Page 34 of How to Be a Rockstar's Girlfriend

“You made it,” the host greets us.

I glance behind us. He can’t mean us.

Gibson frowns. “This is Elder. He’s Cash’s half-brother.”

I wave. “I’m Mercy.”

Elder waggles his eyebrows. “Are you going to have mercy on poor Gibson?”

I roll my eyes. “Good one. I’ve never heard it before.”

He chuckles as he leads us up the stairs to a booth in the corner. “This is our date table.”

I wait until he’s gone before leaning over the table and hissing at Gibson. “Did you tell everyone we’re on a date?”

His cheeks darken. “My bandmates know since I’m trying to convince them this is real.”

Oh yeah. I forgot this isn’t real for a minute. Head back in the game, Mercy. You’re not falling for another bad boy. Remember how the last one stole all your money?

“I got a job today,” I blurt out. Way to be smooth, Mercy.

He lifts his eyebrow. “You did? I thought you were leaving town as soon as Mercury moves into a home.”

“I’ve got nowhere else I need to be.” My cheeks warm. Could I be more of a loser?

“Fair enough,” he says and relief fills me. “What’s the job?”

“I’m a mechanic and I—”

“Hold on,” Gibson cuts me off. “You’re a mechanic?” I nod. “A car mechanic?”

“Is there any other kind?” My brow wrinkles. “Are you one of those men who think women can’t be mechanics?”

He holds up his hand. “No way. Some of our best roadies are women.”

“What does a roadie do anyway?”

“Set up and dismantle the stage, take care of the instruments and sound and lighting equipment before and after a show.”

“Wow. I didn’t realize how tough a roadie job is.”

“Yeah, we…” He trails off with a scowl.

“What’s wrong?”

He points across the restaurant. I follow his gaze. His bandmates are sitting down at a table on the other side of the room.

“What are they doing here?”

He purses his lips. “They’re here to check on me.”

Before I can ask him any further questions, the waitress arrives. “What can I get you?”

“Burger and a beer.”

I clear my throat. “A beer?”

“It’s just one beer.”

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