Encore: A Standalone Rockstar Novel

by Selena Laurence

  "Ahh." She nods knowingly. "And I think it might be working. I noticed several women wearing St. Katherine's t-shirts have walked by multiple times."

  I shake my head and steal her cup of coffee for a sip. "I can't believe I've been reduced to this. And it only took two weeks."

  "Oh, how the mighty have fallen." She grins and takes the cup back. "But if we don't stop hanging out here together, people are going to catch on to us, and I don't want Sara or Quinn to find out through the gossip mill."

  "True," I agree. We discussed things more before coming to the market this morning. We want to be up front with the kids, but it needs to come in increments. First, we can talk about a date or two, and the fact that I'm staying in town for the foreseeable future, then, if things are going okay, we can work our way up to something more serious. One step at a time. No reason to rush. But just the knowledge that she's agreed to give this a try is like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one.

  "Carly!" Sara stage whispers from behind the counter after her customer has left. "Ross said you might be able to help me with the party we're planning."

  Carly gives me a brilliant smile that makes my heart take wing. "Duty calls," she says, handing me the coffee cup one more time.

  After she moves away, Craig appears, Mandy hanging off his arm. Literally, hanging off of it.

  "Hey." I raise an eyebrow at Mandy, who just giggles as she dangles there. "I think you've sprouted a growth of some sort."

  Craig feigns ignorance. "What? What do you mean? Everything's fine here." He does a couple of curls and Mandy struggles to hang on, laughing like a hyena.

  "Huh. My mistake, then," I answer, purposely ignoring the little spider. He and I start talking about the upcoming MLS match between the Rapids and the Galaxy, when Mandy begins bouncing on his arm.

  "Nooo, Uncle Ross! You weren't mistaked. He does have a growth. It's me!"

  Craig lowers his sunglasses and gives me the look over the lenses that says, please make it stop.

  "Oh! Look! There is something there. Or maybe someone. Hey, Mandy. What are you doing?"

  She giggles again, and Craig does a couple more curls. "I'm hanging around on Daddy," she informs me.

  I kneel down to be on her level. "You know what I heard?"

  "What?" she asks breathlessly. God, this kid is adorable. It reminds me of all the moments I've missed with Sara, and I vow to never miss another.

  "That Sara has a chocolate chip muffin for you."

  "Yes!" she shouts, immediately letting go of Craig's arm and doing a fist pump. Then she's off behind the counter to hassle Sara and Dee.

  Craig shakes out his arm. "Bless you, Dude. It's still way too damn early for all that energy."

  "Where's Rob?" I ask.

  "Sleepover with his buddy. Won't be dropped off until noon. Praise Jesus and all that."

  I laugh.

  We hang out and watch the passersby for a bit. Luckily, now that Craig's shielding me from the main walkway, I don't seem to be attracting too much attention. While I'd love to help make Sara's booth a success, I don't actually think a crowd of autograph hounds will help.

  "How'd your dinner go last night?" Craig finally asks as he watches Carly chat with Dee and Ali, who's just shown up.

  I take a sip of coffee to cover the smile that can't seem to leave my face. "Good. Pot roast was edible."

  "Mmhm."

  There's another long silence.

  "Oh, for fuck's sake," he finally snaps impatiently. "What happened with Carly?"

  I grin then, because I just can't restrain the joy. I haven't felt pure joy like this in so long, I truly can't remember the last time.

  "Not going there," I say, even though I know my face is giving it all away.

  He lowers his sunglasses again and examines me, then his own face splits with a grin. "Good," he finally says. "That's good."

  I nod.

  "So, you staying?"

  "Looks that way."

  He slaps me on the back, then. "I'm really happy, man. I've missed you like crazy."

  "I need to work out the details," I tell him. "There are a lot of things to deal with—the tour, the band, where Sara's going to be—"

  "But you'll figure it out, and even if you have to leave now and again, this will be home, right?"

  I wrap an arm around his neck and squeeze. "Yeah. This is home, Dude. This has always been home."

