Starstruck (Heartstrings Duet #1)
11. no saint
18%
[ 11 ]
NO SAINT
LENNON
“MERCY” BY JJ WILDE
“ P lease, tell me you’re joking,” I exclaim from behind my desk, shocked from the words that just poured from my best friend’s mouth. “Baxter asked you , Isabella Cordova, to do a duet with him? On his album?”
“Yes.”
My eyes narrow at her.
“What?” she asks, feigning innocence.
“You said no, right?”
She pulls her lips together, but she doesn’t say anything. Which answers my question.
“Isa!” I hiss, my nerves skyrocketing. It was one thing when she merely suggested I ask him to headline at the concert, but for her to go and do a duet with him?
She’s meddling .
“I know, but it’s Baxter James. Having a feature on his album will do wonders for my sales.” She shrugs. “Plus, if I had said no, I wouldn’t get to see my best friend squirm over the mention of the man who rocked her world a few weeks ago.”
My spine straightens. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie. I may have told her I never wanted to see him again, but I also said I would think about that night for the rest of my life, and so far, that reigns true.
I haven’t been able to get that damn man out of my head.
And she can see right through me.
“Oh, please .” Isa rolls her eyes. “You’ve been distracted since that night, Lenny, and I know it’s not that asshole rotting in prison or the benefit concert planning that has your mind a million miles away.” She stares at me, her brows raised. “It’s Baxter. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I can’t. She knows me way too well.
Isa and I have been best friends since I started working at Revolution six years ago, right after I graduated high school. She’s been singing since before she could talk. She’s Brazilian, so like my family, hers has also always been very music-oriented. I was raised on rock and roll; she was raised on Samba. At least until she moved here at the age of twelve and fell in love with the world of rock.
She got her first record deal at sixteen, and now she’s twenty-six. She switched from her old label to Revolution around the same time I started, and we’ve been friends ever since. She has the bubbliest personality of anyone I’ve ever met, with a head of long, dark, curly hair, sun-kissed skin, full lips, and chocolate-brown eyes.
And one thing about her: she loves to get in other people’s business—especially mine.
As is made clear when she states, “Exactly. And guess what? I’m certain he’s been thinking about you, too.”
My eyes narrow at her. “You’re meddling.”
She laughs. “Hey, he came to me, okay? Not the other way around. Though, once I heard the song, I knew I had to say yes.”
I groan, my head falling back against my chair. I don’t even bother trying to talk her out of mentioning me around him. Once Isa sets her mind on something, there’s no changing it.
And apparently, she has her mind set on Baxter and me. Which is so crazy, it’s laughable.
And absolutely never going to happen.
“Why do you think he asked you, though?”
She takes a sip of the tea in her hand. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’ll bet he’s regretting it right about now, though. I got pretty bossy with him.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “Honestly, I’d expect nothing less. I’m sure he loved that,” I tease, knowing full well that a man like Baxter isn’t the kind to take orders from anyone. “It’s about time someone put him in his place.”
“Well, I’m sure he wishes it were anyone other than me.”
I laugh. She’s probably right. “So, when are you recording?” I ask, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Well, about that…” she begins, and my brows furrow in confusion. “We kind of already did.”
I cough, my hand coming up to my mouth to avoid spewing coffee all over my desk. I manage to swallow roughly, blinking a few times before looking up at her. “I’m sorry,” I retort. “What? When?”
Now it’s Isa’s turn to laugh. “Two days ago.”
“And you’re just telling me this now?” I level her with a look. Now I’m certain she’s meddling. “Isa, what did you tell him?”
She shrugs. “Nothing he didn’t already know.” My eyes narrow at her as I open my mouth to argue, but she holds a hand up to stop me. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him you work here.”
“Fine, but what did you tell him?”
“Pretty much just that you said he was the best sex of your life and that you think he’s arrogant.”
I squint, eliciting a laugh from her.
“Don’t worry, Lennon. He said you were the best sex of his life, too. And you know I would never share anything I wasn’t sure you were comfortable with him knowing. No matter how much he begged me to.”
My eyes widen, shock covering my face. “He begged you? For what?”
A wicked look crosses her face. “Your phone number. And it almost worked, but I know there’s a reason you didn’t give him it in the first place, so I stood my ground and didn’t share.” She crosses one leg over the other. “But just so you know, this song was written as a conversation between the two of you.”
My jaw drops. “I beg your pardon?”
She nods, a smirk playing on her lips. “You heard me, Lenny. Do with this information what you will, but if he knew more and had a way to find you, it would’ve been you he asked to sing with him, not me.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I find it hard to believe that Baxter James wrote a song about me, especially after only knowing me for one night. Even if it apparently affected him as much as it did me.
I suppose it’s not entirely outside of the realm of possibility—artists will find inspiration anywhere, and if he’s anything like me when I write, he’ll take every sliver of inspiration he can get. It just seems so far-fetched that I’m really not sure whether to believe her or not.
Isa is good at reading people, and she did say he asked for my number, but if he did write it about me…what would that mean?
“If you say so, Is.” I sigh. “Is the song good at least?”
My laptop dings as the question falls from my lips. I shift my attention toward it as she nods, her smile growing.
“You know I’m not the biggest fan of his music typically, but ye?—”
“Hold that thought,” I interrupt, holding a finger up to stop her as I scan the subject of the email that just landed in my inbox: Benefit concert cancellation.
No. This can’t be happening .
My eyes go wide, and my shoulders tense as I click rapidly on the email.
“Everything okay?” Isa asks as she leans forward, noticing my change in body language.
I simply shake my head as I begin to read the email from SON!C’s manager.
Lennon —
Hate to tell you this, but SON!C can’t do the benefit concert after all. Another opportunity has come up that same weekend and it’s one they just can’t say no to—one they’ll be getting paid for. They send their apologies and hope you can understand. I know your parents would.
Best of luck,
Jason Grove, Artist Manager
156 Bloor St. E., Toronto, M4W 0A2
Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
“Not in the slightest.”