JAGGED: A Rockstar Romance Read online

  I shrugged. Another night at the Third Wheel was no big deal, and now that the secret was out that Twat Yacht was actually the three remaining members of Wrecked, the fans were apparently lined up around the block. We had a slightly longer set planned for tonight, after spending a few hours this morning rehearsing what Jules called "ancient history," aka, our pre-Killian songs.

  I could get used to this life, I told myself. Noodling around playing bar gigs for pocket change. I didn't need to get huge again. That was the refrain that kept running through my head, no matter what I said to the boys. The simple life of a working musician suited me back in Newcastle and it was suiting me again just fine now. Especially in a homey little place like the Third Wheel.

  And maybe CeCe will come out again, a little voice in my head piped up.

  I shook my head, trying to dislodge that thought, but it refused to budge. To distract myself, I took a deep breath. "Oi," I said. "I was thinking."

  "Uh oh," Niall said immediately.

  "Careful, now," Jules said, raising his hands. "Don't hurt yourself, mate."

  "Fuck off, both of you," I laughed. "Actually you might feel safer knowing this wasn't my original thought, it was actually CeCe's."

  "The pretty bird from last night? Aye, she's got you proper spun, innit?" Niall's normally posh accent always deteriorated whenever he started talking about women. It was pretty amusing.

  "I'm ignoring that," I told him. "CeCe was saying we needed a new name and I have no bloody clue what we should be called. All I know is that Wrecked is over." I felt a rueful grin spreading across my face. "We're like the leftovers of Wrecked. The wreckage of Wrecked." I nodded. That was apt. Wreckage. And now we were deciding if we were letting the pieces crumble where they fell or if we were ready to start rebuilding.

  "The Wreckage," Niall slowly repeated.

  "Just Wreckage," Jules corrected.

  We looked at each other. I shrugged. "It's fitting. Maybe we should just fucking go with it, yeah? It's the best we've got right now. If we're gonna keep playing the bars, we need to come up with something better to call ourselves than bloody Twat Yacht."

  Jules clutched his chest. "Judas! I've been betrayed! That was the best name ever!" He fell back sitting on the couch, miming his grisly death. Niall took that moment to set his bass down and rugby tackle him to the side. "Oi!" Jules shouted, his voice muffled by Niall's elbow. "Get off me you bloody git!"

  "Lads!" I laughed. "Cool it, I think I hear something."

  They both paused in their pummeling each other and I heard it again. "Is someone knocking on the fucking door?" Jules panted. "Who the fuck is it!"

  "Security sir!" came the voice on the other side.

  Shaking my head, I went over and opened the door. On the other side stood a very tall and very sheepish looking Black guy who apologized immediately. "I'm sorry to bug you right before the show, sir, but we have a situation up front."

  "What's going on?" I asked, my heart suddenly thudding in my ears. The anxious echo of life on the road with Killian had me instantly on edge. It seemed like he went fucking crazy with every full moon, and there were many of those on that endless tour. He'd be howling at our doors at four AM, pounding to be let in after he'd grown tired of making Jane cry. It got to the point that we'd book one room in front of him and one secret room where he wouldn't be able to find us, where we'd do our actual sleeping. The line we fed to the press was that Killian was the artistic genius of the group. He was a brilliant artist who would not suffer fools gladly, but the lads and I knew that we'd painted ourselves into a corner with him. He was a genius all right. A genius at manipulation.

  "Nothing bad, sir," the security guard reassured me and some of the tension flowed out of my body. "Just some woman demanding to be allowed to talk to you. Says you know her from last night?"

  CeCe, my brain went on red alert. "Pretty girl?"

  "Not my type sir, but yeah I can see she's attractive."

  "Tiny? Brown hair? Sexy little glasses?" I asked eagerly.

  He shook his head slowly. "No glasses, sir, and I don't think her hair is actually brown...."

  "It's red!" came the voice behind him. I looked out the door to see CeCe's friend August stomping her way up the hallway. She looked at the security guard and shrugged. "What? You were taking too long."

  "She has red hair, sir," the security guard mumbled, looking cowed.

