When a Star Falls (Stars Book 1)

by Rachael Eliker

  Unwittingly, I laughed forcefully, sending the guard careening out of my mouth and slapping Troy on the forehead. It rebounded on to the tile floor with a disgusting, slimy flop.

  “I’m sorry, Wanda,” I apologized, wiping the saliva that was leaking from the corners of my mouth. “It was his fault. He made me laugh.” I pointed an accusatory finger at Troy, who had taken a step back, looking rather amused as he patted his forehead with one of the white cotton towels Wanda had on her tray.

  “You might as well go. I can’t get any work done when Troy comes around. He’s too impatient.”

  “I just want to get her into the studio and make the magic happen,” Troy said. He gave me a trademark wink, and my heart involuntarily thundered inside.

  Wanda snapped her fingers and pointed wordlessly to her assistants, who seemed to know just what the gesturing meant. I was wiped clean and sitting upright in a matter of seconds.

  “I’ve heard of your kind of magic,” Wanda said as she pushed me out of my chair and forced my goodie bag into my hand.

  “What’s wrong with a man’s reputation preceding him?” Troy waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  My mouth dropped to the floor and my blush was deep enough that it surely outshined my freckles. Wanda shook her head in mock disgust but the smallest upturn at the corners of her mouth suggested otherwise. “He’s ready to sweep you off to the recording studio. He’s been wanting to release some music since Monica left him high and dry. That way, he can show off for all his fangirls.”

  “You know I only have eyes for you, Wanda.”

  Wanda chased him out by snapping a towel. “Go on, now. Ruby, I want to see you in this chair again this week. We really need to polish you before any public appearances.”

  “Polish me up? I thought for sure you’ve scoured every inch of me, and there’s nothing left nothing left to polish.”

  With a hint of sympathy in her voice, Wanda reassured me, “You’ll thank me for the work we do here.”

  Meekly, I acquiesced, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “C’mon. Let me walk you up to the studio,” Troy offered, handing me my pile of clothes and pushing me lightly toward the bathroom.

  In five minutes, I’d changed back into my snuggly soft leggings and oversized sweater but kept my hair down, not wanting to ruin the work Casey had done. I felt a smidgen of self-consciousness wearing such dowdy clothes while Troy exuded utter confidence in his preppy attire. He reminded me of the frat boys that prowled around campus like the world belonged to them. I consoled myself with the thought that surely I looked a million times better than I had in a robe, my face smothered in cream, mouth pried wide open.

  “So, do women always get the short end of the stick here?” I asked, trying to make conversation to fill the quiet as we walked. Meaningless banter seemed like a good way to squelch my discomfort.

  “With that circus of a beauty routine Wanda puts on back there? Nah. You’d be surprised how many cavemen she’s transformed into genuine hipsters for Harper Music. Just look at me,” he said, patting his hand to his chest.

  “You? Unsightly? I don’t believe it.”

  One side of Troy’s mouth hitched into a very sexy smile. “Oh, yes. Believe it. These,” he said, pointing to his eyebrows, “used to be one. Now I can’t go a week without going to Wanda for a fix.”

  Unwittingly I snorted out a laugh, which seemed to please Troy. He looked at me from the corner of his eye, an amused little smile on his lips, the same way Collin also did when he made me giggle. Why did all of Troy’s mannerisms remind me of Collin? Out of the blue, I felt incredibly guilty, like I was cheating on Collin with Troy. I hadn’t even been away from him for more than twenty-four hours. I sobered quickly and told myself that it was just lighthearted small talk between two employees of Harper Music, nothing more.

  “Here we are,” Troy said opening an oak door with a large window, motioning me in with a sweeping gesture of his arm. As I stepped over the threshold, I gasped in delight. It was the kind of recording studio that musicians daydreamed about—floor to ceiling was flawless, glossy wood and cushy leather chairs were set in front of an enormous control panel. Beyond, a lone microphone, headphones, and music stand seemed to be spotlighted by heavenly light in the live room.

  “This is incredible,” I said breathlessly.

  “Yeah, signing with Harper Music has its perks,” Troy agreed. “Ready to give it a go?”

