Falling to Pieces (28 page)

“No, we have a lead singer. We’re looking for kind of a backup singer, I guess. But there would be plenty of opportunities to feature one of your songs if you wanted to,”
Ryker explains.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I don’t know. I’ve never really been in a band before.”

“Why not? You’re amazing,” Ryker gushes.

Lola elbows me in the side. “I’ve been telling her that for years.”

Ryker peers over at Lola and raises his eyebrows. I recognize that look. Pretty much every guy I meet is attracted to Lola. It’s almost impossible not to be. “Smart friend.”

“You have no idea,” she jokes, running a finger over the rim of her glass.

“Thanks for the offer, Ryker, but I’m just not sure about it.” I look to Lola for some help. Surely she won’t want me to join a band with a complete stranger. For all I know he could be a serial killer.

“Why don’t you give us your information and Star can give you a call to discuss it further?” Lola asks.

Ryker grins, pushing away from the table. “Great. I’ll be right back.”

I glare at Lola, who just shrugs her shoulders in response.

“I’m not joining his band,” I hiss over the loud music blaring from onstage.

“Why not?” Lola runs a long fingernail through her shiny hair.

“I don’t know anything about the guy. I don’t even know the name of his band. What if he doesn’t even have a band?” Panic chokes me at the thought.

Lola just laughs and waves away my words with a graceful flick of her wrist. “Did you see the guy? He screams ‘boy band’. But finding out if his story is legit will be easy enough.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about, but Ryker reappears before I can ask her. He shoves a piece of paper at me.  I glance down and see a phone number and address scrawled on it. “Whose address is this?”

“Our lead singer,”
Ryker says. “We practice in his parents' garage.”

Seriously?
I am so not showing up at some stranger’s house.  This is getting even more suspicious. I throw Lola a cautionary look and she grimaces back. Finally she’s on my side.

“We’re practicing tomorrow night at seven. You should come and jam with us
,” Ryker says.

I open my mouth to tell him no thank you, but I clamp my mouth shut as my gaze takes in the guy walking on the stage. He’s quite possibly the best looking guy I’ve ever seen. Not only that
, but he walks with a swagger that causes everyone to stop and take notice. He has a guitar slung over his shoulder. He's wearing skinny jeans, boots and a black short-sleeved shirt that shows off the intricate tattoo that covers one of his arms. His dark hair is short, and when he smiles at the crowd it causes my heart to flip in my chest. He begins playing, and I’m mesmerized. When he opens his mouth to sing, I freeze. His voice is incredible – raspy, yet controlled in a way that most guys can’t master. I’m completely entranced with him.

“Who is he?” I breathe, mostly to myself, but
Ryker must hear me because he turns in my direction.

“That’s Beckett. He’s the lead singer in our band. That’s why it’s called “Beckett.” He has a bit of an ego.”
Ryker chuckles lightly before sitting back in his chair.

I exhale and stare up at the stage. This guy is the leader of the band
Ryker wants me to join? I sit still during the remainder of Beckett’s song, unable to tear my eyes away from him. When he finishes the crowd erupts into clapping, and I turn to Ryker with a smile.

“I’ll be there tomorrow night,” I say, my mind made up. 

Last night I was so certain about this. Of course I think that had everything to do with seeing Beckett up on stage. In my whole life I've never been so taken with someone at first glance. However, now as I pull up in front of a complete stranger's house I'm having second thoughts. The house is nice and clean with its blue trim and white shuttered windows and the lawn is well manicured. But that does little to quell my nerves. I've watched enough crime dramas to know that even serial killers live in pretty houses in nice neighborhoods. Besides, this is just Beckett's parents' house. I have no idea what all the guys in the band are like, and that's who I'll be with, and in the garage no less.

"Hey, you
gonna stand out here all day?" Ryker walks toward me, his hands shoved into his pockets.

I jump back, wondering where he came from. "Um, no, I just um...you know...wanted to make sure it was the right house. Which I now see that it is."

Ryker flashes me an amused smile and lightly taps me on the arm. "Come on. I'll introduce you to Beckett."

Just the sound of his name causes my pulse to race. Taking a deep breath, I follow behind
Ryker. He ambles over to a box built into the house directly next to the garage. After punching in a few numbers on it, the garage door opens loudly. Inside I can see instruments set up - there's a drum set, a keyboard and guitars resting on stands strewn about. Just as I step inside the garage, a door to the house pops open and Beckett walks through it, clutching a bottle of water. I've never wanted to be an inanimate object before, but taking in the way his fingers curl around the plastic bottle I feel a sense of jealousy.

"Hey,
Ryker." Beckett nods his head in Ryker's direction as the door slams shut behind him. "The other guys are inside getting a drink. They'll be out in a minute."

I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Beckett hasn't even acknowledged my presence
, and last I checked I wasn't invisible. It bothers me, and for a minute I wonder if this was a mistake.

"Hey, Beckett."
Ryker circles his hand around my wrist. "This is the girl I was telling you about. The one from last night's open mic night."

Beckett glances over at me with a bored expression that makes my stomach knot. "Yeah, I missed your song, but
Ryker hasn't been able to stop talking about." He steps close to me, and my breath hitches in my throat. "I'm Beckett." He holds out his hand.

I take it
in mine, hoping he's not grossed out by how sweaty my palm is right now. "Star."

