Wylder and the Rising Rockstar (Reluctant Rockstars Book 3)

by Michelle MacQueen

  “But that’s not all you should do.” Mrs. Shepherd slid off her desk to pace the front of the room. “A musician will have a label behind them. A management team, public relations advisors, and lawyers. In most cases, it is best to let the professionals handle the media while you wait for it to blow over. Let the media believe you’re hiding out while your team does the hard work.

  “That leads us to rule number two; do not engage. Unless you have a prepared statement, never speak to the press when you’re under fire. And never, ever let them see you sweat. If they manage to corner you, the only thing you say is ‘no comment’ and get out of there as fast as you can.”

  “So what do you do if the label isn’t helping and your management team, PR advisors, and lawyers are the source of the problem in the first place?” Logan seemed surprised he’d spoken out loud.

  “Excellent question, Mr. Cook.” Mrs. Shepherd gave him a sincere smile. “That leads us to the point of today’s lesson. When the system fails you, you rebuild the system. Take a step away from the label and the executives controlling the narrative of your story, and you look for new representation. A new PR team that will bring a fresh perspective and help you gain control over the narrative of your story. They will either get the truth out there or do damage control if the truth is not on your side. Sometimes there’s no coming back from a media storm. And sometimes it takes a while, but eventually people will forget and careers can be rebuilt. It doesn’t have to be the end of your dream.”

  Mrs. Shepherd checked her watch for the time. “One last thing before we talk about new assignments. I have some bad news, guys. In light of recent events, the school is cracking down on public events. I’m sad to tell you the Winter Review has been canceled for this year.”

  “What?”

  “No.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Wait, is hockey canceled too?” Wylder asked, but she could bet on the answer to that question.

  “As of now, only the Winter Review has been canceled. In light of the enormous talent this school has to offer, the board feels it is their responsibility to protect that talent.”

  “That sounds like a big load of bull—”

  “Wylder,” Mrs. Shepherd admonished.

  “I was going to say crap. Because it is bull crap.”

  “It’s for your protection, now let’s move on.” Mrs. Shepherd moved to hand out a new assignment before the bell rang.

  Wylder was out of her seat before anyone else.

  “Let’s go, we have somewhere to be.” She snatched up her bag and grabbed Logan’s arm, hauling him out the door before the others.

  “And where are we going in such a hurry?” Logan matched his stride to hers.

  “There.” She pointed to the admin building across the quad.

  “It’s freezing, Wylds. Put your gloves on at least if you’re not going to zip your coat.” He walked beside her. “You know we have a history class to get to next, right?” But Wylder stormed through the glass doors and into the headmistress’s office, dragging Logan behind her.

  “She’s in a meeting, Miss Anderson,” the school secretary said in a weary tone. “I suggest you go to your next class and make an appointment if you’d like to see the headmistress. You can’t always come barging in here, expecting to get a moment of her time whenever you feel like it.”

  “Where is her meeting? Maybe I could catch her on the way out?”

  The secretary just peered at her over her reading glasses like she was a lunatic.

  “Would it help any if I said she really likes me?”

  “No, Miss Anderson. And ‘like’ is a very strong word.”

  “Fine, I’ll come back this afternoon.”

  “Make an appointment for next week,” the secretary called after her, but Wylder was pretty sure she knew where the conference room was, and any meetings the headmistress might have would likely be there.

  “Care to fill me in on why we’re stalking Ms. Jones?” Logan followed her down the hall.

  “She has some explaining to do,” Wylder muttered.

  “Miss Anderson, why are you wandering around the building? Shouldn’t you be in class?” Ms. Jones came marching down the hall. “Mr. Cook, et tu brute?”

  “Oh, just the person we wanted to see.” Wylder scrambled to follow her.

  “I was abducted,” Logan said. “Brought here against my will.”

  “I have another meeting to get to, so make it quick, guys.” Ms. Jones was busy examining the files in her hand.

