Play Mine: Rockstar Romantic Suspense (Brooklyn Dawn Book 3)

by Cari Quinn

  She shot a look over her shoulder. “If you wanted to pull my hair, all you had to do was ask, Master Sargent.”

  The crowd oohed and Lewis stepped aside to give Jamie more room at the railing. “If I’m going to continue to play, I propose some people open their checkbooks—or apps as it were. This isn’t my usual milieu.”

  Jamie leaned back on the pillar in the ornate balcony area. “Always with the fancy words, Donovan.” She leaned toward Donovan, silencing her mic.

  He didn’t lean in, but his attention was definitely on her. Noah stood sentry behind them, arms crossed and his spine probably ramrod straight.

  Jamie leaned back against the pillar again, her leg swinging over the side. “This is going to be so rad.” She glanced across the now doubled crowd as people came from every corner to see this insane collaboration between us and Donovan Lewis, and then she gave Oz a sign.

  He hustled to the front of the stage. “Christ, I hate when she changes the setlist.” He swapped out his bass for another one as Zane grabbed his double neck.

  Camera phones were out and recording before Oz made it to the microphone. Zane’s acoustic bottom half started the song off with tinny softness, and Donovan came in with his effortlessly smooth style of playing.

  Oz’s rich bass of a voice filled the room for the first verse, and then Jamie picked up the next. Her voice was just as rough as Oz’s, but somehow, it was even huskier. A hush went over the audience as the magic of Pearl Jam’s “Black” became an epic moment in an already pretty amazing night.

  Donovan was lost in the song, his head back and eyes closed.

  Jamie belted out the lyrics as Oz layered his deeper, darker voice with hers.

  Teagan and Lindsey played back to back on the two different rigs we had set up. It was an abbreviated version of our stage set-up, but Lindsey still liked to get behind the keys here and there so we always had at least two on stage. Red and gold curls mixed as they played their hearts out. Blending so well but still distinct. Still so them.

  Jamie’s voice reached for the rafters as she pulled the notes out of her chest. Growling them with every bit of the grit that Oz matched.

  I could barely keep up with the pace of the end of the song. Pianos crashed and the guitars layered one on top of the other until it was just one sonic wall of perfection.

  It was like we’d been playing the song for ages and not for the first time on the stage. In rehearsal rooms and on the bus was far different than jumping in and doing a song cold. Especially with a different sound in the mix.

  Donovan was a killer player.

  The end of the song spun out and instead of Jamie singing the endless oohs that was in the original version, she and Oz both hung back and let the magic of the instrumental end become the showcase.

  By the end, all of us were breathing hard, and I could have slid down and curled up on my drum riser. The applause was thunderous, and I knew we’d made a little piece of history here. Not only because Donovan Lewis was one of the richest men in the free world, he was also a phenomenal talent.

  I didn’t know if it was the fact that he’d played with us, but we’d all brought out our A-games and gone for playoff-season crazy.

  My whole body was slicked with sweat. Oz had lost his shirt in the third verse, and Teagan and Lindsey were laughing as they hugged. Zane was kneeling on the floor, slumped over his double neck.

  Then Jamie actually threw herself into Donovan’s arms, wrapping her Amazonian arms and legs around his whole person. Lewis took a step back to catch her, and I caught his rare laugh through her microphone. Finally, Noah plucked her off of Donovan and shoved her behind him.

  Like that was going to slow her down.

  The audience went nuts as Jamie grabbed Noah’s shoulder and leaned around him. “Hello, I need my guitar,” came through her mic loud and clear.

  Donovan handed over the guitar and moved to the railing once more. “I appreciate Brooklyn Dawn allowing me to play. Please make sure you bump up those donations for the Brooklyn School of Music. They need your donations now more than ever.”

  The murmurs of the crowd were at a fever pitch by the time Jamie made it back to the stage. Lindsey gave Jamie’s ass a smack as she went by. “Now that we have James back on stage, think we can get ourselves back under control?”

  Jamie stuck out her tongue as she handed her Warlock off to her tech and traded it for one of her dozen Fenders. “I aim to misbehave,” she said into her microphone.

