Alexis: In love with a rockstar (The Hamptons Series Book 2)

by Drucie Anne Taylor

  Alexis

  In love with a rockstar

  Drucie Anne Taylor

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  1. Chapter 1

  2. Chapter 2

  3. Chapter 3

  4. Chapter 4

  5. Chapter 5

  6. Chapter 6

  7. Chapter 7

  8. Chapter 8

  9. Chapter 9

  10. Chapter 10

  11. Chapter 11

  12. Chapter 12

  13. Chapter 13

  14. Chapter 14

  15. Chapter 15

  16. Chapter 16

  17. Chapter 17

  Rights and other boring stuff

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Drucie Anne Taylor

  Copyright © 2017 by Drucie Anne Taylor

  Translation © Claudia Rapp

  Edited by © Marlena Klöpper

  Cover design by © Lee Ching of Under Cover

  Contact: drucie@drucieannetaylor.de

  http://drucieannetaylor.de This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual living or dead, businesses, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without my written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First published in German in July 2015 as

  Alexis: Liebende Noten

  Created with Vellum

  Author’s Note

  The Hamptons series tells the love stories of a fictional clique surrounding the fictional rockband Downstair Alley. Every book is a story in itself, and can be read separately from the others. However, the characters often reappear in the following books.

  The stories are set in the cities of New York and Miami, but due to artistic interpretation they have been mixed with cities that exist only in my imagination.

  I hope you enjoy the story of Alexis and Honor!

  Chapter 1

  I finally finished my singing education. Four years of Voice at Juilliard, culminating in my Bachelor's degree in Music, which makes me damn happy. It's over now … which is not so awesome, considering that my friends and I will be scattered all over the place soon enough. We swore we'd keep in touch, but if you ask me, those are empty promises. Not because we don't want to actually stay in contact, but because we'll drift apart, develop into different directions, and then at some point, we won't have anything in common anymore. My friends will return to their home towns, some will go to Europe, or get engagements god-knows-where. Some of us weren't lucky enough to find a job straight out of college - including me. I mean, I still have a part-time job that pays the bills. You don't make a fortune working as a waitress, but plenty of people have lived the dishwasher-to-millionaire dream. A lot of famous stars started out very, very small.

  “Honor!” my best male friend Micah calls out.

  I turn around, interrupting the conversation I’m having with another friend. “Micah!” I cry euphorically. “Where have you been? I've been looking for you all over the place.” I'm only half serious.

  “Where I’ve been? In Zelda, in the auditorium, and then in a queue, in that order,” he teases.

  I raise my hands to ward off the mental images, squeeze my eyes shut, and make a face. “Zelda is ten years older than you, you freaking pervert.”

  He chuckles. “MILF power, you mean.”

  “Micah!” I blurt out in shock, and this time I'm not acting, despite my drama training.

  “What? I wanted a celebratory goodbye fuck,” he defends himself.

  I shudder at his words. “I need to get out of here and have a few shots.” I look at my other friend, who's been watching our exchange with a grin on her face. “Krystle, shall we go to Jo's?”

  She whips back her long brown curls with a quick movement. “Sure. Let me get my jacket real quick. It's lame in here anyway … Are you coming, Micah?”

  Please say no. He’s going to talk about Zelda again. She was one of our teachers, and Micah had a fling going with her ever since we started college, and his grades had profited greatly from it. I'd never do something like that, because I want to earn my grades through my own effort and ability, but he was absent quite frequently and seemed to think some ‘extra credit activities’ were necessary to make sure he would end up with good grades. I shudder again.

  “Coming where?”

  “We're going to Jo's. Honor wants to get drunk, because thanks to you, her mental movie is set on porn,” Krys explains with a laugh. Before I met her, I only knew that name spelled as Krystle, but I prefer the version her parents chose for her, because it's unique, just like her.

  Jo's Bar is a backstreet haunt not far off Times Square. It's awesome. You can sing karaoke, which of course we do all the time; you can play pool, have a quiet drink at a corner table, or celebrate successes and failures. Our favorite, versatile hangout.

  “Damn straight, and if I don't get a shot of tequila like right now, I'll start to get real bitchy,” I croon, before heading straight for the coat room, where I left my own jacket. My quick steps echo off the walls, since the corridor is virtually empty. All I want is to get out of this place. I spent the last four years in these hallowed halls, studying voice and drama, preparing for a life in the limelight. Like everyone else who studies here, I harbor the hope of becoming a star, but it's very likely that this hope is going to evaporate after a few short years. Maybe I'll end up in some seedy jazz club, belting out old favorites.

  My name is Honor Prescott, I'm twenty-three years old, and I'm a singer slash actress. And I'm unemployed, basically. The part-time job at Jo's doesn't really count, though I'm planning to talk to her about it, asking her if I could get some extra shifts. “Hey,” I greet Jenna, a freshman who's been assigned checkroom duty tonight.

  “Hi, Honor. Do you have your ticket?” she asks.

  I nod and hand it to her, waiting for my jacket.

  “How did the graduation ceremony go?”

