Starstruck (Heartstrings Duet #1)

16. won’t go away

[ 16 ]

WON’T GO AWAY

LENNON

“SIDEWAYS” BY CITIZEN COPE

I t’s been nearly two weeks, and I still haven’t found a replacement headliner for SON!C. I’ve checked and rechecked the master list of artists, hoping someone will stand out to me. But everyone is either not big enough to headline, already booked for something else, or just completely unsuitable for the concert.

Everyone except Baxter.

The truth is, I don’t have a good reason for why I didn’t say yes when Jeremy offered, other than I couldn’t help the feeling that having him headline is a recipe for disaster and I need this to go well.

I still feel that way, but my desperation to find someone is beginning to outweigh my need to stay away from him. I’d rather get my heart broken again than spend the rest of my life feeling like I’ve disappointed my parents even more so than I already do.

I sigh, running my hand through my hair. After that meeting a few weeks back, the last thing I want to do is turn around and ask him for help. He’s either going to tell me to go fuck myself—like I basically told him to do that day—or he’ll end up fucking me, which is the biggest reason I didn’t want him associated in the first place.

I know if he’s attached to this, I won’t be able to deny the pull I feel toward him. Because despite his cockiness, he seems like a good guy, and he would be so damn easy to fall for—which is exactly what would happen, and that’s a road to heartbreak if there ever was one. Baxter will never settle down, and I’ll be yet another girl who fell for his charm and let him walk all over her.

And though he may seem like a good guy, I also wasn’t lying when I told him his reputation is one I don’t want associated with the concert. He’s been in the headlines for drinking and fighting more times than I can count, and that isn’t the message I’m trying to send with this benefit concert. He’s cleaned up his act recently, but that kind of stuff is something people never forget. And it’s definitely not something I can forget, given the way my parents died.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s the biggest artist Revolution has, and I know for certain we would sell out of tickets with his name alone. SON!C is a big name, but Baxter is bigger. Getting him practically ensures that this can become an annual thing, like I’m hoping.

Plus, his reputation is part of what makes him as big as he is—people love a playboy. He’s the kind of person who is loved in spite, and sometimes because , of his reputation. Though it isn’t necessarily one I want associated with the concert, I need to accept that I’m going to have a hard time finding someone with a squeaky clean reputation, and there’s no one, save for my parents themselves, who would do a better job of boosting sales than him.

Based on the album display he has in his living room, I know he’s a big fan of my parents. He may be volatile sometimes, but I know he takes performing seriously, and though I’ve convinced myself otherwise, I’m sure he would take this concert seriously, too .

There’s no guarantee he’ll even say yes—he’s never done a benefit concert in the past. But he said himself that this is one he would do, and like Jeremy said, the concert would be good for his image, too—just in time for him to announce his new album. So we’d be doing each other a favour.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe we can work closely enough to get this thing planned but not so close that I’m tempted by him. Maybe he’ll be a world-class asshole and show me he’s not the good guy he’s convinced me he is.

Maybe he’ll simply say no.

“Ugh.” I roll my eyes, checking the time quickly before picking up the phone on my desk. It’s almost five-thirty p.m., so here’s hoping Jeremy is still in his office.

It rings for a minute before, “Jeremy Arden,” comes through the other end.

“It’s Lennon.” I pause, exhaling deeply. “Can you please set up a meeting for me with Baxter James?”

Three hours later, I’m still sitting in my office, all the lights around mine turned off while I continue to work on figuring out a plan in case Baxter says no.

I startle as a knock sounds from the other side of my office door, my heart beating faster. It’s well past working hours—there shouldn’t be anyone left on this floor.

I look up from my computer to see Baxter’s midnight eyes staring at me through the window.

My brows furrow. I stand and hurry over as fast as I can in four-inch heels.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as I open the door, confused. Jeremy had agreed on the phone and said he’d get back to me tomorrow, since I called him at the end of the day .

Baxter’s eyes scan down my body before looking at my face again. “Jeremy called. Said you had something to talk to me about,” he states with a knowing grin smeared over his face.

I curl my lips inward as my shoulders drop, moving to let him in the room. “I know. But he said he would get back to me tomorrow, during normal working hours.” A frown mars my face. “Shouldn’t you be out partying or something? What happened to the guy who refused to do anything according to anyone else’s schedule?”

He cocks a brow. “Is this meeting according to your schedule, Lennon?”

I narrow my eyes. “Touché.”

He chuckles, turning his back to me. “To answer your question, I was in the neighbourhood. Saw your office light on from the street and figured I may as well pop in now.”

“Well—wait,” I start. “How did you know it was my office?”

“Lucky guess. You mentioned you work in music publishing, and I figured you’d be the type to work late.”

My stomach turns at how well he knows me after only two encounters. He glances around the space, and I feel even more exposed, as if my office is giving away bits and pieces about me.

On the right, a few of my favourite albums hang on the wall above the red velvet couch I picked out. To the left is a massive window that looks out on the dusk-covered city below. In the middle of the room sits my glass-top desk, which faces the door, and two white leather chairs sit opposite mine.

I have some framed photos of my family and friends on my desk, and he picks one up, examining it.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” he asks as he looks down at the photo. I know from the frame that it’s the one of my parents onstage, taken well before us kids were born, where my dad is playing guitar while my mom holds her microphone between them. They both belt lyrics into it while staring into each other’s eyes .

It’s a photo that shows just how deep their love for each other ran, and all I think about when I look at it is how much they would want that kind of love for me, and how sad I am that they won’t be around to see me find it someday.

I clear my throat, making my way toward him. He sets the photo back down, looking up to meet my eyes, and a shiver runs up my spine at the intensity in them.

“Well, um,” I begin, trying to find the right words to ask this without sounding like a complete fool.

I really wish Jeremy would’ve told me he was coming.

I look down, fidgeting with my fingers. “First of all, I’m sorry for what I said a few weeks back. I didn’t mean any of it. I wasn’t thinking about the possibility that you might actually want to do it, given how your mom passed, and I was just caught off guard seeing you and I panicked and—” I cut myself off, realizing I’m rambling.

He places a knuckle under my chin, tilting it so my eyes find his. “Do I make you nervous, Trouble?”

I swallow roughly, nodding, and he grins. His smile alone is enough to make me weak in the knees.

He pulls his hand back and leans against my desk, mirroring me. “What am I doing here, Lennon?”

I exhale. “So, you know SON!C cancelled, and, um, well…I still haven’t been able to find anyone else to headline…” I trail off, hoping he’ll understand what I’m asking without me having to say the actual words.

But he just stares at me, a smirk on his face and his arms crossed over his chest, saying nothing.

For fuck’s sake.

“Are you really going to make me ask?” I frown, looking up at him.

He cocks a brow, the corner of his mouth tipping up as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Ask what? ”

This motherfuc ? —

“Oh, you mean am I going to make you ask for my help?” He takes a step toward me. “Damn right, I am.”

A humourless laugh escapes me as I wipe my hands down my face, shaking my head. This man is a pain in my ass, but I do need his help. So even if I’d rather die than admit it, I relent.

“Fine,” I groan, throwing my hands down. I turn my body toward his. “Baxter, will you please make time in your busy schedule to perform at my benefit concert in August?”

He takes another step toward me and my eyes track his movements. He leans in close, our gazes connecting, and my heart drops to my stomach.

“Anything for you, Trouble.”