The Bar Next Door

by Rose, Katia

  “Broken light switch...” Ace mumbles, hands straying across the fret board again.

  “If you’re thinking that’s a good idea for a song,” I tell him, “it’s not.”

  He strums a few sullen notes in answer. JP pulls a ham sandwich out of god knows where. I spend the next few minutes listening to him ‘mmm’ appreciatively after every single bite as Ace continues with his discordant serenade. Cole’s entrance into the room is a welcome interruption.

  “Merde,” he swears, his dark eyes hidden behind fogged up glasses, “that’s a cold one.”

  “As a witch’s teat!” JP shouts around a mouthful of ham.

  I shoot him a look and he returns it with an aloof tilt of his chin.

  “It’s an expression,” he says slowly. “Maybe you don’t know what they say.”

  I just shake my head and tell him he’s an idiot.

  “I won’t deny that, mon gars, I won’t deny that.” JP turns to Cole. “How’s Roxy?”

  Cole grimaces and stomps away to his bass, slinging it over his shoulder before taking a seat in the chair next to me and starting to tune the strings.

  “Trouble in paradise?” I prompt.

  All I get for an answer is a resentful, “Fuck off.”

  I get up from my armchair, sliding my sticks out of my pocket and heading over to the drum kit set up in a corner of the room.

  “Well now that we’re all here,”—I pause to stare pointedly at Ace—“physically, if not mentally, shall we get started?”

  “We don’t have the synth here anymore,” JP complains. “Why are we even here anyways?”

  He waves his hands to indicate the busted up furniture and piles of music paraphernalia crowding the basement. Back in the early days we even recorded our demos here, kitting the place out with acoustic panels and all the second-hand gear we could find.

  Of course, our recent deal with Atlas Records means we’ve now got access to state of the art rehearsal spaces at any hour of the day or night. I like the idea of still having something that’s ours though, even if the other guys give me shit about it.

  “We’re here,” I tell them, “because I don’t like Atlas listening in on us all the time.”

  Cole and JP roll their eyes, and even Ace makes himself coherent enough to bark out a laugh.

  “They’re not Russian spies, you know,” JP lectures me. “You talk about them like they’re out to get us or something. They’re our label. We help them and they help us.”

  “Whatever. I just feel more...creative here, too,” I admit.

  “Don’t mess with Matt’s muses, man,” Cole says to JP.

  I’m pretty sure anyone who didn’t know him well would miss the note of humour in his low voice. Cole Byrne is one of the most intense dudes I know. If he didn’t wear glasses and have a habit of stroking his chin, I’d think he was fighting off the urge to break someone in half every time he stared off into space. As it is, he just looks like he’s contemplating the inner workings of the universe.

  JP picks up on his joke right away.

  “Do you want me to light some candles?” he asks me. “Maybe we could burn some of that incense shit. Gotta keep the mood right for the muses, non?”

  I try to save some face. “Hey, maybe if you all spent less time messing with ‘muses’ we’d actually sound half decent when we played. We haven’t had a good rehearsal in forever. We haven’t even had a rehearsal in forever.”

  “Ça va, ça va. Be chill.” JP pulls off his coat but leaves his hat on as he takes his place at the keyboard. “We don’t play a show for another three weeks, and our shit is still crushing the charts. We can relax for a bit, man. We deserve it.”

  I clench my hands around my sticks so tight they threaten to splinter, swallowing down all the bitter comeback that spring to mind. Lately ‘relaxing’ has been the only thing on any of the guys’ minds.

  “Calm your tits, Matt. We’re fine. You’re giving me a headache,” Ace groans.

  “Actually it would be your descent into alcohol dependency that’s doing that, Ace,” I answer levelly, still standing there like I’m bracing myself for a fistfight.

  He mutters something under his breath and I’m about to ask him to speak up if he has something to say, but Cole cuts in.

  “Agreed. If you’re gonna come to practice, you should at least come to practice sober.”

  As always, Cole’s words seem to hold more weight than anyone else’s. Ace stays quiet, sitting up a bit on the couch and messing around with his tuning pegs.

  “Nous sommes tous corrects, là?” JP’s fingers stray across his keyboard to chime the chorus of our big hit as he asks if we’re all good.

  “Ouais,” Cole answers, with his voice and with his bass. “Let’s do this.”

  We launch into ‘Sofia.’ Ace can’t sing for shit today and misses half the lyrics, but he at least gets enough of the guitar part down to carry us through the song.

  The last few notes haven’t even faded out of the amplifiers before JP pulls a face and mutters, “Ouch.”

  That sums up my feelings right now too, but I want to keep the ball rolling so I pick up the drum intro to the next number on our set list.

  “Come on, let’s go. One— Two— One, two, three, four!”

  We play for half an hour straight, banging out the tunes we all know by heart but never seem to get tired of. Despite the way things have been going, when it comes to music, we’ve always had an unspoken understanding I’m not sure any of us could put into words. It comes out when we play, when we all get so caught up in a song the swell of sound swallows us up like a storm.

