Starting From Scratch (Starting From Series Book 2)

by Lane Hayes

  Okay, so I lost myself. I tuned out the sound of his voice and concentrated on him. The mischievous glint in his eyes, the proud set of his shoulders, and the way his mouth curled at the corner. He was doing it again. Owning the moment. Taking it over. Charlie looked for weakness in any form, then slyly made adjustments before moving in for the kill. No doubt he thought I’d back down fast and run away. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I fixated on his bottom lip and inched closer. He kept talking…something about dick size or muscles…I wasn’t sure, but I liked the cadence of his voice. The teasing lilt and easy humor. I let go of his wrist, brushing his fingers before setting my hand on his hip. He went perfectly still.

  Before he could ask me what the fuck I was doing, I kissed him.

  It was more of a press of lips than a grand gesture. And though it might not rank as the kind of kiss that would change the world, I immediately knew it would change mine.

  Everything in me went on high alert. I’d never been so in tune with a moment. The flutter of his eyelashes, the brush of his nose, and the soft sweetness of his lips against mine. Fuck, it was amazing. Like mind-blowing amazing. He tasted like cherries and smelled like sunshine mixed with something exotic.

  I couldn’t be sure over the roar of my heart attempting to beat its way out of my chest, but I thought he hummed in approval, so I angled my head slightly to deepen the connection and pulled him closer. If he was anyone else, I probably would have stuck my tongue between his lips and let my hands roam all over his body. I wanted to, but I didn’t want to scare either of us. So I stayed where I was until the need for oxygen became an issue.

  Then I jumped back two feet and stared at him with my eyes bugged out. “Holy fuck.”

  Charlie set his fingers on his bottom lip and blinked like he was coming out of a daze. “You kissed me,” he said softly.

  “Uh…um. I’m…” I winced and rubbed my nose nervously, looking everywhere but at him.

  “It’s okay. Don’t freak out. Just…” He circled his wrist expressively before adding, “Don’t do it again.”

  “Yeah. Um, right. I’m gonna…” I hiked my thumb toward the backyard.

  “Okay.”

  I moved toward the glass windows, swallowing around the grapefruit lodged in my throat before turning to face him. “Hey, I’m in charge of the lessons out there. Don’t butt in. And don’t argue. That’s non-negotiable. Oh, and Char?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  Charlie

  I stared after Ky with my mouth wide open while my mind whirled in twenty directions at once. Did he really just kiss me? Did he mean to do it, or had I tricked him somehow? I’d been told I had that effect on guys. According to one of my exes, I confused, flustered, or downright annoyed him until he either wanted to punch me or fuck me. Since Sam was one of those gym rat types with biceps bigger than his head, I preferred his dick to a fist in the gut. I think the same thing happened last week at a WeHo bar. I accidentally picked a fight with a very straight-looking man about a recent episode of The Bachelor in Paradise. One second, I was in the midst of a tequila-fueled debate and the next, I was backed into a corner with his tongue down my throat.

  But Ky was different. Maybe he wasn’t as straight as I’d thought, but he was still off-limits. And while crushing on a coworker was hardly a new phenomenon, these weren’t ordinary conditions. And he wasn’t some random guy I could harmlessly flirt with and cut ties with when things got carried away. He was Ky, for fuck’s sake. The skater-boy bassist who desperately needed a haircut and a new pair of Vans. The same guy who was outside right that very second teaching my little brother how to stand on a skateboard without falling while the rest of the band cheered him on and gave pointers of their own.

  I pushed away from the kitchen island and peeked outside. Ky laughed at something Oliver said, then held his hand up for a high five. Ollie smacked Ky’s palm with a grin so wide it had to hurt. And even though I should have been wary and perhaps a bit jealous of the blatant show of hero worship, I smiled. Maybe it was a combo of relief that Oliver seemed happy and that Ky didn’t look half as shaken as I felt by that unexpected lip-lock.

  But when my smile spread and made me feel a little gooey on the inside, it occurred to me that I might have underestimated the situation. Did I actually have a crush on Ky?

  Fuck. Me.

