Page 1 of How to Catch a Rockstar

Chapter 1

Aurora – a woman who thinks she has everything under control

Aurora

“Come on. Come on,” I mutter as I dance in front of the stupid automatic doors at the emergency room.

The doors finally begin to open and I force myself through the gap. My purse gets caught – Ugh! I don’t have time for this! – and I tug on it until it flies through the opening and slaps me on the thigh.

I ignore the pain and run to the nurse’s station. “Jett Peterson,” I gasp out. “Where is he?”

The nurse purses her lips as she fiddles with her computer. “There is no Jett Peterson here,” she finally says.

“But I was notified—”

I slam my mouth shut when I realize of course there’s no Jett Peterson. Jett would never use his real name. Duh. The groupies from Cash & the Sinners would have the hospital surrounded in no time while they screamed the drummer’s name.

And it would be my job to get rid of them, manage the press, and ensure Jett wasn’t bothered. It’s not as if their manager, my boss, would handle any of the work.

I clear my throat and try again. “Do you have an Evel Knievel?”

Since Jett is an adrenaline junkie, he often uses the stunt performer’s name when he’s incognito. How it’s incognito to use the name of a stuntman who’s been dead for over a decade is beyond my comprehension. But it usually works.

The nurse consults her computer again. “He’s in exam room three.”

“Thank you,” I say as I hurry toward the exam rooms.

I wish I could say I don’t know where exam room three is, but this is not my first rodeo at the hospital with Jett. Not even close. I hope he hasn’t broken any bones. Despite what he thinks, he can’t go on stage with a broken arm.

The doctor is exiting the room when I arrive. I stop him.

“Doctor.” I flash him a smile. “How is he?”

“He has a concussion and several contusions but no broken bones.”

No broken bones is good but a concussion is not.

“How severe is the concussion? Will you be keeping him overnight? Does he need any additional tests? Does someone need to stay with him? Does he have any memory loss?”

The doctor’s eyes widen at my rapid-fire questions. Like I said. Not my first rodeo.

“It’s a mild concussion but we need to keep him overnight for observation.”

I frown. Jett is going to lose his mind when he hears he has to stay overnight in the hospital. For someone who thinks it’s fun to jump out of perfectly fine airplanes, he has an aversion to hospitals. The emergency room is okay, but put him on a bed and wheel him toward the elevator? He loses his dang mind.

Could this day get any worse?

“We’ll need a private room and a service elevator to transfer him upstairs.”

The doctor sighs. “I guess he wasn’t lying about being a rockstar.”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll send someone over to help with the arrangements.”

“Thank you.”

He walks off with a scowl on his face and I face the door. I straighten my back and gather my courage for another encounter with Jett the man who has a smile and a laugh for everyone but me. To me, he’s an asshole. He makes me question my decision to remain the personal assistant for Cash & the Sinners at least twenty times a day.

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