Still Her (Turn it Up Book 2)

by Natalie Parker

  STILL HER

  A “Turn it Up” Novel - Book 2

  Natalie Parker

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Two months earlier

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Playlist

  Still Her

  By Natalie Parker

  Book Two in the “Turn it Up” Series

  Copyright 2020 by Natalie Parker

  Cover Design by: Lori Jackson

  Photo by: Lindee Robinson Photography

  Formatting By: MadHat Books

  Editor: Katy Nielsen, Once Upon a Proofread on Facebook

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and organizations, are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved. In accordance with U.S. Copyright

  Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing

  or distribution of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property and hard work.

  Thank you for your support of the author's rights.

  Prologue

  Jack

  I stare out the window of the SUV that sits in the parking garage of our hotel. Matt is with me, sitting on the other side of the back seat, keeping to himself. Josh and Chris are waiting in the other vehicle, and once we get the green light, I presume they’ll head back to their respective suites. As for Matt, he’s made no bones about coming with me to the suite the detective has commandeered. It wasn’t even worth me trying to protest. But if the way he handled my lash-out yesterday is anything to go on, it’s probably a good idea to have him there.

  I look down at my phone, even though it hasn’t gone off. No text from Morris. I don’t know why I’m looking; it’s not even six o’clock yet. I ball my fist and rest my chin on it, looking silently out the window again, as if there’s anything to actually see besides concrete and other cars. I feel this need to connect with Mayzie, so I look away from the window and pull my left sleeve up, taking in the tattoo of the heart there. I run my hand across the ink before gripping my wrist tightly for a moment.

  It’s not until my phone buzzes that I let go. I pick it up to see the message I’ve been waiting for.

  Morris: She’s in. Get up here.

  Two months earlier

  Mayzie

  A video chat request goes off on my phone, drawing my attention away from the bowls I’m washing in the sink. I walk over to retrieve it from the island countertop in the kitchen, and swipe the screen to accept. I am greeted by a dangerously handsome rock star sporting a sexy smile and shaggy bangs that fall in front of dark blue eyes. His tall and trim body looks delicious in a navy t-shirt and ripped jeans as he leans back against a tour bus with his foot up behind him so that a guitar can lay across his knee as he starts strumming and singing:

  “I miss annoying you,

  When you’re trying to write

  And holding you,

  In our bed at night…”

  I lean forward on the island, joyfully laughing as I’m serenaded by my husband, Jack Krasinski, lead singer and guitarist for the hit band Turn it Up. On tour now. Check your local ticket office.

  “Baby I’ve been waiting too damn long,

  So get your cute ass out here where you belong

  So I don’t have to sing this cheesy song!”

  He finishes with a triumphant smile and one last strum, his right dimple making an appearance. I’m laughing so hard my stomach hurts. On stage, he’s a broody rock star, cranking out adrenalizing notes on his guitar while he sings angsty lyrics about love and more of life’s aspects. But he’s also my loving husband who knows how much I love to laugh…

  “Whooo!” I shout into the phone.

  “You like that?” he grins, still holding the guitar.

  “I looooved that!” I say, dropping my head back to emphasize how much.

  “Four more days, baby.”

  “Four more days,” I affirm, smiling sweetly.

  “I can’t wait. I miss you.” His eyes smile back at me.

  “Me neither, I miss you too.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You miss each other. Can I go now?” That would be the petulant voice of Chris, the drummer for Turn it Up.

  “Oh… yeah.” Jack says, putting his guitar pick in his mouth, and reaching out to take the phone from him. “I’ve only got a couple of minutes sweetheart, and then I have to run to sound check.” His smile turns complacent.

  “It’s okay.” I say, smiling and nodding. And then an excited look of realization comes over his face.

  “Oh, but really quick, I’ve gotta show you something.”

  “Okay.” I say, unable to keep the giddy grin off my face. After three years, he doesn’t fail to give me that schoolgirl feeling when we’re apart. When he so much as calls me, it makes my heart zing around like a pinball, so you can imagine how it makes me feel when he makes romantic gestures like the one he just did.

  I see the scenery behind him change, and can tell he’s now inside of a tour bus. After a few more steps, he holds the phone away from him so I can see what’s behind him, which is a closed door.

  “You ready for this?” he asks. He opens the door while I nod vigorously. It swings open to reveal a queen-sized bed draped in a white down comforter, and a plethora of pillows lining the headboard.

  “Yes!” I say with a fist pump, warm-fuzzies spreading through my chest at the sight. “Finally!” At this point in the career of Turn it Up, we’ve finally payed our dues and get a bedroom on our bus. With Jack singing to me, and now this, I’m feeling the high that would normally come with a thrill ride. I’m glowing and giggling. He’d told me when he called me the first day out on tour that we had upgraded, but this is the first time he’s remembered to show me.