  “It’s still going, and it’s still boring, so I’m leaving now,” I smirk while slipping into my summer coat. It’s pretty warm outside, but I didn’t want to run around in my dress without any jacket. It doesn’t have straps or sleeves, and I don’t like the thought of half of New York City staring down my cleavage when given the chance. I don’t have a shawl that I could wear with the dress, so this was my only option.

  “Oh, here is my number, too,” Krystle pipes up next to me. Then she looks at me. “You seem very eager to get out of here. I couldn’t keep up,” she giggles.

  I chuckle. “I’m so sorry about that.”

  “Well, you’re an excellently bad liar,” she replies, visibly amused.

  “I know, it’s the only reason I studied here,” I counter and give her a wink, before tying the belt of my thin trench coat. “Why did you spend the last four years in this fabled place?”

  “Oh, someone once told me that I could sing,” she replies haughtily and puts on her denim jacket. “And now, Miss Prescott, we’re going to get trashed to really celebrate graduation.”

  “It will be my pleasure, Miss Anderson.” I link arms with her and we leave the room together. “Bye, Jenna. See ya.”

  “See you guys,” she replies with a giggle.

  “And where did you leave Micah?” I ask Krys.

  “No idea, maybe he is in Zelda a
gain?” she proposes.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “Oh for god’s sake, please … Don’t start again I’ll never get rid of those images.” Especially since catching them in her office once. All I wanted to do was hand in a homework assignment that was due, but then I burst in on them getting frisky on her desk. Hooray! No, not really. It took me a long time to recover from that sight. I even had a couple nightmares featuring the two of them together. Not surprising, after catching a woman almost fifty years old with a guy who was twenty-one at that time. Okay, the ten years I mentioned earlier were a gross understatement; she could easily be his mother. And so his comment about MILF power has only served to make the horror movie in my head turn even worse. Yuck!

  “Where have you been lurking around just now?” Krys asks when Micah approaches us.

  “I went to get my jacket and said goodbye to my parents, since they are leaving as well. But … first I made sure they sponsor tonight’s drinking spree.”

  Krys and I clap and cheer. “Good job,” she praises him.

  We both link arms with him, and then he says, “Ladies, may I invite you to spend a few hours at the swankiest backstreet bar New York City has to offer?”

  “Absolutely,” I reply with a giggle.

  “Let’s party!” Krys cries, and we head out.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome this year’s Juilliard graduates!” Jo calls out loudly and claps, which elicits a storm of enthusiasm from the audience. Okay, there are about three or four guests that start clapping sympathetically.

  Unfazed, we all bow. Krys and I giggle while Micah forces a chuckle. “Thank you, thank you,” we effuse, standing up straight again.

  “What can I get you guys to drink?” Jo wants to know.

  We smile at her, and I’m the first to yell, “Tequila! Give us the gold one, without the vitamins. We’re taking a bottle.”

  “Are you nuts? I haven’t eaten anything; I need the oranges!” Micah laughs.

  “Oh, I thought you might have satiated yourself when you took your little detour earlier,” I comment with a wink.

  He gives me a look of incomprehension before it slowly starts to dawn on him. “I didn’t eat her, I never did!” he flares, which has Jo, Krys and me laughing hysterically.

  “It’s enough that you screwed her,” Krys blurts between giggles.

  “But this was the last time, since now I have my diploma,” he counters with a grin.

  “Guys, please stop or I will drink the entire bottle all by myself,” I threaten good-naturedly.

  Jo hands us the shot glasses, the cinnamon shaker, and a bowl filled with orange slices on ice. I’m happy we came here to celebrate, because we’ll have fun without the boring people, and I’m sure there will be more patronage later, including some cute young men, because I’m really in the mood to party. With my friends and some handsome faces, and ideally the night is going to end with sex. That would be perfect. We’ll see whether my wish will be granted.

  “Are we staying at the bar or do we sit down at a table?” Krys asks.

  “Let’s move into the corner.” The bar ends with a high bench to sit on, from where you can observe the entire room.

  “Some music maybe?” Jo asks.

  “Absolutely!” I cry enthusiastically, and she turns on the stereo. I grin at Krystle. “Let’s go, girls,” I sing along with Shania Twain. ‘Man, I feel like a woman’ is the perfect song to get into the party mood, although I already am in this mood.

  We sit down at the corner table, take off our jackets, and then Micah pours the first three shots. “What was the correct order again?” I want to know, because I’m used to drinking it without the cinnamon and orange.

  “Lick, swallow, bite,” Micah instructs me with a wink.

  “Alright. Cheers!” Krys cries, we clink the shot glasses and down our drinks.

  “The best thing about being a woman …” I sing along with Shania again as soon as I’ve swallowed the burning sensation down my throat.

  Jo brings us a bottle of Coke and says, “This is for in between all the shots. I’m going to bring you some snacks, too.”

  “You’re the best boss a girl can have,” I reply, the refilled shot glass already in my hand.

  “I know.” She sticks out her tongue at me, which makes me giggle.