  “The Winter Review was canceled,” Wylder blurted.

  “Yes, I know.” Ms. Jones stopped outside the conference room. “We’re trying to protect our students’ privacy. I thought you two, of all people, would appreciate that.”

  “I do appreciate that, very much. Like I said, abducted.” Logan pointed at his chest.

  “But hockey is still on. That’s not fair.” Wylder pressed the issue.

  “Our players are used to the public scrutiny. It’s expected in elite high school sports. That’s how they get scholarships and drafted into the NHL.”

  “That’s not cool, Ms. J. What happened with Logan and me wasn’t even because of a student.” She glanced at Logan, unsure if she should go on. He just shrugged and motioned for her to say whatever she came here to say.

  “Mr. Cook just sent that video to Luke to show him how awesome their brother did on stage when he’s normally so frozen from stage fright, he can’t even remember his own name.”

  “Well, it’s not that bad.” Logan shuffled his feet, muttering under his breath. “It’s not fun, but I remember my name.”

  “What happened after that had nothing to do with Defiance Academy,” Wylder continued.

  “While that might be the case, Wylder, the parents of our students don’t know all the particulars. They only see two of our most talented students plastered across the internet. We have to be seen doing a better job. I’m sorry, but right now, it’s just not a good time for frivolous events.”

  “Frivolous?” Wylder folded her arms over her chest, standing between Ms. Jones and her destination. “You know, some people would say hockey is a frivolous event.”

  “I’m not one of those people. In case you were wondering.” Logan shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “We’re collecting phones at sporting events, but that’s the best we can do right now, Wylder. It’s a done deal. Now, I suggest you both get to class.”

  Ms. Jones sidestepped Wylder, giving her the kind of look that brokered no argument. Wylder’s stepmom had that look. She supposed that was what made Ms. Jones perfect for her job. One didn’t argue with the headmistress when she gave you the look.

  “Get to class, kids.” The headmistress disappeared into the conference room.

  “Let’s go get coffee, Wylds. We’ve missed most of this period anyway.” Logan led her out of the building and across the quad.

  “It’s just not right.” Wylder shook her head as they waited for their coffees.

  “Why do you care so much about the Winter Review?” Logan asked. “You’ve never even mentioned it before a few days ago.”

  “It’s nothing.” She retrieved her extra-hot peppermint mocha from the counter. She liked it extra hot so it would stay hot longer, but it was impossible to drink right away so she used it to thaw her hands until she could drink it.

  “Don’t give me that, Wylds. Talk to me. What’s this about?”

  “Oh, well…” Wylder fidgeted with her cup, blowing on the contents to cool it enough to take a sip without scalding her brain. “I just got excited about performing again when Devyn told me about the review.”

  “There will be plenty of opportunities for you to perform again.” Logan slid into a booth seat near the fireplace. The cafe was all decked out for the holidays, and the decor reminded her of a log cabin in the mountains. It was cozy and quiet. “This has to be about more than a lost chance to perform. Spill it.”

  “I don’t
want to lose music again, all right.” She stared into the flickering flames in the fireplace.

  “Lose music?” He frowned. “Explain.”

  “After I left the girl band I was in for a while, I just lost it. I stopped playing. Music became this huge stumbling block for me. It wasn’t until Mrs. Shepherd’s class forced me to get back on that horse that I found it again. Since then, we’ve only performed together once. If I don’t get back out there now, I’m going to lose it all over again, and I’m not sure I’ll recover this time. Music is like air to me, Logan. I know you understand that. And when it’s gone…”

  “It’s never gone.” He reached for her hand across the table. “For people like us, music is life. It’s in our blood. The beat, the rhythm, it’s everywhere. We can’t escape it even if we try. You never lost the music, Wylder. You can’t lose it. It’s part of you. You just needed a little break for a while, but it was always there, just waiting for you to pick up your drumsticks again.”

