The Roadie: Radical Rock Stars Book 7

by Jenna Galicki

  Brett finally broke the silence. “I missed you so much. I can’t believe it’s only been a week, and you’re finally here.”

  “Me too. I want to meet your brother and your friends. I want to see where you live, and I want you to show me this city that you love so much. I want to see everything.” She was overexcited and rambling, but she couldn’t help it.

  He nodded through everything she said with a happy smile. “Good. Because I want to share everything with you. I got to know your friends and family and bond with them while we were on tour. You showed me your favorite places in Central Park. But you didn’t get to see any of my life, and I want to show it to you.” He retrieved the flowers that he’d dropped when she ran toward him and handed them to her with a sheepish smile. “These are for you.”

  A few of the petals had fallen off and a sprig of baby’s breath was broken, but she didn’t care. She brought them to her nose and inhaled deeply. “They’re gorgeous. Thank you.”

  “Is this all you brought?” he asked, glancing at her small carry-on suitcase.

  “This is California. I thought all I needed was a bikini top and a pair of cut-off jean shorts.”

  “I got a girl whose closet is bigger than my bedroom, and she packs light. Could you be any more perfect?” He laced his fingers through hers, grabbed the handle of her suitcase, and led her out of LAX.

  She was surprised that he hired car service to take them to his home rather than picking her up himself, and she was concerned about the expense. “You didn’t have to pick me up in a Town Car, Brett. I think it’s nice that we’re taking a car so we can talk, but we could’ve just taken an Uber. You didn’t need to spend so much money on a fancy car.”

  He cast a playful glance in her direction, and she wasn’t really sure how to take it. She didn’t mean to insinuate that he couldn’t afford it. She only wanted to let him know that she didn’t need to drive around in private limos or fancy Town Cars. She was just a regular girl.

  Thirty minutes into the drive, she noticed the car getting on the 405 toward San Diego and realized he never told her where he lived in California. She assumed he lived in Los Angeles, but that obviously wasn’t the case. “Do you live in San Diego? Did I fly into the wrong airport?”

  “No. I live in Fountain Valley. John Wayne Airport is closer, but there’s not a lot of direct flights. LAX is fine.” He was silent for a second before he said, “There’s a joke that goes, how do Californians say I love you?” He gave her a broad smile and answered the question. “I’ll pick you up from LAX.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “I’m sorry! Is it really that bad? I’ll look for flights into the other airport next time.”

  “You do love me,” he said, placing his hand over his heart. “L.A. traffic sucks, but I’d rather have you here as fast as possible than have you change planes in order to fly into Orange County.”

  She sat back, stunned. “I can’t believe I never asked you where you lived. This whole time I thought you lived in L.A.”

  “That’s what people automatically assume. Orange County is beautiful, and it has a different vibe than L.A. I think you’ll like it.”

  Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of a gorgeous split-level ranch with a Spanish tile roof. “Is this where you live?”

  He nodded. “This was my parents’ house. The house my brother and I grew up in. When they passed, we inherited it.” He motioned to one of the two cars in the driveway. “My brother is home. He’s really looking forward to meeting you.”

  She squeezed his hand, thrilled to meet the only member of his family. “I can’t wait.”

  They entered the house which was beautifully furnished. The décor was more reminiscent of an older couple than that of two young men living alone, and Kira imagined Brett and his brother living here with their parents. “Your home is lovely.”

  “Thanks. My parents worked really hard to buy this house. My dad worked two jobs when I was a kid.” He looked around the room, as if re-living old memories. “I remember the day we moved in. I was just starting high school.”

  She took his hand and felt his melancholy, understanding it firsthand. “I’m glad those memories are here for you. They always helped me when I was a kid. I still feel them when I visit my father. He’s renovated a few times, but I know he’ll never sell the Central Park apartment.”

  “I could never sell this place, either. My parents left us some life insurance. Not a ton of money, but enough so that I could pay off this house. I didn’t know if I could afford to pay the bills. I just figured that if I settled the mortgage, it was one less thing to deal with on a month-to-month basis. That was the advice I got from Brandon. I know he’s not exactly a pillar of responsibility, but he and the guys from Bulletproof get a lot of advice on their finances from Felix Osbourne. They all said that Felix’s first piece of advice was for them to buy a home outright with their money when they first made it big. I figured the guy knew what he was talking about.

  There was a nice chunk left over from the life insurance, so I split it with my brother and put his half in a trust fund. He gets it when he turns 21, and I want to make sure he’s not going to blow it all partying his ass off or making the wrong choices. I want to make sure he graduates college.”

  “Give it a rest already with the college,” a voice from the other room called, as footsteps approached.

  Seconds later, a tall, clean-cut younger version of Brett entered the room wearing a welcoming smile. “Hi. I’m Grant.”

  Kira extended her hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Kira.”

  “Nice to finally meet you too. My brother never stops talking about you. I hear you’re crazy about him.”

  She laughed. “You mean, he’s crazy about me.”

  “I think you guys are crazy about each other. Love the East Coast accent, by the way.”

  “Born and raised in New York,” she boasted.

  “Have you spent a lot of time in California?”