  August looked at me and then back to the security guard with a wide, confident grin. She clapped him on the shoulder. "Okay, thanks a lot for checking, uh..." she glanced at his name tag, "Randall. I can take it from here."

  I opened my mouth to question what the fuck was going on, but she was already walking through the green room door like she owned the place. Jules was worshipfully watching her, like he was planning on getting her name tattooed across his arse any moment, which was fucking hilarious to me, so I decided to shut the door behind her and see what the fuck was happening.

  She stomped in and plopped herself on the couch right next to Jules, who goggled at her in open mouthed wonder.

  "Hello again," I said. "August, right?"

  "Good, you pay attention, that's a start," she retorted. "So listen up. You guys are shit without Killer."

  I blinked in astonishment. It was finally Niall who piped up. "Yeah? Well Killer was a piece of shit," he clarified testily.

  "I know, I heard." She reached up and tugged on one of her wild red curls, letting it spring back up again. "But that's the past now. We need to work on your future."

  "Excuse me?" I echoed. "We?"

  Her eyes passed over me like I barely mattered and she instead turned to Jules, who was staring at her like a dog stares at his master. I had to laugh. This chick sure as hell knew how to work a room. "I watched you last night," she told him. "You were tight. You have the chops. You need a new lead singer, but that won't be a problem."

  "No?" Jules said, unable to hide his disbelief. "How the fuck are we supposed to find a lead singer?"

  "I'll help you," she said, waving her hand carelessly. "I actually have someone in mind right now."

  Jules seemed to snap out of his lovelorn haze and actually laughed out loud "I'm sorry. Who the fuck are you again?"

  "August Waverley," she said, extending her hand.

  Confused, Jules accepted it, and I had to suppress a laugh behind my hand to see my pugnacious drummer so taken aback by a woman. "Why the fuck are you going to help us, August?" he asked.

  "Because you're gonna hire me as your manager," she said, as if that were just a done deal.

  "Excuse me?" Jules laughed. "We are?"

  "You need a manager," she said, folding her arms over her chest. "CeCe is my best friend, so I have all the dirt on what went down at Crux. You need a new singer, some better bookings and you need label representation. I can get you all of that."

  "You're a band manager?" I asked.

  Her confident expression wavered. "Well no, not in so many words," she said, hesitating. "I took care of everything for my ex-boyfriend's band...."

  "Wait, Noah?" I felt like I was running to catch a speeding train. I couldn't keep up.

  She waved her hand. "Yeah, that's done," she said and the confidence returned. "I did everything a manager could do for that band, except I was never formally their manager. I watched you guys last night and thought, 'this is my chance to do it for real.'" Her eyes gleamed and I saw something in there that every musician hopes to see in the eyes of his manager. Pure fucking bloodlust. "This is my second chance to do this shit right."

  It was like this chick had fallen out of the sky to say all the exact right words we needed to hear. "A second chance," Niall muttered.

  I looked at Jules, who looked like you could knock him over with a feather. I looked at Niall, who radiated pure puppy dog excitement. I could feel my head starting to nod almost by itself. It made sense. A woman who could just barge into the green room like this had all the makings of a hell of a good manager.


  And besides. what did we have to lose?

  "Okay, August Waverly," I said, extending my hand to hers. "You got yourself a deal."

  She popped up from the couch and shook my hand in a surprisingly bone-crushing grip. "You made the right call," she said firmly. "I can have some paperwork drawn up and in front of you by tomorrow morning."

  "Holy shit," Jules muttered, looking winded.

  "Are we cool?" August turned in a circle, checking each of us in turn. We all nodded dumbly. "Great," she said, whipping out her cell phone. "Now CeCe and I have even more to celebrate tonight than just me dumping Noah's deadbeat ass."

  She started to dial, but my head was still stuck back on what she'd said. "Wait, are you calling CeCe?" I stammered, sounding like an idiot.

  "Oh yeah," she said with a devilish grin. "I promised you label representation, didn't I?" Her grin widened knowingly. "Well she's coming to see you again tonight. All you've got to do is wow her."

