Neither of the two buffoons in front of me have ever felt even a sliver of that in their lives. Hell, neither had I before today. I would’ve been standing right there laughing with them had anyone else been in my shoes.
None of us ever seriously dated. The biggest taste of devotion we get is the occasional two-night stand between shows. Other than that, it’s one girl, one night, then never again.
However, the thought of not seeing my angel again feels like a knife twisting in my gut.
“Listen, E,” Alex says, unfurling the note in his hand and extending it toward me. He holds it delicately between two fingertips like he doesn’t actually want to touch it. “We’re bandmates, bros even and we care about each other, so I’m gonna do you a big old favor, okay?”
My shoulders lift and fall in relief, an invisible burden releasing my body. “Thanks,” I answer honestly. “That girl is perfection. If I mess this up—”
Before I can finish talking, a wily grin crosses Alex’s face as his gaze connects with James. In a flash, he hands the small scrap of paper to James who slips it into the bottle of tequila.
“No!” I roar, lunging for the bottle. But by the time it’s in my hands the note has nearly dissolved. The numbers vanish from the paper, nothing more than swirls of dark ink mixing with the clear liquid. Never again would the numbers fit back together the way they had before—just like my heart.
“What the hell?” I shout, unusual rage swelling in my voice as I take a lurching step toward my bassist.
I’ve always been the type to channel my emotions into my music rather than display them through aggression. Showing how I truly feel isn’t me. It’s not Easy E. But right now, I don’t know who I am anymore. Not with this kind of rage coursing through me.
James steps forward, a light hand clapping my shoulder though Alex’s smug grin from behind him makes me want to punch them both square in the jaw. “Like Alex said, we’re doing you a favor. Our big show is coming up. You don’t need to waste time caught up on a girl who won’t call you back. We need to focus.”
“Yeah,” Alex adds. “This is no time to get wifed up before our big break. You had your fun, now it’s time to put it behind you and focus on what’s important.”
James moves away, heading toward the door. Alex, still smugly smirking, follows close behind. “You’ll thank us later,” he assures me, though it’s all I can do not to fall to my knees and claw the ruined paper from the bottle even though I can already see it’s useless.
The ink has dissolved in the potent booze. My only choice now is to drown my sorrow with it. I pick up the bottle and take a long swig. The liquid tastes as potent as my anger.
Alone in the dark haze of the dressing room I have nothing left but my dashed hopes and the faint fragrance she left behind.
Chapter 10
Morgan
My heart is like an overfilled water balloon. It’s swollen and heavy and ready to burst.
“How many days has it been?” Stacy asks gently, patting my shoulder before pushing another cup of the terrible coffee she made toward me.
I groan, both with dramatic melancholy and from imagining what the bitter brew will do to my empty stomach. I drop my head into my hands, my elbows making the table wobble. One of the misshapen legs of our small kitchen table is propped up with an abandoned school book of Stacy’s so that it’s mildly level. Everything in our tiny apartment seems sadder than usual.
At the sound of the chipped mug moving across the table, I shake my head. “Four days!” I moan. “It’s been four whole days since he rocked my world. We both know what that means. He’s not going to call. He wants nothing to do with me.”
“Morgan,” Stacy croons, her tone motherly and warm. It’s probably the same one she uses to soothe her students. “He’s a musician, playing in different bars every night. What did you expect?”
“I know, but it felt so special!” I whine.
My voice is pathetic; it makes me cringe. I’m not naive, but I certainly sound that way right now.
I’d called Charlotte the morning after my whirlwind romance with my mystery musician, desperate to find out more information on the Rasping Sallies so I could track down my sexy rock god, but she didn’t know anything. Apparently, the Sallies was the band that was supposed to play at the dive bar. But my mystery guy’s band stepped in at the last minute and no one I spoke to at the bar knew anything about them since they didn’t handle the booking.
