Working for the Band Read online

  Table of Contents

  Sandrine

  Working | for the | Band

  The First Night – Leaving New York

  What Does A Morgue Smell Like? Never Mind.

  Choices, Choices

  Planting Seeds in My Zen Garden

  Emojis are Overrated

  Day Off

  Health Benefits of Saunas. Right.

  Bessie, My Nemesis

  Talking to the Animals

  On the Road

  Seattle

  The Festival of Sowing and Reaping

  Moonlight in Her Eyes

  With Sprinkles on Top

  This Time with Flash

  The Hotel Bathroom

  All Hats Are Off

  The Unwanted Knight

  Drama Quota

  In the War Room

  All-Nighter

  RV Park

  I’m Not Sorbet

  Poolside

  Bait and Switch

  Sticky Fingers

  Under the Bus

  Hugs

  Lighthouse

  Epilogue

  Thank you for reading!

  Loving the Rock Star

  Also By Katrina Abbott

  Sandrine

  My heart raced as we sat down together, close, almost touching. I slipped my hand from his, worried that mine was going to get sweaty and clammy, especially as I got more nervous because this was happening.

  “So,” he said, pressing his knee into mine.

  “So,” I echoed, twisting my fingers together, wondering which one of us was going to make the first move. Hoping it was going to be him. And soon.

  He chuckled and then said, “Does...does it feel like maybe we did a little too much talking—too much building up to this?”

  I exhaled in relief and turned fully toward him, our knees pressing together. “Ohmigod, that’s what I was just thinking. Like, it’s this big weird thing we’ve created in our heads—all the expectations, right?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I mean,” I said, my eyes lowering to my hands. “It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just...”

  “There’s this sudden pressure we put on ourselves,” he finished for me. “Making it awkward. What’s going to happen? Will it be what we built it up as?”

  “Exactly.” My shoulders slumped in relief as I blew out a long breath. “I’m so glad it’s not just me.”

  “No,” he said, and then I felt his finger on my chin, lifting my face, so I had no choice but to look at him, into his eyes. “It’s not just you.”

  God, he was gorgeous. Why did it keep surprising me that the guys I was surrounded by, who were chosen for their amazing looks along with their musical talent, were so damn hot? It was like a punch to my gut (heart?) every time I turned around.

  Working

  for the

  Band

  The Rosewoods Rock Star Series

  Book 3

  By

  Katrina Abbott

  Over The Cliff Publishing, 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  WORKING FOR THE BAND

  First edition. February 2017

  Copyright © 2017 Katrina Abbott

  Written by Katrina Abbott

  ISBN-13: 978-1545417287

  ISBN-10: 1545417288

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For Steven,

  Who saw the moonlight in my eyes.

  The First Night – Leaving New York

  “Dad, I told you, it’ll only be a couple of weeks,” I said, covering up the ear that wasn’t pressed to my cell. It was noisy in the back hall of the restaurant, but I’d been putting off this call, trying to tell myself it was due to the time difference between New York and wherever he was in Europe. But I’d be getting on the bus soon, so I needed to get this over with while I could have a little privacy.

  “You sure you don’t want to come work in the Geneva office with me this summer?”

  As if. “I’m sure, Dad.”

  “It’ll look good on college applications if you have diverse skills. Show that you’re committed to working for the summer rather than bumming around.”

  Was he serious? Unfortunately, yes he was. He really thought that working for him would help my resume and would be preferable to what would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to spend my summer with a real band. “I know. I just...it’s been a hard term, and I want the summer to relax and do what I want to do. This is exactly it.”

  He exhaled loudly, which made me unclench a little because that was his sound of defeat. “Fine. And then you’re going to your friend’s house in San Diego?”

  “The Hamptons,” I said, fighting the sigh, but seriously, I was so tired of repeating myself. I had told him this a million times, but he never listened. To me, anyway. He always listened to his clients. But of course, that could mean life or death.

  I’m not even kidding about the life or death thing. Because my father is a criminal. Not a tatted up street thug, doing drive-bys, hanging out the window with an AK, but a white collar guy who looks legit in his bespoke suits and dark-rimmed glasses. But who isn’t legit at all if legit means legal—it’s just all part of his image. He doesn’t know I know as much as I do—that they call him The Maytag Man because he’s the best money launderer there is. That his clients are arms dealers and drug dealers. Anything that’s illegal to deal? They do it. And he helps them hide the money and the paper trails. He’d probably be amazed to find out that I know what I do.

  I try to stay as far away from that life as I can, which isn’t easy because when you’re a crook like my father, you like to keep what’s yours close.

  So even though he sent me to The Rosewood Academy for Academic Excellence, an all-girls boarding school known for its security, in the summers, he liked me with him.

  It wasn’t going to happen this summer, though. I’d been prepared with a plan. That plan was that I was going to be spending summer break with my best friend and roommate from Rosewood, Vanessa Capri, at her beach house. Her father, Tony, is a music producer who creates boy bands, and he would be spending the summer touring with his latest one while Nessa and I stayed in the Hamptons.

