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

by Heidi Hutchinson

  Often vulnerability was just a setup for betrayal.

  And Hannah was often doing the betraying.

  That little factoid soured her stomach and she swallowed hard.

  It didn’t have to be that way. She could choose differently this time.

  She could…be kind.

  Ugh.

  Okay, maybe being kind was easier said than done. It often entailed more than just rewinding a VHS tape before returning it. Which Hannah actually couldn’t remember ever doing. Though VHS had gone the way of the dodo years ago. Maybe her memory was just bad.

  And hopefully kindness wasn’t as boring as it seemed. Maybe she could punk rock the shit out of kindness.

  “Are you the musician?” the suit asked when she’d made it two steps back into the control room.

  The musician. Hannah liked the sound of that.

  Why yes, I am the musician. By which all other musicians are measured.

  “No, she’s—”

  “Hannah Lee, nice to meet you,” she interrupted Johnny’s sputters of protest. The suit shook her hand and she held it a second longer than necessary, adding a flirty smile.

  “Ah, talent and beauty, a lethal combination.”

  “Excuse me,” Johnny interrupted them, touching Hannah lightly on the elbow. “I need to speak to my…person.” He put just enough pressure on her elbow to steer her away from Lord Business and into a small equipment room off the main room.

  “Your person?” Hannah asked with a smirk.

  Johnny’s pleasant expression evaporated and he narrowed his eyes at her. “The lies just pour out of you, don’t they?”

  Hannah mirrored his eye narrowing but without the venom behind it.

  They were less than six inches away from one another, and the smell of electrical equipment mixed with leather and cinnamon was a heady combination.

  “The secret to lying is to tell the truth ninety-nine percent of the time.” Her eyes dropped to his mouth, to his collar where the top button on his Henley was open, exposing the barest hint of dark hair. Her eyes came back up to meet his angry ones. “Would you like me to leave?”

  His eyes flashed and his breathing got heavier. His gaze dropped to her mouth and then bounced back to her eyes, angrier than before. “I can’t afford to be a game you play,” he growled.

  She frowned, wondering if he was hinting at their past that she still couldn’t recall.

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “My livelihood,” he amended. “This is all I have,” he confessed.

  She softened her expression and blinked slowly. “I know. I won’t fuck it up.”

  She slipped around him and rejoined the others. Johnny took another moment before he returned.

  “Time is money, my friends, and I’d like to stay rich,” Dave said, standing up. He nodded at Hannah. “I’ll show you what I’m thinking and we’ll see what you can do.”

  JOHNNY

  “No, I get it.” Hannah nodded at the tattooed face of Dave Hansen AKA Sunshine Capone. “But what if you added this…?” She played something infinitely delicate on the ivory keys of the baby grand piano set up in the live room of Studio X.

  Sunshine’s grin was immediate. “Fuck yeah!” He jumped off the piano bench and made a rapid lap around the room.

  “Please, oh, please, oh, please, oh, please,” Johnny found himself muttering. Or perhaps praying was more like it.

  Today had not gone as planned. Not even remotely.

  The moment she had shown up, it had gone significantly downhill.

  Except it hadn’t.

  Which was more frustrating than he could articulate.

  All he knew was that he didn’t want her there, and yet he didn’t want her to leave.

  Because she was saving his ass.

  What were the chances?

  Never mind, he didn’t want to know the odds.

  He didn’t need it explained to him in math and numbers that nothing could have predicted this moment.

  That would make it feel like it was destiny or some other such bullshit and those things did not exist.

  Life was chaos. There was no divine plan.

  They were all just random bits of matter, colliding into each other until they disintegrated.

  All he had to do was survive the collision.

  Dave began rapping softly over the melody that Hannah was playing. Johnny flipped the record switch because magic was currently happening.

  “Okay, okay, okay.” Sunshine sat down beside Hannah and pounded out a bridge. She nodded and took over.

  “What if you put it here,” she said, humming the melody of what Sunshine had just made up on the spot and working the bridge in.

  “Then walk it back down.” Sunshine nodded along to the beat, grinning.

  I keep my words light

  And my thoughts at the ready

  And I keep my mouth tight

  Or it’s audio spaghetti

  I know a thing or two

  ’Cuz I’m well-read

  You may doubt it’s true

  But like I’ve said

  You come to my shop

  You will wind up fed

  They both dissolved into giggles. Hannah scribbled the changes on the paper in front of her.

  Hannah wasn’t being a session musician.

  She was being a writing partner and producer.

  It was…unsettling.

  It was as if she could read Sunshine’s mind, knew what he was trying to create, and met him there, music in hand.

  Johnny had seen it once before. The first time he’d ever stepped foot in a recording studio with Ashton James.

  “Man, I thought this idea was crazy when I had it, but you make me feel like a genius,” Sunshine remarked.

  Hannah took a drink of water and nodded. “It’s clever. It’s a song about clout while poking fun of yourself. It makes total sense.”

  No, it didn’t.

  It didn’t make any sense until Hannah Lee had sat down at the piano and played like her heart was weeping.

