Brooklyn Rockstar (Kendall Family #1) (11 page)

“Listen,” he tells me, crossing his arms over his chest. “This chick could either boost your flailing career or put the final nail in its coffin. Give me her name and I’ll have that PI you hired to find Danny run a background check.”

“No way,” I growl, cringing with the thought of anyone prying into her life. “She’s good, Lorenzo. Midwest wholesome. I don’t want anyone poking their nose into her business.”

“Good luck with that. You know how it is. The media won’t stop until they know everything about her.” He shuts the screen on the new laptop and frowns. “If you’re going to use her for a little fun, at least treat her right so you don’t have rabid fans pounding your door down when you break her
wholesome
heart.” Clapping me on the shoulder, he gives me nearly the same damn stern look my father did when I was a kid. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been monogamous,
buddy. America wants to know why this one got your attention. If you’re smart, you’ll wine and dine her like a gentlemen so her new fans have something to salivate over. Milk this thing for as long as you can—social media will eat it up. Maybe it will even make up for the shit you pulled with that reporter and make Rick reconsider backing the album.”

Using Evelyn to get my career back on track is out of the question. Having her in my life for a long time to come is a different story and stirs something foreign in my chest. But am I ready to put her through a media shit-storm that could forever change her life?

S
harlo sits
cross-legged in front of me on the couch, unmoving. I was able to hold her off when we got home from Charlie’s by saying I was exhausted, but in reality I was still unable to think straight after what happened. My mind had been reduced to a blissful haze and all I could think about was our steamy kisses and how badly I wanted to take it further for the first time in
years.
This morning, however, she ambushed me when I sat down to have a bowl of cereal in front of the TV. From her dead serious stare, it’s clear she isn’t going to give-in anytime soon.

“Okay,
fine!”
I blurt, setting the bowl down before throwing my hands up at my sides. “We made out and it was hot as hell!”

“I
knew
it!” she cries, snagging a pillow off the couch and hurling it at me. “What was it like? Is he a good kisser? Is his body as splendid as in the videos or is that just the magic of Hollywood?”

“I didn’t see him
naked
,” I scold, tossing the pillow back. “There was a lot of heavy kissing but the only clothing removed was the strap on my dress.”

I shudder with the memory of his hot tongue in my mouth and his big hands exploring my body. It was hands-down the hottest make-out session of my life. If Sharlo hadn’t interrupted us, I don’t know that either of us would’ve had the willpower to stop.

“Everything about him is so…
intense
,” I continue. “You did a stellar job of getting him worked up over that incident outside the bar.”

Her blond eyebrows rise. “Why do you suppose I told him? I could bloody well
feel
the heat between you two. The way he was making eyes at you I was afraid I wouldn’t make it outside before your tongues were down each other’s throats.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for that, I guess. Next time you may want to think twice before poking a grizzly bear with a stick.” A wide smile creeps over my lips. “He’s bringing dinner tonight over my break.”

“Get out!” she roars, violently slapping the couch. “If I didn’t adore you so much I’d completely despise your hot arse right now! Dinner with Charlie Walker! Who would’ve ever guessed he’s actually the type to date?”

Not me, that’s for sure. “I told him I’m not interested in being one of his conquests. He says he wants to get to know me better, but he
is
a rockstar. I’m worried hanging out with him will be a complete waste of my time.”

“Would you stop worrying already and let yourself have a little fun? I don’t feel one bit sorry for you. Having American’s most eligible bachelor stick his tongue down your throat is better than winning the bloody lottery.”

Snorting, I realize “most eligible bachelor” is just another way to describe him as being a total player. I glance at the metal clock on the wall and grab my bowl of cereal. “I have to get ready for work.”

When I stand, she wraps me in a strong hug. “I do hope you’re ready to have your world properly rocked.”

“I’m not so sure that I am,” I answer in all seriousness.

L
eona’s is
the busiest it’s been during any of my shifts, which is perfect. It doesn’t give me much time to dwell on the fact that Charlie will be stopping by to see me in mere hours. Not only am I nervous about whether or not we’ll kiss again, but it freaks me out that my coworkers or someone at the bar might recognize him and have a hundred questions.

After the flow of customers grabbing an early dinner finally eases up, I’m cleaning off a table when I catch a teenage girl a few tables away snapping my picture. Her friend’s eyes widen and they begin to whisper to each other behind their hands.

Tilting my head, I stroll over to them and set my hands on my hips. “Can I help you ladies?”

