by Tara Leigh
At one time I thought Amelia was as much a part of me, a part of my family, as music.
Apparently that feeling wasn’t mutual.
It didn’t stop me from following her all the way to Los Angeles. Same country, same language, but the city itself felt foreign. Nothing made sense to me. Not my past, or my future. Everything was noise.
A sign promising live music had drawn me into a dark, gritty bar one night. Nursing a single beer as a rotating cast of mediocre bands took the stage, I’d been trying to decide how much longer I could bear to stay in L.A. How much longer until I’d be expelled from Juilliard. How much longer I wanted to spend looking for Amelia when it was clear she didn’t want to be found. Not by me, anyway.
I’d just decided to call it quits for the night so I could get an early jump on my Amelia-hunting the following morning when the place went silent. I was used to silence at venues—classical-music audiences know how to keep their mouths shut and their phones muted. But this crowd…not the silent type.
Every eye in the place was trained on the guys that had taken to the stage, and an unmistakable thrill of anticipation shuddered in the air. I put my empty glass on the bar and gave them my full attention. It wasn’t the lead singer’s voice that drew me in—though it was a throaty growl like nothing I’d ever heard before—it was the musicians behind him that fascinated me. The drummer and bassist were in perfect sync, and though loud, their music could never be classified as noise. The guitarist was a different story though. I didn’t know the song, but I could tell that he was three notes behind. Judging by the looks he was getting from his bandmates, they knew, too.
About halfway through their set, the front man stopped the show. “Tryin’ something new tonight. T.J. here is gonna get off this stage before he falls off.” He grabbed the guitar and half shoved the guy down the stairs. “Anyone here know their way around this thing and wanna join us?”
Music.
An instrument I’d never touched before.
An audience.
Fuck if I could resist the invitation.
Two hours later I was closing out the bar with three guys who already felt like family.
Meanwhile, my own family didn’t seem all that disappointed that I never returned to New York, or to Classic Hughes. Without Amelia and me, they became the Hughes Quintet, traveling all over the world to perform in prestigious opera houses and musical halls.
And Nothing but Trouble was born.
Verity
The lights in the studio were dim. If I closed my eyes I could pretend I was alone in the room, that there was no one beyond the glass window lining the wall in front of me. That I wasn’t being watched. Studied. Scrutinized.
I should be used to it by now. And I was. But there was always a part of me that felt worn down by the stares of strangers. Like beach glass abraded into insignificance by the bite of the ocean’s spray, the scrape of sand.
I gripped the microphone in front of me like a lifeline. And in many ways, it was. It was going to give me my life back.
Correction—it was as going to give me a life. Period.
A life of my own. One where I didn’t owe anyone anything.
Not a damn thing.
For an inanimate object made of aluminum and mesh, the mic pulsed comfortingly in my hands. But once the first strains of music came through my headphones, I let it go…and I let go.
My hair caressed my shoulder blades as I arched my neck and opened my mouth, my voice a balm that soothed the bitterness coating my tongue. With each word and lyric that escaped, I felt lighter. Like I could flap my arms and fly away at any minute. Free.
I was a singer. It was what I did, what I loved. How had I become an actress? A shell of a person playing a role. Mouthing words someone else wrote, pretending to be someone I wasn’t.
The process had been gradual, I guessed. Especially since the role I played was a pop-star-in-the-making, singing saccharine-sweet songs every other episode.
I’d barely even noticed the bars going up around me until I was locked inside a cage. But here, now, in this small recording studio, alone and yet watched, singing a song I had chosen, it felt as if I’d finally come home. I felt heard.
For so long, my voice had been silenced.
But it had never disappeared.
It had been inside me, quietly biding its time. Well, that time was now. I was done waiting. Done letting anyone or anything, including my own fears and insecurities, silence me.
