No Treble Allowed: A Straight Wicked Novel Page 2

  Oh, did I notice.

  Logan MacKenzie, bassist of Straight Wicked and my secret crush all through my junior and senior years of high school, had seriously walked in the door. I was on the verge of hyperventilating.

  No, he hadn’t been my crush because he was in a wildly famous band. Back then, he’d just been Logan. Regular customer at the Analog Coffee shop where I’d worked.

  I’d promised myself when I’d seen him come in that I wouldn’t say anything. It was obvious he was trying to remain incognito. The beanie pulled down low over his eyes and sunglasses perched on his perfect nose had been big clues. Knowing who he was, I was pretty sure he didn’t get out much anymore without being mobbed.

  I was also pretty sure he wouldn’t remember me. And I didn’t want to seem like a creepy stalker fangirl. Speaking of which, I couldn’t believe I’d missed that they were coming to Boston. Then again, I’d been studying a lot.

  “You know Analog? Seattle’s Analog?” He’d removed his glasses and those dark green eyes had widened.

  “Umm, yes?” Pressing my lips flat together, I tried to focus on my study guide.

  “You from Seattle?” Suspicion had begun to creep into his tone, and I briefly glanced up to look at him. His narrowed eyes were zeroed in on me. It was impossible to miss his nervous perusal of the room afterward.

  “I, uh, used to live there.” My mumbled words must have been hard for him to understand, but he didn’t ask me to repeat myself.

  “Do you…. Ah, do I know you?” His body language told me he was ready to bolt. Not wanting to chase him away, I closed my laptop and began to gather my things, preparing to leave.

  “Probably not. Well, I mean… you do, but it’s been a while. And I certainly would never expect you to remember me.” Shoving my computer into my messenger bag, I moved to stand.

  “Wait. Don’t go. Sit here and talk to me. Please?”

  As I hesitantly sat in the chair across from him, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Shit,” he whispered. “Did we…?”

  Laughing to cover the wishful and wistful words that wanted to sneak out, I chewed on my lip as I shook my head. “No. God, no. We didn’t.”

  The relief that crossed his face was instant but brief.

  “Oh, okay, that’s, uh, that’s good.”

  “Yeah.”

  His stare sharpened on me when he heard the resigned tone of my voice.

  Knowing I needed to say something or it would get awkward, I decided to let him off the hook. Plus, I didn’t want to risk that he’d leave before we could talk.

  Speaking quietly to maintain privacy, I told him, “I worked there. At Analog. You were one of my regular customers. Before SW.”

  At his startled jerk and quick scan of the room, I finished with, “Don’t worry, I knew who you were as soon as you walked in. If I haven’t said anything yet, I promise you, I won’t. Your secret’s safe with me,” I whispered with a smile.

  Immediately, he seemed to relax. “Thanks.”

  Shrugging, I sipped my now lukewarm coffee. “It’s no problem. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you.” That was a true statement. Because even though they weren’t really my style of music, I’d followed him and his band forever. Ever since they were only YouTube sensations back home.

  Now that they were celebrities, it was easier to follow them, but it hurt more. Because every time I saw a picture posted of him with some supermodel or gorgeous woman on his arm, jealousy ate at me.

  When the rumors flew about his drinking, partying, and screwing anything that had a twat, I’d died inside.

  Sure, I’d tried to tell myself I was being stupid; that he didn’t even know I existed. It wasn’t like he’d done anything to hurt me on purpose.

  Except I’d crushed on him so hard for the nearly two years he’d come into the shop. Besides being the cutest guy I’d ever seen, he’d always been so kind to me. Always asked me how my day was and said something sweet to make me smile.

  I’d since gave up on any girlish hope that he’d ever be mine. I mean, come on—we definitely ran in different circles. And I’d left Seattle without looking back, knowing I’d never see him again. Boy, was I wrong.

  “It’s rough.” His words snapped me out of my thoughts. “There’s no such thing as privacy when everyone knows your face. Plus you never know who your real friends are, because they all just want a piece of you—only worried about what you can do for them.”

