Key Change: A Slow Burn Rockstar Romance (Common Threads Book 3)

by Heidi Hutchinson

  But this?

  Getting to show his setup to an already established artist with a huge following?

  This is could put the books into the black for the next year.

  “I know that this week is going to be really important, but you’ve got this. Don’t have a stroke over it.”

  Johnny sank into a squat to look into the far back lower shelving unit where they housed the keyboards.

  “Why would you say that?” Johnny asked distractedly.

  Nikki sat down cross-legged on the floor beside him. “Because I know how you get when you’re afraid something is about go wrong. You get all ‘Nikki, you talk too much. Nikki, bring me a ladder so I can jump off the building.’”

  “Well…” Johnny reached into the unit and grabbed hold of the top keyboard. He grunted as he lifted it out. “You do talk a lot.”

  “Right, I know,” Nikki agreed. “But it’s the way you say it.”

  “For the record, I don’t sound anything like that.”

  “You sound exactly like that. But don’t do that this time. It’s not going to blow up in your face.”

  Johnny dropped the keyboard and sat back on his heels. He frowned at Nikki. “What? Why would you even say that?”

  Nikki looked at him like he was supposed to get whatever it was she wasn’t saying.

  “Nik, spit it out.”

  “Ugh. It’s like you forget we’ve been together for twelve years and”—she waved her arms around to include the everything that was around them—“all this glorious history. I can tell when something heavy is on your mind.”

  Hmm. Well, she wasn’t far off the mark. Though she had no idea it was Ashton James that was on his mind. Or Hannah or whatever she was going by now.

  Johnny took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m not gonna spiral. I’m just a little distracted by outside stuff.”

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  “No, Nikki,” he said, his patience slowly draining out of him. “It’s personal.”

  She didn’t like that answer. He could tell by the small pout she tried to hide.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know I’m going to regret asking, but why does it matter so much to you?”

  Nikki slouched, defeated by his lack of insight into the female psyche.

  “Because. You’re my friend. I just want you to be happy.”

  “Okay,” he said, softening his tone. “Thank you. I promise, if it comes time for me to talk about it with someone, you’ll be the first one I come to.”

  She smiled, clearly relieved.

  “Now can I please finish what I’m doing?”

  She hopped up and bounded away like a puppy on an adventure. Which was to say, her usual mode of travel.

  As soon as she was gone, though, his thoughts turned right back to Ashton. Or Hannah. Whatever.

  He dusted his hands off on his jean-clad thighs and refocused on reorganizing the keyboards.

  If he kept busy, he wouldn’t have any spare time to think about the ghost of a woman he used to know.

  HANNAH

  Hannah didn’t want to admit that walking in on her coworkers’ conversation had…upset her. But she also recognized that something was off inside herself.

  Had been since Saturday.

  The gossip normally wouldn’t be a thing to her, but added on top of all the confusing emotional stuff that the weekend had managed to drudge up?

  It was a thing.

  A dumb thing.

  But it was still there.

  She was distracted as she rode the train, choosing to stare at the ground instead of cataloging the other riders and being watchful.

  Alex would be so disappointed, she thought with a snort.

  She stepped off the train at her stop and hesitated for a nanosecond, waiting for familiar guitar chords to distract her further.

  Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on which side you were on—there wasn’t anything that signaled she should dawdle any longer than she had.

  She turned to the exit and took a deep breath, trying to inhale something clean to help clear out the smoke of her insides—a dumpster fire that wouldn’t quite die.

  Dimly, she became aware of a voice calling in her direction. It grew closer, and despite her lack of belief that it had anything to do with her, she glanced over her shoulder.

  Immediately she spotted the shaggy-haired troubadour from last week, pushing through the throng of commuters. Startled, she paused, and it was just a long enough second for them to lock eyes. He communicated in his expression that she was the object of his pursual.

  What in the name of a motherfucker?

  Fighting her instincts to keep marching toward her destination, she moved to the side and allowed the crowd to pass her by.

  Almost instantly a flood of anxiety washed over her.

  This was off routine.

  She needed to get home and get dinner started.

  “Hey,” the guitar player panted when he’d caught up to her. His guitar case was slung onto his back, the strap wrapped across his chest. His bright pink cheeks indicated that he’d been chasing her for longer than she’d realized. He pushed his floppy hair off his forehead, revealing the sheen of perspiration despite the cold temperatures.

  Instead of greeting him in turn, Hannah narrowed her eyes and waited.

  He took no issue with her silence.

  “Hi. I’m Shawn.” He placed an open palm on his chest. “I don’t know if you remember me from the other day—” His words came out fast and desperate.

  It was familiar in a sinking boat sort of way.

  He knew.

  How had he known? Who else knew? This was all her fault. She should have never deviated from the routine. So stupid. Shit.

  “Listen,” Shawn kept on talking. “I know I’m a nobody and you’re undercover or some shit, but I just had to tell you that you changed my life. I would never forgive myself if I had the opportunity to say it and didn’t take it.” He took a deep breath and glanced around them furtively before bringing his attention back to her. His dark brown eyes sparkled in a way that reminded her of Piper, and for a moment, Hannah forgot her anxiety. Something else kicked in and she looked at this child in front of her.