  “You need to get out here and get in this thing with me,” he says with a smirk, jerking his head towards the bed.

  “Four more days and I will!” I try not to blush. Yeah, Jack can still make me do that.

  “Uh-huh,” he says, giving me his bedroom eyes. “Just wait, you’re gonna be in so much trouble.”

  “Yeah?” I say, flirting. “That a promise?”

  “Ooh, yeah. The things I’m going to do to you…” he teases. I involuntarily do a Kegel at his words, unable to save my panties from impending wetness.

  “I can’t wait for that.” I say, making sexy eyes right back at him.

  “Jack!” We both hear Matt, Turn it Up’s bassist and Jacks best friend calling him.

  “Shit,” Jack mumbles, looking in the direction of Matt’s voice and then back to me. “Gotta run, baby. Sound check. Keep thinking those sexy thoughts for me,” he winks, the background getting jumbled as he gets moving again. “I love you. I’ll call you later.”

  “Love you!” I ca
ll out before we disconnect. I give myself a second to recover from the thrill that goes up my spine, literally making my shoulders give a delightful little shudder. These two weeks we spend apart at the beginning of every tour is like an adrenaline shot, giving our relationship a little surge that wasn’t necessarily needed, but welcome, none the less.

  “Can I come out now?” I hear my sister-in-law, Sarah, call from down the hall. She’s making her voice sound forlorn on purpose, giving me shit for having sexy talk with her brother.

  “Don’t be silly, of course you can. And in my defense, you were in the bathroom.”

  “For the fortieth time,” she says, emerging from the hallway and rubbing her round, pregnant belly where two babies are currently taking up residence. “And I came out and heard your conversation take a sharp turn into naughty-ville, so I turned and went back.”

  “Sorry, but, mmm…” I say, squinting one eye and looking up at the ceiling like I’m thinking, “…not sorry.” I shuffle some papers on the countertop and close my laptop. “And you missed him singing to me. It was sooo sweet,” I say, dreamily.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she waves me off with a knowing smirk. “How much longer on my brownies?” she asks, leaning over to look through the oven door.

  “Six more minutes, and then you have to wait for them to cool.”

  “Thanks again for being cool with me storming in here and demanding them,” she says, rolling her eyes at herself, looking a little sheepish. “These cravings are insane. I had no idea. I had no business becoming an OB surgeon before even being pregnant myself.”

  “Well if my baby niece and nephew want my famous double-fudge brownies, that’s what they’re going to get.” I say, cooing and rubbing Sarah’s five month baby bump.

  “Better pack some up to take to Jack too,” she says, settling down in the booth-style breakfast nook. This house came with a perfect alcove in the kitchen, and Jack had no problem installing the bench that I found gorgeous bluish-gray padding for.

  “I will, don’t worry,” I smirk, before changing to a more delicate tone. “Have you heard anything from Melanie?” Melanie is Jack and Sarah’s elusive sister who has been doing nothing but traveling the globe. She drifts from one place to another, lives out of a suitcase, and rarely contacts anyone in the family. When Jack and I met, she’d already been away for almost a year. It was almost three years when she finally came home last year for a few months. As far as anyone could tell, she’d gotten the wanderlust out of her system and was ready to settle down, maybe meet someone and get married. Then out of nowhere, she seemed to change her mind and took off to travel the world some more. We’ve only heard from her a handful of times ever since.

  Sarah sighs. “Yeah, finally, after three months. She finally called so I could tell her she’s going to be an aunt. She congratulated me of course, but has no plans to come home yet. Says she’s got too good of a thing going right now in Indonesia. Before I could tell her she’s traveled and been selfish enough for the last four years, the call got dropped, and – uggghhh” she grunts. “Enough about her, on to more cheerful things. Are you excited?” she asks, plastering on a grin and resting a hand on her belly.

  “Are you kidding? Of course I am,” I say, wiping down the countertop. “The only part I don’t look forward to is flying out there with the dogs. The trip is always such a bitch. I have to get to the airport unbelievably early, and then when we land, I’m there forever, retrieving them and getting them checked out. Doesn’t help that they’re both so big.” I open the dishwasher to put the mixing bowls and spoons in. “At least the roadies send an SUV to pick us up so that I’m not dealing with cabs or Ubers.” They kicked off the tour in Vancouver, but tickets sold out so fast that they had to schedule multiple shows in some cities. I’ll be flying in the afternoon before the first show in L.A..

  When the oven buzzer goes off, I slip on some mitts and pull the brownies out to find perfection; gooey on the inside, crispy on top.

  After Sarah has crammed two in her mouth, one for each baby, so she says, I pack up the rest for her to take home. Hopefully they last her the car ride.

