Page 56 of How to Be a Rockstar's Girlfriend

I pay and settle at a table away from the window to eat my muffin and drink my coffee in silence. My phone buzzes in my pocket. Good. A distraction. I could use one from the thoughts running through my mind about Mercy and how I messed everything up.

“Hey, Rob,” I answer the phone.

Rob is the studio engineer of Bertie’s Recording Studio. Bertie’s is the studio here in Winter Falls where we recorded our last album. Although the album’s finished, I haven’t left town yet. Winter Falls is as good a place as any to avoid my parents.

“I know this is last minute, but can you fill in as a session guitarist today?” When I don’t answer, he goes on. “I know asking a musician in a big name band to be a session guitarist isn’t usually done, but where am I going to find a guitarist of your caliber in Winter Falls?”

I chuckle. “It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

I don’t have anything better to do. And this will help me avoid my house and Mercy for a little longer.

“When do you need me?”

We make arrangements and I hang up. I’m shoving my phone into my pocket when Bryan sets a plate of pancakes on my table.

“You’re going to need your energy today.”

“You’re not even going to pretend you weren’t listening in?”

He shrugs. “I am who I am.”

He skips away and I dig into my pancakes.

When I finish my breakfast, I stroll across the street to the studio. Everything is close in Winter Falls. I thought it would be stifling when we came to this tiny town in Colorado to record our album, but I’m kind of digging how close everything is. How the residents protect us from fans to allow us to live our lives.

“Holy crap,” a man swears when I enter the studio. “It is Gibson Lewis. I thought Rob was pulling our legs.”

“Always trust your engineer,” I say as I extend my hand.

“I’m Simon.” He pumps my hand up and down with a smile on his face. “Gibson Lewis. You’re Gibson Lewis of Cash & the Sinners.”

“I’m gonna need my hand back if you want me to play.”

“Oh right.” He drops my hand and motions to the other men in the reception area of the studio. “This is Beck, Adam, and Bruce. Beck plays keyboard. Adam is our bass player. And Bruce is our drummer.”

Their mouths gape open as I shake their hands. I get them being starry-eyed. I was the same way when Cash & the Sinners first hit it big and I met some of my favorite musicians.

But I’m in no mood to stand around and chat. My fingers itch for my guitar. Spending the day playing is a surefire way to get Mercy out of my mind.

“Shall we get to work?” I lead them toward the studio. We enter the control room and Rob greets me.

“Thanks, man. I owe you. I’ll send a case of beer over to your place.”

I grimace. Mercy will lose her mind if she finds out I have beer. But I’m not going to drink it. No matter how much my mouth waters at the idea. As long as Mercy and I are in a fake relationship, I agreed not to drink.

Of course, I also agreed the relationship was fake and we wouldn’t have sex. I broke the hell out of the no sex rule yesterday and last night. And this morning.

Why does every thought lead back to Mercy?

I stick my hands in my pockets. “I had the day off anyway.”

“And Mercy’s working?”

I groan. I should have known Rob’s tapped into the gossip chain in this town. The band brought him here for our album but he decided to stay when the studio offered him a permanent position.

“Did you get my guitar?”

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