  26

  Carly

  "I think Sara's ideas for her party are really cute," Ali says as she walks with me toward my house after the market.

  "I agree. And thank you for helping her with the food. The fact that she didn't just want to hire you to cater it, and is trying to do most of it herself, is a huge step, from what I've seen."

  Ali waves to Mr. Hermans, our old high school English teacher, as he drives by. Then, as soon as he's turned the corner, she changes to giving him the finger.

  I laugh. "You always did hate English."

  "I always did hate having to read nothing but dead white men writing about how they killed or conquered everything they found in the world."

  "True," I agree. "Four straight years of Hemingway, Conrad, and Melville didn't exactly engender a love of literature in any of us."

  "And you and Ross looked pretty pleased with yourselves today," she says, in the poorest segue in history.

  I know it's probably a wasted effort, but I try to dodge her. "I think we were pleased with the muffins—and also with how excited Sara was."

  She huffs in disdain. "I think you were pleased with all the sex you obviously had last night."

  "Alexandra Carson, bite your tongue. Where did you get the idea I had sex with my friend, Ross?"

  She stops walking and looks at me. I'm hopeless, I cave in five seconds.

  "Okay, fine, we had more sex."

  "And?"

  I start walking again so she'll follow me. "And what?"

  "And what does that mean? You just going to fall into his bed every chance you get until he flies away and leaves you heartbroken?"

  "Um, not exactly?"

  She sighs. "Carly. Really."

  "Really, he says he wants to stay."

  She halts again, hands on hips, as her mouth drops open in shock. "What?!"

  I shrug, a small smile curling my lips. "Yeah. He says he's tired of the whole touring thing and missing Sara, and he wants to really live here, try things between us, too."

  "Shut the front door!" she shouts, drawing a glare from my elderly neighbor, who's outside trimming her rose bush.

  "But don't say anything in front of Quinn or Sara," I tell her. "Or really, don't tell anyone, because we're going to take this slow. I mean, we haven't taken it so slow, but we're going to take it slow around the kids. You know? We don't want to just dump it all on them at once."

  She doesn't answer, just grabs me by the shoulders and yanks me in for a big smothering hug.

  "Oh my God, I'm so excited for you," she squeals as she nearly suffocates me.

  Once I can breathe again, I laugh. "I'm excited for me, too, but we both need to try not to get too excited, because this is early days, and he's not sure how it's all going to work. He has to get together with his bandmates and the lawyers. There are a lot of details to work out."

  "And what about Sara?" she asks. "Won’t she have to go back to her mom’s soon?"

  I release a slow breath, because I know if she were mine, I wouldn’t give her up easily. The idea of having Quinn live halfway across the country, even in high school, isn’t something I’d have been on board with, but then, I haven’t been parenting him completely alone all these years. That’s either going to make Christine happy for a break, or completely unwilling to compromise.

  "I don’t know. He’d really like for her to stay here with him, but it’s way too soon to talk about that. She’s just gotten here and is finding some things and people that interest her. But the thing is, in her mind, it’s all a vacation. She might feel very differe
ntly if she were told it could be permanent. Plus, who knows what her mom will say."

  Ali nods as we open the front door and walk in. Chuck hisses from the top of the stairs.

  "Yeah, fuck you, Chuck," Ali says casually. She and Chuck aren’t buddies.

  "I heard that, Aunt Ali," Quinn says from upstairs.

  "Love you, buddy," she shouts back. "Hate Chuck, but love you."

  "Mom?" Quinn says, popping up behind Chuck at the gate. "Where were you?"

  "At the market," I tell him.

  "When I got home, the porch lights were still on, like no one had been here all night."

  I hear Ali make a choking noise, and I work to keep my voice steady. "I was running late this morning," I say. "I must have forgotten to shut it off. I promised to help Sara Macalester out at the Sunshine Bakery booth. I brought you a piece of pie, too." I dig it out of my purse, knowing that food will distract him.

  "Apple?" he asks, face lighting up.