  The problem was, I couldn’t avoid Ky. I did my best, but it wasn’t easy. My job was to promote Zero and look after the best interest of every band member…including the bassist.

  I had all kinds of great ideas to launch their brand. I wanted them to be in a strong position when we negotiated a recording contract with a label. I wanted them to be set with everything from studio time to health insurance to keeping the business portion completely separate. I’d been told that nothing fucked up the creative process quite like landing in the hospital and having no idea how to pay your bills. I viewed myself as a conduit to the outside world. And fucking around with any part of the creative machine could be disastrous.

  By unspoken agreement, Ky and I steered clear of each other over the next week or so. I watched his lessons with Oliver through the window, but I didn’t go outside. As much as it pained me to admit it, Ollie didn’t need me to hover. He seemed to flourish under Ky’s guidance. Don’t get me wrong, he was still uncoordinated and kind of clueless on a skateboard, but he liked being one of the guys. The band stopped what they were doing and greeted him with fist bumps and high fives, then asked about his day before breaking out their own boards or hanging back to watch Ky show off doing…wheelies? I didn’t ask for the terminology, but he was obviously very comfortable zipping around the deck and doing tricks over the lounge chairs.

  I knew Ky was a professional skater person before Tegan invited him to sign on as Zero’s bassist, but I didn’t know what that meant then. I still didn’t. I made an effort to keep all conversations “business only.” In other words, I spoke to him when necessary about band stuff, like what time Zero was set to go onstage and to remember to schedule his physical for the insurance forms.

  Of course, I probably could have saved the physical info for after the show or even Monday.

  Ky checked the laces on his leather boots before frowning at me under the brim of his sexy-as-fuck fedora. He looked seriously drool-worthy tonight in his snug black tee and ripped jeans. I wished I hadn’t noticed the frayed bit on the inside of his thigh. There was nothing more inconvenient than having your khakis shrink when you were standing crotch height in front of a hot guy.

  “I’m sorry. Did you really just tell me to schedule a doctor appointment five minutes before I’m supposed to go onstage and play in front of three hundred people?” Ky asked incredulously.

  “Five hundred people,” I corrected. “And I’m not just telling you, I’m telling everyone. I’m going in too. All of us are getting all the blood work done. They need to test for STDs, etcetera. Oh, and in case I forgot to mention it, there are a couple of record labels in the audience tonight. An indie one and a bigger name too. Just be yourselves. Nothing to worry about.”

  Justin and Tegan exchanged wary glances; then Justin said, “You okay? You’re acting shifty. Like you know something. Have you narrowed down a couple of candidates?”

  “I’m not shifty. I tell you everything. Vin Records and Sky Limited are both—”

  “Douche operations,” Tegan intercepted. “If they’re here, tell them we’re not interested.”

  “T’s right. Vin asked me if we’d consider adding Declan and Xena to the band. Fucking asshole,” Justin commented as he pulled his guitar strap over his head. “I liked the sound of that other indie firm…sand something. Are they out there?”

  “Sandstone. Um…I’m not sure. We’ll talk later. Break a leg. But not literally.”

  Justin snorted at my breezy tone and gave me a thumbs-up before following Johnny and Tegan to the edge of the stage just behind the curtain. I brushed my clammy pal
ms on my khakis and flashed an irritated look at Ky.

  “This is your fault.”

  “What’s my fault?” he asked, reaching for his bass.

  “Everything feels weird now. Just…get your damn physical,” I grumbled, gesturing at my watch meaningfully.

  “I’ll do it Monday.” Ky started toward the band, then turned back to me, pausing when we stood leather boot to loafer. “You know, this doesn’t have to be weird, Char. It was a friendly kiss. No biggie.”

  I narrowed my eyes and gave him my best death glare. “Sure thing, buddy. Except we’re not friends. I don’t like you.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Fine. I don’t like you more,” he taunted with a half smile.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  I pointed at the stage. “You should go.”

  “No, you should go,” he teased. He held up his hands in surrender and flashed a lazy, sexy-as-fuck grin when I chuckled. “I’m going. Hey, Char? Come here.”

