Page 5 of Rock Star

I lowered my gaze, guilt tightening in my chest. It should have been me not Dad to have given up work to take care of Mom, but he’d argued against it, saying I had my future in front of me. I wouldn’t let him down, I resolved. I would make a success of myself for their sake… I owed it to them.3A week after my try-out with ChiMera, Joe, their driver and a member of CM’s security detail, opened the back door of the silver BMW SUV for me outside our condo. I waved at Mom, who was looking out of the window of our second-floor apartment, and she waved back. Dad stood behind her, and I caught the proud smile on his gaunt face. I took my seat in the car; they could no longer see me through the heavily tinted windows, but I kept waving at them anyway until our crappy building was out of sight.

I rubbed my nervous hands down my jeans and sucked in a shaky breath. Today was my first day at work. After the blood test had revealed I was clean of drugs, and I’d gotten Dad to check through the paperwork CM’s lawyers had given me, I signed the contract in front of a notary yesterday, cashing the signup bonus check on my way home so I was able to buy a ton of groceries. The terms of my employment were more than generous—I even had health insurance for the duration— and today, after rehearsals, a stylist would be seeing me to discuss my image. My image! I pinched myself for the zillionth time. This was actually happening… although it still felt surreal.

Throughout the twenty-minute ride to Sunset Blvd, I hummed and sang scales to warm up my voice. The closer we got to arrival the more butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Eventually, Joe pulled up in the parking lot behind the iconic Crossroads of the World building, where CM had their headquarters. Before I could open the door for myself, he’d leaped out to do it for me.

“No need for that,” I said, aiming to be helpful. “I’m perfectly capable.”

He frowned. “It’s my job, Miss Johnson. Before I let you out of the car, I have to do a risk assessment.”

Risk of what? I was about to ask him, but he was speaking into his cell and was telling somebody we’d arrived.

It was a mild March morning and the asphalt radiated warmth up my legs as I hitched my bag over my shoulder and walked with Joe into the building. We went up a short flight of stairs and through the lobby to the same room where I’d tried out with the band a week ago. They were there already, Axel pacing like a caged tiger. It struck me that he was beautiful in the way that big cats are—only from a distance. Just like them, he had the power to pounce and devour you, and I’d need to be damn careful in his company.

His muscles rippled under a tight black t-shirt and his expressive eyes blazed bright. “Hey, Phoenix.” He unleashed the smile that made his fangirls go weak at the knees. “The guys and I are stoked you’re on the team.”

I shivered inside. He was having the wrong kind of effect on me. No way did I want to be another notch on his incredibly long belt. I placed my bag on a chair and told myself I was being silly. Axel had done nothing to suggest he thought of me in a sexual way… I’d overreacted, pure and simple.

“I’m happy to be here.” A flush crept across my cheeks. “I mean, this gig is a dream come true for me.”

Axel laughed, but it wasn’t a mocking laugh, and the rest of the guys joined in.

“Your enthusiasm is refreshing,” Jake commented from where he was standing leaning against the wall. “Just what ChiMera needs at this point in time.”

He was referring to the elephant in the room, the gaping hole left by Ella’s death.

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. Instead, I turned my gaze to the lead guitarist, Rhys. He was cradling the neck of his vintage seventies Stratocaster like it was a woman he was in love with. He flicked his long black hair over his shoulder. “Welcome to the House of Fun,” he said, quoting a line from the British band Madness’ song.

Pierce, perched on a stool behind his skins, clacked his drumsticks together. “Hey, Phoenix.”

“Hey, Pierce,” I responded, feeling his impish blue eyes assessing me.

“Call me Foxy, babe. Everyone does.” He winked.

The dude was cute. Cute like a Tasmanian Devil. Thankfully, I wasn’t attracted to cute dudes with blue eyes and dark hair. Dudes with collar-length dirty-blond hair and smoldering dark eyes were another matter…

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