  Before Johnny had fully processed what was happening, it was over.

  It had happened.

  The track was done and mixed and ready for public consumption.

  He was sweating.

  “I’ve never laid down a track that fast and that solid.” Sunshine lifted his chin at Hannah. “I’m supposed to be down in Texas at the end of the week to record the rest of the album. Are you available to join me?”

  Johnny wanted to punch a wall and laugh out loud.

  In one session she’d hornswoggled an artist into thinking he actually needed her to do what he could probably do in his sleep. That was supposed to be Johnny’s job. He was supposed to be the producer who everyone trusted to make them sound their best.

  “Sorry, I only work here.” Hannah pointed a thumb over her shoulder at Johnny. Johnny fought the urge to look behind him to see who she was talking about. “Johnny’s the best and I don’t work without him.”

  Sunshine eyed the two of them appraisingly. “You got a good thing going here, man.” He clapped hands with Johnny. “I’ll be in touch.”

  And then they were gone.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Johnny murmured in the now quiet studio.

  Hannah slowly turned around to face him, her expression sober. “Yeah, I did.” She checked her watch. “Shit. I’ll have to grab pizza on the way home. Piper will be wondering where dinner is.”

  She picked her purse up off the couch and slung it over her shoulder.

  “Thank you.” The words came out halting and tense, causing Johnny’s neck to heat.

  She scrunched her nose. “Oof. That wasn’t easy for you, was it?”

  He snorted and shook his head. “No. It wasn’t. But it needed to be said.”

  He held her eyes, wishing like hell he could read her thoughts and wondering where on earth they went from there. Because it didn’t feel like an end.

  He’d resisted taking her money for just
this reason.

  He didn’t want to be tied to her in any sense of the word.

  And yet, there they stood, on the threshold of what could only be a beginning.

  Beginning of what? Probably his utter and total ruin.

  “See ya around, Johnny E.” She backed to the door.

  “Wait.” He grabbed a Sharpie off the console. “Gimme your number in case we need to make any adjustments.”

  Valid excuse, ol’ boy. And not desperate sounding at all.

  She smirked and rolled her eyes but approached him nonetheless, holding out her hand while simultaneously holding eye contact.

  He dropped the marker in the other hand and flinched when she grabbed his arm. She shook her head, still with that half smile, like she was amused by him. She turned into his body just slightly and he held his breath as she scrawled a phone number on his forearm. Not his hand, his arm. Then she blew on it to dry it.

  And Johnny could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips.

  He took a deep breath before opening his eyes. She was gone.

  He glanced down at his arm.

  315-555-0197 xx

  He tugged his sleeve down so he wouldn’t have to look at it. Especially the double x’s at the end. Those weren’t kisses. Because no.

  He would not entertain the idea of kissing her. Or her kissing him. No way was he going to picture what it would be like to slide his thumb across her bottom lip, those icy eyes fluttering closed, her face tilting up toward him—

  “That was so amazing!”

  Nikki’s exuberant interruption caused Johnny to jump and knock over the wastebasket, spilling empty food wrappers on the floor.

  “Whoa, you okay?” Nikki asked with a concerned frown.

  Heck to the no.

  “Yeah, you just startled me.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair.

  Nikki began to clean up the wrappers and garbage. “Hannah is great. I hope we get to work with her again. She really saved our asses today.”

  “Yeah.” Johnny sat down at the console and flipped the switches and saved the work one more time.

  “I’m surprised her name didn’t come up when I was searching for a session musician for you. Have you known her a long time?”

  “Uh…” Johnny swallowed, trying to figure out how to answer such a straightforward question. “We used to run in the same circles. Haven’t…uh, seen each other in a few years.”

  Nikki hmmed at his answer and took the trash out.

  Leaving Johnny alone with his untrustworthy thoughts.

  It wasn’t until he had made it home that night that he realized he hadn’t thought of her as Ashton all day.

  Hmm. Something to think about later.

  Chapter Five

  Alien

  HANNAH

  “So, pizza?” Piper asked, biting into her second slice and eyeing Hannah from across the couch. “On a school night.”

  Hannah nodded grimly. “I ran out of time today.”

  “You ran out of time,” Piper repeated flatly.

  How much should she tell her? All of it? Parts of it? None of it?

  Honesty was their keystone. Everything relied on both of them being truthful with the other.

  “Not that I’m complaining,” Piper added quickly. “It’s my favorite. The best part about moving to Chicago was the deep-dish.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “But you usually stick to the routine.”

  The routine.

  Hannah hadn’t stopped feeling the twisting guilt and underlying terror that accompanied it since she called into work that morning. Even the distraction of being at the studio and her very convincing arguments to herself that justified why she was doing what she was doing didn’t make those queasy emotions fade entirely.

  She wondered if guilt would always accompany any decision that let her feel even a smidgen of happiness.

  Not general happiness. Not the kind she got from knowing Piper was safe and healthy. Happiness like that was borne of fulfilling responsibility and “doing the right thing.”

