Her Reckless Rockstar by Gena Snow

Chapter 8

 

Avery

 

 

 

When I arrive at work, I’m surprised to see Hailey standing inside the bar.

“What’re you doing here?” I ask before hugging her.

“To help out. Jeremy called an hour ago telling me you guys were short-staffed.”

“Really?” I look around and see the regular servers are all here.

“Hello! It’s the Triple Shot concert night,” Hailey says with a disbelief look. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”

I shrug. “I haven’t. I just don’t see why it’s such a big deal.”

“Are you serious?” Hailey’s eyes widen. “The place will get crowded in just a minute. It’s the band’s first performance after their one-year break, even though it’s a bit informal.”

I’m about to respond when I see Professor Price, Hailey’s boyfriend, walking towards us. Although I’m still resentful of the grade I got in his class, I wave at him with a smile because he’s good to my best friend.

“I’m going to be sitting right there in the corner. Let me know if you need me,” Jared says to Hailey.

“Okay,” Hailey smiles.

“Is he into metal?” I ask Hailey curiously after Professor Price is out of earshot, “Or is he here to give his brother moral support?”

“Neither,” Hailey says with an eye roll. “He’s here to keep an eye on me.”

My mouth opens. “Wow. That’s so protective!”

She rolls her eyes. “Or possessive, to be more precise. He wants to make sure I don’t flirt with customers.”

I gasp. “You must be kidding!”

“I’m not! He admits it and says it’s in his DNA. His dad never lets his step-mom out of his sight for more than a minute.”

I laugh, although I’m pretty sure it’s just a joke. And then my heart flutters. There’s some truth in it because Tristan is like that, too, even though I’m not his girlfriend. I recall Tristan demanded I stopped talking to Vinny and the jealousy in his eyes when I disobeyed him. When Vinny dropped a twenty-dollar tip into my cleavage, Tristan almost beat him up. I shiver just recalling the fierce blue eyes.

“So, err, what’re you going to do about it?” I ask Hailey.

“About what?”

“About this possessiveness. Doesn’t it suffocate you?”

“Not at all!” Her eyes widen with amusement. “I like it. I feel…protected.”

“Tsk, tsk,” I tease her. “I’m gonna throw up.”

I excuse myself and go into the restroom to change. When Hailey sees me again, she gasps. “Haven’t you heard about the dress code?”

“What dress code?”

“You’re not supposed to wear skimpy clothes tonight, or any other night when the band is here.”

“Says who?”

“Jeremy told me that, and the band requested it.”

The bastard. I have no doubt it’s Tristan’s idea. “How come I haven’t heard about it? Christina, is it true?” I ask the part-timer who works here on weekends.

The girl nods. “Yes, Jeremy sent us a text yesterday.”

I check my phone quickly and find it. I ignored the text when I first saw it because I thought it was some junk.

All employees must dress properly—no revealing clothes. Female employees must wear button-down shirts and pants or knee-length skirts …

“This is ridiculous,” I say. “How am I going to earn tips?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Hailey says. “There’ll be lots of customers tonight.”

“I doubt it,” I say. “No teens are allowed in the bar. How many adults listen to that crap?”

Hailey gasps. “It isn’t crap!”

I recall Hailey and I have different tastes in music.

“No offense,” I say.

“Look at the bright side, my friend,” Hailey pats my arm. “Think of it as a free concert.”

I scoff and secretly curse Tristan. Speaking of being possessive and protective. Damn. Can the man be sillier than this? Does he think he owns me just because of what we did at his house the other day?

Nonetheless, I need to follow the protocol simply because I don’t feel comfortable being the only employee here who dresses inappropriately. I return to the restroom and change back into my t-shirt and jeans.

When I’m back to the bar, a team of workers comes in carrying stage equipment. They’ve moved the tables around to clear the area around the stage and decorated the stage nicely. It has a dark background with glittering decors showing the band’s logo.

By nine, the bar is filled. It’s always busy here over the weekends, but I’ve never seen such crowds. Not only is there not any seat, but there’re people standing around. We’ve put out extra stools and chairs, but still not enough. I’ve already changed kegs and refilled the ice bin, and it isn’t even halfway into my shift.

