Brooklyn Rockstar (Kendall Family #1)

by Jennifer Ann

  I jump against my seat, gasping.

  What kind of voodoo is this? I’ve been talking to Charlie Walker? Is this some kind of a joke? Are there hidden cameras I don’t know about? I probably should’ve known it was him by the sexy roll of his voice, but I’d never dream in a bazillion years that he’d be here or that he’d give me the time of day.

  I’m not aware my hand is still on the brim of his hat until he reaches up to pull it back down, temporarily resting his fingers against mine. The skin on skin contact tingles all the way down my arm, seeming to have a direct contact to my hormones. Squeezing my thighs together, I feel my lips part. His shadowed eyes silently plead for me to stay calm as Sharlo appears.

  “Well then,” she trills with two beers in hand. Her eyebrows rise when she looks at Charlie. “Who’s this?”

  Chapter 8

  CHARLIE

  Shit.

  Finally finding the freckled brunette without drawing any unwanted attention was fucking perfect. But now I see understanding flicker in those big, beautiful brown eyes—that up close have a tinge of honey—just as her friend joins us. I don’t know how she figured it out, but the way she becomes slack-jawed as her gaze darts between me and her friend, it’s clear she recognizes me. Now what?

  The friend sets one of the bottles down to offer me her free hand. “I’m Sharlo,” she announces in a mild British accent. She’s gorgeous as hell, but doesn’t do it for me like the brunette. No one has ever done it for me like the brunette.

  “CJ,” I answer, taking the friend’s hand. The nickname—something my mom tried to make stick when I was little—seems a better idea than tipping this Sharlo woman off too. The brunette’s big eyes snap back onto mine with the introduction. I can’t tell what’s going through her head when she continues to stare, but some of the sizzling hot connection we shared the first time I saw her has returned.

  “You live around here, love?” Sharlo asks in a flirty tone, though I get the feeling she’s simply trying to help her dazed friend along. When she takes a swig of her drink, she wiggles her eyebrows. “Evelyn here just moved into the neighborhood as my flatmate.”

  Evelyn. I finally have her fucking name! I throw Evelyn my best charming smile and wink. “She was just telling me how she moved here from a farm.”

  Evelyn's rapidly blinking eyelids are the only thing to move besides her chest as she takes shallow, uneven breaths. Shit. If she hyperventilates this could turn into a fucking disaster. I have to find a way to calm her down.

  Sharlo takes another drink before turning to her. “Ev? You suddenly look zonked.”

  On impulse, I reach out to lace Evelyn’s fingers with mine and start when a buzz of excitement pricks my skin. Her honey-brown eyes widen on our connected hands as if she could feel it too. “Let’s go outside,” I tell her. “You look like you could use some air.”

  The friend touches my arm, frowning. “Are you mad? If there’s something wrong, I’ll be the one to take her out for a bit of air. She doesn’t know you from Bob.”

  With my free hand I fish inside the back pocket of my jeans for my wallet and hand it to Sharlo. “My license is in here. If anything happens to your friend, you have my name and address. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go digging through it unless there’s an emergency. I promise nothing will happen to Evelyn. She’s in good hands.”

  Grinning, Sharlo holds my wallet to her chest. “Alright then. You seem harmless enough. We’ll leave the decision up to Evelyn.”

  We both swing our eyes back on Evelyn. Though she still looks to be in shock, she seems to be seriously considering my offer. I tip my chin and flash her a small smile before she finally slips off the stool, moving toward me as if drawn by a magnet. Her beautiful eyes fill with curiosity as she finally nods. “Yeah, okay.”

  “We’ll be back,” I tell Sharlo.

  I catch Evelyn throwing her friend a helpless look before I lead her out of the bar and into the warm summer night. A small gathering of smokers stand outside and a few couples traveling in packs down the middle of the stone street, otherwise, it’s quiet.

  I keep leading Evelyn until we’ve reached the corner of the building. Although I don’t want to let go of her hand, I’m more worried about freaking her out at this point, so I drop it to stick my hands in my pockets.