I’d been calling nonstop but I’d yet to find anyone who knew more. It was lucky I even managed to get someone to pick up the phone. The bar had odd hours and worse customer service than a cable company.
“Maybe he lost my number?” I suggest hopefully though the look on Stacy’s face speaks the truth. He didn’t lose it. He just never intended to use it.
All of a sudden, I’m back in high school, crushing on the varsity quarterback who’d slept his way through half the cheerleaders—all but me. Except instead of a football, this guy had a guitar, and everyone knows there’s nothing sexier than a man who knows how to pluck an instrument. But I’m still the loser in the story. The girl who makes a fool of herself. The girl who no one wants.
The band is probably laughing at me—if they even think of me at all.
“Did you write your number on a paper airplane or something?” Stacy teases.
When I heave another sigh all the way from the tips of my toes, she takes the cup of coffee she’d made for me and gives it a healthy gulp. She tries to disguise her shudder from the awful taste and decidedly pushes the mug away.
“Come here,” she says, taking my shoulders in her hands and sitting me upright.
Stacy smiles at me, trying to get me to return her sunny expression though I just stare at her with a sullen scowl on my face that will probably last until my next photoshoot.
What do I care? It’s not like I’m booking shoots anyway.
“Do you really want to hunt this guy down?” she asks. “Clearly, he’s not interested.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better!” I wail, tilting my head back in exasperation before I slouch back against the chair.
“I’m just saying he’s not worth your time. You’re Morgan May. You’re fierce and fabulous. You don’t chase men, they chase you.”
“Not lately,” I grumble.
“Morgan, don’t let this one jerk get you down.” Stacy squeezed my hand. “Besides, you don’t want to be with someone who can’t see how amazing you are.”
“I know . . .” I groan. “But did he really not feel the sparks?”
Had I imagined the magic between us?
As dramatic as I’m being, it truly felt like what we shared was special . . . like it was one of a kind . . . like fate. I let my head fall into my hands again. “Maybe I’m grasping at straws, but I really thought this time was different.”
Stacy observes me with disproving, eyes. “I thought you were over men?”
“That was before I met the man.”
Stacy blinks hard as though she’s trying not to roll her eyes. For a long moment she’s silent, probably debating between trying to body-shake some sense into me and remaining as patient as ever. She settles on patience. “I called Chloe,” she offers, patting my hand with only slight irritation.
My head snaps up. “What? Why?”
“Because, with the way you’ve been acting, I feel like I could use some backup. She’s coming over for a girls’ night. Pizza, drinks, you name it, we’ll have it. It’ll be just like old times before she moved in with her boyfriend.”
“Don’t say the word boyfriend!” I pout theatrically, even though I’m more than happy for Chloe and Donovan.
I’d only met him a few times, but he dotes on my friend and I can tell how happy she is.
Why can’t I have that?
Chloe’s room still sat empty in our apartment. Her billionaire boyfriend, the marketing mogul of Manhattan, paid for the room so we didn't have to rent it out to a stranger. It
sorta made it hard not to like him, even if he did steal my friend.
At least Chloe occasionally came by to visit. And this way she still had a room when she wanted to spend a day or two here during emergencies such as this.
I should’ve been excited for a girls’ night with my best friends, but my missing mystery man was still dampening my spirits; not to mention my lacking career. “I have a car show next weekend, Stacy. Pizza and wine isn’t a good idea,” I grumble.
Since my photoshoots started falling through and I’d been getting hired less frequently, I’d gotten extremely careful about what I eat. Salads only. No croutons, no dressing, no cheese—no taste.
I keep telling myself it’ll be worth it someday . . . and it will, won’t it?
Stacy gives me a knowing smile, and even though I want to continue being childish and angry, it’s hard with her around. She’s so kind and giving. She’s going to make an amazing teacher one day. And an even better mom.
My mom’s face flashes through my memory and my heart hurts even worse. I push the thought away and focus on Stacy.
