Page 27 of Rock Strong

She was about to end things between us before they’d even started, and panic shot through me. Despite the way I’d fucked up, I couldn’t let her go yet. I couldn’t not explore just a little more what we could be together. But, like she’d said, how could we really do that given the situation we were in?

A magical light bulb turned on inside my head, which occasionally did happen. “Want to get out of here?” I asked, my heart speeding at the thought of my sudden idea.

Her eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean? I have to practice. These are the only moments I have.”

“But we don’t have a show tonight. Today is all downtime. We schedule the tours that way so nobody gets burned out. Let’s go into Seattle. I’ll rent a car, show you around. We can have a blast—a YOLO, carpe diem, seize-the-day shindig. Come on, Ab. Please?” I pressed my hands together in silent prayer. “Look, this is me begging.”

Abby almost cracked a smile. “Liam,” she sighed and finally turned to fully face me. She looked beautiful in a light cotton skirt and tight, pink T-shirt, though the mad lines were still on her forehead. “I don’t think this is going to work out, so let’s not even begin. Agreed?”

She was probably right. The chances of two opposites like us working out for the best were slim. But I had always been a risk-taker, like my parents before me, and they’d made it just fine. I had never taken no for an answer too well either. So it was worth a shot. We were worth a shot. “No, I don’t agree. Come out with me. If after the day together you still feel we won’t work out, so be it. But at least give us the chance to find out in the real world.” I held out my hand.

She looked at my outstretched palm, then at me, wheels turning inside her brain, working overtime to safeguard herself. I understood her impulse to protect herself against hurt, but without pain, there would be no gain. Without risk, there would be no winning. She had to know this. Didn’t she?

I tried a different approach. “I’m your boss. Let’s go have fun. That’s an order.” I smiled.

Registering the look on my face and taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and finally spoke. “Fine,” she sighed, setting the cello gently on its side.

“Yes,” I whisper-cheered.

“But I have to bring my cello with me,” she added. “It comes with me everywhere I go. If you want me to come along with you, the cello comes, too. If you have a problem with it, you can go alone.”

“Okay,” I said, “but you might have a hard time bringing it on the helicopter.”

“What?” Her eyes flew open wide.

I laughed. Quickly, I called Nathan at the hotel, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hey, Nate. I need that car, please. Porsche 911 Carrera 4S. Black, convertible. Leather interior. Seven-speed. Loud speakers. Yes, Bose or Blaupunkt. Or anything like it. Thanks, man.” I hung up, and she cocked an eyebrow at me.

“In the real world, huh?”

I shrugged and grinned. “Hey, I am a rock star. It may not be a helicopter, but we’re still going to fly.”

Chapter 9

Abby

When a man with money and the power to sweep you off your feet says, Let’s go for a ride, you don’t hesitate—you just go. The backseat of the Porsche had just enough space to fit my cello, and the sun was actually out, so I twisted my hair into a clip, and off we headed into the brightness.

Among rock stars, he might not have been the wildest, which was probably for the best, but for me, he was definitely the most spontaneous guy I’d ever met. Money did that to a person, I guess, but my mom and I never had much room for spontaneity. If I needed so much as a new pair of shoes, we planned which budget it would come out of, how much it’d cost to take the train into the city, and which shoe store had the best prices that weekend.

But now, here I was, riding in a fancy sports car whose engine revved like we were about to race the Indy 500. Maybe I should have been concerned when Liam pulled out of the hotel, cornering the Porsche like it was on rails. Oddly enough, I trusted him. Even though I was still mad, something inside me lifted. He was right—we needed to get out.

At the corner, he pressed a button, and the top of the car unhinged, rose over our heads, and disappeared into the back end of the car where a flap came out of nowhere and closed down over it. “Ready?” he asked.

“As ready as a kidnapping victim can ever be,” I murmured, gripping the seat handle

He threw his head back and laughed hard. Then, he put on a slouch cap and sunglasses and gassed it. For a long time, we used no words, just rode through the city, swerving between cars, turning left and right, dodging people waiting to cross the streets, some of whom thought they recognized my driver. Just as they figured him out, though, the light would turn green, and we’d be off again.

“You must get that a lot,” I said.

“All the time.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Not really. Most people are cool about it. Every so often, you run across crazy motherfuckers, but that’s why I wanted this car, so I can speed off if I have to.”

“You don’t need to make up reasons to want this car.” I rolled my eyes.

“You’re right. I just want to impress you. Do I?”

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