Beckett lets out a harsh laugh that startles me. "A little pretentious, don't you think?"

"Excuse me?"

"I just think artists should stick to their real names, that's all."

His words are like a punch to the gut. I glance over at Ryker who gives me a resigned shrug. I wonder if Beckett's always this much of a jerk. "Star is my real name." When I notice the skeptical look on Beckett's face, I add, "My dad's an astronomer. My parents met at a planetarium, and he proposed under the stars. My brother's name is Galileo. It's sort of a theme in our family."I place my hand on my hip in a challenge. "If I had known I'd be interrogated, I would have brought my birth certificate."

Beckett sighs. "Sorry. I've clearly hit a nerve. It just seemed
cliche, that's all."

What? No apology? I'm stunned by his lack of remorse.

Two more guys shove through the door and bound into the garage, talking and laughing loudly. Their voices echo and bounce around me. When their gazes land on me I have the sudden urge to run away. This whole thing was a bad idea.

"So, you
gonna show us what you've got, Star?" Beckett raises an eyebrow at me.

I smile, wanting nothing more than to wipe that smug look off of his face. Maybe once he hears me play he will take me more seriously. "I'd love to." I lift my chin and head over to the keyboard. The rest of the band is completely quiet as they watch me. I ignore the insistent banging of my heart in my chest as I sit at the keyboard. After running my moist palms down the thigh of my jeans, I reach up and place my hands on the slick keys. When I peer up, I catch sight of
Ryker, and he gives me an encouraging nod. I'm not sure what his story is, but I'm grateful to have at least one person on my side. The other two guys look on warily, and Beckett crosses his arms over his chest, the same bored expression cloaking his face.

  I inhale sharply and press down on the keys. Closing my eyes, I open my mouth and
allow the song to carry me. After I sing one verse and chorus, I force my eyelids to open and I slide my fingers back down into my lap. I bite my lip and wait for some response. The silence is deafening.

Ryker
grins broadly. "See, didn't I tell you she was amazing, Beckett?"

"Yeah, she's not bad." Beckett shrugs.

The air leaves me, and I feel deflated.
Not bad?
I seriously do not need to stay here and be insulted by this egomaniac any longer. I'm just about to push away from the keyboard and stalk out of the garage when Beckett swaggers over to me and shoves a piece of paper in my hand.

"Now let's see how well you harmonize." He glances around the room. "You guys stay out for this. This is just going to be me and Star."

I feel dizzy as I snatch the paper from his hand. The thought of singing with him is enough to keep my butt planted on the seat. Remembering the raspy rich tone from the night before makes me feel giddy. He slings the guitar over his shoulder, and it catches on his shirt lifting it slightly to reveal his naval and the top of his boxers that creep above his sagging jeans. I avert my gaze and feel my face warm.

He looks up at me, his dark eyes piercing mine. "We'll just run the chorus. You can play if you want to, but if you just want to sing that's fine too."

I nod, glancing down at the paper and taking in the chords and lyrics. Reaching up, I touch the keys. Beckett strums his guitar and I watch him press his lips up to the microphone. It makes me want to take back my desire to be the water bottle. Clearly the mic would be a better choice. When he opens his mouth to sing, I shake away the inappropriate thoughts and focus on the music.

The harmony is simple enough
, and as I listen to our voices blend together beautifully a warm feeling swirls in my stomach. I can tell that the other guys hear it too, because they nudge each other and exchange smiles and eyebrow raises.

You’re one more thing I can’t have

Standing just outside my grasp

But it doesn’t really matter

Because good things never last

When we finish, I peer up at Beckett feeling pleased about the performance.

"I'm sorry." Beckett frowns at me, and my stomach sinks. "I'm just not sure if this is gonna work out, but thanks for stopping by."

I struggle to stand up, my legs rubbery. As I push away from the keyboard with shaky fingers, my knees soften and I fear I'll fall over. I feel like an idiot; like I've made a complete fool of myself. Without saying a word, I pick up my purse, stalk out of the garage and race to my car.

Acknowledgements:

I truly have the best job in the world. I get to spend all day living vicariously through my characters, experiencing new things and falling in love over and over again. But even more importantly, I get to work with the most amazing people.

I have made so many friends in the book community - authors, bloggers, readers, fans, and I'm so grateful for all of you.

Thank you to:

My author friends - Megan Squires, Cambria Hebert, Cameo
Renae, Alexia Purdy, Alivia Anders, Trish Dawson, Tara West, Melissa Pearl Gunn, Melissa Andrea, and many more!

All the bloggers and fans, my "adopted mama" Heather Andrews, and all those who read my books, I am truly grateful for you.

My betas - Megan Squires, Tiffany Tillman.

My family - Andrew, Eli,
Kayleen, Mom, Dad, Karissa, Matt, Lindsay, Kagen, Brittnie.

My editor - Auntie Boo, you do such an amazing job!

My cover - Matt, Lindsay, Renae, Lisa - you all rock!

And to all my friends and family, thank you!!

First off, I want to thank you for taking the time to read this novel. I truly am honored that you took the time to read it.

Second, I want to invite you to contact me – either on Facebook, Goodreads, or my blog. I love to hear from my fans. It makes all this worthwhile. Also, you can join my newsletter if you want to be alerted to sales, cover reveals and release dates. Sign up here:
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Thank you and happy reading!

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