  Until our plans changed in the best way possible. I became the band’s dedicated vlogger, poised to do a video series on them and the rise of Wiretap, Tony Capri’s latest musical phenom. I’d be spending a week with them, doing interviews and helping with social media to build buzz as they started their cross-country tour.

  Me, a nobody, a fangirl and groupie wannabe was about to get on a tour bus with five hot musicians. Seriously, could life get any better?

  Then it did, when the tour manager, Linda, had an epic fall the day of the first gig and couldn’t go on tour. (That’s not the good part!) That left Vanessa, who could probably run a tour with her eyes closed, to take over as fill-in tour manager. Which meant my gig as band vlogger was going to be extended. For how long? Anyone’s guess.

  So just to recap that math, it was about to be me, five talented musician hotties, and my best friend going on tour. Music, boys, festivals: fun on four wheels.

  Yes, I would be living the dream.

  I was about to embark on the best summer ever.

  And by the end of it, I was going to fulfill another dream: I was going to get myself a rock star boyfriend.

  Once I ended the call, I returned to the table, where the guys and a few of their assorted family members were celebrating. As I slid onto the bench seat next to Darren Hill, drummer for
the band, I leaned into his shoulder in greeting. He was probably the easiest and fun of the band members to be around—ready with a smile and a joke, even (or maybe especially?) at his own expense.

  And the thing is, while I’ve always loved musicians and so going on tour with them was literally a dream come true, it was still kind of surreal and scary. Overwhelming at times. Because who am I? Nobody. The daughter of a crook. And these guys were somebodies. Or, at least they were on their way to being somebodies. Important, big deal somebodies.

  And they were musicians. Real, legit, talented musicians. It hardly seemed possible that my life had suddenly gone from bored teenager on the cusp of a low-key summer of privilege in the Hamptons to a band’s crew member.

  I was going on tour. Never in my wildest dreams...

  “Everything okay?” Darren said as he turned away from his brother who he’d been chatting with and smiled down at me. His regular smile was in place, but his dark brown eyes were questioning and maybe a little concerned.

  “Everything’s perfect,” I said with a smile of my own, pushing away my frustration at having to talk to my father, determined to not let my family drama take away even one second of my on-tour experience. “I just needed to check in with my dad and remind him where I was going and let him know I might be on tour longer than planned. He forgets a lot.” Because he doesn’t pay attention, I didn’t add.

  Darren looked like he was going to ask a follow-up question, but I turned from him and reached for my soda, hoping it signaled the end of that part of the conversation. I didn’t want to talk about my family. Not even a little. Especially not tonight.

  Because not only did I avoid the topic of my family as much as I could, but I didn’t want to rain on anyone’s parade. The Wiretap guys had a lot to celebrate—they had not only just crushed their first gig, but were about to get on the spangly, legit rock star bus and head out on tour.

  And I was going with them.

  On tour. With a rock band. I kept reminding myself because holy crap, it was just so crazy.

  Which meant they weren’t the only ones who had reason to celebrate. I had plenty to celebrate and again thanked my good fortune in getting paired up with Vanessa as a roommate back in freshman year. I’d always known she was connected thanks to her music producer dad, but other than some free concert tickets, I never thought I’d ever be able to translate that connection into anything that would get me up close and personal with real musicians.

  But obviously I had, and it was going to be awesome. It still felt like I needed to pinch myself almost hourly, but nope, this was not a dream.

  Speaking of dreamy, I let my eyes drift around the table from one hot band member to the next and thought about how everything had fallen into place so perfectly.

  They’d fallen into place for my best friend, too, though she didn’t know it yet. She’s always said she hated musicians, but I knew better. I knew she’d always done that ‘thou doth protest too much’ thing to cover up her secret love of them. I would have bet money that she loved rock stars as much as I did. But now it was all out in the open—with me, at least—since she’d fessed up to her little fling with Andy Castillo from last summer. And now she was dating him, possibly the hottest guy in the band, and the one who was already a bona fide rock star.

  How cool was that? My best friend was already the girlfriend of a rock star!

  Yep, we were going to have the best summer ever.

  Except... My eyes landed on Max Lindstrom. He played bass for the band and was, I guess, hot in his own broody way—if you’re into that sort of thing. But if there was one thing or one person on tour that was going to bring me down, it was him.

  Ever since the day he’d overheard me letting off steam about him and had told Nessa and me about his girlfriend dying in that horrible car crash a few months back, things had been extra tense between us. I mean, I probably shouldn’t have said what I had about him, but it was like he was glad I had; he seemed to really enjoy rubbing my nose in it.

  I shivered as I thought about the horrible interview I’d had to do with Max the week before. Somehow Tony’s video promo team had made it look good, but it had been the most painful thing I’d ever endured. And I’ve had all four of my wisdom teeth out—I know a little something about pain.

  “You cold?” Darren asked, sliding an arm around my back and pulling me in for a side hug, thankfully bringing me back to the moment, the one where I reminded myself that Max was only one fifth of Wiretap. The other four fifths were awesome. That was the kind of math I could get behind.

