“But Owen. You can’t just quit your job, sell your house, and run away with a band. People just… don’t do that.” When her childhood sweetheart Owen breaks off their engagement, quits his job and sells his house in order to pursue a career as the lead guitarist of a band, Emily’s world comes crashing down around her. Owen was, after all, her best friend and always had been. They had grown up next-door neighbours, gone to the same school, the same university. They had even bought houses next to each other. They had been each other’s first for everything. Absolutely everything. There had never been anyone else, not even for a moment. Just as Emily begins to find her feet again and form her own plans, Owen’s back up singer calls in sick, and Emily steps in to save the day. Soon she finds herself swept up in a crazy ride to the top of the music industry which might just save her relationship with Owen… or end it completely.
View More“Perfect,” Aaron gave James the thumbs up through the glass as James shook DJ Cooper’s hand and started for the door. “He was perfect for the job.” “If he ever decides to give up music,” the producer agreed, “he could have a career in radio.” “Don’t tell him that,” Owen said with a grin. “He will get cocky.” “So, how did I do?” James danced a little and preened as he joined them. “Nailed it, right?” “You made me sound good,” Emily kissed his cheek. “Thank you. The truth was,” she added to the producer. “I was an absolute mess. But James’ version is better.” “And will make anyone else think twice about trying the same,” Owen added darkly. “It is part of public life,” Aaron shrugged. “You get the good fans, and you get the bad ones. But that is a good publicity spin and renews interest in the album, so everyone will be happy with that, James, good job.” They headed out of the radio station and were met by their security guards at the entrance and escorted into the limousine, with
“Are you sure that you are going to be okay once I am gone?” Megan asked her as she prepared to leave. “Are you going to be okay?” Emily replied. “More to the point, is James going to be ok? He looks like someone has kicked him in the balls.” “Aww,” Megan pouted and glanced over Emily’s shoulders at the dejected drummer hovering in the background. “I would stay… If.” “If what exactly?” Emily wondered. “If I lived in the same f-ked up fantasy world as you and Owen. Not everyone can just throw everything in, quit their jobs, sell their houses, and run away with a band, Em.” “I don’t know why not,” Emily replied. “It worked for me.” “Did it?” Megan challenged her. “I don’t hear Owen going around crowing about being your baby-daddy, do I?” Emily swallowed. “That is complicated.” Megan raised her eyebrows. “He was there for the making of it, Em, he has responsibility for this end of it, too. But he can’t take on that responsibility if you don’t let him know he has one.” “Meg…” “E
“This place is amazing,” Megan said as she got out of the limousine, sliding on her oversized sunglasses like a movie star and tossing her purple-streaked dark hair over her shoulder. “And it is not the bottle of champagne talking, though I sure could use a bathroom.” “Meg,” Emily embraced her warmly. “Thank you,” she whispered in her ear. “Thank me later, show me the bathroom now,” Megan replied. “Owen, be a sweetie and bring my suitcase in,” she added as she kissed his cheeks enthusiastically leaving purple toned lipstick behind and deliberately not telling him about it. Emily took Meg inside, showing her to the powder room, and watched as Owen wrestled Megan’s luggage down the hall to the bedroom the band had decided would be a spare. “How long is she staying again?” Owen whispered as he went past. “Are you sure she is not moving in?” “I heard that,” Megan swatted his behind as she stepped out of the bathroom, and Owen flashed her a grin. “Alright, grand tour, sis,” she linked
“Are you alright?” Owen hovered close but not too close. He could deal with most things, but vomit was not one of them. They were parked on the side of the road, with cars honking as they passed the two oversized band busses loudly emblazoned with Two Way Street on all sides. The advertisement was a disadvantage, Emily thought miserably, when she had her head in a bucket. “Two Way Street!” Someone screamed out the window. The rest of the band and some roadies were fending off a carload of fans that had pulled up behind the second bus, and their laughter rolled back to her as James hammed it up for their photos, keeping them from wondering where Emily and Owen were. Emily sat on the curb, in the shelter of the luggage compartment door, the bucket on her lap. “Stomach bug, maybe?” She said wearily. “You have been off colour for a few days, maybe we should call a doctor,” Owen commented. “I thought it was… well, you know,” he shrugged. The stalker. He thought she had been off becau
She next woke when James banged his hands rhythmically along the outside of the bus calling their names. Owen groaned. “F-king drummers,” he complained. “What is the time?” “I don’t know, but I am starving.” The bus engine was silent, and the driver had already departed, so they had arrived a while before, they realised, and slept through it. They used the en suite and dressed, pushing sunglasses onto their faces as they staggered down the steps into the daylight and squinted against the unfamiliar glare of the sun, fuzzy brained and groggy from sleep. “This is different,” Owen commented as they were joined Seb, Jeremy and James on the pavement, the three guys looking brighter and more awake than Emily felt. Seb held a black espresso coffee in his hand which might, she thought, account for their alertness. “Being at the venue bright and early.” “It is midday,” Seb pointed out. “Most people don’t consider that early.” “Early for us,” Owen grinned lopsidedly, his dimple appearing.