  "Of course."

  He’s leaped the gate and landed halfway down the stairs before I can take a breath. One more big leap and he lands next to me, grabbing the takeout container from my hand before giving both Ali and me kisses on the cheeks, then charging into the kitchen where we can hear him getting out the ice cream to go on top of the pie.

  "Nicely done," Ali murmurs as we walk toward the living room.

  "Skills," I tell her. "Honed over sixteen years."

  But even as I say it, I know I won’t be able to keep Quinn in the dark for long. My kid is smart. Plenty smart enough to see that I’m falling in love with Ross Macalester.

  Ross: I’ve been thinking about you for two days. When can I see you again?

  I smile as I read the text. It’s Tuesday afternoon and I just got back from lunch. I have two showings this afternoon and a closing tomorrow morning to prepare for, but all I can do is stare at his message.

  Carly: What did you have in mind?

  Ross: You. Me…and Quinn and Sara. She needs you two to come over and try out one of the recipes she wants to make for the party.

  I smile. Sara texted me earlier with this plan. I hadn’t responded yet.

  Carly: Sounds like an invitation I can't refuse.

  Ross: It's going to kill me seeing you and not being able to touch you.

  I feel my cheeks heat at the memory of the way he touches me. God. It's like I'm the third teen in this situation.

  Carly: Maybe we need to plan a little adult time?

  "What a great idea," Ross says as he opens the door to my office.

  I blink at him for a moment, a grin sneaking across my face.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I just dropped Sara at Craig and Dee's, they asked if she could babysit the kids after school for an hour."

  "An hour, huh?"

  "That's right." He smirks as he locks my office door and slowly walks toward my desk.

  "How'd you get in here, anyway?" I ask.

  "I've been buttering up your assistant for the last two weeks."

  "Oh yeah?" I ask as he circles around the desk and stands in front of me. I gaze up at him from where I'm sitting in my chair.

  He leans down, his hands on the arm rests, so I'm pinned.

  "Mmhm," he murmurs, gaze roaming over my face. Everything inside me sparks to life. "How did I live all those years without you?"

  "I think there were lots of models and actresses to fill your time," I whisper as I lean forward, our lips a breath apart.

  "None of them could hold a candle to you," he answers before kissing me senseless.

  27

  Ross

  Sara agrees to walk home after babysitting, so I'm on the porch waiting for her, sipping a beer and enjoying my memories of Carly's office. The image of her bent over the desk, beautiful round ass filling my hands as I pumped into her, puts a grin on my face. The air is crisp, the town is alive, and my heart is full to the brim. Carly. Sara. Craig and Dee and the kids. I can't remember the last time I had this many people I loved all in one place at one time.

  My cell phone rings and my mood is immediately dimmed as I see that it's my bandmate, Stone. I emailed them all this morning, telling them I want to talk about the rest of the tour and the future of the band. I've been waiting all day for one of them to call.

  "Hey, man," I say as I answer. "What took you so long?"

  "Just woke up, Dude. You know I'm not a morning person."

  I look at my Apple Watch and see it's past two in L.A.

  "Half the day's gone already," I tell him.

  "Fuck off. I wish I hadn't woken up at all when it's to some bullshit email from you that sounds like you're ready to leave the band."

  I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves. "I hope it doesn't come to that, but I do want to have some serious discussions about the future."

  "And what do those entail?"

  I hear Blanco barking, and stand to let him out. He hops up on the porch swing with me, and I scratch his little head, the motion soothing to us both.

  "You know I haven't been happy for a while."

  "Yeah ‘cause you turned into someone's fucking grumpy father. If you'd relax and get a few blow jobs on the road, you'd be happier."

  I roll my eyes, even though he can't see me. Stone will never tire of the rockstar life. When he's eighty, he'll still be on the road with groupies. It's why I expected the most pushback from him. Now I'll see if that prediction comes true.

  "I've been back here in my hometown, and Sara's been with me."

  "Nice. Tell the kid Uncle Stone says 'hey.' She still love those weird doll things I used to get her for birthdays?"