  “A little,” I lied, figuring blaming the AC for my shiver was easier than explaining the real reason. Anyway, it was nice being pulled against Darren, his beefy drummer’s arms high on the list of things I liked about him. After his sense of humor. And his gorgeous chocolatey eyes. Oh, who was I kidding? He was the whole rock star package.

  All the guys were. I’d take just about any one of them to be my future rock star boyfriend.

  Besides Max, of course, who wasn’t even on my radar. Not that he’d shown any interest, obviously, since he hated my guts.

  As I thought for the millionth time about how Max was the bane of my existence, his narrowed gaze fixed on mine as though I’d yelled his name. I squeaked a little at getting caught before I could turn away. Damn. Now he was going to think I was into him or something. He was just enough of a jerk to assume he was God’s gift to women. Okay, so maybe being in a boy band created that ego, but still.

  I quickly turned to Darren. “So, what was your favorite part of tonight?”

  He grinned. “Is ‘all of it’ an acceptable answer?”

  I nodded. “Totally. But you’re sure nothing stands out as being the absolute best?”

  He opened his mouth but before he could say anything, his brother, Jayden, leaned in front of him and said, “The screaming girls. Don’t let him tell you any different.”

  “Shut up, Jay,” Darren smirked and rolled his eyes, though I didn’t miss the tiny blush that rose on his dark cheeks. Which made him even more adorable.

  “Notice he didn’t deny it?” his brother pointed out.

  “I did,” I said with a laugh. I really liked these Hill brothers a lot. Too bad Jayden wasn’t more musical; fans would go crazy for a couple of brothers in the band. And I wouldn’t have minded if he replaced a certain member.

  What Does A Morgue Smell Like? Never Mind.

  After Gary, our driver for the tour, came and rounded us up, we all headed back down the street to the venue.

  The brand new tour bus was parked out front. As the guys talked excitedly around me, butterflies took off in my stomach—part excitement, part nerves. It had been a great (though exhausting) day already, but now we were about to get on the bus and would pull out toward the next concert.

  It was really late, but we were all buzzing with anticipation. The fact that we were about to get on the coach made it feel really, really, real.

  “Your bags are on board,” Gary said as he stood next to the open door as we climbed up the stairs one by one.

  We all piled up at the front, looking around at the bus that was like a house on wheels. A really nice house.

  As expected, the front area was filled with our packs and bags. We’d been told we could have two bags—one with our daily items and toiletries that would stay with us on the bus, and a bigger bag with more clothes that would stay stored underneath the bus that we could access at stops to replenish our wardrobes. With so many people sharing what little storage space there was, we needed to be minimalists.

  “I guess we need to choose our bunks,” Andy said, reaching down to grab his backpack.

  “Any that don’t have bags on them already,” Gary said as he followed us up the stairs. “Tony and Kiki came out and claimed theirs. Your choice how to figure out who gets which of the rest.”

  It made sense that Tony would have first dibs. I turned to Andy. “Any bunk wisdom you’d like to share?” I asked si
nce this was not his first tour.

  He nodded and leaned toward me. “Always take the top, if you can. Also, I prefer being away from the bathroom as it’s the busiest place in the morning and I’m really not a morning person.”

  “I’m SO not a morning person, either,” I said, scooping up my own heavy backpack that was stuffed full of clothes, essential toiletries, my hairdryer, two pairs of shoes, and slippers.

  I followed Andy past the lounge and kitchen areas to the rows of bunks, ignoring all the cool amenities until after I chose my spot. It was an important decision that would affect my entire time on tour, so I wanted to choose wisely.

  There were twelve bunks in all—more than we’d need—but even with the empty spots, I had a feeling this bus was going to feel really crowded. Sometimes sharing a dorm room with one person—my best friend—was a challenge. I had to admit I was a little afraid of being in such close quarters with so many people. Not counting the lounge up front, this space was a whole lot smaller than a dorm room. It almost felt like...

  “It’s like a morgue,” I said, taking in the rectangular cubbies that would hold bodies very soon.

  Andy snorted. “Wait until it starts to smell like one.”

  “What?” I scrunched up my face as I looked up at him. “Gross.”

  He shrugged. “Lots of bodies. One shower. Better get used to it; this is what you signed up for.”

  And to think I had been eager to get on board. A smelly bus full of ripe bodies wasn’t exactly what I thought I’d signed up for, but I guess it was all a part of the experience. I just hadn’t thought about the realities of living in such close quarters with a bunch of guys. I made a mental note to get some air freshener at our next stop.

  “I’ll take this one,” Andy said, putting his bag on the top bunk on the right, closest to the front of the bus.

  With a nod, I put my bag on the top one across the aisle from his and then moved out of the way so the other guys could claim theirs.

  For half a second I felt guilty, like I should have let them choose before I had picked my bunk; they were the actual rock stars. But then I reminded myself that I was a lady and ladies should get to choose first, even if they’re not musicians but just tagalongs who aren’t even getting paid.