  Chapter Nine

  Celia

  I shook my head, hoping I looked disapproving, but on the inside I felt like I had champagne in my veins. I darted another anxious look at the stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of...what exactly? Was I seriously this excited to see Ewan Boyd mumble into a microphone again?

  "Stop frowning at me like that," August slurred, more than a little drunk already even before I showed up to meet her at the Third Wheel.

  "I can't believe this is where you chose to spend your 'single and ready to mingle' celebration," I huffed, darting another look at the stage.

  "I told you on the phone," she shouted into my ear. "This is the celebratory kickoff of me taking over the world. I did it, C-dawg!" she crowed. "I fucking did it!” She lifted her neon pink drink over her head and let out a triumphant yell crossed with a bloodthirsty war cry before attempting to climb up on her barstool in her skintight leather skirt.

  "Holy shit girl, you haven't even told me what's going on yet," I hushed her, pulling her back down again. "Or why we're here to see Twat Yacht again."

  "Oh," she blurted with her eyes vaguely unfocused. "I'm making them change their name, don't worry. You won't have to deal with a band called Twat Yacht at Anthem."

  I shook my head. "Okay," I said, gently sitting her back down again. "Why don't you start at the very beginning and try not to get ahead of yourself."

  She nodded, poured a healthy swig of pinkness into her mouth and then stared me down. "You know I've always wanted to manage a band. You and me babe. We were gonna rock the industry, right?"

  "Right," I laughed, remembering our teenaged flights of fancy.

  "Well," she declared, slamming her drink down on the bar. "It fucking starts tonight. I'm their manager, C. They said yes."

  "Who said yes?" I asked, still baffled. The crowd was getting louder as the lights in the bar dimmed. I felt a tingle go up the back of my neck and shivered violently.

  August was watching, clapping her hands and pointing. "They said yes!" she shouted over the deafening shrieks of the standing room only crowd. "Fucking them!" she shouted, gesturing to the stage.

  I turned slowly, feeling the strangest sort of magnetic pull, like my limbs were no longer under my brain's control. I blinked and saw that Ewan was walking on to the sound of wild applause. The whole place fucking erupted and I felt my heart leap up as if it wanted to crawl out of my throat and across the floor to be with him.

  He bent to the mic. "Thank you," he murmured in that lilting brogue of his, and the way his eyes scanned the crowd, I swore he was looking for me way back here. I could see him, straight through a gap in the crowd that led me right to his spot-lit face, that chiseled jaw and that dimple that looked hand carved by God himself.

  And then they launched into the same opener as last night, that same pure wave of sound, but tonight it seemed more...intense? Like they had something to prove today that they weren't reaching for yesterday. I could feel it in the stretch of the music, the energy in their playing. It was fucking infectious, and my body started moving even before my brain had a chance to catch up and process what August had just said.

  "Wait!" I shouted, sudden realization chiming in my head like a bell. "Did you just say you're their manager?"

  "That's me!" August yelled, eyes shining. Then her face got suddenly serious, a vulnerability she rarely allowed to be seen suddenly grabbing hold of her. "You know I can do it, right Celia? I'm good at this. I did it all for Sinister Affinity..."

  I clutched her hand. "And look how high you took them," I said, swallowing back my apprehension and supporting my friend. "Much higher than they could get themselves. Fuck, much higher than they even deserved."

  "Fuck yeah I did," she grinned. "And I'm about to take these guys even higher. I'm gonna get them a record deal tonight."

  "You are?" I shrieked. She stared at me, her eyes suddenly not so unfocused. I narrowed my eyes. "And how," I asked, slowly, deliberately, "are you going to do that?"

  "Come on, C," she said, gesturing towards the stage. "Fucking listen to them!"

  As if I hadn't been doing that all along. Their music was worming its way into my body, rearranging my cell structure and making my blood flow in the opposite direction. They were getting under my skin in the most literal sense of the word, each fine hair on my arms raised up in goosebumps, vibrating to the pulse of Niall's bass.

  "They're pros," August said. "And they're gonna get snapped up again by somebody, fast. Why not you?"