  “Do you ever wish you guys hadn’t started the band?” Curiosity had me asking.

  Startled mossy eyes met mine. “What? No. No way. I wouldn’t trade where we are for anything. Maybe I was misleading. It’s not the fame or the success I regret. It’s the lack of normalcy I miss. It would be nice if people were considerate and respected a person’s privacy.” A strong hand rubbed at his jaw. The sound of his short beard rasping under his fingertips had me wondering what it would be like if he….

  Face flaming, I ducked my head and took a sip of my drink. Oh my God. Where did that thought even come from?

  “You have an unfair advantage.”

  “How’s that?” My head tipped to the side in confusion.

  “What’s your name? Not fair that you know mine but I don’t remember yours. Sorry.” He actually looked chagrined.

  Absently, I answered as I fiddled with my cup. “Stella.”

  “Steeeellllllaaaa!” drew out of his beautiful mouth, causing mine to twitch.

  “Gee, never heard that one.”

  “Can’t believe I’d forgotten. A Streetcar Named Desire. What brought you to Boston from Seattle?”

  I shook my head, my gaze flickering back to him. Truthfully, I was surprised that he even wanted to know anything about me.

  “Um, college.”

  “Which school are you going to?”

  “Emerson.”

  “Dang. Good school. So what made you want to come clear out here instead of staying in Washington? This is a long fucking way from home.” The beanie pulled low over his head only emphasized the bright emerald of his eyes as they studied me.

  It was ironic that we’d run into each other on the opposite side of the country from where we hailed. And in a coffee shop, no less. What were the odds?

  Weirder yet, we were sitting there talking like old friends.

  Reality hit. Letting out a massive exhale, I dropped my shoulders. “Do you really care? Is there a point to you talking to me? I mean, you’re famous and I’m… me. I used to serve you coffee.” Raising my cup, I wiggled it in front of his face. When he didn’t comment, I continued, “You’re never going to talk to me again, I’ll certainly never see you again, and I’m sure you have more important things to do and people to talk to.”

  The smirk slid from his face and he gave me a contemplative look. Before I could react, his hand darted out and grabbed my phone from the table in front of me.

  “What are you doing?” Eyes wide, I tried to get it back, but he held it out of my reach as he messed with it.

  “Stop. Don’t you know it’s rude to be grabby?” The mocking reprimand was followed by a smile that lit up his entire face. In all of the pictures I’d stalked online, not one single one portrayed him smiling.

  Granted, the broody look suited him and was sexy as hell, but that smile. Oh my God. Talk about megawatt. It took my breath away.

  Until I remembered he was doing something to my damn phone.

  “Logan! What are you doing?” I whisper-yelled. No sooner had the words left my lips then his phone vibrated in his pocket. He slid my phone across the table to me.

  “Making sure we can talk again. By the way, you should have a lock code on your phone.” Self-satisfaction bled from his voice as he grinned again.

  It didn’t register what he was talking about until my phone went off in my hand. I blankly stared at it.

  Unknown Number: Hello, Stella. It’s Logan. Wanna be friends? If so, please don’t sell my number to anyone :)


  Blinking repeatedly, I read and reread the message. Raising my gaze to his, which was full of mirth, I quickly looked at the message again. It took me far longer than it should have to realize he’d sent himself a text from my phone to get my number. “Oh!”

  His deep chuckle stole my attention. “Now, why Boston?”

  “Seriously? Okay. I got you, Logan MacKenzie. So, what if I do give out your number?” Not that I would, but I couldn’t help but tease him a little too.

  Scanning the shop to ensure we were still alone, he leaned forward. There wasn’t a single doubt that his attention was fully mine. And mine his. Then he whispered, “I’ll change it.”

  The lopsided tilt of his lips had my heart thumping. I’d be lying if I said the young girl with a huge crush on the man in front of me wasn’t mentally screaming, “I have Logan MacKenzie’s phone number!”

  “Phbbt! You’re probably going to change it anyway. I’m not stupid.” My eyes rolled.