  "She's fourteen, man. She doesn't play with dolls anymore." It just goes to show how long it's been since Sara had any regular contact with my work or my bandmates.

  "Shit. Fourteen? Damn, man. How'd that happen?"

  "It happened while we were on tour."

  There's a pause. "Ah, that's what's going on. You want to spend more time with Sara? We can work with that. Maybe take longer breaks in between legs of the tour. And shit, you could bring her along. She's old enough now. Like, bring a nanny or someone to take care of her after the shows when we party. Just make sure the nanny’s hot."

  I shake my head. It's unbelievable what a dumbass he is about anything but music and the music business.

  "She's not coming on tour with us. She has things to do, like go to school, you know?"

  "Fine. More breaks, then. We can do that."

  I sigh. "I'm not looking for more breaks, man. I'm looking to stop touring all together."

  He laughs for a moment but when I don't say anything else, he stops, and the line is silent for several long seconds.

  "You're joking...right?"

  "Nope. I'm absolutely serious."

  "After we finish this one, you don't want to tour again?"

  I clear my throat. This is harder than I'd anticipated. "No. I don't want to go back out at all. I'm done."

  The explosion isn't surprising, but it's still jarring.

  "What the fuck?! You can't just up and quit in the middle of a tour, Ross. I mean, seriously, what the fuck?"

  I see Sara turn onto our street at the end of the block.

  "Look, Sara's coming, so I can't talk about this a lot longer, but you know people leave tours all the time—illness, injury, rehab, whatever. We refund the ticket money and I'll pay whatever penalties the venues levy. The bigger issue is how we decide to go on from here."

  "Jesus Christ," he snarls. "How we go on from here? We don't go on from here, Dude. If we don't tour, we don't earn. You know as well as I do that touring is the cash cow these days. The songs don't earn anything with the streaming model."

  "And how much more money do any of us need?" I snap. "You couldn't spend what you have in ten lifetimes. I don't want to stop making music, I just want to have an actual life, for once."

  "Well, touring is my life," he answers. "And I'm not about to let you take that away from me
. You don't get to make this decision for the rest of us, Ross. You'll be hearing from the attorneys." Then, he disconnects.

  I stop myself from throwing my phone across the porch and try to take a couple of deep breaths as Sara walks up the stairs.

  "Oh, you brought Blanco out," she coos, coming and sitting next to us. "He loves when you let him come outside."

  I give her a tight smile.

  "What's wrong?" she asks.

  I watch her as she kisses Blanco on the nose. She's so much more relaxed than when she arrived. She even has short conversations like this with me, before retreating to her room and Instagram.

  "Nothing," I assure her. "Just got off a call about work."

  Her gaze shoots to me and turns sharp. "Work? Do you have to go back to work? You promised we could have the party. And I want to work at the market again this weekend. My school is still, like, burned to the ground and stuff, and all my friends are on vacations, too. You promised we'd be here a month."

  I'm taken aback at how quickly she's moved from hating it here to wanting to stay the full month. I put a hand on hers gently.

  "No, I'm not going back to work. In fact—" I pause, trying to decide how much I should tell her right now. "I'm going to stop touring. I'm getting tired of all that travel, you know?"

  She blinks at me, then nods, pulling Blanco onto her lap. He makes a funny little growling noise, then licks her face.

  "But what will you do all the time?" she asks, trying not to sound too interested.

  "I thought maybe I could spend more time with you. And I think I like it here in Grove City. I can hang out with Craig. Mow the lawn in the summer. Shovel snow in the winter."

  She gives me the teen eye roll. "Oh my God, Dad, you're so lame."

  And just like that, she called me Dad for the first time in years. I feel my throat thicken with emotion. She suddenly blushes as if she realizes what she did, too.

  "I mean, whatever. It's your life..." She tries to recover and show she doesn't give a damn, but it's too late.

  "Yeah, I'm thinking that lame is sort of the new me. I'm an old guy. We're all lame."