The Rock Star and the Girl From the Coffee Shop 2: Under Pressure

by Terry Towers

  The Rock Star

  and the Girl from the

  Coffee Shop 2:

  Under Pressure

  By

  Terry Towers

  The Rock Star And The Girl From The Coffee Shop 2: Under Pressure

  Copyright 2013 by Terry Towers

  Cover by: Terry Towers

  All rights reserved. With the exception of brief quotes used for critical reviews and articles no part of this book may be used or reproduced without the written permission of the author Terry Towers. Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada. Terry Towers can be contacted via her website at www.elixaeverett.com

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via internet or other means, electronic or print without the authors permission. Criminal copyright

  infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov.ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors imagination and used fictitiously.

  Chapter 1

  "Did you know she took the money?" Hanna asked as she passed Bo the melted ice pack that she'd been holding to her swollen lip, the injury courtesy of the band's drunken ex-manager Victor, and replaced it with the new one he was offering her.

  "No. I asked Jeremy before we got on the plane and as far as he knew she was going back home to take care of her mother for a while. Just what you were told. He figured she was going to come back and spend some time with him once the tour was over and her mother was better. He had no idea she was paid to leave," Bo said, shrugging and turning away from her. "I'll be right back."

  Keeping the ice pack on her lip, she turned in the seat of Bo's private jet and watched him walk down the aisle to the back of the plane to throw the melted ice pack in the sink.

  She couldn't believe how much she'd come to care about him so soon. It had only been a month and she was already coming to the point where she couldn't imagine life without him in it. When the band's former manager, Victor, offered her $2 million to walk away from Bo and never come back, she didn't even have to think about it. Sure their relationship may not last, and the money would have changed her life, but in this instance, foolish or not, she had to go with her heart.

  "Alright. I think we both can use a glass of wine right now." Sitting down in the cream-coloured leather seat across from her, he set the wine bucket with a bottle of sparking white wine chilling in it on the small white table between them, along with a couple of glasses.

  "And I can't believe she took the money." Hanna shook her head, disappointed in her friend. She wasn't sure what she was more disappointed about; that Jackie took the money or that she didn't even tell her the truth about it. "I thought she and Jeremy were getting along great."

  Hanna watched as Bo pulled the bottle of wine from the wine bucket and popped the cork. The need for the wine rose up within her, but she pushed it down. He was about to pour some into her glass, but she placed her hand over the glass and shook her head.

  "None for me, Bo. Thanks though."

  "Suit yourself." After he finished pouring himself a glass he looked up and his grey eyes met her green ones, a dead seriousness in his expression.

  "You know, Hanna... I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd decided to take the money."

  Hanna frowned, leaning forward in her seat. "What do you mean by that?"

  "I mean. I wouldn't have blamed you. Two million dollars is a lot of money — for anyone."

  "Money isn't what I want."

  "I'm not saying you would and I'm not saying I'd allow it to happen. In fact, I'd have hunted you down and brought you kicking and screaming back to my place. And then tied you to the bed so you'd never be able to leave again."

  Giggling, Hanna rolled her eyes at him. "Goof."

  "But what I mean is that you've been through a lot of bullshit in the last month to be with me, and I have no guarantee it'll be better. Chances are it'll get worse. You've pretty much given up your life to tour with me. Honestly, I do get concerned that you'll eventually get sick of so much time on the road. I know this type of life exhausts you and takes you well out of your comfort zone."

  Hanna huffed at him as she accepted a poured glass of wine and motioned toward the inside of the plane. "Yeah, 'cause it's such a horrible life you live."

  "Well." Bo sat back in his seat and took a long drink of wine. "Since you've been with me, you've been harassed and drug through the mud by the paparazzi. You've been fired from your job, and then assaulted. Not exactly what someone looks forward to

  experiencing when they start a new relationship."

  Hanna placed her ice pack on the table and bypassing the wine; she unscrewed the cover of her water bottle and took a long drink. The cool water was refreshing as it slid over her tongue and down her throat. Setting the water bottle on the table, she stood and walked around the table to him. Seeing her approaching he placed his wine on the table, took her hand and pulled her onto his lap.

  Slipping her arms around his neck, she snuggled tight to him, nestling her head under his chin. He wrapped his arms around her waist, placing a kiss at her temple. "It's been the best month of my life, Bo, despite all that."

  Bo fingered a strand of her red curls, twisting the lock around his finger and then releasing it. "Well, we have a couple weeks before the band goes into the studio to start recording so there's a few things we need to do in that time."

  "Oh?" That was news to her. He'd told her just the other day that the next few weeks were going to be obligation-free. Just the two of them having fun. Glancing up, she caught his gaze. "Like what?"

  "Well, we're going to go buy you a house, anywhere you want — within reason, a new car and set up a bank account for you with a sizable sum in it just in case things don't work out."

  Hanna tensed, her eyes narrowing as she eyed him. "Just in case."

  Bo caressed her cheek. "Remember when I told you when we first met to not

  overthink things?"

  She nodded.