“You’re
her
, aren’t you?” the skinny one with a pixie haircut asks. Her lips twist in amusement. “The chick kissing Charlie Walker last night.”

Wincing, I look down as heat fills my cheeks. I almost forgot about that woman from
Celebrity Insider.
Did she post a video? Charlie was so upset after Sharlo told him what happened that I’m afraid if he sees the woman pulling my hair with his own eyes, it’d send him over the edge.

I look back up at the girls and shake my head. “We didn’t
kiss
.”
Not at that point anyway.
I look over to make sure the only other patron isn’t paying attention before stepping closer to her. “Did someone post my picture?”

“You really don’t know, do you?” the heavier girl with a ton of piercings asks. “Pictures of you are
everywhere
.” She taps on her phone a few times before smirking and handing it to me. “You’ve been trending like
all day
.”

Through her cracked screen, I see a Tweet with three pictures of myself and Sharlo from last night, including one of my hair getting pulled.

I click on the second hashtag and my jaw drops. There’s a microphone with the words “top news story” above one of the Tweets about me. I scroll down to find hundreds more, all talking about
me
and what I was wearing or guessing my identity. There are a few snide comments from fans like the hair pulling bitch, but most are actually pretty nice and complimentary.

“This has to be a joke,” I mutter while gaping at a side by side of myself and Mila Kunis, suggesting we’re somehow related.

“You’ve totally gotten your fifteen minutes of fame,” pixie cut girl tells me, giggling. “They say you have to do something big while it’s happening if you want to stay famous.”

“What are you going to do?” her friend asks, eyebrows raised.

“This is crazy,” I say, shaking my head. With shaking hands I hand her phone back. “What were you going to do with that picture of me?”

“Post it, of course,” pixie cut girl answers. “Unless you wanted a better one of the three of us together.”

“That’s crazy,” I tell them. “I’m no one, I swear.”

“Twitter says otherwise,” pierced girl answers. She shrugs. “You’re really pretty. You should look into modeling or acting. Everyone thinks you’re one or the other already anyway.”

My heart takes on an irregular beat, and I become short of breath. When my dad and brothers see this, they’ll probably buy me a ticket for the next flight back home.

Pixie cut girl bounces in her seat, smiling. “So are you really dating him? What’s he like?”

I stick my trembling hands in my back shorts pockets. “We’re not together. We just talked.” I’m not about to tell these girls I’ll be seeing him again in a few hours. I don’t want the whole world knowing my business or following us.

“So can we get a picture with you?” pixie cut girl asks. “
Please
?”

I hold my hands up, motioning for her to stop. “I don’t want
anything
posted. Seriously. If my name or where I work got out to the public, I’d be screwed.” I glance back to where Hope is pouring a glass of beer behind the bar. I don’t want to give everyone here a reason to hate me so early on.

“I promise we won’t mention where we saw you,” pixie cut girl says. “You’ll be giving us fifteen minutes of fame too.”

Studying their hopeful expressions, I sigh and motion for them to join me. “I’ll agree to it as long as you promise not to tell
anyone
where you saw me. Seriously. I could lose my job.”

The girls each spring from their seats, grinning madly. They stand on either side of me as pixie cut girl holds her phone out in front of us. “Big smile!” she says. My lips spread, but my heart isn’t in it.

I’m relieved when they leave right after getting their picture. While Hope tells me and another waitress about her date the night before with a tattoo artist, I scroll through my phone to discover I’m literally
everywhere
on the web. It’s like I’ve arrived in some alternate world where people become famous for literally nothing. Then I remember that’s what happened to the Kardashians and cringe.

“You look as if
you
could use a drink,” someone on the other side of the bar says. I look up to find an older, attractive blonde sitting in one of the stools, wrapping the end of her sleek ponytail around her hand. Something about her feels familiar. “Everything alright?”

“I’m good,” I say, tilting my head. “Have we met?”

She drops her ponytail, eyes wide. “Weren’t you and that British girl standing by me the night Charlie Walker played?”

My stomach coils around itself. It’s the woman in the fuck-me-heels who claimed to be Charlie’s date. All at once I wonder if I’m going to hurl. “Yeah, that was me. You were invited by him, right?”

She waves a hand through the air. “Yeah, except he had to leave shortly after I met up with him back stage. Something about a scheduling conflict. It’s okay though. He’s not really my type.”

Ummm…rejected much?