  “Bet?” A large hand stretched across the table to me.

  Pursing my lips, I stared at his hand for all of two seconds before I shook it. The calloused warmth of his dwarfed mine. “Bet.”

  It had to have been my imagination that he held it longer than was necessary. And it definitely had to be my imagination that a chill skated up my spine when we made contact.

  “I got a scholarship.”

  “That you must have applied for. So again I ask—why Boston?”

  Trying not to fool myself into thinking the conversation meant anything, I pursed my lips. “Because it was the farthest school from Seattle.”

  I’d decided on brutal honesty. Except I kept the details to myself.

  “Wow. Okay. So what are you studying?” Crazily enough, his interest seemed genuine.

  “Writing, Literature, and Publishing.” Where I’d usually have been a little embarrassed of my major, I’d spoken it with pride.

  “Really? So you’re what? A writer, teacher, publisher?”

  “I’m a writer who works part-time as an assistant editor, but I hope to be a full-time editor and work in publishing someday. I’ve written four young adult novels, but I haven’t done anything with them yet. Soon, though.” At least that’s what I kept telling myself. People usually treated me like I was an idiot when I told them what I was going to school for. Probably because people didn’t take writers seriously. Or maybe they thought I sat around reading old books all day long. “Okay, if we’re being honest, I work as a waitress to pay the bills. But that’s only temporary.”

  “When is someday? How much longer until you’re done?”

  “This is it.” I made a motion to my messenger bag full of notebooks and my laptop. “Studying for my finals.”

  Confusion marred his features. “Don’t people usually graduate in the spring?”

  Not meeting his gaze, I rested my chin on my hand and shrugged. “Yeah. I had some… things that came up.”

  “What kind of things?”

  Clearing my throat, I squirmed a little in my seat. “So do you play here tonight?”

  He paused before he answered, and I looked up long enough to see him studying me with a narrowed gaze. “No. We played last night. We actually leave for New York City this afternoon.”

  Even though I knew our chance meeting was never going to amount to anything other than our brief conversation, my heart sank. “Oh. You play there tonight?”

  “No, Wednesday night.”

  “Mmm.” Silence followed my noncommittal response. “So how did you manage to get out without a bodyguard or security? Don’t you usually have someone like that?”

  Snorting out a laugh, he shook his head. “No one knows I went out, but no, we don’t have to have security. I’m not the President of the United States.” That beautiful smile flashed again as he pointed at his beanie. “And I try to be unobtrusive. Also, I’m not the most recognized face in the band. Most people don’t pay attention to the bass player.”

  “Bullshit.” Heat blossomed across my cheeks. He was the only one of them I paid attention to, but I didn’t mean to let that out.

  “Why, Stella… are you secretly my biggest fan?”

  Oh God. I knew he was kidding, but little did he know he was spot-on. Once again, fire consumed my face.

  “No! I just remember you, that’s all.” Though I tried not to, I knew it came out defensive. Gah!

  “Mmhmm… suuuurrrreee. That’s what all the stalkers say.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud. Are you serious?” Shaking my head, I put on the show of my life, acting like I wasn’t still head over heels for the handsome bass player in front of me.

  “It’s okay. As long as you don’t plan on hobbling me in a bed to break my ankles, you can obsess over me all you want.” Speaking in a conspiratorial tone, he leaned in, and the light caught his eyes. They sparkled with humor. “But you can tie me to your bed anytime you want.”

  “Stephen King’s Misery. Cute.” Though I tried to act cool and unaffected, I swear to freaking God, I almost swallowed my tongue.

  “Sick, Sick, Sick”—Bayside

  “We hauled ass across the airport, ducking and dodging people left and right, skidding in to board just as they were shutting the door to the jet bridge. They weren’t impressed with who we were at all.” Her laughter made me grin like a dork.

  She’d kept me telling stories of my experiences for almost two hours. The sound of her laugh made everything inside me come alive, so I’d told every funny story I could think of.