Too soon, with the last note still vibrating on my tongue, the music in my ears was cut off. I opened my eyes, and the world rushed back at me—a sea of faces turned my way. But rather than feel like a monkey in someone else’s cage, I focused on Piper’s huge grin, and the unobtrusive thumbs-up she gave me. Taking a deep breath, I gave a little curtsy, using the brief moment my head was turned to the ground to get my game face back on.
This time Verity Moore would not be played.
Two more auditions followed, and we were just leaving the last Sixth Avenue skyscraper when Travis pushed back his sleeve to squint at his watch. “I’m going to check in with Dax, and then I have a dinner tonight.”
My nerves had quieted over the course of the afternoon, but at the mention of his name, they returned to high alert.
“Oh.” Piper’s face registered surprise as we stood on the sidewalk, a car idling at the curb. “I didn’t realize Dax was in town, too.”
Already scrolling through his phone, Travis responded without looking up. “Yeah, he got here before we did. Some family thing.”
“So, I’ll head back to the hotel with Verity for now and meet you—”
“No.” Travis gestured to the car. “I want you to take Verity out for dinner, show her a nice night.”
My cheeks flushed red. I didn’t need a babysitter, and I didn’t want Piper feeling obligated to entertain me. We’d spent a lot of time together over the past month or so, and not only did I respect her, but I liked her, too. But I wasn’t sure whether she felt the same, and my track record with female friendships was horrible. “Travis, I’m perfectly capable of making my own arrangements. Piper doesn’t need to—”
Piper put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be silly. If you haven’t already made plans, I’d love to spend tonight celebrating your success.”
“Let’s not go that far quite yet—bad luck to count chickens and all that.”
Travis grunted as he looked at his phone. “Go ahead. Look like one of them has already hatched.” He slipped it back in his pocket. “We’ll see where we are after our meetings tomorrow. But in the meantime—keep it low-key. No nightclubs, no celebrity hot spots. The paparazzi don’t know you’re here, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Chapter Three
Dax
Is this a setup?”
Shane hid his mouth with the neck of his beer, but I could still see the twist of his lips behind it. “Setup—what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you saying you were having a few friends over.” I lifted a brow. “Your guest list is me and three chicks.”
After meeting with Travis earlier, I’d been looking forward to kicking back with Shane for a bit before returning to the hotel, getting a few hours of sleep, and flying home tomorrow. This trip had kicked my ass, and I couldn’t wait for it to be over.
I’d come to celebrate the twins’ birthday a couple of days ago, and my parents had guilted me into staying for the Lincoln Center show last night. I would have already been on a plane, but then my sister had asked me to come to her in-school recital today.
Saying no to my only sister wasn’t a skill I’d ever mastered.
I was hardly in the mood to play rock-star Romeo to someone I’d hopefully never see again.
“One is Piper and one is Travis’s newest client, so according to you, they don’t count. It’s the other one I want you to meet. Dude, you should be thanking me. You’re the one who refuses to date anyone in the music industry. Or, as y
ou say, anyone who wants to fuck a musician for the sake of fucking a musician.” He scoffed. “That’s basically every woman we know. You’re really culling the herd a little too thin, don’t you think?”
I took a swig from my own bottle. “I do just fine, Shane. Don’t need you playing pussy broker.”
Shane shook his head. “From what I can see, you’re not doing anyone.”
I must have given Shane a blank stare, because he started going off about how much better life was with a girlfriend. And I was happy for him. I was. He’d really met his match in Delaney.
But I’d already met my match.
It hadn’t ended well.
And I wasn’t interested in a lecture either, although I didn’t bother stopping him. I’d long ago mastered the art of looking straight at someone and not paying any attention to what was coming out of their mouth.
Unlike the majority of the past thirty-six hours, I was finally thinking about someone other than the redhead from the elevator. My sister.
Earlier today, Aria had shocked me by announcing that she wanted to leave the Hughes Quintet and move to L.A. There were a lot of things wrong with that scenario, not least of which that my lifestyle wasn’t conducive to babysitting my seventeen-year-old sister. Of course, when I said as much to her, Aria had practically jumped down my throat, saying that if I didn’t help her, she’d find someone who would.
