Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five

by Alexa Padgett

  I sucked in a breath. “Yes. But I’m really scared. What if . . . what if it’s like Ken?”

  The people around us stood, filing out toward the cemetery. Mom and our half sister, Preslee, headed toward us.

  “You have to trust, Briar. Otherwise you’re going to be so lonely. Look at what Rosie accomplished by opening up to others. Look what Asher and I have because I took the leap.”

  Mom stopped in front of me. “Lovely speech, Briar.”

  “Thank you. Rosie deserved it.”

  Mom smiled but her eyes were sad. I hugged Preslee, surprised—as I always was—that my half sister was a full-grown woman. She reached up, touching her close-cropped, dark hair. “She was lucky to have you in her life,” Preslee said, her voice as soft and lovely as the rest of her.

  I shook my head. “I was the lucky one. You have the key to the condo?” I asked.

  Preslee nodded, her pale green eyes sparkling. “Yes. I stopped by before coming here.” She grinned. “I took your advice and went to the fish market first. Princess wound through my legs as soon as she smelled what I’d brought her. I patted her head while she ate, but I didn’t want to press my luck.”

  “Smart,” I said. “That cat has very distinct opinions.”

  “We’ll let you go to the reception,” Mom said. “It should be nice.”

  “You don’t want to come?” I asked.

  Mom shook her head. “The boys went to bring the car around.” Mom looked around the large space, her eyes settling on the coffin. “I’m not much for funerals. Brings back memories I wish it didn’t.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, I embraced my mother. “Thank you for your help.”

  She patted my back, her eyes gleaming when she stepped back. “Not a thing, honey.”

  Lia’s eyes tracked our mom and Preslee as they walked away. “I never know what to expect with Mom. I’m glad she helped put this together, though.”

  “Going to bury the hatchet once and for all?” I asked.

  Lia snorted. “Maybe. But that’s between Mom and me. I like Preslee, Nate, and Noah. The twins are really protective of both Mom and Preslee. It’s sweet.”

  “Preslee was happy to help with Princess.”

  Lia pulled out a large white envelope. “Here.”

  “What this?”

  “Backstage pass and Hayden’s hotel information.”

  “What? How did you—”

  “Asher’s been busy,” Lia said with a wink.

  Tears filled my eyes and I threw my arms around Lia’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

  37

  Hayden

  A travel day was worse than a gig day because I didn’t have anything to focus on except my inconclusive conversation with Briar. I’d called about chartering a private flight to Seattle but I couldn’t make the twenty-plus hours of flight time work, not with a two o’clock rehearsal tomorrow I couldn’t miss.

  Flip and Jake were right. I owed them my best for the remainder of this tour, especially since the song I’d played in Prague was such a viral hit, and our fans loved that we were adding more to it with each performance. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t frustrated by the situation.

  Interesting how Flip, the most inscrutable of our group, turned out to be my rock. The best mate I’d always craved. And Flip, being that mate, wasn’t going to leave me alone to think about Briar as she struggled through Rosie’s funeral.

  “Whatcha say? Let’s go see what Amsterdam has to offer,” Flip suggested as we gathered our bags from the carousel. Flip, Jake, and I opted to fly instead of spending the day on the tour bus. The decision made everyone happy, because Ets was entertaining twenty-two-year-old identical twins on the bus. From what little Jake said, the girls were screamers. I couldn’t imagine a worse way to spend the seven-plus hours between locations than listening to Ets getting it on.

  Jake hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. He’d been even quieter than usual, but I was glad for his company.

  “I want to see the Rijksmuseum,” he said.

  “Really?” Flip asked. He put on his sunnies, heading through the speed customs we’d VIP through—one of the benefits of superstardom.

  “Yeah, took ’em ten years to renovate it. I read it has heaps of the Masters.”

  “I read about that,” I said. “Reckoned to be one of the best museums in Europe. I’m game.”

  “Let’s get our gear checked in and we can head over,” Flip suggested.

  He nodded toward our driver, who walked us to a large, sleek SUV. I liked riding in these way better than limos, which felt pretentious and wasteful. With no other choice, I relaxed, looking forward to the afternoon.