  I moved toward him unthinking, casting a quick glance from my watch to the rest of the band deep in conversation at the far end of the narrow room. If the club had been empty, we would have been able to hear them and vice versa. But the thick velvet curtain didn’t cut the noise level, and Zero was playing to a full house tonight. Three minutes to go.

  “What is it?”

  “Kiss me. It’s your turn.”

  I opened my mouth and closed it. Twice. “What are you—are you fucking with me?”

  “No, I’m serious. Do it, so we can go back to normal. I hate being ignored.”

  “I haven’t ignored you. I’m busy.”

  “Bullshit. You’re ignoring me. At first I thought it was a good plan, but it’s not working. We need to reset the balance. Kiss me, so we can forget about it and move on.”

  I swallowed hard. “You’re kidding.”

  He licked his lips and let out a low groan before pulling me into the corner, just out of sight. “I’m not kidding. I’m a temperamental artist type, and you’re messing with my mojo. If I go out there and suck, it’s on you.”

  “Uh…”

  Okay. Rarely…as in never, had I been propositioned for a chaste kiss to reset the balance. It was a bad idea…so of course, I stood on my toes and pecked his cheek.

  Ky turned his head and captured my mouth as he pinned me to the wall. He tilted his pelvis, rubbing my obviously excited dick with just enough friction to make me forget my name. Then he sucked my lower lip between his teeth with a low growl and stepped aside.

  “That should do it,” he whispered, eyeing my mouth hungrily before meeting my gaze. “See you after the show, Char.”

  I didn’t move for a long moment. Okay, we were even. This wouldn’t happen again. We’d act normal around each other tonight and by Monday, he’d go back to bugging the hell out of me…just because.

  All right, then. This was good.

  It wasn’t good. It was worse than ever. I’d never been more aware of another human being in my life and I hated it. My senses were on high alert and completely in tune to Ky throughout the entire show. He didn’t move around the stage much, but there wasn’t much real estate to work with, and Justin used the excess space to connect with Zero’s fans.

  In my opinion, Justin’s emotive performances were the biggest reason Zero had a shot at the big time. Not many front men could make an audience feel like they were having a private conversation with a rock star. His lyrics were a perfect blend of poetry and sex. He was alternately thoughtful and dirty, funny and edgy. And thankfully, never boring. The other guys got in on the act too. They engaged in silly repartee in between sets and showed off their skill on their respective instruments. Johnny was a rockin’ guitarist, Tegan was a maestro on the drums, and Ky was…well, he was sexy as fuck. He exuded a cool-under-pressure vibe with just enough swagger to make an audience pay attention. And tonight, they fucking loved him.

  Okay, they were probably equally excited about the other guys in the band, but I was hypersensitive to all things Ky. If I wasn’t staring at the dragon tattoo on his bicep, my gaze was glued to the fluid movement of his fingers on the bass strings. He was magnetic. And I wasn’t the only one who thought so. I overheard a group of college-aged girls going gaga over him at the bar.

  “…so fucking hot! And that hat. Has Ky ever worn a hat? I love it. He should wear it every night.”

  Yes, he should, I mused, sipping my ginger ale with a sprig of rosemary. I looked for Gray on the other side of the club, but it was difficult to see in the dark. The safest way across was to skirt the perimeter near the exit. I was about to brave it when someone tugged at my elbow.

  “Hi, Charlie. Remember me? I’m Lauren…Ky’s girlfriend.”

  I smiled automatically at the pretty blonde. We’d only met a couple of times, but of course, I knew who she was. No doubt the unnecessary intro was for Ky’s posse of young admirers. I thought he’d said they broke up. Not that it mattered to me. The sick feeling in my gut had to be bad ginger ale. Was that a thing? Whatever. It couldn’t be jealousy. So what if Lauren was naturally pretty in a surfer-girl way that complemented Ky’s skater-boy vibe? It was nothing to me but a good indication I needed to get laid. Sooner rather than later.

  However, my faulty filter didn’t leave room for too many mysteries. At least not this one. I yelled a polite hello above the din, then blurted, “Are you and Ky still…together?”