  "Are you saying this as their manager, or as my friend?" I asked. My resistance was withering and it was making me feel cornered.

  "I'm saying this as a person with eyeballs, C," she crowed. "These guys are stars and the best part is they don't fucking know it yet. We're getting in on the ground floor, you and me baby. Just like we always said we would!" She let out a whoop, grabbing me by the arms and shaking me so my teeth rattled. "Say yes!" she shouted. "Or I swear to god, Celia, I will call your father right now and tell him you want a transfer to the uptown offices!" Her eyes gleamed devilishly as she took in my horror. "You know you need this win..."

  "Fine!" I shouted, throwing up my hands. "Okay! I'll sign them!"

  "Yes!" August whooped, then grabbed me by the wrist and started dragging me through the crowd.

  "Wait, where are we going?" I shouted.

  "To the guys!" she yelled over her shoulder, hauling me through the crowd with one arm outstretched like a football quarterback. "I want to tell them their new manager got them a record deal already!"

  "Wait!" I shrieked. "I have conditions!"

  "Fine! Tell it to them!"

  "Wait!" I ground to a halt and yanked my arm back. I was panting and breathless. Yanking a hair elastic off my wrist, I tried to pull my hair back into a pony tail while all around me the audience jostled and swayed to the music. "How do I look?" I panted to August. "Is my eye makeup okay?"

  Her grin was all-knowing. "Why? You want to look good for Ewan?"

  "No!" I yelped, smacking her in the arm with more force than was necessary. The anxious energy suddenly pulsing through my body made me far stronger than I was used to. "Sorry," I said as she rubbed her arm. "I'm just... No, I'm not trying to look good for him," I shouted even as I was running my fingers under my eyes to check for any wayward streaks of black liner. "It's my first appearance as a label rep," I lied smoothly. "I want to look professional."

  "Ewan won't give a shit about your professionalism," August observed. "He's only interested in whether he can stare at your tits or not."

  "What, seriously?" I shrieked, in a pretty good imitation of horror. But inside, I squirmed with delight at the idea of Ewan checking me out that way.

  She yanked me past a big security guard who looked honestly terrified of her and opened the door to the back hallway. I had a vague memory of being here with Ewan last night, his hands on my upper arms, steadying me as I swayed and slurred. My skin prickled, like the feel of his hands on me had left a mark. I swallowed and followed August into the green ro
om. "They're not even here," I said, pointing out the obvious. "They're still playing."

  "I know," August said, walking around, picking up objects and putting them down again.

  She was trying to act cool but I could see in her a nervousness that mirrored my own. We had always talked about this day, teaming up like this to bring a band to stardom. We'd been talking about it forever, but now that it was finally happening it seemed to be moving way too fast. "Hey," I said slowly...

  "No," August said with an emphatic shake of her head that sent her curls bobbing. "Don't start, CeCe."

  "Start what?"

  "Second guessing your choice." She turned and looked me full in the eye. "You always do this."

  "What do I always do?"

  "Say you'll go for something and then back away."

  "I'm not backing away," I pouted.

  "Good," she said, lifting her gaze to the door. "Because they're coming offstage right now."

  For a second, all of my energy had to be focused on staying in this room and not bolting away like a frightened rabbit. All these years I'd been professing my talent, swearing up and down that I knew exactly what it took to make a band a success but one look at Ewan Boyd, standing in front of me shirtless and still sweating from the stage lights and it was like I'd forgotten everything I even wanted in life up to this point.

  "CeCe," he said with a surprised grin.

  "Hi," I squeaked. He was rubbing a white towel over his torso, and everywhere his hand went, my eyes helplessly followed, tracing circles over that broad chest with the red Celtic lion emblazoned over his left pec and then down over the washboard of his stomach, each rippling ab glistening until he wiped it clean. I had to swallow. Hard.

  "So!" I said, wrenching my gaze away from his muscles and back up to his face. But seeing his curious smile did nothing to help me regain my powers of speech. Desperate, I turned to August and tried to use best friend telepathy to beg her to start talking for me.