  "Don't overthink this, Hanna. Right now you have no money, no job and you're giving up your apartment; the money and job are my fault. I want to set you up so that if you ever get sick of this life, or decide you no longer want to be with me then you can start over."

  Hanna pulled back, her frown deepening. "That's insane! I don't want you supporting me like that, Bo. We've discussed this."

  "That was before. Things are different now."

  Hanna was about to protest, but Bo put a finger up to her lips, taking care not to hurt her cut lower lip, before continuing. "And I'm not doing this for you; I'm doing this for me. I've been thinking and I don't want you staying with me because you have nowhere to go. Believe it or not, but it happens. I want you staying with me because you want to be here and doing this. If you have a house and a little money in the bank to fall back on then I know you're with me because you want to be not because you need to."

  "It's one thing to feed me and let me stay with you, but it's another to buy me a house and give me money."

  "I have lots of money, Hanna."

  "That's not the point. Money runs out eventually, even the kind of money you have."

  She saw his point. She got it. But
at the same time having a back-up plan felt like they were setting the relationship up for failure. It just didn't sit well with her.

  His expression grew stern. "I'm not negotiating this. Either you choose the house or I have a realtor choose it for you. I thought it would be fun for us to do a little house hunting, but I'm fine either way."

  Hanna sighed. There was no arguing with him when he had his mind made up. She'd been learning his stubbornness far surpassed hers. He always got what he wanted —

  period. "Fine. Then give me a job. Let me at least earn some of the money you're giving me."

  Bo clucked his tongue off of the roof of his mouth in consideration, his expression not letting on his thoughts.

  "Well," she prompted.

  "What do you want to do?"

  "Ummmm." Not expecting to have him even consider it, she was stumped. She shrugged. "Anything... I just want to contribute somehow."

  A wicked smile began to form on his lips, a flicker of heat flaring up in his grey eyes.

  "Oh, there's lots of ways you can contribute, babes."

  She groaned in exasperation, swatting at his shoulder. "Come on. Be serious."

  Grabbing her hips, he shifted her so that she straddled him. "Oh, I'm extremely serious." He pulled her tight onto him so she could feel the hard ridge of his shaft between their layers of clothing.

  She moaned softly, trying to suppress her desires for him so they could finish the conversation. "This is really important to me. Even if I have to lug sound equipment around, as long as it's something."

  He sighed, giving in. "All right. The guys and I are getting together tomorrow afternoon to discuss who we’re getting for a new tour manager, so I'll throw it past them, see if they have any ideas." He captured her chin in his hand and urged her lips down to his, kissing her softly, taking care not to hurt her further. "Happy now?"

  "Very. Thank you."

  "My pleasure." He glanced down at his watch and glanced up at her, the heat in his eyes returning. "Looks like we have another half hour before we land."

  She returned his smile and wiggled in his lap, enticing his rising dick. "That a fact?"

  He groaned low and feral. "It is. So I'm thinking you should show me just how grateful you really are."

  Sitting back on him, she tugged at his shirt, pulling it up. "My pleasure."

  ****

  After a heated 10-minute argument with Bo on whether or not she should be

  wandering around Manhattan by herself while he met with the other guys and decided on a new manager, she gave in, allowing one of his guards to accompany her — but only one.

  "I really don't think this is necessary, Tyson," Hanna said, glancing up at Tyson as they exited Bo's building and stepped out onto the busy sidewalk.

  Tyson caught her gaze and shrugged. "It's what the boss wants."

  Hanna frowned. "Ummmm. Yeah." She took another peek up at Tyson. He was a massive man, at least 6'4" and muscles bulging against the black t-shirt he was wearing.

  One of his arms was easily as big as her thigh.

  They walked in silence for a few moments, heading toward Chinatown. Hanna was

  intent on getting herself a replica Rolex; her cheapie Timex had broken that morning. A month was usually how long she could get out of a watch before breaking the face. Sure, if she asked Bo he would get one for her, but that wasn't the point. He was doing too much for her as far as she was concerned and from what she'd heard the replicas you could get in Chinatown were almost identical.

  "So how long have you been working with Bo?"

  "'Bout a year."

  "Do you like it?"

  "It's good."

  Hanna looked up at him, eyes narrowed. If he was going to be escorting her around the city, then doing it in silence was not an option, so she decided to try another tactic.

  "Not much of a talker, are ya?"

  A grin spread across his lips as he glanced back down at her, catching her eyes with his dark brown ones. "Not usually."

  "Why?"

  His grin widened; she could see his resolve to be formal dissolving. "Because I'm paid to make sure you don't get yourself into trouble."

  "Oh come on Tyson, what kind of trouble could I get into? Really?" She gave him a little nudge in the side with her elbow.

  "All sorts. Someone could see your picture in the tabloids..."

  Hanna grimaced. Flashes of some of the tabloid headlines she'd read the previous day raced through her head. She'd been called everything from a career killer to a fat nobody unworthy of Bo. She was hardly fat, but she supposed if she were compared to a model or actress she was a bit on the thick side and it had never been so apparent to her as when she'd read those headlines.