  His warm eyes burned into hers and, help her, she was feeling all sorts of warm zoomie feelings for him. Logan Cook got her. Really got her. He went with her crazy shenanigans, shaking his head in amusement. He knew she needed coffee before talking could happen. He watched her eat in amazement and tried his best to keep up with her and was willing to try foods he didn’t like. He got her, and he was still here, holding her hand, plying her with snacks and coffee when she was upset.

  Wylder had never felt like this before. Was this … the L-word?

  She shot out of her seat. “I, um, forgot something in my room. I gotta go see a girl about a horse. I’ll see you at dinner.” She left her still too hot to drink mocha on the table and darted out of the cafe toward the dorms.

  5

  I have to go see a girl about a horse? It wasn’t until Wylder was safely ensconced in her—well, not warm but less than freezing—dorm room she realized what she’d said and what it meant.

  “Oh my gosh,” she mumbled to herself, burying her face in her pillow. She’d just run out of the cafe telling Logan she had to go to the bathroom. Could there be a more Wylder thing to do?

  Google was not her friend. She frantically typed in her phone, searching for another meaning to the phrase so she could tell herself he wouldn’t think that’s what she meant. Well, it was British, maybe he wouldn’t understand.

  She groaned. He totally would. It didn’t specifically mean bathroom, but that was what people used it for. Oh man, she was so overthinking this. All she’d meant was she wanted to go find Devyn, and Devyn was into horses, but she didn’t need to see her about the horses.

  Why was she such an idiot when it came to Logan?

  Oh right, because she had feelings for him. That was what caused her brain to short circuit sitting so close to him in that cafe. Feelings.

  Gross.

  They weren’t even really dating, but he was saying so many nice things, something she’d once thought was very un-Logan-like. Now she knew differently. He was nice, kind. He cared about other people, not just himself. He wouldn’t say it, but it killed him not knowing if Luke was okay.

  And he cared about her. Why else would he try to make her feel better? But how did he care about her? They were buddies who enjoyed letting their teenage hormones loose when in close proximity. She snorted at her own thought. It was such a Diego way to phrase that.

  Devyn wasn’t even here, so that seeing girls about horses thing, couldn’t happen the way she’d meant it. She didn’t even know why she wanted to talk to Devyn. Despite their recent heart-to-heart, it wasn’t like they were girl-talk buddies. No, if she needed girl talk, that’s what Nicky was for.

  She dialed his number, hoping it would be the first time all week he’d actually answer her call. When his voicemail picked up, she sighed. “Nick Nick, I need you.”

  That was all she said before hanging up.

  Wylder Anderson didn’t do warm feelings unless it was the feeling she got from doing the unexpected, surprising someone. Well, this time she surprised herself.

  She flopped back on her bed with another groan. There were still a few hours of classes left, but she couldn’t stand the idea of sitting through a lecture on the doomed Anne Boleyn or watching Mr. Matheson solve for an imaginary number as if it was easy. Not when it felt like an animal had crawled into her stomach and was trying to get free.

  Someone more romantic than her may have called them butterflies.

  She went with nerves or the more gruesome thought of something clawing at her from the inside out.

  “I have to get off this campus.” This feeling wasn’t new to her, being trapped at the Academy. With its high walls and the fact that living in the dorms meant never getting away from her classmates, it was like a fishbowl.

  And she had to do it before Logan returned.

  As a good little soldier, he’d probably headed to his next class, one of the few he didn’t have with her. So, he wouldn’t know she’d skipped out yet. He wouldn’t realize it until he walked into the dining hall for lunch and found her seat sadly empty. At least, she imagined him being sad, desperate to see her, ready to cry his eyes out because of her absence.

  She snorted again. It was a very un-ladylike habit of hers.

  “I need to hit something.” She stared accusingly at her electric drum kit. The sound they made was fantastic, they never fell over, cymbals crashing to the ground. There was an ease to playing them. But it wasn’t the same as an acoustic set, one that certainly wouldn’t have fit inside this room. Devyn would probably murder her if she tried to put one out in the common space, as would everyone else in the building.