  “Today? I thought we weren’t going to start recording until next week.”

  “You know Robert.” Doing his best impression of Mandy, Troy deadpanned, “Mr. Drake does not like to be kept waiting.” I hid another unladylike cackle behind my hand. “Besides, today we’re just running sound checks and getting a feel for your voice. Tomorrow’s when the real fun begins.”

  I walked over to the studio, grabbing the door knob and pushing it open with a flourish. “Well, then. Let’s get to work.”

  Time flew as I happily sang, picking up my guitar for a few of the songs too. A good portion of Heart on Fire was recorded by the time Troy decided to call it quits, and though I wanted to keep at it, the grainy feel behind my eyes and my foggy brain irrefutably confirmed that fatigue was beginning to catch up to me. I’d been too anxious to sleep well for weeks, and my body could only live on the buzz of excitement for so long.

  “I love that song,” I sighed, putting my guitar back in its case.

  “It’s been a good one for practice.”

  Something in his tone made a pit of worry congeal in my stomach. “Only practice?”

  “Since Monica Best left us high and dry, we’ll be using her work tape to record songs for your debut release. You’re just sliding into her place, and with any luck, it’ll be a seamless transition.”

  I shook my head in disagreement. “This won’t be my debut album. I’ve already produced two others with my roommate, Vanessa.”

  Troy chuckled lightly, his condescension stinging my pride. “With all due respect, that was child’s play compared to what you’re about to face. Ruby Harkwad may have a few records under her belt, but Ruby Hawkins is about to take the world by storm. That is, if I have anything to say about it.”

  “Ruby Hawkins? Is that my stage name?”

  “George took your suggestion and made the call this morning while you were being pampered. He’s already doing social media blasts, scheduling appearances, working up the hype around you.”

  My mouth felt parched and I’m sure my face looked like the pale gray underside of a fish. “Wow. This is serious, isn’t it?”

  “You feeling okay? You look a bit drained,” Troy questioned. I couldn’t help but notice how close he stood and the warmth of his fingers on my elbow as he tentatively supported me.

  I shook my head, trying to snap out of my daze. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just been a long few days. I need to get something to eat.”

  “How about we go get some dinner? We can talk about the concert tour that’ll kick off this summer, and we can go over some of the songs you’ll be recording more in depth so we can hit the ground running tomorrow morning. Do you like Thai?”

  “Thai?” I repeated. “I dunno. Never had it.”

  “Never?” Troy asked incredulously. “You’re in for a treat. It’s like a mashup of rock and gospel music in food form.”

  “Sounds awesome.” Gathering my belongings, I uncapped my water, taking a sip, then asked, “Who’s the concert tour with? Mandy’s itinerary said it was to be announced.”

  “Since Monica went AWOL, we’ve been scrambling to fix the mess she’s made. Mr. Drake wasn’t sure at first, but after hearing you live and seeing that you’ve performed with other headliners, he made the call. You’ll be opening for Kiki Loveless.”

  Water that should have been going down my esophagus instead shot up into my nose. “Are you kidding? Kiki Loveless?”

  “I take it you know her,” Troy said smugly.

  “As in the slightly psycho, short-tempered, attended-the-la
st-awards-show-dressed-as-an-emu, brilliant musician Kiki Loveless?”

  “I wouldn’t want to tour with her if I were you, either.”

  Spinning on my heels, I turned around and found myself face to face with Kiki Loveless herself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Actually, my inspiration was the cassowary,” Kiki sniffed, her wiry arms folded across her chest and her sharp eyes trained on me. She was petite, barely standing over five feet tall, but she had a certain kind of moxie that made it clear she wasn’t a person to be trifled with. If I’d seen her out on the street, I might have thought her chunky-knit turtleneck sweater that looked about five sizes too big for her tiny frame and fluffy, faux fur boots were a bit excessive, but otherwise, she wouldn’t have caught my attention as someone famous.

  “Excuse me?” I managed to stutter when my brain finally reconnected with my mouth.