In the crowd, a familiar voice called her name, and she turned instinctually towards it, smiling. Something soft was thrust into her arms, and she met the man’s dark eyes, the smile falling from her face at his vulpine expression. “Who-?” The crowd jostled against the barrier, and he let it push him back so that she caught a flash of a grin before he disappeared. She looked down at what he had placed in her hands. She already held a bunch of flowers, and some other oddments fans liked to give her. This was a teddy bear, but… The stitching down its stomach had been cut open, and the soft white fluff within and the fur around it was stained a brownish red. There was something brownish red stuffed inside… “I will have that, thank you,” Aaron snatched the teddy out of her hands and dropped it into a plastic bag, which he ziplocked and passed to his PA. He put his hand on her back. “Keep going, Em, smile,” he encouraged. “Smile, Em.” Her expression had caught Owen’s attention, although
They slept, still tangled, somewhere between dressed and not, in the bottom bunk, until day turned into night, and the bus pulled up at the first destination. The sudden stillness and quiet of the engine being turned off woke her, groggy, and lethargic from the nap. “Show, Em,” Owen encouraged as she found clothing that would see her to the changerooms. “Yes, I know,” she was grumpy in her sleepiness, but managed to get herself dressed and her suit bag and case in hand, trailing him from the bus and avoiding the driver’s eyes, embarrassed that he might have seen more than he should have. There had to be some type of hazard pay, she thought with flustered amusement, for the drivers of bus bands – she was pretty certain that sex in the busses was pretty common with horny fans and band members doing what came naturally to them. The shower woke her, and she grazed on a salad as she let the stylist prepare her for the show, the men’s conversation in the background rising and falling, th
The band was divided between two tour busses, these ones slick and expensive looking inside and out, a sleek, glossy modern black with Two-Way Street emblazoned in yellow script on the outside. The band stopped and gawked as they got out of the taxis. Roadies wearing black tshirts with Two Way Street in the signature spray-paint looking script on their backs and chests moved busily between the two sleek busses and the less glamourous support vehicles that would accommodate the tour’s support staff and equipment. “Daddy, does this mean we have made it to heaven?” James wondered, saying what they were all feeling. This tour was no expense spared, the contrast to the last stark. “It sure does, Jimmy, it sure does,” Jeremy answered. “Or at least we have attracted the attention of hell. But I, for one, am happy to sign on the dotted line in blood if this is a sign of what is to come.” She was already in hell, Emily thought wryly. The sexual tension between her and Owen was so electric
She hesitated and then put her hand in his and let him draw her up the stairs to where the blanket was arranged. He sat, releasing the towel, so it only just covered him. She was going to have to do the same, she realised. Even if she tied the towel sarong like, it would work its way free quickly. They had skinny dipped together, had amazing sex, and now they were going to eat breakfast together in the bare. There was something delightfully naughty about that, she decided despite her misgivings, and she released the towel to fall around her as he opened the picnic basket. He grinned, sliding a look from the corner of his eye knowing that he had won this round, she thought. “An unanticipated advantage of this set up,” he commented cheekily. She was surprised into genuine laughter. He set a bottle of champagne onto the floorboards, and a small bottle of orange juice. “Mimosa?” “Why not?” She agreed. “Weak for me, though, please. Got to watch the calories.” He retrieved two glasses
“I don’t want to get married.” Emily stared at Owen in shocked surprise. She had just returned from wedding dress shopping, excited from having found The Dress and a little tipsy from the champagne she had shared with her bridesmaids after putting down the deposit, and she was sure Owen had just told her that he did not want to marry her, although that was just… not possible. Owen was her best friend. They had grown up next-door neighbours and had gone to the same school. They had taken guitar lessons together, played in the same soccer team, and helped each other with homework. Every childhood memory she had, featured Owen through the various states of childhood, from sweet faced little boy, lanky adolescent, through to heart stopping adult. They shared a birthday month. Owen had first proposed to her when they were eight. They had been each other’s first for everything… First kiss, first touch… Absolutely everything. There had never been anyone else for Emily… Not physically, no...
Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.
Comments