“Bummer.” Relieved to hear they didn’t hook up, I offer a genuine smile. “I’m Evelyn.”

Her smile is far from sincere, as if drawn on with a marker. “Parker,” she answers.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Jameson, on the rocks.” The fake smile fades when she squints her eyes. “Aren’t you the girl that’s all over the internet today? The one that was spotted making out with Charlie last night? At least
one of us
lucked out with him.”

Not her too. “We weren’t
making out.”
Moaning, I twist my fingers through my hair and shake my head. “This is insanity. I just moved out here. I have an older brother who will
freak
if he gets wind of this.”

Her eyebrows shoot upward. “Where are you from?”

“A small town in rural Minnesota.”

“I have an aunt who lives there,” she says, nodding. “What part?”

“Blue River. It’s in the southwest corner.”

Parker shrugs. “I wouldn’t get too worried if I were you. At least they aren’t giving out your name. This kind of thing doesn’t last long. I’m sure it will all blow over in the next couple of days.”

“Yeah, except you’re not the first one to come in here and recognize me.”

She cocks one eyebrow. “Chances are this older brother of yours won’t hear about you. Does he read celebrity gossip? Is he on Twitter?”

I giggle when picturing James trying to figure out how to send a Tweet. “You’re right, he probably won’t come across anything.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s not like you’re his
girlfriend
or anything, right?”

Detecting a hint of jealousy in her voice, I decide it’s a good time to end the conversation. “I’ll get your drink,” I tell her before spinning around. The way she was drooling over him at the show it’s obvious she’s one of his groupies, and I’m not ready for another hair-pulling incident.

As I’m pouring her whiskey, my phone vibrates beside the cash register with a message. I pick it up to find a text from an unknown number.

Knowing I’ll see Charlie again soon sends my heart racing. As much as I don’t want any more reasons to infuriate James, I can’t deny myself the right to see where this thing with Charlie goes.

Keeping myself busy, I avoid any more conversations with Parker. She only stays long enough to finish her drink.

The next several hours fly by when the place becomes packed with an early evening crowd. Before I know it, it’s almost time for the date.
My date with Charlie Walker
. No matter how many times I say it to myself, I can hardly believe it’s true. How in the hell did I manage to grab the attention of someone so famous, and why am I so ready to believe that he’s suddenly interested in committing himself to one woman?

Minutes before he’s to arrive, I’m bent over a toilet in the bathroom, convinced I’m going to hurl. I shouldn’t have agreed to let Charlie bring me something to eat. I’ll be lucky if I can sit in the same room as him without shaking. Since those girls took that picture, I’ve been on edge every time my phone dings with a text from my dad or one of my brothers. Thankfully they’re all still in the dark and haven’t mentioned anything unusual. I’m starting to think that I was wrong and I should shut this thing down before everything changes.

“Evelyn, you in here?” Hope calls out. “There’s some guy out here waiting for you with food. Said his name’s CJ.”

My heart skips a beat with the mention of his nickname. I guess I’m really going to do this.

Deciding my stomach won’t be coming up anytime soon, I flush the toilet before stepping out to meet her. “I hope it’s okay if he hangs with me in the break room.”

“Of course. You should have it all to yourselves,” she answers with a friendly smile. Before leaving the bathroom, she stops to nudge me with her elbow. “Your friend’s awfully cute. Take all the time you need.”

Her comment sends my stomach into somersaults. The thought of taking my time to do anything with Charlie slows my breathing. I check myself in the mirror, glad I let Sharlo curl my hair in big waves before she left for work. Taking a gulping breath of air, I head out to the hallway.

I hear the deep roll of his voice before I see him. The second I lay eyes on Charlie, wearing the same Nets hat with cargo shorts and a short-sleeved Stones T-shirt that displays his sleeve tattoo in all its colorful glory, I freeze in place. Take-out bag tucked under his thick arm, he’s relaxed as he talks with someone around the corner.

My eyes drink in the large muscles flexing across his chest when he uses his inked arm to express a point before breaking out in a delightful smile. The deep sound vibrates inside my chest and all the way down to my toes, renewing all the complex feelings that have been building since the night I saw him perform.

The hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on is here. Waiting for
me.

You can do this, I tell myself. He’s a normal human being just like everyone else. You’ve seen where he lives and it was like any other rich person’s house. He may be the sexiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on and every other woman in America thinks the same, but you’re the one he wants to see. No matter how many times you read about him being a player.