  “Achievement unlocked,” Oz quipped.

  Lindsey curled her fingers around the mic. “Think we can get back to our usual set?”

  Jamie shrugged. “I like to shake things up.”

  I glanced toward the side stage. Noah was glowering in the dark. Bet we’d get another lecture post-show. I couldn’t wait.

  But that was later.

  I slammed my stick on the snare drum and sent it up the to sky. It flipped twice before I caught it and we headed into “Black Magic”.

  The rest of the show was filled with laughter. The audience was surprisingly active and enthusiastic, especially since most of the attendees weren’t part of our actual fanbase. We mixed some covers in with our bigger hits and a few things from our early touring years. Then we took a few fan club requests to keep the crowd’s excitement at maximum decibel.

  By the end of it, we ended up playing a full two-hour show when benefits usually landed under ninety easy.

  We even dragged McCoy up for the encore set. Two hulking bass players crammed on the little stage was comical. Both were long-haired and wore their basses low. They played back to back, as “The Chain” rumbled through the club with its heavy bass line.

  Jamie and Lindsey harmonized, and the room sang along with us. Fleetwood Mac was a good way to bring the night to a close.

  After the show was sheer chaos.

  The booze was flowing, and Lindsey, Jamie, and Teagan were passing around a bottle of champagne between them. I snuck a beer from one of the roving waiters, trading it for a set of my sticks.

  The party was only beginning as a few auctions would happen after our set. I’d bet we could get good money for that Warlock. Jamie wouldn’t give it up though. That was her baby. I was still shocked she’d handed it over to Donovan to play. But then again, Jamie was impulsive by nature.

  Understatement.

  We all headed off to the side stage. Harper was waiting for McCoy with a beaming smile. What would it be like to have a woman look at me like that? Like I was the singular best thing that had ever happened to her? I knew they’d been together for years, and still, all that love and adoration between them.

  I hadn’t realized just how much I wanted that until…

  Nope. Still not going there.

  I pulled a cold beer out of the chest waiting for us and handed one to Jamie.

  “Food,” she said between gulps. “I could eat an actual cow.”

  “Don’t talk about cows like that.” Teagan shuddered. “I don’t want to think about cute little Elsie as my burger.”

  I had the strongest urge to sling my arm over her shoulders and drag her close, but my skin was prickly with annoyance and lust. It was an ugly mix that I couldn’t deal with right now. Instead, I kept fucking drinking.

  At least we’d be fed. And maybe I could keep my mind off Teagan.

  Donovan was nowhere in sight. In fact, I didn’t remember seeing him at the encore.

  Couldn’t blame him there. He’d probably be inundated with questions after that guitar craziness. I wondered just what kind of Pandora’s box Jamie had opened with that one.

  Oz came up behind Teagan and mooed.

  She elbowed him, and then shoved him at Daisy. “Your boyfriend is awful.”

  Daisy wrapped her arm around his back. Hell, she didn’t even seem to mind he was covered in sweat. Rather, she grinned up at him with little hearts shooting out of her eyeballs. “I know. Isn’t he awesome?”

  Yep, I’d had just about enough
of that.

  I snagged another beer and headed for the stairs that led to the dressing rooms in the cavernous basement of the venue. Maybe I should have gone with two beers.

  Fuck.

  Eight

  I was surrounded by a bunch of clowns. That they were some of the most accomplished, ass-kicking rockers in the business didn’t change that one bit.

  “No, no, I’m serious.” Jamie’s face was remarkably earnest. “I learned on a pickle.”

  “I can’t see how that’d help you, unless you’ve been unfortunate in your sexual conquests.”

  Lindsey looked up at Nash, sitting beside her in the huge circular booth with his arm slung around her shoulder. He sipped ice water and smirked at Jamie’s oral sex tales. “Why do you encourage her?”

  “Entertainment.” He tugged on the end of Lindsey’s shiny blond curls. “What’d you learn on, duchess?”

  She elbowed him hard in the gut.