  I shouldn’t be talking to her. Absorbing her bright light and innocence. Basking in her smiles. It was selfishly wrong of me.

  Any other day I would’ve popped several pills and lost myself along with all my worries.

  The last thing I thought I’d be doing that morning was sitting in a coffee shop having one of the most interesting conversations of my life. Especially considering my life was falling apart and a ticking time bomb was waiting for me back at the hotel.

  Glancing at the time, I pushed down disappointment. “I really need to get going. It’s getting late and the guys have been blowing up my phone.”

  I’d been ignoring the calls because she was the perfect distraction and the first thing in my life that had actually felt real in a long time. For one, she didn’t fall all over me. And she wasn’t trying to get me in bed or get money from me.

  Resignation flickered in her eyes before she quickly hid it. “Sure. I really need to get home and ready for work anyway.”

  Watching as she gathered her things again left me with an anxious sense of urgency. I didn’t want her to go. Though I knew I needed to get my ass in gear, I craved more of her fresh reality.

  Stella had looked familiar at first, but I’d met so many fucking people, it was always hard to figure out where I knew them from. Since I’d been making some really stupid choices lately, that wasn’t a good thing either.

  It’s hard to describe my feelings when she said we hadn’t ever slept together. The mixture of relief and regret were conflicting as hell. She was the type of girl you didn’t forget.

  She was also the type of girl you didn’t fuck with like that.

  After she’d reminded me of where we knew each other from, I remembered her in detail.

  I’m not just saying that either. I remembered her first day at Analog. If I had to guess, I was about nineteen or twenty. Maybe not quite. Either way, she’d been nervous and her hands had been shaking.

  The girl who’d been training her that day was a bitch. At least twice while I’d waited in line, she’d gone out of her way to make the new chick look stupid. I’d wanted to punch her for the poor, nervous girl.

  So when Stella had messed up my coffee, I hadn’t said a word, and I’d talked to her until I got a small smile out of her. I’ll never forget how good that smile had made my heart feel.

  After that, every time I went in there, I went out of my way to see that smile and to tip her as well as I was able back then. I also remembered th
e disappointment I’d experienced when I’d stopped in one day after our first small concert and she’d been gone. Just quit. No one knew where she’d gone. I’d assumed she’d left for college, but it was in the middle of the school year.

  Then things had gone crazy for the band and the blonde girl with eyes so blue I could drown in them was a thing of the past. Honestly, I’d forgotten about her.

  Until that morning.

  Shaking the memories from my mind, I stood. “Want me to walk you to your car?”

  The sweet smile she gave me was a straight shot of every single good thing in the world. There were no other words to describe it. Better than the finest whiskey, it left me all warm and relaxed. The thought of that feeling ending didn’t sit well with me.

  “I don’t have a car. Everything here is within walking distance for me. If I ever have to go across town, I catch the subway, a bus, or an Uber. Besides, I appreciate being able to experience all the details you’d miss if you were driving in a car.”

  Her simple way of looking at things was refreshing. “But what about when the weather’s bad?”

  Shrugging, she wrapped her scarf around her neck. “That’s what coats and umbrellas are for. What… did the big rock star forget what it’s like without a chauffeur or a fancy tour bus?” Her shoulder nudged me good-naturedly.

  Huffing indignantly, I smirked. “I walked here. All by myself even.”

  “So you say….” She laughed as she pulled on a beanie with a patch that read “Love Your Melon.” Pausing, she held the straps to her bag and chewed on her lip. “Well, I guess this is goodbye. It was good seeing you again, and thanks for talking with me. You take care.”

  Not having a real reason to keep her longer, and running late myself, I shoved my hands in my hoodie pocket. “Thanks for not acting all crazy and giving me away.”

  Chuckling, she raised her brows. “You mean to the whole five people who came in and out while we were here?”

  “Hell, it only takes one. Trust me.”

  “I suppose. Okay, well, be careful.” Hesitancy seemed to surround her as well.

  “You too. You sure I can’t walk you somewhere?” The thought of her walking alone in downtown Boston worried me.