“Don’t you have classes?” I ask abruptly, stiffening and glancing toward the clock. “Oh no, you’re gonna be late!”
“I called in sick.”
“Why?”
“You needed me, Morgan,” she explains with a flippant grin despite the fact that I know it must be killing her not to be in school right now.
It isn’t like her to skip classes or to shirk her duties with the children she tutors. I must be really pathetic. And all this fuss over a man whose name I don’t even know and probably never will.
I sigh and sit up even though it feels like the gravity in this room is stronger than elsewhere on the planet. Every movement takes more effort than I have. “You don’t have to do all this. I’ll be fine, Stacy. Just give me a bottle of vodka and I’ll forget what’s his name.”
Even though I eat rabbit food, I always have room for vodka.
Stacy wags her finger and shakes her head. “It’s not healthy to drink alone. Besides, Chloe should be here any second.”
Before I can argue further, the front door breezes open and Chloe saunters inside like she’d never left. She grins at us, dressed in a pencil skirt and a tight cotton blouse. She’d always dreamed of being a high-profile advertiser and now she’s living her dream—and looking good doing it.
“Damn,” I mutter before I can help it, suddenly hyper-aware of my unbrushed hair and lack of makeup. “You look very Samantha Jones today, Clo!”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she shoots back sassily, pushing her glasses up her nose before sliding into the chair beside me.
Stacy laughs though I still don’t have the heart.
Chloe gazes around, a satisfied smile on her face. “This place never changes,” she murmurs. “It feels really nice to be back where it all started with my two favorite girls and a pot of liquid lava that Stacy pretends is coffee.”
“Hey!” It’s Stacy’s turn to pout, giving a little sniff and staring down the bridge of her button nose. “Clearly my talents aren’t appreciated here.”
Chloe giggles and takes the cup from Stacy, inhaling the roasted scent of the tar-like drink. “Actually, I almost missed this, too.”
“Oh please, I’m sure you only drink fancy cappuccinos in your beautiful penthouse apartment with Donovan,” Stacy gushes with just the faintest hint of envy in her voice. “I still can’t believe you snagged a billionaire. Love suits you, Clo. You’re glowing.”
Chloe blushes faintly though I interrupt any response with another mournful wail. “You’re not allowed to talk about how amazing love is!” I complain. “Love sucks!”
Chloe and Stacy scooch in closer, wrapping their arms around me in a tight hug. I bow my head to sniffle into Chloe’s shoulder, wishing she was still my roommate. It was so much fun living with both these girls, especially during times like this.
I’m not exactly a stranger to bad romance.
Why had I thought this would turn out any different?
“You know, I’ve heard the only way to get over a guy is to find another,” Stacy suggests with a slow smile, looking pointedly toward Chloe. “Don’t you think so?”
Chloe blinks, a slow frown forming over her pretty face. “I’m not sure I agree. What it takes is time and reflection. Morgan should try to learn something from this experience.”
“That’s easy to say when you’re head over heels in love with the perfect man,” I mutter.
Stacy frowns at Chloe, two tiny furrows appearing between her brows. “Care to rethink your statement?” she asks firmly.
When Chloe finally takes the hint, she rolls her eyes and turns back toward me. “I guess dating someone new wouldn’t be the worst idea.” Suddenly, she gasps, clapping her hands together in excitement. “I’ve got it! We should go on a triple date! Donovan has some cute friends that I can set you two up with. It might take your mind off this guy for a little while, Morgan.”
“I don’t want cute,” I answer with a wounded tone. “I want my rockstar.”
Chloe sighs and shakes her head. “Well, I can’t promise you a rockstar but I can promise free drinks. Will that do?”
I start to shake my head but Stacy takes my hand and leans in toward Chloe. “We’d love that,” she answers, shooting me a look that leaves little room for argument.