  Really looked at him.

  Yes, he was man-sized, with dark facial hair making itself known on his jaw and chin. But there was a softness to his skin, a lack of worry in his earnest frown, a boldness in his carefree smile.

  Had she ever been that young?

  That hopeful?

  “Hi, Shawn.”

  It wasn’t exactly an admission, but the grin that split his face and lit up the underground station even had Hannah fighting a smile.

  His blush deepened and he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

  “Thank you for your kind words. It was nice meeting you.” She stuck her hand out to shake his, but he wrapped his long arms around her.

  “Oh, we’re hugging,” she said in surprise.

  Before she could be concerned about the physical contact, he released her and stepped back.

  A minute before, he couldn’t get his words out fast enough and now he seemed speechless. They stood silent for a few seconds. Just staring at one another.

  Hannah had questions but was too afraid to ask. Like, how had he known? And for how long? And who else had he told? But at the same time, she didn’t really want to know. Especially if it would mean Alex and Quinn’s efforts to hide her and Piper were all for naught.

  Then it hit her, he’d never actually called her Ashton.

  She opened her mouth to ask…

  “Okay, see you around,” he rushed out before brushing by her.

  Hannah turned to watch him and saw him duck onto a train. The doors closed and she lost sight of him.

  “Fucking weird ass day,” she muttered to herself.

  Weird ass weekend, too, if she were being honest.

  The train departed and Hannah stood there for a few s
econds after, trying to collect her thoughts. Of which she had many. And yet none of them were super coherent.

  Between being labeled a whore at work to being thanked for saving lives, Hannah didn’t know what to think of herself.

  You know, in a pragmatic sort of way.

  Neither argument was the truth, but she must fall somewhere along that whore/savior spectrum.

  Shit. Was she now bordering on blasphemy?

  Probably.

  Hannah made her way up the stairs to the street, still pondering the previous interaction.

  Shawn, huh? Adorable kid.

  “What’s this?”

  Hannah finished hanging her coat on the hook and glanced over her shoulder. Piper was picking up a plain white, legal-sized envelope.

  She frowned because she actually didn’t know.

  “It fell out of your pocket,” said Piper. She turned it over; there was writing on the back.

  “What’s it say?”

  “Shawn Torres demo. And there’s an address.”

  Hannah took the envelope from Piper to read the words herself. “What the hell?” she asked out loud.

  Shawn? Shawn the busker?

  She opened the envelope and found a thumb drive. That was it.

  “Did someone give you a demo?” Piper asked. Her voice lodged somewhere between curiosity and fear.

  Or maybe that was just where Hannah’s heart was at the moment.

  “He must’ve slipped it in my pocket at Wabash and Washington,” Hannah thought out loud.

  “Wait. Are you saying he knows who you are? Is he stalking you?”

  Okay, that wasn’t just Hannah, there was definite fear in Piper’s voice.

  “Maybe. I don’t know,” Hannah answered without thinking.

  “What?” Piper cried.

  Hannah took a deep breath and looked Piper in the eyes. “I will handle this, okay? You do not need to be afraid.”

  Piper’s eyes bounced in between Hannah’s, wide and worried. “Who is this person?”

  “He’s just a kid. A busker I talked to once. He has no idea what he’s doing.” That was obvious. Hannah’s surprise was evolving into annoyance the longer she had to feel Piper’s fear race around the room.

  Not at Piper. But at Shawn for dropping this little nightmare nugget into her lap.

  “What if he’s told someone? Will we have to move? Where can we even go?”

  Hannah gripped Piper gently by the shoulders. “I will handle this,” she promised both of them. “Do you trust me?”

  Piper stared at her, and Hannah could see the younger person fight for control of her emotions.

  “I trust you,” Piper croaked out.

  Hannah fiercely pressed her lips to Piper’s forehead.

  Damn right, she trusted her.

  Hannah had not put everything in her life into this girl for it to be called into question over the actions of a misguided teenager.

  Hannah picked up her phone and texted Alex.

  Hannah: I need you to look someone up for me.

  The reply came almost immediately.

  Unknown: Meet me in the spot, 2 min.

  Hannah slid her phone into her pocket and grabbed her keys.

  “Where are you going?” Piper asked, her voice soft.

  “To get information. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she promised. She held Piper’s eyes for a beat and smiled. “I will fix this.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  She left the apartment, checking that it locked behind her.

  When she arrived at the service elevator, she was only somewhat surprised that Quinn and Alex were both there.

  “What’s the name?” Alex asked, all business.

  Hannah handed over the envelope to Quinn, who dumped out the thumb drive and handed it to Alex.

  “He’s a busker I interacted with on Friday.”

  “Interacted with?” Quinn repeated.

  Hannah growled under breath. “Yes. He was playing one of my songs. I went over to listen. I didn’t think…” She crossed her arms. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. But today he stopped me and I found that in my coat pocket when I got home.”

  “Hmm,” Quinn replied noncommittally.