  Krys and I step out from the corner seat and start to dance in the middle of the bar. We have a good time, drinking and dancing and celebrating that we all got our degrees after four tough years at Juilliard.

  “I’m expecting a few friends later, and one of them is bringing his cousin. The guy seems to need a little cheering up,” Micah announces at some point.

  I make a face. “I won’t have any spoilsports tonight, I’m telling you!”

  He grins at me. “That’s what the Tequila is for.”

  “Tequila is for washing away the images of you and Zelda,” I reply and then frown. “Jesus, now I’m thinking about it again,” I whine, grabbing Micah’s shot glass from his hand. “Cheers.” I don’t lick the cinnamon off orange slice, but instead down the Tequila first, then put the spiced slice into my mouth and suck on it.

  While Krys and I are dancing, the place starts to fill up slowly. We don’t know any of the newcomers, but I spot three very good-looking guys who proceed to sit down at one of the tables.

  “Honor?” Jo calls me.

  I turn around and realize I’ve already entered the swaying stage. I’ve had quite a few shots. “What’s up?”

  “Could you maybe take the order of those guys that just came in? I’ve got Kitt on the phone.”

  I raise my arm and give her a thumbs-up. “Okay.” Then I turn towards the table they chose and walk over to them. “Hi, my name is Honor and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get you boys?” I ask in my friendly waitress voice.

  “Beer,” they answer in unison while checking me out.

  “A pint or a small one?”

  “Pint.” Another perfect chorus.

  “Alright. I’ll be back with your drinks in a minute.” I turn away and walk over to the bar, then slip in behind it. Jo is still on the phone, so I simply draw their three beers, and then bring them to their table, hand them a slip with the amount due, and smile at them. “Enjoy.”

  “Thank you, Honor.”

  I walk back over to where Krys is still dancing. “Tequila or slow dance?”

  She starts singing along to the song that’s playing. “If you like Piña Coladas and getting caught in the rain …”

  “If you’re not into yoga,” I join in, dancing back towards Micah, then leaning against him as I croon. “You’re a fun-wrecker, old man,” I tease him.

  “Not true,” he protests. “I’m just waiting for my Scotch.”

  “Ooh, pretending to be classy now, are we?” I continue to mock him.

  “What’s wrong with that? I like drinking in style, not drowning in moonshine,” he laughs.

  I join in his mirth. “You’re just jealous because I actually have fun.”

  “Nope.” He shakes his head vehemently to stress that he means it.

  I take his hand. “Let’s dance.” Then I pull him with me to the dance floor, turn my head to yell at Jo to put on another song. I giggle when I hear the first notes of O-Town’s ‘Liquid Dreams’. “That’s not exactly what I was going for.”

  Micah pulls me close and stares into my eyes. “I’m going to miss those baby blues,” he chuckles and whirls me around once before setting me down again.

  I start to rotate my hips. I’m not a good dancer, but good enough to enjoy myself. As long as I can move in time with the rhythm, I’m fine. If I look ridiculous while doing it, at least I’m not the only one having a good time. The audience can get a laugh out of it, too.

  Micah is a much better dancer, which helps in making me more confident. My moves become a lot more daring and sensual, and I have a feeling that I don’t look as dumb as I usually do. “You’re getting better, Honor.”

  “I s
hould stick to singing,” I protest.

  “Go ahead, be my guest,” he goads me, and I start belting out the words. I don’t put a lot of emotion into my voice, because it’s hardly necessary with this song. It’s easy for a woman to hit the right key of the boy band voices. After a few more lines, the song ends, which leads me to say, “Let’s go back to our table now and wait for your friends. I’m thirsty.”

  “Excuse me?” someone behind me asks, and I turn around.

  “Yes?” I say, holding on to Micah’s arm, because I don’t want to be left alone with some random guy.

  “Hi, my name is Jayden Priest, and I’ve heard you sing just now … Is there any chance you’d be interested in auditioning for a job?” he wants to know.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Auditioning for what exactly?”

  “My brother and his friends are looking for new background singers. Maybe you’ve heard of the band Downstair Alley? I think you’d really have a shot Your voice honestly blew me away,” he says, his voice all business.

  “Blown away? She didn’t even put in any effort,” Micah laughs behind me.

  I punch his arm. “Please excuse … him.” I nod my head in Micah’s direction. “Do you maybe have a business card and a date for this audition? So I know the when and where?”

  “No business card, but if you have a pen and paper, I can write it down for you,” he smiles.

  “Sure. At the bar.” I point at Krys who’s standing at the bar, typing frantically on her phone.

  He follows me, sits down on the corner bench, and takes the notepad and pen that Jo hands him. Jayden writes down a phone number, a date, and an address, before handing me the slip of paper. “I’m looking forward to seeing my brother speechless again. Usually, the only one who can accomplish that is his girlfriend,” he explains with a grin.

  “Let’s see if I can measure up.”

  “I’m sure you can. The others were impressed as well.” He glances at his friends, and I look at them, too. Then he waves them over. They get up from their table and come over to join us, introducing themselves.