  “Why, how dare you?” Jamie fluttered her lashes. “She was saving herself for Jesus before you, Irish. Turns out just wearing black does not make you a man of the cloth.”

  “Absolutely not. Osmond wears black often, and he has never taken me to church.” Daisy giggled where she was cuddled into Oz’s side.

  “That’s because you like me best not in black.”

  “White then? To bring out your angelic side?”

  Lindsey shook her head. “Who gave James alcohol? She’s bad enough dry.”

  “Oh, I am never dry.” Jamie leaned back in the booth. “The best part was my grandma taught me.”

  The music, laughter, and general revelry in the club post-show was loud enough that I wasn’t sure I heard her. I took another sip of my Blue Lagoon—I was only allowing myself two drinks tonight, due to my loose lips when I veered into three territory—and leaned toward her. My top gaped precipitously, and she wiggled her tongue at me as I grabbed for it. “Come again?”

  “No coming was involved, High Tea. It was my grandmother. What kind of family do you think we are?”

  Michael Shawcross, one of the guitarists in our fellow touring band, Warning Sign, cocked his head. They hadn’t been part of the benefit tonight because they were based in California, but a few of them were in attendance to show their support before we disembarked for Philly next week. “Now this sounds like a story I need to hear. You’re saying your grandmother—”

  Lauren grinned. “Taught her how to blow wood, and not instruments.” She was the wife of Warning Sign’s keyboardist West, and one of their occasional keyboardists herself. She shrugged as her husband gave her the look.

  I got the same one often for saying inappropriate things, but not from my significant other, since I was as single as a dollar bill.

  But I loved being unencumbered. All the time. When I was at a packed table surrounded by couples, I didn’t yearn. No sir. Whee, yeehaw, freedom.

  Lies. So many lies. Maybe I’d take a page out of Jamie’s book and dance on a table to forget all the crap today, incredible show aside.

  Since my dancing talents came from enthusiasm rather than actual skill, I drank some more. I wasn’t drowning my sorrows tonight, just marinating them a little.

  I didn’t know how bad the damage was to my place yet. I didn’t have stuff to stay at Cooper’s, other than the bag of clothes and toiletries I’d left on the bus, which Cole had retrieved for me. Most of the stuff was dirty, so yay, laundry once we got back to his place after this. And of course, only two bras in my bag because I’d ditched several on the last leg of the tour.

  What could I say? Extreme bouncing on stage wore out support fast.

  “You guys have dirty minds. It’s not like Gran Zelda told me to suck on the pickle a certain way. But she cut the spears lengthwise and just Hoovered them down.”

  “I’m beginning to think the fact that this band has never crossed streams is a very good thing.” Zane popped a fried pickle from the appetizer tray in his mouth, making everyone laugh. Including Jamie.

  Suddenly, she stood up and hoisted her drink high. “Let’s do a toast.”

  Everyone rose, because sitting when Jamie commanded everyone to toast was a recipe for getting roasted for being old or slow or something much, much worse.

  “To being friends. To making kickass music. To being stronger than any fucking asshole who tries to take us down.” She slid her arm through mine.

  The surprise gesture made my eyes smart as I leaned my head on her shoulder.

  “Absolutely,” Lindsey agreed, her blue eyes gleaming fiercely in the low lights of the club. “We’re so much fucking stronger than them. Especially together.”

  “Damn straight.” I flashed them a weak smile and lifted my glass to clink with my bandmates’ glasses.

  For that moment, none of what had happened in the last twenty-four hours could touch me. Even Cooper making out with some fan fifteen minutes after he’d given me sex eyes and asked—in a manner of speaking—how I got myself off.

  At least I thought that was what he had asked me. Admittedly, there were whole chunks of this day that were a blur, but I was felt pretty confident on that one.

  I hadn’t seen him in a while. He’d been sitting with us, and then he wasn’t. He’d said something about going up to the bar to get us some drinks. After that, I’d glimpsed him talking to a willowy blond slinging drinks.

  I’d deliberately turned away. If he wanted to hook up tonight, his place was huge enough that I wouldn’t hear a thing.