  The personal, selfish kind she had felt today was different. It was happiness that only benefited her.

  The guilt roiled in her stomach again and she set her plate down in her lap.

  “I didn’t go to work today. I called in so I could take the check over to Johnny Enamorado’s recording studio. And I stayed all day.”

  She peeked sideways at Piper, who was sitting perfectly still, mouth hanging open.

  “Please say something,” Hannah pleaded softly.

  The younger girl shook her head to snap herself out of whatever daze she’d been in.

  “Did he take the money?”

  Hannah began to answer no when she stopped and thought. “Actually,” she snickered, “he said no, but he still has the check.” He’d tossed it aside when his day had gone (more) awry. “Anyway, an opportunity presented itself and I took advantage. Now he’s indebted to me.” She picked her plate back up and held it to her chin as she balanced the sloppy deep-dish slice with her other hand. “Which should buy us a lot more time than the money by itself.”

  “I knew it,” Piper declared smugly.

  “You knew what?” Hannah asked around a laugh.

  “You were singing when you came in the door. You were happy. You’re only happy when you’re writing music.”

  “That’s not—” she protested.

  “Not like that,” Piper said. “You’re happy with me a lot. But you’re never happy by yourself.”

  Hannah wanted to object but found it too difficult to form any words that didn’t feel like a straight out lie.

  And also, what right did she have to be happy on her own? It was one thing to be happy for someone else. Because it was their happiness. They owned it. She was just a witness to it. That seemed to be okay in the grand scheme.

  But happiness for her?

  That seemed like a slippery slope.

  “It was just a song stuck in my head,” Hannah disregarded the observation. “Because I happened to be present during a recording session.”

  “Are you going to tell me who? Was it you? Was it Johnny?” Her eyes widened. “Please tell me Johnny has a super deep voice.”

  Hannah’s laughter almost made her choke. She waved Piper away. “It wasn’t Johnny. And if I tell you, you have to keep it a secret. You know that, right?”

  Piper nodded eagerly.

  Of course she would keep the secret.

  Besides, what was one more secret between them anyway?

  “It was Sunshine Capone—”

  She didn’t even finish the guy’s name before the room erupted in excited twelve-year-old girl squeals. Piper bounded around the room, barely caged energy vibrating through her preteen body.

  “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” she said rapidly. Then, turning to Hannah, she grabbed her by the shoulders and said seriously, “Oh. My. God.”

  Hannah was laughing uncontrollably at that point.

  Oh to be that young and excited. What a terribly wonderful thing.

  “Is he cool? Was he nice? Did you talk to him? Did you mention me? Of course you didn’t mention me.” She leveled those bright eyes at her. “Did you mention me?”

  “No,” Hannah laughed.

  Piper dropped to the floor in what could only be a preteen swoon.

  “I love him. I actually love him.”

  Hannah eyed her little sister. “Yeah, well, over my dead body and all that.”

  Piper giggled manically and propped herself up on an elbow.

  “Are you going to go down there again?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Hannah stood and picked up the pizza leftovers. “I left Johnny my number.” She shrugged as if that was all there was to say.

  And for Piper, that really was all there was to say. She didn’t need to know the flirty way that Hannah had decided to leave her number with Johnny. Or how exciting she found it to push his buttons. Especially when she wasn’t actually doing anything wro
ng.

  She tucked the leftovers away in containers and folded the box into a manageable bundle, which she tucked under her arm. “I’m taking out the trash,” she called, grabbing the full bag and tying it shut.

  The trip down the hall to the garbage chute was always a nice walk.

  Maybe that seemed weird to some, but Hannah found she often looked forward to it.

  The halls of the apartment building were clean and quiet. The carpeted floors under her bare feet were cleaned regularly. She hardly ever saw neighbors since Quinn had put her on a nearly vacant floor. So the trip to the trash chute felt like it was an extension of her home. She didn’t have to worry about hiding her face or being alert to who was around.

  It felt safe.

  She found herself humming the song she’d recorded with Sunshine that day, and a wide smile stretched across her face.

  She pulled the garbage chute open and dumped the bag inside. The cardboard pizza box went into the recycle chute.

  Then she spun around and did a small forward bend with a twist. She sung the words to the song out loud and stepped gracefully down the hall. A shimmy here, a spin there.

  She swung her arms over her head and spun four times.

  Not that she’d ever have described herself as a dancer per se. But her job often entailed lots of dancing. Her manager, Terrence, had gotten her some real lessons early on so it didn’t look so scattered when she performed. Because the music…the music always moved her. After a while they had added a choreographer and backup dancers. And then she wasn’t playing instruments as often, and the music…became something different.

  She had forgotten this part.

  The part about discovering your soul inside a melody and the effect being weightlessness.

  She made it back to her apartment door and took a deep breath. Wiping the inexplicable moisture from her eyes, she went back inside.

  JOHNNY

  The track ended and Johnny sat perfectly still. Listening to the clicks and silence of the studio surrounding him. Eyes closed, he leaned a little further back in his chair and wondered again how this had happened.

  Because the stupid track was perfect.