  But that was what she needed, something to remind her of who she was. Despite going way too long not talking to Becks or Nicky, despite her parents being weird, and whatever her stomach did around Logan being weirder, she was still Wylder Anderson. She was the girl who’d joined a band of seniors as a freshman and played in bars using her fake id, the one who threw a party in the empty school building after the public school kicked her out.

  She’d been trying to make better choices, but whatever she felt for Logan certainly wasn’t a good choice. It was a new Wylder feeling. The past Wylder never would have let herself even imagine getting involved with someone, letting herself be open to getting hurt. She was a matchmaker, she’d just never planned on making a match for herself.

  And she certainly didn’t now.

  Running a hand through her too-short hair, she missed her dreads. Kicking the blanket off her legs, she heard Logan’s voice in her head. Music is a part of you. He was right. She’d forgotten it before, but she wouldn’t let herself go back. And there was one place that had always made the music feel safe, made anything feel possible.

  It was where she and Beckett had dreamed of their futures. And she could use a little dreaming right now. She pulled on her black boots and puffy white coat, zipping it all the way up before ordering an Uber to pick her up one street over from the school gates. It had been a while since she left without permission, but it felt familiar to her.

  Pulling the hood over her hair, tinted with green wax today, she slipped from her room and pocketed her phone and her keycard. The dorm building was quiet in the middle of the school day with few people in or out, but that would change in about thirty minutes when everyone descended for lunch.

  She’d be long gone.

  She nodded to the security guard as she slipped from the building and hurried down the path to the main gate. This would be tricky. She didn’t have the newest code for the back gate she normally used, and it was impossible to climb the wall from this side, not like she fancied attempting that again, let alone in broad daylight.

  She smiled at the image of an annoyed Logan breaking her fall. He was adorable when he scowled at her.

  No, he wasn’t. “Stop it, Wylder.” She blew out a breath, trying to push Logan from her mind as she rounded the circular drive.

  She was in luck. She’d hoped for any sort of car to be leavi
ng campus, but she didn’t just get a car, she got a food delivery truck roaring up the road behind her from the dorm buildings.

  The white truck sported a red swirling logo with the name of the company, but she didn’t focus on it. Instead, she watched the security guard as the truck stopped. He didn’t ask for ID. All he did was wave, and the gates opened slowly.

  Wylder pushed away from the wall, hiding herself on the other side of the van, facing away from where the guards sat inside a little building, their desire for warmth making them lax at their jobs.

  As soon as the gate was fully opened, the truck moved. Slowly at first, Wylder matched its pace as it came up to the crossroads in front of the school. She jumped away from it, knowing security would be able to see her if they looked right then.

  Pressing herself flat against the wall, she silently pleaded for the driver not to look in his rearview mirror. When the van turned down the next street, she let out a breath.

  With one glance back at the security window, she noticed two guards with their backs to her. A grin stretched across her face as she sprinted through the snow, running across the street into the tree cover. She didn’t slow until she was obscured from view.

  Adrenaline buzzed in Wylder’s veins, and her lungs burned. That was brilliant. She’d never gotten such a rush sneaking out before, mostly because it had always been by some other method—usually stolen codes from one of the unmanned gates. There hadn’t been a huge risk of being caught.

  But this… “I want to do that again.”

  Pulling out her phone, she cursed as she checked the Uber app. She’d taken too long and missed her car. “Wonderful.” Looks like it was hiking for her.

  She could have called her parents, but they would definitely not have approved of this, and they’d ground her. She was banking on them both being at the family hardware store when she got home. And she’d leave before they came home from work.

  With a sigh, she started off in the direction of Twin Rivers. It was one town over from Riverpass, and neither town was huge, but it would still take a while. She supposed she could order another Uber, but she really didn’t want to pay again, and she needed to move.