  Alex typed furiously.

  After a minute or so he sat back, relaxed.

  “It doesn’t look like anything serious. He’s seventeen, eighteen next month, has no criminal record. The thumb drive is just a music file. There’s nothing else on it.” He removed it from the laptop and put it back in the envelope.

  “But he clearly knows who you are,” Quinn pointed out.

  Hannah chewed on the inside of her cheek.

  “The address here is in Avondale. It’s mortgaged to a Jonathan Enamorado Torres whose name is also on the title for a recording studio near the address…XY Records. He’s been a US citizen for fourteen years. No criminal record.”

  “The recording studio connection is problematic,” Quinn stated Hannah’s feelings.

  “So they’re not dangerous, but they probably want money to keep quiet,” she said.

  “I would assume so,” Quinn agreed. “Would you like me to handle it?”

  “No,” she denied quickly. Her interaction with Shawn earlier in the day had her feeling sorry for the kid. She didn’t want to terrify him by sending Quinn in full force. The guy didn’t have a “soft side.” “Not yet. I’ll go over and see if I can make an offer to keep them quiet.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?”

  “Then I guess I’ll be moving again.”

  “You should take an escort,” Quinn said, not a hint of a question in his tone.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Just follow my suggestion for once, Ms. James.”

  Hannah rolled her eyes and scrunched up her nose. She didn’t like the idea of having a babysitter bodyguard, that kind of thing attracted attention. Which was the entire situation she was trying to avoid.

  “My employee will be discreet,” he promised.

  Sure.

  She went back to her condo to wait for Quinn’s muscle and explain to Piper where she was going.

  “Now?” Piper squeaked.

  “I’d rather talk to them now and get it over with. That way it’ll be settled and it won’t be on our minds anymore.” Hannah spoke with a lot more confidence than she felt. But she didn’t want Piper to know how anxious she really was.

  Hannah went to her room to change out of her work clothes. What was the point in looking boring and dowdy if they already knew who she was? No, if she was going to feel in control of the situation, she was going to have to wear her own stuff.

  She slid on a pair of dark jeans and a thin, white V-neck sweater. She took her hair out of its chignon and shook it out. Last, she put on her favorite black leather jacket.

  Piper stood in the doorway of her room, wringing her hands.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything—”

  “No, babe. We don’t do that, remember?” Hannah stopped her. “No more hiding how we feel to keep the status quo, remember?”

  “Rock the boat, baby,” Piper replied softly.

  It was their motto they’d adopted during family therapy. Piper had come from a home life where speaking up was punished with emotional distancing. So she’d learned to keep quiet to keep others happy.

  Until everything had fallen apart.

  Hannah tied the laces of her black combat boots and tugged her jeans down over them just as there was a knock at the door.

  She recognized Damon as one of Quinn’s security guys who worked in the building.

  “Ms. James, I have been instructed to escort you this evening,” Damon said by way of greeting.

  Ah, hired help, how she missed it.

  “I need to go to this address,” Hannah said, handing over the envelope with the writing on it. “Piper is staying here.”

  Damon nodded once and stepped aside for her to enter the hallway. She glanced over her sho
ulder at Piper. “I’ll be right back.”

  She waited until she heard the bolt latch before following Damon down the hall. She glanced up just as they passed under a domed security camera in the ceiling. Knowing Piper was safe offered a sliver of peace.

  Damon escorted her to the underground parking garage and to one of the black Mercedes SUVs parked in a row. He opened the back door and she hesitated because it felt like such a huge step back.

  “Do I have to sit in the back?” she asked.

  Damon didn’t even flinch. “Of course not, Ms. James.” He closed the door and moved to the front passenger side.

  Hannah slid in and deliberately relaxed her hands onto her knees. They wanted to ball into fists, but she needed to keep a cool head. Losing her absolute shit wasn’t going to help the situation.

  The drive to the address was silent and Hannah gazed out the window at the passing lights of Chicago.

  Her choosing to move here had had many reasons. It was the Midwest. If anyone ever recognized her, they were more likely to dismiss her as a doppelgänger than a real celebrity.

  Celebrity, Hannah thought with a snort. She hadn’t been that in a long time. Long before Piper and even before her arrest.

  She hadn’t done anything worth celebrating in many years.

  The car stopped in a part of town she’d never been.

  One side of the street had tall brick row houses; the other side had brick walk-up apartment buildings.

  “Where is this?” she asked, looking around at the charming neighborhood.

  “Avondale,” Damon replied, parking the car along the curb.

  “It’s cute.”

  The black Mercedes seemed to fit right in among the other newer vehicles of the residents surrounding it.

  Hmm.

  It had her wondering if they weren’t as financially dependent as she needed them to be to make this go away.

  “Wait here, please,” Damon instructed.

  Hannah fought rolling her eyes but did as requested because why the hell wouldn’t she? The whole point of having Damon be there was for safety. For Piper’s sake.

  The peace of mind went both ways.

  And maybe showing up with a fancy bodyguard would be enough to scare the shit out of the punk who thought he was being cool enough to slip her a demo.