!”

  “How come you didn’t come over to talk to me?”

  “Oh, I was busy, trying to get rid of a creepy stalker.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see the manwhore come closer, with his mouth open about to say something. Jez eyes him and then looks back at me.

  “What? Who is it? I’ll get rid of him.”

  “It’s okay, I can take care of it, geez.”

  “Anyway, I’m so glad you’re here. Come say hi to everyone.”

  “Wait, you know Jez?” The manwhore asks.

  “Yeah, of course.” I roll my eyes.

  “Yeah, man, duh. She’s Anca.” Jez replies, looking at the manwhore, confused.

  Manwhore’s mouth drops open, and it’s almost worth all of the night’s aggravation to see how he’s going to react to what’s about to be said.

  “You’re… Anca?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh my god. You’re Jez’s…” He starts.

  “Sister,” I finish for him.

  He stares at me, unblinking.

  I lean in, stretch up on my tip toes and whisper into his ear, “Surprise.”

  Chapter Four

  Marius

  “Wait. You’re really Anca?” I repeat, trying to make sense of what’s going on.

  She rolls her eyes and turns to Jez. “Did his mother drop him on his head when he was a baby?” she asks him.

  Jez finds it hilarious, of course. “Oh, you heard about that?” he says to her but grinning at me. Then he frowns. “Dude, you’ve met Anca before, surely.”

  It takes me a moment to rifle through my memory. It finally comes to me, “Yeah, like 8 years ago, at Guildhall. She was a freshman when we were seniors.”

  “Yeah.” He nods, rummaging around his memory as well.

  “Well, anyway, you, er… she, er. You look. Um. Different.” I stammer, trying to find the right word. Fuckable doesn’t seem like it would be appropriate, nor appreciated by either of the brother or sister staring me down.

  She scowls, her expression of choice all night, and mumbles something that sounds like “Ugh, different. Asshole.”

  “What?” Jez asks.

  “Um, nothing.” She waves her hand. He frowns at her and she stares him down, daring him to ask her again. She wins.

  “Er, yeah, anyway, come on, everyone’s waiting. You too, manwhore,” he emphasizes the word, obviously overhearing the end of my conversation with his sister.

  They walk ahead of me, and I’m trying to reconcile the feisty, mouthy woman with the shy 13-year-old I met almost a decade ago. I can’t say that I recognized her at all.

  Jez’s sister.

  Damn.

  Shit on a hotdog stick.

  Well, whatever I was considering, which is nothing, is going to have to be forgotten. Not that I was considering anything, I tell myself. Just that talking to her was infuriating. But interesting. In its infuriatingness, that’s all. Nothing else.

  Jez is introducing her or re-introducing her to everyone when I catch up with them at the bar.

  “Guys, this is Anca. Anca, this is Cadence and Hailey. You remember the band, of course.”

  “Of course! Hi Sebastian, Brad.” She smiles at each of them as she says their name.

  Then she turns around and stares me in the eyes, definitely not smiling. “And Marius.”

  Fuck. She’s known who I am this whole time? Why didn’t she say anything? There’s something, like a challenge in her eyes and I can’t help but want to aggravate her.

 
I hold out my hand, “Yeah, hi, Anca. We’ve met before. But you probably don’t remember. It’s ok.”

  “Wha? I...” she splutters. “I know we’ve met, you’re the one who didn’t remember!”

  “Now, does that really seem true to you? A pretty girl like yourself, not likely I would forget you.”

  “Yeah, that really doesn’t sound like Marius at all,” Brad chimes in, not realizing what he’s getting in the middle of. “He might forget to shower or the right end of a toothbrush, but he wouldn’t forget a woman.”

  I grin at her. “See?”

  The look she gives me is pure venom.

  “Who you calling a pretty girl?” Jez cuts in, ruining the fun. And he gives me a look that will keep me up in the coming weeks. Loaded. Warning.