  “You’re Charlie Walker,” she finally blurts, studying me from head to toe.

  The sound of her small, smooth voice sets off a flicker of desire in my gut, but I manage to chuckle regardless. Her reaction and the adorable way she keeps blinking those big brown eyes seems so innocent that I’m suddenly desperate to strip her of her virtue.

  “I am,” I confirm. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your voice down.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asks in more of a whisper.

  “Same as you,” I answer, leaning in closer to casually inhale and commit to memory her mysterious scent of coconut and some kind of flower. “Came to catch the band.”

  Her eyes narrow on my hairline. “What happened to your hair?”

  Adjusting the back of my baseball cap, I cringe. She’s definitely not afraid to say what’s on her mind. After Rick broke the news that the album deal was off since I wasn’t showing the kind of commitment the studio was looking for, I visited my stylist and had her chop it to a near military length. I’m still trying to decide if it was an act of rebellion or a temporary mental breakdown from learning my career is screwed.

  “Less of a hassle,” I finally say, shrugging.

  “I don’t get it.” Her lips twist as her eyes narrow even more with disbelief. “I’m not underage and I’m clearly not a bleached blonde. Why did you ask to sit with me?”

  Ouch. I flinch from the verbal assault, even if it was well deserved. Now’s not the time to tell her the truth—that once I found her working behind the bar on Wednesday, I’ve been coming to Leona’s every night in hopes of catching her off the clock. I doubt she’d be impressed to hear that I beat off to the memory of her dancing while I performed on stage either.

  “Don’t believe everything you read,” I grumble, once again wishing I had never met Gwen Porter. When Evelyn’s eyebrows draw down, I shake my head and rub at the base of my neck. “I thought I recognized you from last week when I played here. You and Sharlo were in the front row, right?”

  “Yeah, we were.” Finally, her face softens, smoothing out every last freckle. “You know you shouldn’t listen to what the haters are saying. You were really good. I’m not just saying that, either.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, feeling bit of hope rise in my chest.

  “Yeah,” she confirms, releasing a genuine smile.

  My dick twitches, begging me to reach out and touch her again. As if fate heard it, a small gust of wind sends a curly strand of hair across her face. I’m quick to reach up and brush it back, letting my fingers drag across her soft skin. When she pulls in a sharp breath, I begin to panic, which is ridiculous. I’ve hit on hundreds of women and most of them were already into me before I even turned on the charm.

  So why am I finding myself at a loss for what to say next? Because you know it’s a waste of your time chasing after one chick, the constant asshole-of-a-voice in my head suggests. Consequently, the voice sounds a lot like Danny’s.

  “So you’re here, by yourself, just takin’ in the band,” she says in a mocking tone. Her beautiful eyes don’t stray from mine as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she looks away. “I didn’t think someone as famous as you would have that kind of freedom. Don’t you have body guards or something?”

  “Quiet neighborhoods like this make it possible,” I say, twirling the lock of hair I rescued in my fingers. It’s not something I’m consciously doing, more like an instinct. Her hair is like thick strands of silk against my fingertips and I’d love nothing more than to find out how it would feel fanned out across my chest.

  Freezing beneath me, she watches my busy hand from the corner of her eye. “Could you maybe q
uit doing that? Sorry to disappoint you, but I didn’t even know who you were a week ago. I’m not one of your groupies.”

  The words are a punch to my stomach. As much as I love her attitude and it’s refreshing to hear a woman say what’s on her mind instead of kissing my ass, it’s another blow to my already bruised ego. I back away smirking, hands held up at my sides. “Didn’t take you as one. You would’ve already attacked me by now.”

  “Wait. Do women literally attack you?” Her lips quirk at the corners in amusement. “Like straight up throw themselves into your arms?”

  “Sometimes,” I answer. Amused Evelyn is way more fun than her freaked-out version, and I’m desperate to keep her around. “I’ve even been proposed to by a few.”

  “Dang,” she says with a giggle. “I figured stuff like that only happened in the movies.” One of her eyebrows quirks. “So when’s the wedding?”