  “I go to L.A. on business all the time but never really get to do more than see live music when I’m there.”

  Grant’s eyes shifted to Brett.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I was going to take you to see Bulletproof tomorrow night at the Staples Center,” Brett said, cautiously.

  “Are you working?”

  “No. Not a chance. I’m not going to work while you’re here.” He slipped his arm around her. “You said you’ve never seen Bulletproof live, so I thought you’d enjoy it. They put on a great show, but we don’t have to go if you’d rather do something else. We could have a bonfire on the beach,” he suggested. “It’s up to you. Whatever you want to do.”

  She bounced a little, excited that he knew she’d want to go to a concert. “I want to see Bulletproof.”

  Grant threw his head back and rolled his eyes. “Oh my God. You guys are made for each other.”

  They both smiled, and Brett pulled her closer and kissed her cheek.

  “I’m outta here,” Grant said. “You two can have the place to yourselves.”

  “Where are you going?” Brett asked.

  “Surfing with the guys.”

  “Are you coming back for dinner?”

  Grant shook his head. “I’ll grab In-N-Out. I’ll probably just see you guys tomorrow. Nice meeting you, Kira.”

  “You too,” she called after him. She could tell Brett wanted to ask his brother more questions about where he was going but held his tongue, and she waited for Grant to leave before she said anything. “You’re worried about him, aren’t you?”

  “Of course. But he’s a good kid.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, needing to touch him, just so she knew he was real and not a crazy fantasy. Even though it was only a week since she’d seen him, she often imagined he was there with her at home. Sometimes, when she was sitting on the couch watching TV, she pretended she was snuggling up to him instead of the gigantic furry pillow
. Or she fantasized he was waiting at home for her with the table set for an intimate dinner for two, when she had a late night at work. It was so silly she wanted to laugh, but those were the things that got her through the week. “So what do you want to do first?”

  “I want to show you my garden.”

  It’s not what she expected him to say and assumed he was going to show her flowers and trees, or even shrubbery, so the array of fresh vegetables growing in his yard took her by surprise. Neat rows of tomato plants, peppers, lettuce, and an herb garden, covered an area behind the house like a small farm. She bent on one knee to inspect a plump tomato bursting with color. “You take care of all this by yourself?”

  “My brother helps me. Actually, he does most of the work since I’m away so much. Go ahead. You can pick that one.”

  She touched the fruit gently, afraid to bruise it. It came free of the branch with a small tug and she brought it to her nose. It smelled fresh and sweet, and the color was inviting. She’d never had a craving for vegetables before, but this robust tomato made her hungry. “I could bite into this thing right now like an apple.”

  He picked up a basket and squatted next to her. “Help me pick some. We’ll make a fresh salad. And a sauce.”

  Her cooking skills were basically non-existent, but she didn’t want to admit it, so she just started plucking tomatoes and soon the basket was full. “What else?” she asked.

  He retrieved another basket and they moved to the peppers. Then the lettuce, which were long stalks of romaine that gave off a pleasing aromatic scent. A hummingbird fluttered as it took a drink from a flower, and Kira squealed quietly. “Look at the hummingbird!” she whispered, so she didn’t scare it away. “I’ve never really seen one up close,” she explained.

  He smiled and tweaked her nose with his thumb and index finger. “You’re really cute.”

  He waited while she watched the small colorful bird until it flew away. It was amazing how such a tiny little bit of nature brought her such joy. She breathed deeply, inhaling the fresh scent of the garden. “The air,” she said, with wonder in her voice. “It’s so clean. No carbon monoxide.”

  “That’s because we’re close to the beach.” Brett moved to a vine filled with cucumbers and squash that hung off a trellis near the back fence. He picked several of each and placed them in the basket. Next, they went to the herb garden and cut bunches of parsley and oregano, which grew like little shrubs, and basil, which smelled heavenly.

  “Everything looks so healthy,” she remarked.

  “It takes a lot of attention. That’s why I got Grant into gardening. You know, a diversion from hanging out and getting into trouble.” He stopped to look at the basket in her arms. “We need one more thing.”

  He led her to another area where long stalks grew from the ground about two feet high. She was about to ask what they were until the aroma hit her. “Oh my God. Is that garlic?”

  “Yeah. There’s nothing like fresh garlic.” He knelt down and worked a gardening shovel until one of the stalks pulled free. He shook off the dirt and held it up so she could see the large head of garlic, with roots still attached. The scent was strong. And overpowering.

  They went inside and washed everything they picked and placed it all on paper towels to dry. She admired the spread on the counter, which was a cornucopia of freshness, and snapped several photos. “No one is going to believe you grew this in your garden. Do you always eat like this? So healthy?”

  “No. We’re single guys. We eat our share of tacos. Grant likes to grill so we eat a lot of steaks and burgers.” He waved his hand over the vegetables on the counter. “This is a nice addition to our diet, and the fresh herbs make everything taste better.”

  She realized that he was expecting her to help prepare a meal, and she needed to tell him about her lack of culinary skills. “I have another confession. I don’t know how to cook.”

  Placing his hands on his hips, he stared at her with surprise. “You mean there’s something you don’t know how to do?”