  “Sorry.” I say backing away from her. “Just being nice. I didn’t mean it.” Her head whips around and she searches my face for meaning. “I mean, I didn’t mean anything by it.” I say, my voice lowered, but loud enough for her to hear. A hardness in her eyes softens and feel a sense of relief that she hasn’t misunderstood me. Not that it matters to me, of course.

  “Anyway, guys, we’ve talked about it, and Anca is happy to be given a shot to see if she fits in with the band.” Jez explains.

  Wait. What did he say?

  “Wait, what?” My mouth verbalizes my thoughts.

  “Dude, what is wrong with you today?” He frowns at me before continuing, “I said that Anca is the person I was talking about yesterday, about coming to play with us. Anyway, we thought, maybe tomorrow, we’ll have a bit of a jam session, and if Cadence and you guys are okay with how it goes, Anca would like to play with us on tour.”

  “Oh wow! That’s great!” Brad says, coming over and giving Jez a friendly punch on the shoulder.

  “I knew it!” Sebastian says, “didn’t I say it was going to be Anca, babe?” he looks to Cadence.

  “He sure did. And he said that you’d be great,” Cadence confirms and walks over to give Anca a hug. “I’m sure you will fit right in. And give these guys a run for their too-much-money,” she says, winking at Jez’s sister.

  Anca smiles at her, looking instantly relaxed. It’s the exact opposite of what I’m feeling.

  “Marius?” Cadence looks at me. “What do you think?” She’s giving me a weird look. And her eyebrows are doing something weird. Like, a ‘this is fate’ look.

  I shoot her a look back. One that I hope tells her, between the guys in the band, it will always be, “misters before each others’ sisters.”

  “Er, well, I guess we’ll see tomorrow.” I answer, hoping that’ll get them off my back for now and wonder what excuse I’ll have to come up with tomorrow to make sure this infuriating woman does not come with us on tour.

  Chapter Five

  Anca

  3 years ago

  “Stop.”

  “But…”

  “I said, stop.” His voice is quiet but firm. There’s no room for argument. I drop my hands and lower my eyes, not wanting to see his disappointment. I focus on the vase of dahlias on the coffee table instead.

  “Anca, where is the soul?” He asks.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Where is it?” He gestures his hands in front of him, seemingly to nothing.

  “The soul?” I repeat, trying to make sense of what he’s asking me.

  “Your soul, my soul, the world’s soul?”

  I bite my tongue. I never have an answer for his questions. His questions that make no sense to me, until he gives the answer. Then they mean everything.

  “Is it in your head?” He waves his hand, as if pulling the words from the air.

  “I, er-…”

  “Is it in your chest? Or, in your stomach, floating around with the chicken sandwich you had for lunch?”

  “Um…No.” That’s as much of an answer as I can commit to.

  “No, that’s right, it’s in none of those place. Soul is in the breath. In the living. It’s like smoke, like clouds on a windy day. You can’t… touch it, can’t see it.”

  I lift my eyes to his, knowing the point is coming.

  “So…stop looking for it! I can SEE the thought, the effort in your eyes when you play. You must STOP!”

  I jump, more from the force of his words, than the volume.

  “Now,” he continues, his voice returning to its usual soft timbre, “play.”

  “I’m trying…” I argue.

  “Shhh,” he says, bringing a finger to his lips to quiet me, “…just play. Forget everything but encapsulating the soul of music. You’re killing it with your ‘trying.’”

  I lift my fingers to the strings.

  His breath is suddenly hot against the back of my neck.

  “Play, my angel, let it sing through you.”

  I close my eyes and pluck the strings, tentative at first, then start to grow stronger. I forget what notes are coming up next and which ones have passed. I let myself get lost in it. I’m almost deaf to the music itself, lost in the absolute thrill of creating these sounds from my instrument.

  I feel him lay his fingertips on top of mine, featherlight. As if he’s hearing the music through touch alone.

  “Yes, Anca. Yes! No more thinking, sì? Your music will transcend the moment, do you understand?”

  I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, and soar.

  ***

  Present Day

  Well, that didn’t go well.