What the fuck?
My sister was as sheltered as they came. Who could she “find” to help her leave her parents and move to Los Angeles? And what would they want in return?
I’d tried to get an answer out of her, asking those same questions a dozen different ways. Aria might be naïve, but she was no dummy. I got no information except that she wanted to leave the Hughes Quintet, move to L.A., get a job in Hollywood—as a musician or an actress—and become a famous celebrity.
What teenager didn’t?
And if she’d been just another teenager, I wouldn’t have worried so much. But Aria was beautiful and smart and insanely talented. Realistically, my sister had a damn good shot.
If her career was managed by someone who wouldn’t take advantage of a vulnerable girl with stars in her eyes.
Which was why I’d met with Travis an hour ago. To ask if he would consider managing Aria—when she turned eighteen. He’d agreed. Now I just had to convince Aria not to rock the boat until she was of age.
Saying no outright might not be my strong suit. But stalling…
I was good at that.
Verity
Two hours later, after a pit stop at the hotel for a few minutes of downtime and a change of clothes, we pulled into the gated underground entrance of a Tribeca apartment building. I glanced at Piper in surprise once we were both out of the car. “Wow.”
My nerves at meeting Shane Hawthorne, who had one of the most soulful voices I’d ever heard, and his gorgeous girlfriend were momentarily quieted as I gawked at the elaborate brickwork and thick marble columns surrounding us.
“I know,” Piper murmured as we followed a uniformed attendant into the elevator. “This place is amazing. Shane bought it when Delaney decided to finish her degree at NYU.”
“If the parking garage looks like some kind of ballroom, I can only imagine what their apartment looks like.”
“Tell me about it. I stopped by last night and I kept expecting someone from MTV Cribs to appear around a corner, but I doubt they’d get in. The security measures in this building are over-the-top, which is exactly why Shane and Delaney picked it. The paparazzi have calmed down a bit, but things were pretty crazy for a while.”
While I was on The Show, I’d felt the glare pretty hard, too. I’d expected it to fade once filming wrapped, but almost three years had passed and the spotlight had barely dimmed. “What about the band? Doesn’t Shane have to be in California?”
“Sometimes. They bounce back and forth between here and Malibu, depending on her school schedule and his touring and recording schedule.” She sighed. “If they didn’t deserve their happily-ever-after more than any other couple I knew, I’d hate them both.”
My lips twitched as I agreed. Everyone knew about the bumps that had littered the path of their relationship, and even I, a complete cynic when it came to love—especially celebrity couples—wanted to believe Shane and Delaney were as adorable as they appeared. “Are you sure they don’t mind me tagging along?” I whispered, following Piper’s long-legged stride down the hall.
“Of course not. Delaney and I had some girl time yesterday. As far as I know, tonight’s just a low-key dinner. Us and a couple of others. Delaney said something about wanting to set up one of her friends from school with—”
The rest of Piper’s sentence was cut off by a petite woman sporting dark, glossy hair and a huge smile bouncing into the hall. “I thought you guys would never get here.”
She gave Piper a hug, pulling back to look closely at her face. “You okay?”
I couldn’t see Piper’s expression, but the concern on Delaney’s face had me wondering if something was wrong. If there was, Piper hadn’t so much as hinted at it. But her voice was strong when she answered with a brusque “Of course.”
A momentary frown betrayed Delaney’s skepticism, but it was gone by the time she turned to me. “Verity, so nice to meet you.” I felt the genuine warmth in her gaze. “How are you enjoying being the latest project of Piper the drill sergeant?” There was an easy confidence to her and no hesitation when she reached out to hug me, too.
It felt nice. Really nice. And also foreign. When was the last time I’d been hugged without the weight of someone else’s expectations pressing on me? Men with roving hands who wanted more than just a quick embrace. Fans who squealed in my ear as they held me tight, yanking at my waist while taking a selfie.
