Page 22 of How to Be a Rockstar's Girlfriend

He coughs. “I did.”

“I wish I had met her.”

I don’t know anything about her except that she died. I don’t even know when she died. My mom didn’t give me any details and Uncle Mercury isn’t exactly forthcoming.

“Where is your young man?” Mercury asks. I guess he’s done talking about his wife. No surprise there.

“He’ll be here.” I hope.

“Good. I want you settled before I move into the nursing home.”

“Settled?”

He nods. “Love, marriage, babies. Settled.”

“Hold on, Uncle Mercury. You can’t change the deal now. You promised to go into a nursing home if I have a boyfriend. There was no talk of marriage and babies.”

Is this whole fake dating agreement with Gibson for nothing? I’m certainly not marrying the man. And I’m definitely not having his babies. Is being a player hereditary? I know being an alcoholic is. I can’t chance it.

“What deal?” He asks.

Is he serious? “You said—”

“Do I hear an engine?” Mercury interrupts to ask.

I glance behind me. A Hummer is pulling into the driveway. I frown when I realize the engine is electric. Some vehicles shouldn’t have electric engines no matter how good it is for the environment.

Gibson exits the vehicle and waves to me before reaching inside to pull out a bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine.

He bounds up the steps toward me. “Couldn’t wait to see me, country girl?”

I roll my eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Aren’t you going to kiss me hello?” He winks and I shove him away. He laughs as he rights himself.

“After you, darling.” He holds the door open for me.

“Darling?”

“I was trying it on.” His nose wrinkles. “No?”

“No.”

We enter and I try to observe the place from his perspective. A rich rockstar who can have anything he wants. I cringe. This house is not rockstar worthy.

The floorboards creak, the windows are bare since Mercury won’t let me hang curtains, the rugs are thin and non-existent in some places, and the furniture is worn. I think it’s charming. Gibson probably wants to run away.

Uncle Mercury stands as we enter. I lead Gibson to him. “This is my uncle, Mercury.”

Gibson smiles at him. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Mercury.”

Mercury scowls. “Just Mercury. I ain’t no mister.”

“Mercury.” Gibson offers him the bottle of wine. “This is for you.”

“Can’t drink. Too much medicine the voodoo doctor has me on.”

“Mercy will enjoy it?” He offers the bottle to me but I refuse to accept it.

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