  “I want to try out some of the beer here,” I said. “Isn’t this the birthplace or something?”

  “Dunno,” Jake admitted. “The guys from uni were more interested in the legal pot and sex.”

  “I bet.” Flip laughed. “I’m steering clear of both of those. Cynthia would have me by the balls. Can’t imagine your Yank would like those pics much, Hayden.”

  I shook my head, a small smile forming. “I’ve no plans to find out about any of it.”

  “You two are doddery. Soft,” Jake said.

  “Hey, you could’ve stayed with your brother,” Flip responded. “I’m sure one of those girls would’ve been happy to entertain you, too.”

  Jake shook his head. “It’s getting old. All the partying and easy sex. I’m ready to see some of the world. You know, get the most out of our time on this tour.” His gaze slid to mine. “Something tells me things are going to change when it’s over.”

  I leaned back into the soft leather, refusing to rise to the bait. “So whose paintings are we going to look at?”

  “Rembrandt, Vermeer. Some van Gogh. I want to stand in front of The Night Watch. One of my favorites we studied.”

  “That’s right! Your degree’s in art something.” Flip pouted his lips together in a kissy duck face. “Wanker.”

  “Don’t give him shit,” I said. “Mine’s in music composition. Worked out well for us. You’re just jealous you didn’t get the cert.”

  Flip shrugged. “I’ve got the cash to see the real deal painting now. Maybe even buy it if I wanted. Seems like that’s a pretty big win.”

  The rest of the day sped past, and I fell into bed. Exhaustion mixed with the five different beers I’d managed to try between dinner and now. I dialed Briar’s number again, the tenth time in the past few hours. She’d texted me about an hour after our talk, letting me know she’d have her phone off during Rosie’s funeral. I frowned when it once again went to voice mail. Surely, with the funeral starting at 10:00 a.m., it should be over by now.

  I went to the gossip sites. Their information about Briar’s doings was better than mine. According to the web, the actual funeral was over, but the large group—nearly five hundred people attended Rosie’s funeral—had gathered at The Fairmont in downtown Seattle. An all-day affair, then.

  I sent her a text.

  Hope the day went smoothly. Thinking about you. x

  I stared at the screen for many minutes before I plugged in the charger and set it on the nightstand. When I woke in the morning, I’d have a message from her. I hoped.

  I woke up late the next morning and reached for my phone. A grin started to form when I saw I had a text from Briar, but the budding happiness faded quickly when I realized it wasn’t a message I wanted to see.

  Today was hard. Turning off my phone. Just need some time. I’ll be in touch. Soon.

  No. She was supposed to call me back. Something more than the bullshit lines I reread, trying to make sense of.

  I checked my phone the rest of the morning as I went through my usual routine. Her response frustrated me enough to warrant a run down by the canals instead of staying inside. Signing the hundreds of autographs on the way back to my hotel made me late, and I raced through my shower. I arrived at the venue fifteen minutes late—a feat considering I’d barely returned to the hote
l before I was supposed to leave. Good thing we were only a short walk—and an even shorter car ride—from the venue.

  “Nice of you to join us, Hayden. Now we can finally get started.” Ets’s words pushed me further over the edge.

  “Sorry. Went for a run and got mobbed.”

  “Sure it was rough having women rub against you. Did you file a suit for molestation? Is that what took so long? You’re not the only member of this band, dickhead.”

  I didn’t bother with words. I lunged. Jake and Flip got between us quick enough. “Cool it,” Flip said. “We’ve only got a few hours before the gig, we’ve got to start sound check. Pull it together.”

  I stomped over to my piano and went through our pre-performance checklist.

  Four hours later, I slammed into the dressing room, angry with the compromise I’d made on “Between Breaths.” I flopped on the couch, arm over my eyes. I was supposed to use this time between practice and the actual show to eat, nap, or meditate, but I was too restless.

  Briar hadn’t told me she loved since the night before I left her. She’d said she’d fallen in love with me. That could be past tense.