  “There’s a lot I don’t know how to do.”

  “I don’t believe that.” He opened the kitchen drawer and retrieved a large knife. “Can you chop the garlic?”

  She snatched the knife from him. “I thought you were going to kill me for a second.”

  He laughed. “Just chop the garlic.”

  While she minced the garlic, he pulled three onions out of the refrigerator and diced them. “You mean you didn’t grow the onions yourself?” she chided him.

  “I ran out of room.”

  After chopping the onions and garlic, he showed her how to blanche the tomatoes and peel them, which had her staring at him in awe. She had no idea something this elaborate was involved in making a pot of sauce. He let her sauté the onion and garlic in olive oil while he finished preparing the tomatoes, then added them to the pot along with spices and the freshly chopped herbs. It smelled divine and looked incredible. She found her phone again and snapped a photo of the simmering sauce, then a selfie as she stirred it.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, with a chuckle, when she started tapping on her phone screen.

  “I’m sending these to my sister. And to Angel. He’s going to be so jealous of your garden. And both of them are going to be shocked that I’m cooking.”

  While the sauce simmered, they made a salad with the vegetables from the garden. She expected him to whip up an elaborate homemade dressing, but he pulled a bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch from the refrigerator. “Really?” she asked, with a hand on her hip.

  “If I could make anything that tasted half as good as this, I would market it.”

  “I agree.” She smiled, grabbed the dressing from his hand and smothered her salad with it.

  “Whoa.” He took the bottle from her hand. “Why don’t you just put it in a glass and drink it?”

  “I would if I could.”

  After they boiled spaghetti, they set everything on the table, including a bottle of wine and candles. She stopped to inhale the aromas from the table and take it all in. “I can’t believe we made this beautiful dinner.” Her phone was on the chair, and she picked it up and snapped more photos so she could remember this meal that they made together.

  With the lights dim and the candles lit, they sat side by side, not across from one another. He slid his arm across the back of her chair and lifted his glass. “To more nights like this together. Just the two of us. Not just on weekends, either. I want days. Weeks. Months at a time.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Dare I say years together?”

  She let herself dream, which she’d been doing more and more lately. Her head was in the clouds half the time, pretending to live a fairy tale and walking around with a silly smile on her face. A sigh filled her with contentment, and she clinked her wine glass against his. “Yes. That’s what I want too. Let’s live the dream, Brett. Let’s make the fairy tale come true.”

  The blaring sunshine woke Kira early the next morning. An arm across her eyes and the sheet over her head did little to dim its brightness, but the empty spot next to her made her flip the covers off and sit upright. “Brett?”

  He wasn’t in the room, so she slipped out of bed and decided to look for him. “Brett?” she called into the foyer.

  “In here.”

  He was at the stove, preparing omelets, while Grant was sitting at the breakfast bar sipping coffee. Brett set down the spatula and wrapped his arms around her, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed.”

  No one ever made her breakfast in bed before, and her heart sank that she spoiled the surprise. “That’s the sweetest thing. I can go back to bed and pretend to be asleep if you want.”

  Grant chuckled behind his coffee mug. “You two are adorable. And by adorable, I mean sickening.”

  Brett threw a dishtowel at his brother. “Quiet. Before I burn your omelet.” He returned his attention back to Kira and hugged her for a long time. Without words, h
is tender embrace conveyed how much he cared, and Kira never felt more warmth and love from anyone in a single hug. When he loosened his hold on her, he had a small smile on his face. “You looked like an angel sleeping next to me this morning. I watched you for about 20 minutes before I decided to get up and make breakfast.”

  Heat flushed her cheeks, because she usually slept with her mouth open, and Audra once told her that she snored.

  He kissed her again before turning back to the eggs. After flipping the omelets, he motioned to the pot on the counter with the spatula. “Help yourself. It’s organic.”

  A grinder sat next to a coffeemaker that was twice the size of her Keurig. Mugs were already on the counter along with a small plastic container of raw sugar. She poured herself a cup and went to the refrigerator for milk. There were several kinds – almond, cashew and oat, but no regular milk.

  “I hope you’re not looking for cow milk,” Grant said. “Or artificial sweetener. My brother thinks that stuff will kill you.”

  A fond memory of their time on the buss filled her head. Brett had bought almond milk for his coffee on one of their stops, and he loved the espuma that Angel had proudly served with his cafecito. She fixed her coffee and rejoined Brett. “Can I help?”

  He handed her a plate. “You can help by eating and telling me how delicious it is.”

  “Oh, God.” Grant moaned from the breakfast bar. “Can you two be any more in love?”

  Kira sat across from Grant and sighed dreamily. “I don’t think so.”

  Brett kissed her cheek as he slipped onto the stool next to her with two plates in his hands, pushing one across to his brother.

  While the three of them ate quietly, enjoying the morning meal, a cool breeze blew in from the sliders. The omelet contained some of the vegetables they picked from the garden yesterday, which made the meal even more special. Kira gazed at the green landscape of flowering shrubs outside the house and the endless blue sky in the background. It was the total opposite of New York City, and completely breathtaking.

  “Paper?” Brett asked, holding up the LA Times.