  After seeing Sarah off, I head to the back slider, allowing Trooper and Penny, our German Shepard and Rottweiler, to prance back inside after airing out the brownie smell, before picking up my laptop and heading to the living room to get comfortable at the end of our navy blue sectional double wide couch. I’m not a very demanding person, but one thing I would not budge on when Jack and I bought new furniture was that the couch had to be double wide, and I have not heard one complaint out of him. It’s perfect for snuggling, and goes great in our bright and airy living room that has a vaulted ceiling and tall windows that let in plenty of daylight. As Turn it Up became more and more well known, our new life called for more space and privacy. Jack and I were lucky to find this house on a 10-acre lot, surrounded by a perimeter of trees that block its view from the road. It’s not huge and sprawling like Sarah and her husband Mike’s house, but it’s perfect for us and the dogs. It has two stories, three bedrooms, a finished basement, and that’s all we need. Jack’s career and my occasional guest appearances as a choreographer on Americas Next Top Dancer require us to spend a lot of time in L.A., but we’re both very reluctant to uproot and relocate. When we have to be out there, we usually stay in a hotel, or with our friends, George and his wife Erin. We met and bonded with them when Turn it Up got its starter mainstream gig opening for George’s band, The Shock Wave, three years ago.

  I settle in with my feet up, and put my computer in my lap. At the end of that first opening tour, I catalogued Jack’s and my adventures as a newly married couple embarking on a new life together in the music industry, touring in particular. Oh, yeah. For those of you just joining us, Jack and I had only been married for two weeks when opportunity knocked, and a month when we actually went on tour. It was two whirlwinds coming together to create the perfect storm, let me tell you. The bright side is that we came out of it stronger than ever, and it made for a good book. Rock Life as a Rock Wife was a successful bestseller that turned into a just as successful blog. I love writing it, and I have a lot of kind and devoted readers that follow it.

  I open up to my trusty calendar, surveying the mapped out plan I have for the next few days before I leave. A sleepover with my best friend, Annie, is included tomorrow, so that I can soak as much of her up as I can before I have to go without her for three months. We’re going to watch dumb movies, pig out, hate ourselves in the morning, and try to make up for it with yoga and dance classes. It’ll be epic.

  I’m hoping to finish this week’s post, and hopefully get a start on next week’s, so that I have the first couple of days that I arrive on tour free to moon over my husband. After taking a cleansing breath, ever so content in the moment, I get to work…

  2

  Jack

  “No one’s ever… going to see her… like I see her…” I draw the last words of the song out into the mic, cranking out the last dramatic strums on my acoustic, as the other guys and I look around nodding at each other, satisfied that all the audio is spot on. Chris gives one last bang out on the drums, and I let out a huge breath, pulling my guitar strap over my head and handing it to Pete, my guitar tech.

  We just finished our sound check, and everything seems to be in working order. Kelly, our assistant, walks up with four bottled waters, and I gratefully accept one from her. As we make our way through the backstage corridor, our manager, Ron, approaches us, helping us close the distance. My wife describes him as teddy-bear for a couple of reasons. For one, he has a stocky figure and brown puppy dog eyes. For another, he typically manages the Silver status acts, the ones that are just starting at the label, but was kind enough to stay with us as we moved up.

  “Guys,” he greets us. “How was the check?”

  “Good to go,” I answer, untwisting the top to my water and taking a slug off of it.

  “Good. Let’s all head to the dressing room. We’ve got a conferenc
e call with Eli. He wants to run a couple of things by us.”

  We all shrug and nod, turning to follow him as he heads back down the corridor of the arena. This isn’t anything new. In fact, a call from our agent, Eli, usually means good news. He’s been with us about six months and has made a hell of a lot happen for us in that short time. We’re especially looking forward to writing a song for the next big action movie that will come out next year. There were several bands up for that gig, but we were lucky enough to be chosen. I don’t know how Eli does it, but he gets us some great exposure, positive attention, and appearances we seriously enjoy.

  One by one, we follow Ron into the dressing room that has two plush couches in the middle, one on either side of a black coffee table. On the far back wall are the vanities with lights around the mirrors, and just to the right of those is a bathroom with showers. Matt and I take a seat on one couch, while Josh and Chris sit on the one along the wall. Ron stands between us, bringing up Eli’s number on his phone. When the call connects, he puts it on speaker and sets it down on the coffee table before standing back with his hands in his pockets, but still close enough so that he can hear and be heard.

  “Ron, my friend!” Eli’s voice comes through enthusiastically on the phone. I have to say, this guy’s spirit doesn’t hurt either. It’s one of the things that seems to make him likeable. “How’s it goin’? You got the guys there with you?”