“Hi Sis,” a voice gets my attention and I look up. It’s my brother Jamie.

Of course he’s here. He’s the band’s biggest fan. I didn’t tell him but it isn’t hard for him to find out about the concert. “Why’re you here,” I hiss at him while glancing around to see if anyone is around us. “You’re under-aged.”

He shrugs. “I’m not leaving.”

I narrow my eyes on him but he pretends not noticing and walks away toward the stage. I sigh—the stubborn man. I’m still mad at him for what he’s done, but I also worry about him. I need to talk to him about getting help on his addiction but have been postponing.

Tristan and the rest of his band come in soon after, and instantly there’re cheers.

It occurs to me there’re people from out of town as well because I’ve never seen some of those faces.

Even with nearly a year’s hiatus, the band’s popularity hasn’t waned.

They perform their signature songs that I’m familiar with, thanks to Jamie’s influence.

I still can’t stand the screams and shouts so much, but I focus on the aspects I like. I’ve memorized some of the love-themed lyrics because they are actually very passionate, and when sung softly, they sound pretty nice.

“I’d take a bullet for you, baby / if it’d make you love me …

Time flies when the bar is busy and when rock stars’re screaming. Before I know it, the concert is almost over.

I hear Tristan’s voice saying, “The last song of the night is written for a special person. Before I sing it, I would like to say something. I want to apologize to a girl for what I did to her. I’m really, really sorry, Avery. Please forgive me.”

The audience murmurs right away as people turn their heads to look around, looking to see who Avery is. The servers nearby, including Hailey, stare at me, but I shrug and pretend it has nothing to do with me.

Tristan might attempt to look at me as well, but I doubt he can because of the layers of people between us. But his deep voice has no problem penetrating the barriers. “Anyway, this song is for Avery. The title is You’re My Dream.”

My heart pulsates at his announcement, and I can’t help a tiny gasp. No way! He said something about having written a song for me, and I thought he was joking.

Hailey gazes at me again, probably because of my poor ability to hide my emotions, but she doesn’t speak.

“I’ve been looking for you all my life / And you’re waiting for me somewhere / All I need to do is to find you, baby / And my dream will come true…

OhmyGod. Yes. It is written for me. These are the words he spoke to me before he kissed me the other day in his house. My body tingles at the recognition. The sensations that assaulted me over and over during the past few days that I try so hard to prevent it from surfacing. His voice is deep, and the melody is superb. It isn’t metal, not even rock. It’s a lot like those 60s oldies that I enjoy. My God. I want to cry. I don’t know why. Maybe because my dad used to listen to these kinds of songs, and they reminded me of my childhood's happy, carefree days.

A few older customers appreciate the music as much as I do, and they rock in their seats.

“Wow,” Hailey whispers. “He’s into you.”

“Don’t be silly,” I say quickly, although my blush must give me away. “I’ve only worked for him for that one day.”

I’ve told her about the party at Tristan’s house, sparing the pool part.

“You’re hiding something from me,” she asks shrewdly. “You’re blushing, and it’s the first time I ever see you do that. You’re a flirt, Avery. But you never fall for guys.”

Shit. “I’m not falling for him, jeez, Hailey. I’m just… I’m moved by the song.”

“Yeah, about that. Tristan Alton has written a song for you. It’s a big deal. I bet it’s already major news on social media. Within days people will figure out who this Avery person is. And as your best friend, I believe I have the right to know what’s between you two firsthand.”

Shit. She is insistent. “Well,” I stammer. “Okay, if you really need to know. We made out after the party at his house. That’s it.”

She squeals. “I knew it!”

“Sh—,” I shush her, aware of heads turning our way, including Professor Price’s.

She covers her mouth and whispers, “Did he err… pop your…?”

“No!” I hiss. “Just make out. Okay?”

She blinks, looking a bit disappointed. “If there’s any new development, I need to be the first one to know.”

I laugh. “You bet.”

“Thanks, everyone, for being here,” I hear Dylan’s voice. “We’ll see you guys in Vegas in two weeks!”

Cheers and screams fill the bar. The fans stay to ask for autographs, and then the band members order drinks.

It takes nearly an hour for the crowd to thin.