  I had not expected Marius to come up to me… and not know who I was. So much for crushing on him for the last 8 years. I see the feeling was entirely UNmutual, in every way shape or form. Really… I mean, really? He didn’t even recognize me? I can’t figure out if that’s an insult to how I looked at 13 or a compliment about how I look now.

  It’s neither. It’s an insight to what a thoughtless buffoon he was and still is. Okay, I get that we probably only saw each other a handful of times and I was just Jez’s geeky little sister, but still, after… those… ugh, those things he whispered into my ear, he didn’t even have the tiniest inkling of familiarity?

  What did you expect? He’s been living on a diet of groupies and pizza for the last year. That can’t be good for his brain. I can’t help but chuckle at the thought of holes the shape of pepperoni appearing on his skull.

  Wait. Didn’t Jez say that Marius is actually quite spiritual and is even vegan? Great. Now I can’t even hate him because he doesn’t want to eat animals.

  Vegan or not, he didn’t seem to say no to alcohol. Knocking them back with a bunch of backpackers like the world was ending. He caught me watching him a few times, but I’m sure he won’t remember that in the morning. Which is probably good considering I met his look with a snarl every time. I don’t know why he annoys me so much, it can’t just be because he didn’t recognize me.

  Ugh, the night sucked.

  Well, okay, it didn’t suck. It was actually great to catch up with the rest of the band. They seemed so welcoming, and if the audition goes well tomorrow, I can’t see why they wouldn’t let me join them. Jez is really going out on a limb to vouch for me, I can’t disappoint him.

  I guess I just have to find the perfect song. Something that will force them all to say yes. Even drunken thoughtless manwhore buffoons.

  ***

  3 Years Ago

  I slam the dorm room door closed behind me, pushing my harp on its trolley into the middle of the room, leaning against it for a moment, exhausted.

  The phone rings and I’m tempted to ignore it, but it’s Friday, and I know if I don’t answer now, it won’t stop ringing until I do.

  “Yes, boss?” I say into the phone.

  There’s silence on the other end of the line for a moment. But I know that won’t last long.

  “You’re fired,” comes the answer.

  “Good, I wasn’t made for hard labor anyway,” I reply, falling back onto my bed, kicking off my shoes.

  “You’re a spoiled princess, is what you�
�re saying?”

  “If I’m a spoiled princess what does that make YOU?”

  “Your KING! BOW DOWN TO ME!” Jez yells into the phone, and through the earpiece I can hear laughter in the background. “Hang on, let me go into another room away from these goons.”

  I smile as I get settled into my bed, glad to hear my brother’s voice, picturing him surrounded by his bandmates, happy.

  “How’s the tour coming along?” I ask him, glancing at the calendar to remind myself where in the world he was right now.

  “Great, four more shows and then we’re into the studio for our next record. It’s going to be our best one yet, this is the one, Anca, the one that’s going to get us that Grammy.” I don’t doubt him one bit. “I’ll send you the demos we’ve got up already, see if you have any notes,” he says without a hint of sarcasm, and I can’t help but feel proud that he would care about my opinion about music. “How’s everything with you? I can’t believe my little sis is a sophomore in college already!”

  “Why? Because that makes you too old to be gallivanting around the world trying to mark off every city and port as conquered?” I tease him about his famous playboy image.

  “Never too old. But forget about me and my undeniable charm, how are your harp lessons coming along? Do you like your new teacher?

  “Oh, the Massimo?”

  “Si, Signor Massimo with the moustachimo.”

  “He’s, uh, he’s good. I’m really learning a lot.”

  “Good, I’m glad.”

  “He really knows his stuff.”

  “Well, you’re a pretty good student.”

  “I dunno. I’m not really sure how good I really am,” I say, remembering Massimo’s frustration with me in the lesson.

  “Anca, you’re set for stardom, that’s all you need to know.”

  “Like my big brother!”

  “That’s right!” he exclaims, and I can’t help but love him for his blind loyalty to me.

  “You know that’s not what I’m interested in.”

  “You don’t have to be, the world will find your talent even if you try to hide it...” There’s a muffled voice on the other end. “Hey, I’ve gotta go, I’ll call you in a few days, okay?”