  Maybe she couldn’t get beyond my bloody stupid behavior. She hadn’t agreed to meet me in Paris, London or New York. She hadn’t said anything about us, really.

  Maybe it was time to let go of that dream.

  38

  Briar

  I stood out front of the Seven One Seven, impressed by the old-world charm.

  The place was small, barely big enough for the band. My heart pounded as I approached the black door, pulling my suitcase behind me. Inside, I slid my sunglasses up onto the top of my head and walked to the front desk. Time to test my plan.

  “Hi,” I said when I reached the concierge.

  “Good afternoon,” the sleek brunette said, her smile professionally inquisitive, but recognition widened her eyes. Being chased by cameras finally had an upside. Her brass name tag read Lotte.

  “I’m here to check in,” I said with a bored look. At least I hoped it was. My heart raced faster than it did when I ran sprints.

  “I’m sorry for your inconvenience but we have no rooms.”

  I tapped my sunglasses on the counter. “Oh, no. I’m checking in to Hayden’s room,” I leaned forward to whisper with a smile.

  Lotte smiled politely and typed on her computer. “Mr. Crewe didn’t leave any instructions for us to allow anyone up to his suite.” She shook her head.

  Well, there went the easiest route. I kept my smile in place but my heart rate ratcheted up and sweat gathered at the back of my neck. I pulled my phone out.

  “I’ll just text him to clarify the confusion. Does he need to come back from the Melkweg to sign me in? That’s not his normal routine. Well, I hope it doesn’t throw him off his performance tonight.” I nibbled at my lower lip.

  “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience Mr. Crewe,” the girl said, clearly at a loss. I kept my head bent over my phone.

  “I understand. Let me just finish this and we’ll get it all cleared up,” I said, my fingers flying over the screen.

  Lotte set a key card in front of me. “Pleasure to have you staying with us, Ms. Moore.” I lifted my head to see the girl flash a smile, her dimples dancing. “Mr. Crewe will be happy, I believe. He’s been . . . restless,” she finished with a shrug.

  “Ah. Didn’t he get to run? That helps.”

  “The fans mobbed him by the canal.”

  I frowned. “He doesn’t like that part,” I muttered to myself.

  “That is why I didn’t ask for his autograph.” Her cheeks deepened from pink to rose. “Though I would like one, if possible.”

  I snagged the card off the counter and grabbed my bag. “I’ll see what I can do,” I said. “Which room?”

  “The Room at the Top. Up the stairs. That suite offers the most privacy and the best view of the city.” She nodded toward the narrow flight tucked across the lobby.

  “Thank you, Lotte. Are you working tomorrow?”

  She nodded. I smiled, hoping neither of us would be in trouble. “See you then.”

  “A pleasure, Ms. Moore.”

  Hayden’s room was nice, but they always were. Not overly big but the beamed ceiling added ambience. I stood at the window for a few minutes, soaking up my first view of Amsterdam, before heading to the shower. I needed to wash off the plane ride and take a nap so I was ready for the night ahead.

  Clean, but only mildly more awake, I pinned up my damp hair, wanting fat curls to flow down to my bare shoulders. I was sure Hayden would like running his fingers through them. As I sat on the bed, fatigue threatened to pull me under. I yawned hard, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. Jet lag was no joke, especially on top of days of little to no sleep. I should call Lia. At least text her.

  I’d set my purse on Hayden’s desk. I walked to it and pulled out my phone, shooting off a quick note. Lia responded immediately.

  I’m going to need all the details.

  I smiled and dropped my phone back into my purse. I missed and it landed on some of Hayden’s papers. Picking up my phone, my eyes caught the top sheet.

  It was some sort of itinerary. Seattle. From Berlin. That was scratched out. Brussels was listed below. The date was in three days.

  A name—probably the company owner or a pilot—was under the jetliner’s name, all scrawled out in Hayden’s slanting script. Picking up the paper, I pressed my other hand to my chest.