  My noise-cancelling AirPods had been in my bus duffel, thank God. Now I just needed a blackout mask and a hefty dose of exhaustion via physical exertion and I’d be fine.

  The concert had gotten me halfway there. So, rather than sit here and ruminate about Coop, I’d just go shake my ass with some cute dude who was not going to take me home.

  Maybe two. Was there such a thing as a threesome on the dance floor, with clothes?

  I nudged my way past Jamie as everyone sat down again. And came face to face with not only Cooper, but his pretty “friend.”

  Before I could speak, she launched herself at me. “Oh my God, it is you. Teagan!”

  I hugged her back, because I was fundamentally a nice person. Over her head, I mouthed at Cooper, “Who is she?”

  “Your old high school friend,” he filled in as if he expected me to catch on quick. “You know, from California. She went to school with you and Elle at Oakside.”

  “Yes, it’s me, Priscilla.” She stood back, several heads taller than me, and smiled. This close, her blond hair was almost white, cut short and spiky. “I couldn’t believe it when I was talking with Cooper here. Can you imagine I was hitting on him, then I find out his bandmate is one of my friends from school?” She laughed. “Isn’t that wild?”

  “Wild,” I muttered, trying to keep my smile intact. Cooper had gotten more drive-thru offers tonight than a truck stop.

  It wasn’t as if I didn’t know he got them on a regular basis. Hello, hot rockstar with amazing talent and a mostly great personality, minus occasional growling which sometimes was pretty hot and sometimes pretty annoying. But I was paying too much attention to his action today.

  To him.

  Was this because I’d used his soap when I’d showered? Smelling that hint of pine layered under the sprays and spritzes Daisy had put on me must’ve done something to my brain.

  “Priscilla,” I repeated slowly, trying to place her. “You were friends with Ricki and I?”

  She blinked and then nodded. “Right. Ricki. We were on the squad together. Cheerleading.”

  Cooper cocked a brow. “Cheerleading, huh?”

  I stomped on his instep and grinned when he groaned in pain. My heeled booties were no joke, and I knew just where to apply pressure. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Dallas. It was just for one year.”

  I returned my attention to Priscilla. She wore square cut glasses and the standard black and red club uniform with her hair tied back, but I didn’t recognize her at all. “
Priscilla…” I fumbled for the name. I could see her in mind as she’d been then. Taller than me—who wasn’t?—long blond hair, brown eyes, sweet smile. “Priscilla Jones. Right?” Relief saturated the question. “Man, took me a minute.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes lit up. “Well, of course, you’re a super big rockstar now. No time to remember the little people from your past.” She laughed, but something about it seemed unnatural.

  Maybe she was more nervous than she let on. A lot of people got starstruck by celebrities. Not that I thought of myself as one.

  “Oh, stop. I remember friends regardless. Ricki will be thrilled to see you.” I glanced over my shoulder at the table, where Michael laughing at something West had said. “Hey, Shawcross. Where’s your sister-in-law tonight? She told me she and Mal would be here.”

  He glanced up. “Oh, freak thing. Didn’t you hear? Water main break near her and Mal’s building. She couldn’t make it tonight. She wanted to, especially with the fire and all.” His brows knitted. “You’re okay, right?”

  “I’m fine. She texted me earlier to make sure I was all right. Didn’t hear about the water main break.”

  I frowned. What was with all the bad luck surrounding us lately? Even stuff that didn’t fall under the category of hassling from some anonymous stalker.

  I shuddered. I hoped like hell they were anonymous and not known to us. If I had to shoulder that guilt too…

  No. Pat wasn’t involved. Period.

  I took a deep breath. “What a pain in the ass, but I’m glad it wasn’t something more serious.”

  “Think it’s cleared up now, but it’s getting late. And you know those two.” He rolled his eyes. “Probably been naked for hours.”

  The universe wanted me to be jealous of everyone, apparently. Even one of my closest friends in the world.

  I smiled faintly. “Right. I just wanted to Ricki to have a chance to catch up with Priscilla.” I turned to the woman in question.

  She was gone. Just gone.