  That’s the reason I want to flip out when I see this band slacking; I know we’ve got something too good here to ever take for granted.

  We’ve almost made it halfway through our usual set when we decide to take a break. Everyone might have been freezing their asses off when they got in here, but now we’re all reaching for water and wiping the sweat off our faces.

  “I think,” pants JP, as he pulls off his hat to reveal the dishevelled man bun underneath, “we’re out of synch during the bridge for ‘2 AM.’ I keep missing your queue.”

  “Should we make a secret hand signal?” I joke.

  He starts flashing different gang signs that get more and more idiotic as he goes.

  “Just tell me when you see one you like.”

  “Maybe you should just do that on stage instead of playing,” I tell him.

  “Don’t give him any ideas,” mutters Cole.

  My phone starts to buzz. I don’t recognize the number, but I have a good idea who’s calling. I smother a grin and signal that I have to take it before stepping into the stairway.

  The smile I was trying to hide turns into a full blown smirk when I pick up.

  I knew she’d call me.

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  Acknowledgments

  I always like to start off the acknowledgments with a thank you for YOU, the one with this book in your hands. The knowledge that my words have been given the opportunity to fill someone’s precious reading hours is never something I will be able to take lightly. It’s an honour and a privilege to share my stories with you, and I could not be more grateful for this connection we get to share.

  To the kickass beta team who made this book what it is: ‘thank you’ is not enough for the dedication, thoughtfulness, skill, and commitment you put into helping me make this story the best it could be. Sue, Angie, Becca, Benjamin, Zero, and Arlene—you all brought such unique and helpful points of view to the table, and I hope you know just how appreciated you are. If not, you have this paragraph in the acknowledgments section to prove it to you!

  I am continuously floored by the insane levels of awesomeness contained within the romance reading community. To all the bloggers and ARC readers who got this book out into the world with more enthusiasm and flair than I ever could have foreseen, thank you for showing up every day to make this community just that: a communit
y. You are every author’s not-so-secret weapon, and I TREASURE YOU ALL IN MY HEART.

  I am very lucky to have had the chance to connect with some incredible writers during the past two years. You all inspire me every single freaking day, and I couldn’t ask for a better, more badass bunch of humans to consider my ‘coworkers.’ I hope we all have many more years of pumping each other up on Instagram ahead of us.

  Giselle, thank you for everything you do at Xpresso Tours and for being such an integral part of my releases. You never fail to wow me.

  Sarah, I am still gushing over the gorgeous cover and over all your work in general. You are so incredibly talented, and I feel so lucky I got to work with you.

  To my ‘real life’ friends and family: thank you for your support and for not making fun of my ‘smut books’ (even though let’s face it, you do make fun of my smut books.)

  Eva, I miss you all the time, and I’m so happy I get to share these stories with you, even though nothing I write will ever compare to WHODUNNIT?!

  To my favourite douche: would you like a straw with this book? I didn’t show up with the U-Haul, but I did put you in the acknowledgments section of my book already, so we’re still fulfilling the stereotype. Thank you for being the fucking best and for making every day so much better than it would be without you. I’m a ridiculously lucky girl.

  To my best boy: you’ve been there since these books were the hint of the beginning of the start of an idea, and you’ve stuck through all the ups and the many, many downs since then. I can’t explain how much that means to me. I guess I didn’t just keep you around for the Mac Mini because you’re still here, and I honestly have no idea what I’d do if you weren’t.

  About the Author

  Katia Rose is not much of a Pina Colada person, but she does like getting caught in the rain. She prefers her romance served steamy with a side of smart, and is a sucker for quirky characters. A habit of jetting off to distant countries means she’s rarely in one place for very long, but she calls the frigid northland that is Canada home.

  www.katiarose.com

  Club Katia

  Club Katia is a sexy, supportive, and swaggin' community that comes together to celebrate the awesomeness of romance novels and the people who read them.

  Membership also includes special updates, sneak peeks, access to Club Katia Exclusives (a collection of bonus content available especially to members) and the opportunity to interact with fellow members in the Club Katia Facebook Group.

  Joining is super easy and the club would love to have you! Visit www.katiarose.com/club-katia to get in on the good stuff.

  Also by Katia Rose

  The Barflies Series

  A series of romantic comedies centred on the lives and loves of the staff at a Montreal dive bar. Each novel can be read as a standalone.

  The Bar Next Door

  One For the Road (coming Fall 2019)

  When the Lights Come On (coming Winter 2020)

  The Sherbrooke Station Quartet

  A series of steamy rock star dramedies that follow the rise of an alternative rock band in Montreal. All four volumes can be read as standalones.

  Your Rhythm

  Your Echo

  Your Sound

  Your Chorus

  Standalone Novels

  Thigh Highs

  Modelling lingerie for her arch-nemesis was not on Christina’s to-do list. Then again, nether was he. An enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy.

  Latte Girl

  Hot coffee is a regular fixture in Hailey Warren’s life. Hot guys? Not so much. A caffeine-fuelled romantic comedy.