Though Stacy is sweet as pie, she’s stubborn as a mule and I know I don’t have any choice in this matter. With a groan, my chin tips into a heavy, reluctant nod. “It’s not like I can feel any worse than I do already.”
Chapter 11
Eric
The sleek glass doors of Dunn Advertising glide effortlessly open. I stride inside, a white plastic bag from Cup of Joe’s dangling from my hand. Styrofoam boxes of deliciously decadent food strain against the bag, begging to be unleashed as they flood the labyrinth-like hallways of Donovan’s office building with the pleasant scent of half a dozen croissants, two patty melts, and a chicken salad sandwich. In my other hand, I balance a cardboard cup holder with three warm coffees inside. One of them spilled on my walk here, meaning Donovan was about to be short-changed. He deserved a half-filled coffee after skipping my show.
I was still pissed at Alex and James for destroying my dream girl’s note, so that meant I’d been spending more time with Donovan—when he had time for me.
I hadn’t given up on finding my angel though. I’d asked around at Logan’s bar and stopped back a time or two, but no one seemed to know anything about her. I was starting to fear I conjured her into existence.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had a drunken hallucination.
I briefly considered telling Donovan about her. He certainly had the resources to track people down, but his ridicule wasn’t worth it.
I scan the halls as I walk toward his office. As always, the upper floor of the huge advertising building is bustling with life as interns and staff members rush back and forth, their hurried footsteps accompanied by the tapping of fingers against keyboards and the soft but pressing tone of voices making important calls. A corporate symphony. Ugh.
I could see this being a professional’s heaven—but to me it’s hell. There’s nothing appealing about those tiny cubicles or computer screens, or God forbid, khaki slacks! It makes me shudder when I think about trying to fit into this stuffy corporate world. I like my faded jeans and worn t-shirts. My tattoos make me stick out here and I’m pretty sure I don’t own a pair of khakis—thank God!
Soft giggling floats under Donovan’s closed office door as I approach, making me roll my eyes. I give the door a solid knock with the back of my knuckles, the plastic bag rustling loudly. Even though I’m not exactly a patient guy, I wait to be let in. There’s no way I’m going to walk in on Donovan and his girlfriend groping each other.
A few seconds later, the door swings open to reveal a pretty woman with a big smile on her face, her black hair slightly tousled and her cheeks a bit too rosy.
“That’s so sweet of you, Eric!” she says, stepping aside to allow me into Donovan’s office.
My best friend grins at me, sniffing the air with interest. “Is that my favorite croissants I smell?”
“Well, it’s either I bring them to you or you send whatever intern you have this week across town to hunt them down.”
Chloe laughs. “He’s not allowed to do that anymore,” she says perching on the side of the desk near her boyfriend.
I open the bag of food, passing everyone their meals and leaving the croissants in the middle of Donovan’s desk. I end up taking the half empty coffee for myself, giving Donovan the other full one. Staring down at the scrumptious food that I would normally wolf down in a heartbeat, I find my appetite non-existent.
“Not hungry?” Donovan asks idly. “That’s not like you.” He pauses, then groans. “Wait, you’re not still pissed that I missed your show, are you? I sent you that tequila—”
“No, it’s not that,” I interrupt.
“Then what?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, frustrated that I’m so transparent. I wasn’t going to tell him, but . . . “I’ve met someone,” I interject shortly. “Possibly the one.”
Donovan huffs a laugh. “Always with the jokes.”
I glare at him with churning eyes. “I’m serious. This woman is the other half of my heart. The one who completes me.”
Chloe gasps, caught off guard. “Who?”
Donovan lifts a hand and dismissively waves away my words. He pats Chloe’s knee, his hand lingering for a moment. “Don’t listen to him, babe. Easy E says this about every pretty lady who crosses his path. Seriously, he’d date a rhinoceros if it was wearing a bra and booty shorts.”
“This girl was no rhinoceros,” I snarl. “She was the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”
Eric: A Clean Billionaire Romance Page 5