  With my hands back in my pockets, I give her a full body shrug. “We can’t seem to agree on a date. They all want spring, but I prefer fall colors.”

  She laughs in a rolling sound that makes the urge to kiss her unbearable. “Yeah, I don’t think pastels would look good on you. Hold your ground on that one. I’m sure they’ll come around.”

  As her laughter dies down, I flex my jaw. I refuse to let her get away from me this time, even if it means I have to tie her up. My balls burn with the idea. “So are you committed to hearing this band or do you wanna blow out of here and come back to my place for a beer?”

  “And here I thought we just covered the fact that I’m not one of your groupies,” she says in a highly annoyed tone, all at once becoming rigid again. The gold specks in her eyes flare with the sudden change of attitude. “CJ, you ruined a potentially good thing.”

  Smirking, I set a hand on the wall at her side and lean in until we’re close enough to kiss. There’s determination in her gaze when she pulls in a sharp breath, as if resolving not to give in. “That’s not what I was getting at. Your friend can come along. It’s just not the easiest to be myself in public.”

  She snorts. “Do women actually fall for this?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t normally invite them over.” Well, apparently except for the nights when I’m too fucked-up to think straight like with Madison and her friend. “I wanna get to know you, Evelyn, and it’s sure as hell not going to happen in there. We won’t be able to carry on a conversation once the band starts.”

  I can see gears turning in her head when she bites down on her bottom lip. It’s a fucking miracle that I find the strength to stop myself from ripping her little dress off her shoulders and biting every last part of her freckled skin.

  “Can you wait out here for a few minutes?” she asks. “I need to run this by Shar before I give you an answer.”

  Praying she doesn’t see the excitement in my eyes, I tighten my jaw and nod once.

  “Don’t move,” she orders, pointing at me like a school teacher. When she breaks out in a playful grin, her eyes sparkle. “I’ll be right back.”

  The second she’s out of sight, I slump against the wall where she had been standing and tilt my head back to release a long sigh. Now that I’ve had a chance to talk to her, I’m even further gone than before. If I don’t play it cool, I won’t get her number by the end of the night.

  After a few minutes pass, I pull my buzzing phone from my jeans to find a text from Lorenzo.

  WTF are you doing? Call me ASAP!

  Now what? Lorenzo and I haven’t been on the best terms since I was essentially fired from the label. He blames my overactive dick for messing everything up and killing my drive to create more music. Knowing he’s right, I’ve slipped off the radar, instead focusing on boxing down at the gym. He’d be livid if he knew I was chasing another woman.

  Grumbling, I call him back. The phone only rings once before Lorenzo answers, breathing heavily. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re up to, but some girl on Twitter claims she saw you making out with a chick outside of Leona’s. You have any idea why she’d say that?”

  Goddamn it. Some days it’s like I can’t even take a piss without the whole world instantly knowing. Then a disturbing thought comes to mind. Would Evelyn make something up to get attention? I’d bet my Fender she isn’t the type, though I have been surprised by women before.

  “We were just talking,” I mutter. “You have her username or a picture so I know who to watch out for?”

  “It was Cassie something or other. Wide forehead, big tits, flaming red hair. You know someone by that name?”

  I let out a deep breath, relieved it wasn’t Evelyn or her friend. Even though it paid off in the end, it was a stupid as shit idea to come down here in the first place. Another ten minutes and the area could potentially be crawling with fans. And some of them would probably love to tell me what a big disappointment I’ve become.

  “What are you thinking, man?” Lorenzo snaps. “You know what? Don’t answer that. You’ve been acting like a total lunatic since the studio gave you the boot. There’s a little cafe on the corner of where you are that serves coffee twenty four-seven…River Walk something or other. You know the one?”

  “Yeah,” I snap. He knows damn well I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand.

  “Go there and stay put. I’m sending Dante over to save your stupid ass. No arguing.”

  The line goes dead. I don't want to leave Evelyn, but he’s right, I can’t stay. What’s taking her so long?