  Kiki raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows—Wanda’s touch, no doubt—and explained, “I didn’t dress as an emu at the last awards ceremony. I drew inspiration from the cassowary, which is related to emus, but is not an emu.”

  “Right,” I said sheepishly. I’d just insulted one of the biggest—albeit most eccentric—pop stars on the planet before I’d even been properly introduced. I wondered where the nearest sinkhole that I could crawl into and die of humiliation was located.

  “Nice of you to drop by,” Troy said. Kiki sauntered over to him and pulled down his shoulders, air kissing his cheeks in greeting, her several sets of hoop earrings clattering together with the motion.

  “I was in the area. Thought I’d come meet Monica’s replacement in the flesh.” Casting a glance over her shoulder at me, she commented, “Going for the naïve, America’s little sweetheart look, eh?” I’d never been ashamed of my wholesome approach to music, but under an experienced performer’s scrutiny, I wilted slightly. Maybe Casey had gotten it all wrong. People didn’t want bland. They wanted artists who stretched the bounds of fashion and music. Like Kiki.

  “We were just about to step out for dinner and look over the music we’re going to start recording tomorrow,” Troy mentioned.

  “Perfect. I’ll join you,” Kiki declared with finality.

  If my imagination wasn’t running rampant, it looked like Troy’s smile was a bit tight. “That’d be great. We can talk about our tour schedule.”

  “Bangkok Thai?” Kiki asked.

  “Lead the way,” Troy answered.

  The walk wasn’t far to the restaurant, but the sun had long since set but the flashy lights of crowded businesses blazed from all directions and there was a pinch of cold to the night air. Kiki wore an enormous pair of sunglasses that nearly swallowed her entire face. Despite trying to conceal her appearance, I spotted a few people whip out their phone and snap photos as she strutted down the sidewalk. Kiki didn’t seem put off by the unsolicited attention but didn’t pause to indulge anyone.

  Troy held the door, and while my eyes adjusted to the dark ambience of the restaurant, he approached the hostess and asked with a wink, “Could we get our usual spot?”

  Beaming from his attention, she cooed, “Anything for you, Troy.” Grabbing three menus, she wound through the tables to parade us around as many other patrons as possible. Kiki, with glasses still on, occasionally smiled excessively and twiddled her fingers at people she recognized, never actually stopping to say hello. Troy must’ve thought I was dawdling because he placed a warm hand on the small of my back, encouraging me to catch up to Kiki. I stiffened, keenly aware of where his fingertips were resting. When he removed his hand as we reached our table, it left a chilly spot where we’d been connected. I ignored the feeling. I sat down at the table, tucked in a back corner of the restaurant, hidden by tall house plants and a mammoth saltwater fish take. The perky little waitress set down our menus and left us alone.

  “So, you’re the darling little thing that composed Heart on Fire? I’m so pleased Harper Music took my recommendation and brought you on.”

  “You recommended me?” I squeaked.

  “Well, you know. The whole Monica Best situation. We needed a solution to that debacle,” Kiki noted matter-of-factly. It was impossible to tell if she was staring at me or studying her menu through her reflective black lenses. “You’ll be a new twist for the record label.”

  “I’m just a fill-in at the moment. I don’t think I’m bringing in anything extraordinarily unique just yet, seeing as I’m singing someone else’s songs,” I mumbled.

  “Never do that,” Kiki said sharply.

  Jolting at her reproof, I stared at her wide-eyed. “Never do what?”

  Kiki removed her glasses and looked earnestly at my face. Without the heaps of makeup I was accustomed to seeing on her when she graced the cover of magazines and in music videos, she was almost unrecognizable.

  “Never discount yourself. In this industry, you first and foremost have to believe you’re outrageously talented and second to none, otherwise you’ll never convince anyone that you’re worth anything.” I nodded slowly. She was right. Harper Music had chosen me. I was second to none. “Except to me, of course.”

  “As if anyone had a doubt about the great Kiki Loveless,” Troy muttered behind his menu.

  “Now, if you’re going to have the honor of opening for me, I need to know who you are,” Kiki said, clasping her hands and looking at me with a slightly sinister gaze. “Start from the beginning.”