  She gave me a thumbs-up and leaned in. “We’re kind of on and off at the moment. I think we’ll be fine in the long run. Either way, I’m not missing any of their shows. They sound better every time. Ky told me you’re on the hunt for a label.”

  “Yes. We’re looking for the right fit, but we have some nice options,” I said in a neutral tone.

  “You’ve got to get them on the radio, Charlie. There’s an official-looking guy in the corner. The older man wearing a baseball cap with his arms crossed. See him? I think he’s a music bigwig. Talk to that guy. I bet he’s someone.”

  I spotted the rather nondescript gentleman off to the side of the bar. He was tall, thin, and serious looking. I’d studied the profiles of the recording companies who’d voiced an interest in Zero. This guy had the bored music exec expression down pat, but he didn’t look like one.

  “Thanks for the heads up. Take care, Lauren.” I gave her a harried smile, then sidled sideways, setting my glass on the bar before turning toward the stage as Justin finished the final refrain from one of Zero’s more popular songs.

  “…Run away with you, hide away with you

  Wherever you go, I go too…”

  Most of the audience danced and sang along with their hands in the air; the rest swayed happily or played air guitar. I had to agree with Lauren. Zero looked and sounded better than ever. I cast my gaze from the action on the stage to the older man standing in the shadows. He looked as out of place as I did. He had to be here for a reason.

  I slipped through the press of bodies and found a narrow space to navigate along the perimeter until I reached the man. He met my friendly grin with a bored sideways glance. Yep. Probably an industry guy.

  I flattened my back to the wall and gestured toward the band. “They’re on fire tonight.”

  “Hmph,” he grunted. “They’re okay.”

  “They’re better than okay. I’m Charlie, by the way. Zero’s manager.”

  The man tipped his cap so it fell lower on his forehead, sending his whole face in shadow. “Then you’re biased, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe.” I stood next to him for the duration of the song and caught his smile when Ky did an impromptu solo. He was more interested than he let on. He had to be a rep or a blogger or a critic. “Which record label are you with?”

  “What makes you think I’m with a label?”

  I shrugged. “Are you?”

  “No.” He folded his arms and looked straight ahead. When he sensed my stare, he shot me a warning glance. “Y
ou’re being rude.”

  I frowned. “You must be Nelson.”

  “The name’s Ed.” His gruff rumbling affectation made him sound like a gangster.

  “Ed,” I repeated. “Are you a critic, by chance?”

  “Everyone’s a critic. You want a real opinion you can trust, you get it here.” He thumped his chest twice before refolding his arms.

  “True. So you’re a Zero fan?”

  “No. I’m just passin’ through.” He tapped the bill of his cap, then nodded briskly and turned toward the exit. “G’night.”

  I had less than two seconds to mull over the odd exchange before Vin from Vin Records caught me by the elbow and pushed a cold beer bottle at my chest. “Yo, Charlie! How ya doin’, man? Your boys are fuckin’ magic tonight.”

  Vin Vasquez was a bit…smarmy, but he was easy on the eyes. He ruined his tall, dark, and handsome dreamy exterior every time he opened his mouth and promised more than he could deliver.

  “They are,” I agreed, nodding absently.

  He motioned toward the stage. “And that song alone is gonna go fuckin’ platinum. I see the vultures closing in, and I don’t wanna see you guys go the wrong direction and…”

  I tuned Vin out and sipped the beer even though I hated the taste. It seemed polite to nod and pretend to be interested. Zero was never going to sign with his company, but it wouldn’t be smart to alienate him. Besides, he was saying exactly what I’d been thinking, and he came to all of our shows, so—

  “Hey, did you see the guy I was just talking to? He was wearing a baseball cap…tall, skinny…?” When Vin inclined his head, I prodded. “Do you know him?”

  “Nah, but I’ve seen him at a few Zero shows.”

  “Really?” I knit my brow curiously.

  “I think so. Hey, it’s dark. Don’t quote me. Oh shoot, that’s my phone.” He held up his cell as if I needed proof then squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll catch you after the gig.”