  I lift my fist to punch the brick wall. “Fuck!” I roar, stopping mid stroke. Messing up my hand is the last thing I need.

  Too loud, brother, my conscious taunts in Danny’s voice. The gathering of smokers a few yards away all strain their necks to get a better look at the psycho screaming at the wall as they whisper to each other. Perfect. Now I’ve exposed myself on social media and in person.

  The door to the bar swings open and a group of young women appear, scanning the streets. I pull my cap down further, but one of them starts squealing in that awful noise that sets my teeth on edge. “There he is!”

  You can handle this, Walker, Danny tells me. It’s a small, harmless group. Let them take your picture and give them your charming smile.

  He’s right, this is a piece of cake. I’ll do whatever it takes to stall until Evelyn comes back out. I’m so damn close—I won't let her get away now.

  “Ladies,” I greet them, touching the bill of my hat.

  They stop a few feet away, making all sorts of god-awful noises. “Oh my God!” one of them screams. “I’m a huge fan! Can we get a picture with you?”

  Smartphones are shoved in my face as they circle around me like a pack of wild dogs, fighting over the closest spots at my side. They take a bunch of selfies with me as a group before a few of them whine that they want their picture taken alone. Ironically, if Rick saw how much the fans still love me, maybe he would’ve stood up for me when the studio wanted to cancel the contract.

  I catch a slightly larger pack of people headed down the street toward us, taking interest in the excited women swarming around me. This could turn into a catastrophe, real fast.

  “I have to go,” I tell the women, separating myself from them. Of course they begin to follow me, firing questions like a bunch of damn reporters.

  “Are you still going to release your album?”

  “Are you seeing anyone?”

  “Will the band ever get back together?”

  “Are you friends with the band playing tonight? Can you get us back stage?”

  “Will you autography my tits?”

  A week ago I would’ve laughed and complied with the last request, but all I can think about is how I’m going to get back to Evelyn. The other group has moved in behind us, catching on that something’s up. I quicken my pace toward the cafe, eagerly watching for Dante’s SUV. There’s a loud commotion behind the women as others become aware of my identity. More questions are fired, and the crowd moves in faster, pushing up against me.


  Squealing tires cause everyone to look to the street. A fucking celebrity rag news van pulls up to the corner and an annoying reporter I recognize jumps out. I try to push my way through the pawing women before the reporter can get through.

  “Everyone step back!” a booming voice commands. Before I know it, Dante’s hand is on my arm, yanking me through the mob as a microphone is shoved into my face.

  “Charlie! Charlie! Can you tell us what you think went wrong with your performance here last weekend? Are you still going ahead with the solo album?”

  We’re feet away from Dante’s SUV when I look over my shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the club. But there are too damn many people in the way. Resisting the urge to drop kick the annoying reporter down on the sidewalk, I hiss through my teeth and let Dante push me through the open door. I’ve lost her again.

  Chapter 9

  EVELYN

  I find Sharlo in the same place I left her, chatting it up with a couple of guys who look old enough to be her father. Feeling like I’ve taken a walk through the clouds, I’m grinning like a fool by the time I reach the table.

  “Right then,” Sharlo says, rolling her eyes. “Fellas, it’s been a pleasure, but evidently I have more pressing matters to attend to.” The two men give me a sidelong glance before slinking away. Sharlo waves Charlie’s wallet in the air between us. “I warned you about becoming that bloke’s groupie.”

  “Hey.” I snatch his wallet and jam it inside my crossbody purse before giving her a teasing smile. “You weren’t supposed to look unless there was an emergency.”

  “I didn’t look. I simply knew it was him the moment he introduced himself. A ball cap and buzzed hairdo were’t enough to fool me. Rather hard to mistake that fit body and delectable voice.” Her eyes flare with excitement. “You’re absolutely glowing. Did the two of you snog?”

  “I was gone ten minutes,” I answer, crossing my arms over my stomach. A little smile creeps over my lips with the notion of “snogging” Charlie Walker. “He invited us over to his place for a beer.”