  "Yeah, I really wish I'd never looked at what was being said about me," she admitted.

  "You can't let them get you down, Hanna."

  Hanna lifted her eyes to see that he was looking down at her, sympathy in his eyes.

  "It's hard, though. Ya know? They called me fat. A career killer. A gold digger. It hurt."

  She wasn't sure why she was admitting it to a virtual stranger. She knew Tyson from touring with the band over the past month, but their interactions had been limited to a quick "hi" or if Bo wanted to relay a message to her.

  Tyson was silent for a moment, and then sighed. "Let me tell ya something."

  "Okay."

  "A few years ago I worked for a female pop star."

  Hanna was about to ask who when he stopped her, lifting his hand to silence her.

  "I can't say who."

  She huffed, but a smile remained on her lips, anxious to hear the story.

  "She got real popular. Real beautiful, too. Had a bunch of hits in a row. And then the paparazzi started on her. Some of the stuff they said was correct, some made up. Most made up and it hurt her. Cried every time she saw a new story."

  Hanna could relate to that. She was just the girlfriend of a celebrity and being hit with nasty words. She could only imagine the press that she'd get if she were an actual celebrity, and not just one by association.

  "Down this way," Tyson said, grabbing her arm and hustling her across the street.

  "Oh wait!" Grabbing his massive forearm she stopped him in his tracks and pointed to a '50s-style cafe. A young waitress in roller skates breezed past the open restaurant door.

  Too cool. "Can I buy you lunch?"

  "You can't buy me lunch, but I'll have lunch with you."

  "You're on, Ty." She glanced up at him. "I can call you Ty, right?"

  His expression turned stern, but an amused twinkle gleamed in his eyes. "Not a chance."

  She snorted. "Oh, you're no fun."

  Excitement rushed though her as they stepped into the restaurant. Fifties music played from a jukebox in the corner and all the waitresses had their hair in ponytails, wearing poodle skirts and roller skates. "This is too cool." She heard him chuckle beside her and her grin widened.

  "Table for two?" a cute dark-haired waitress asked, skating up to them, two menus already in hand.

  Hanna nodded and the waitress led them to a corner booth, placing the menus on the table in front of them as they sat.

  "Would you like to know the specials of the day?" she asked, pen poised and waiting for their response. "Sure." As the waitress recited the specials, Hanna's eyes spotted an advertisement for their "world famous" chocolate shake.

  "I'd love to have a shake and the cheeseburger platter," Hanna stated, passing the menu back to her without even looking at it.

  Once Tyson gave his order she leaned forward, elbows braced on the table, and eyed him. The hard, no-nonsense expression Tyson normally displayed was gone and he

  smiled back at her.

  "What?"

  "I like you much more all friendly like."

  "Yeah, well, don't be telling Bo. He'd fuckin' flip. I’m not hired to be your friend. I’m hired to protect you."

  Her grin widened, not taking offense. "I promise. So wh
at happened with the celebrity you were telling me about?"

  "She's in rehab. That's why I'm working for Bo and the guys."

  Hanna's eyes widened in shock. "Rehab? For what?"

  He shrugged. "She couldn't handle the shit being said. Got into snorting and," he shrugged.

  "Damn."

  "So don't let it get to ya. K?"

  Hanna nodded. "Cross my heart."

  Chapter 2

  Bo finished passing out a round of beers to the other four members of his band and flopped down into an armchair. Opening the beer, he tossed the bottle cap onto the coffee table and surveyed the men around him.

  "So what are we doing? Any ideas on who we can approach to manage us?" he asked, getting down to the point.

  "Fuck man, I dunno." Bo turned his attention to Trevor Carson, the keyboardist, who had replied first. "Was it wise to fire him, man?"

  "Well, what would you do, Trevor? He fucking hit Hanna. He's lucky it was Anthony that pulled him off her or he'd have gotten more than a couple of whacks to the jaw and a ride to the hospital."

  "He was a fucking drunk anyhow," his brother Jeremy, the bass guitarist, added. "He's been useless for months now."

  "Yeah, long time coming," Anthony added, pulling out a little pouch of white powder from the inner pocket of his leather jacket and proceeding to form a line on the glass coffee table in front of him.

  Bo forced his eyes away. Anthony's addiction was becoming worse. He was still one of the best drummers in the business, but Bo had been seeing his downward spiral. That was a problem that would have to be dealt with sooner rather than later, he suspected.

  "Hey, is it true? Victor gave that chick you were banging a couple mill to piss off?"

  the lead guitarist, Tipp, asked Jeremy.

  Bo turned his attention to Jeremy. He hadn't had much of a chance to speak to Jeremy about Hanna's friend bailing on him, but he suspected that it was a bit of a sore spot.

  Jeremy had a hard surface, but deep down he didn't take embarrassment or

  disappointment well. Hanna refusing the offer while her friend took it was definitely a source of embarrassment.

  Jeremy's jaw clenched and he took a swig of his beer. "Yeah, well. That's the story anyhow."