But tonight there was no apprehensive prickle at the back of my neck when Delaney touched me. No sense that there was any ulterior motive at play.
“Believe me, I’ve worked with worse.” I squeezed a laugh through the tightness in my throat as I followed her inside the apartment.
She raised a sleek sable brow. “Sounds like you have a few stories behind that deflection.”
“None worth telling, believe me,” I said, ignoring the tremor that vibrated though my spine.
Delaney didn’t push, instead leading us toward a kitchen on one side of the enormous open room. “Shane had drinks set up out on the terrace, but I nabbed a bottle of champagne so you can keep me company while I finish cooking. One of my friends from school was supposed to join us, too, but she had an incident with a bike messenger.”
Piper and I looked at each other, then back at Delaney. “An incident?”
“Mmmm. I offered to sit with her at the hospital while they put her arm in a cast, but apparently the resident is a dead ringer for McDreamy and she’s only too happy to play the damsel in distress.” She opened a drawer and pulled out an enormous spoon. “They’re going on a date next week.”
“I love a good silver lining,” I added.
Delaney grinned in acknowledgment, then turned away to stir something in the pot on the stove. “Piper, the champagne is in the fridge. Would you mind opening it?”
“Sure, but I’m not—”
“There’s Vitamin Water in there, too.”
I’d almost forgotten that Piper had been tasked to watch over me. “Piper, please. You don’t have to pass up a glass on my account.”
“It’s not you. I promise.” She looked uncomfortable for a moment. “I—I’m on a cleanse. No alcohol, gluten, that kind of thing.”
Something about her answer was off, starting with the fact that I’d seen her eating crackers on the plane yesterday, but who was I to judge?
Piper uncorked the champagne and poured two glasses. By the time she’d filled hers with lemon Vitamin Water, Delaney and I were holding ours up. “What should we cheers to?”
“To Verity’s career comeback,” Piper proposed.
I cocked my hea
d to the side. “You’re off the clock, remember? And not everything has to revolve around me. I’d prefer it didn’t, actually.”
Delaney burst out laughing. “I like her,” she said, talking to Piper as if I weren’t there. “Okay, how about we cheers to fun nights with new friends and old?”
We clinked rims, and I felt my guard dropping a bit further. Celebrity had a way of insulating you from all but the most shallow relationships. Possibly because there were so few people in Hollywood whose depth went beyond their layers of makeup.
Piper and Delaney appeared to be an exception to the rule, in more ways than one.
My thoughts returned to Dax Hughes, and not merely because I was in his bandmate’s apartment. I’d barely been able to take my mind off him since the elevator doors closed. The man was occupying space in my mind I didn’t want to share. What kind of man is he? Yesterday, there had been a playful undertone to Dax’s aloofness, almost an uncertainty. As if flirting wasn’t something he did often.
This trip to New York was important to me, a stepping-stone vital to achieving my dreams. But I’d been dreading it. The last time I’d been here was a nightmare. The kind you awake screaming from, gulping breaths and soothing yourself that it wasn’t real. That it was just your mind playing a horrible trick.
Well, the trick had been on me.
Which was why I was surprised that I’d been able to remain in the elevator with Dax, a man who could pin me to the wall without breaking a sweat. His eyes had made a leisurely, appraising sweep over my body, but there was no leer inside his smile, no malicious intent in his gaze.
Oddly, what had made me feel comfortable in that small box was that Dax looked so uncomfortable—and it wasn’t just his pulling at the collar of his starched shirt, his fingers twisting at the knot of his tie. Beneath his gorgeous olive skin was a hesitant wariness, a man who wore his suspicion like a shield.
Wouldn’t you like to know.
The truth was, I wanted to know everything about Dax Hughes. Not just what I could discover with a Google search or by poring through gossip sites. I wanted to break through that invisible barrier, chip away at it bit by bit. Reveal what he’d concealed.