  “It’s so good to hear your voice,” I prattled into the phone. I was on the rooftop of Harper Music, taking a rare break from recording and the occasional songwriting session, which kept the days from completely running together. I hopped from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm while my teeth chattered.

  Collin agreed, “I can’t believe it’s only been four days. Feels like it’s been a lifetime ago since I last saw you.”

  We’d been texting sporadically and trying to catch up at night, but the time difference and our incredibly demanding work schedules were preventing any regular pillow talk. Literally, I’d woken up more than once, clutching my phone, having fallen asleep while Collin talked about all the work they were doing at StarTech. His cue that I was no longer listening had to have been the loud snore that had reverberated out of my gaping mouth.

  “So, you’ll be in town tomorrow?”

  “Yep!” I could hear Collin beaming through the phone. “I’ve been brushing up on my public relations by interviewing with a few local papers and magazines here. This will be my first major event. Antonio is coming along to mingle with potential investors and to make sure I don’t royally mess anything up.”

  “Vanessa said she was going to tag along, too. Something about taking me shopping so I can have a wardrobe befitting a music icon. Can you believe she thinks I’m too frumpy? Anything but mini skirts and crop top shirts are old lady clothes, according to her.” I shrunk into my baggie sweatshirt, relishing the final hours of my comfortable wardrobe before Vanessa threw it out in favor of something that was most certainly going to be tighter.

  “I happen to like your style.”

  “Oh, really? You don’t mind my ugly pajama pants or ripped university hoodie?”

  “Ruby, I think you’d looked lovely in a paper sack.” Another voice on Collin’s end spoke to him. Not just any voice, either. That same, notably young, sultry female voice I’d overheard at my parents’ house. “Ruby, I’ve got to go.”

  “Your secretary keeping you on a short leash?” I asked, trying desperately to sound casual. Too desperate.

  “Out of necessity. Jill has been a lifesaver. She knows the ins and outs of the company, can get pizza ordered to the office at one in the morning, and she schedules all my trips.”

  “How nice,” was all I could muster.

  “She’s coming with us to the convention, so you’ll get to meet her.”

  I forced a chipperness to my voice that wasn’t really there. “Can’t wait to meet her!”

  So I can make sure she knows you’
re mine and sharing you is not on the agenda...

  “I don’t think I could sing another note,” I proclaimed dramatically, stepping out into the studio and falling toward one of the free office chairs. I didn’t account for how well the wheels would roll on the wood floor, and the chair evaded me. I was flat on my back, giggling at my unfailing clumsiness before I could even yelp out a scream.

  “Let me help you up,” Troy trotted over to my side, smiling and shaking his head. All week, I’d been working in close proximity to Troy as we recorded music nonstop. As I’d gotten to know him, I felt like I could be myself and that he was one of the few people who truly appreciated my musical talents. It wasn’t like my father’s somewhat patronizing brag simply because I was his daughter. No, Troy truly made me feel the part of genius in the creative endeavor.

  I expected Troy to yank me up by the hands but instead, he bent down and scooped me up into his arms with ease.

  “We don’t want you to hit your pretty little noggin,” Troy whispered.

  Immediately, my girlish giggling ceased and a tingle ran down my spine. I was acutely aware his lips were only a few centimeters from my ear and I could feel his solid muscles beneath me as he walked across the room to my runaway chair. I secretly thanked Harper Music for assigning me a personal trainer who ran me through the gauntlet every morning and a dietician who seemed to think I’d thrive on little more than protein drinks and lemon water. Sometimes, I was so famished that I felt like I could eat my napkin, but the results were undeniable. Thanks to them, I was in the best shape of my life. Troy set me down in the chair as carefully as if I were made of China. I tucked a strand of hair that had escaped my braid and tried to ignore that his face was so close that I could smell spearmint toothpaste. I held my breath, about ninety-nine percent sure I rushed out the door this morning without brushing my teeth and not entirely confident I remembered to do anything with them last night either. My focus shifted to his rich, warm green and gold eyes to try and avoid staring at his lips.