  He’d scheduled a flight back to see me. On the only open two days in his schedule for the next six weeks, he’d planned to fly across the Atlantic and the entire US to see me. He’d told me he wanted me in his life. Here was the proof that he’d work hard to make that happen—on my terms.

  I set the paper down, smoothed my hand over it. We’d talk our relationship through, he and I. We’d work through his confusion and my feelings of betrayal. Because my relationship with Hayden was once in a lifetime.

  I yawned again, my jaw popping. Four hours until I needed to be at the venue. I slid into Hayden’s bed in just my panties and a cami. I inhaled his scent, already more at peace than I’d been in days.

  I woke to a light tapping on the door. “Ms. Moore? You didn’t answer the wake-up call.”

  “Crap!”

  I scrambled from the bed and ran to the door, opening it just a little. “Thank you,” I murmured.

  “You are most welcome. Anything else I can help you with?” Lotte asked, hands folded demurely in front of her.

  “Nope. All good.”

  I flew into the bathroom to wash my face. I’d slept longer than I’d anticipated, leaving me less than thirty minutes to get to the venue.

  I quickly added some mascara and a touch of lip gloss before pulling on my backless silk top. I wiggled into my skinny jeans and slid on a pair of beige wedges. Unpinning my hair, I despaired I didn’t have the time to style it better.

  I grabbed my purse and hustled out of the room.

  The walk to the Melkweg would have been much more fascinating if I weren’t so anxious. I should’ve waited for Hayden at the hotel, talked to him there, in private. Or just called to let him know I wanted to fly out and be with him. He’d invited me to New York . . . I didn’t have anything to worry about.

  I owed him a grand gesture. He’d told the world he loved me, and I’d returned his feelings with skepticism and fear. I wanted to show him I was willing to embrace his fame, all of him.

  Cameras flashed as I walked up to the window, showing them the all-access pass Asher had gotten through his record label. Knowing the right people made this process so much easier.

  I put the lanyard around my neck and worked my way through the mass of bodies, some talking, some drinking, many wearing way less clothing than I was. I took a deep breath and headed toward the side entrance. Time to see Hayden.

  I pulled out my phone and texted Lia, needing some support. I’m scared shitless. Not sure I can do this.

  She’d been w
aiting for a message from me based on how quickly my phone lit up with her reply. He’s the one who told the world he loves you. Claim your man.

  I tucked my phone back into my small purse and lifted my chin. I walked up to the first official-looking man I found. He was big and broad, probably a member of the security team. I flashed him a smile but he didn’t so much as blink.

  “I’m looking for Hayden,” I yelled over the current band.

  “Who isn’t?” the guy growled.

  I showed him my pass and he pulled me forward by the lanyard, a scowl deepening on his face as he turned it toward the light. “Haven’t seen one of these.” He glared at me. “Wait here.”

  He moved to take it off, but I stopped his hand. “It’s mine. I got it from my—” How did I categorize Asher?

  He whipped it off my head, and I winced as the lanyard caught in my hair. “No, sweetheart. When it comes to an all-access pass, only the band and record executives decide who gets ’em.”

  Shit. I couldn’t get any closer to the band, and he knew I knew it. Smiling, the security guard pushed forward and was swallowed by the crowd.

  Unsure what to do, I followed. Well, sort of. I couldn’t move past the crowd like the security hulk did, and most people weren’t as willing to let me through.

  The guy disappeared through a set of doors. I fidgeted. Would he come back? I didn’t know.

  A man said something to me, probably in Dutch. I shrugged. Pointing to the stage then my ears.

  He gave me another once-over and then walked on, sucking on his beer.

  The song ended and still I stood there. The opening band bowed and the lights came up. I pulled out my phone and texted Lia. Some security guard took my pass. I don’t know what to do.

  She didn’t respond.

  People swirled around me, laughing and chatting. The door that the security guard passed through opened and another guy came out. Dark hair, lots of tattoos. Hooded, cynical eyes. Then I recognized him: Jackaroo’s guitarist, Murphy Etsam.

  He beckoned me over. People turned to look at him, some of the girls gasping and calling his name. He ignored them all, eyes on me.