Read Online LOW: A Rockstar Romance by Vivian Lux - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vivian Lux
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paused for a moment. "I know, tell me what I was wearing?"
"Some sort of weird deconstructed tuxedo thing," I answered immediately. I should know, I had practically memorized the way it clung to his torso like a second skin. "I need to speak with whoever dressed you."
He burst out laughing. "Aw man, I thought it looked cool." I could hear him lick his lips. This was a definite benefit to talking versus texting that I hadn't considered before. The ability to hear the little sexy sounds that he made. "I should hire you as a stylist."
I laughed. "That would be a terrible thing to do for your career. You should see what I'm wearing now."
"Oh yeah?" he said, rather quickly and more than a little bit sly. "What are you wearing right now? Tell me."
I felt the flush gather across my cheeks. "Oh wow, that was smooth."
I could hear the smile in his voice. "It was, wasn't it? How about this one," he said. "What are you wearing tonight?"
"Tonight?" I was confused.
"Tonight. You're saying the interview went well?"
I hadn't heard a word of it. "Yes," I said. "It went great. You were wonderful."
"I was hoping I could get you to say that."
I blushed.
"So you need to help me celebrate," he went on. "Tonight. You doing anything? Need to watch your brother?"
"Uh," I stammered. Both my mom and Greg would be home as far as I knew. Leaving me with no reason to say no, except the lingering pieces of the shell that was bursting open by the minute. "Sure."
"Great," said Low. "It's a date."
A date. I was now going on a date with a rockstar.
I hung up the phone, flung myself on the couch, stuffed a pillow in front of my face and screamed.
Chapter 12
Low
I hung up the phone, feeling fucking triumphant.
By all accounts, the interview had been fantastic. Both anchors congratulated me as soon as the cameras switched off, and I was fairly certain I had succeeded in Keith's goal for me. While I didn't know the exact state or location of her pantyhose, Maria Whatsherface at least looked completely charmed.
And what was even better, Zoe had liked it too.
I shook a few more hands, waved to the crowd that seemed to follow me everywhere these days, and headed back to the green room to get out of the tuxedo Zoe hated. Maybe I'd give it to her, let her burn it. She'd probably get a laugh out of that.
Maybe I'd make her take it off of me first.
My big, dumb grin was reflected back at me from across the dressing room. I sat down in the creaky chair and pushed it backward onto two legs.
It was strangely pleasant to be alone after a show like this. If I'd ever been alone like this before, it was a long, long time ago.
A long, long time ago, I was the one who'd noticed the flyer. It was hanging on the bulletin board at our elite private school, nearly covered by a reminder to order yearbooks, and sandwiched next to notices about soccer tryouts.
A call for an audition, but this had nothing to do with school. A couple of musician brothers were looking to form a band across town somewhere. Up until that moment, I had never even considered being in a band, but as soon as I saw the flyer, I had never wanted anything more.
It was something that could be mine. Everything I had was ours , everything I did was together , and to a skinny, fifteen-year-old kid with the world on his shoulders, that flyer looked like freedom. It looked like an escape.
I looked over my shoulder, then furtively ripped it down and stuffed it in my backpack before anyone of the more talented kids could see it and become my competition.
Pepper was the real musician in our little family. She spent hours down in our basement, practicing scales and arpeggios on the rickety old upright that we had inherited from my dad's mom, back when we still called her Grandma.
That piano was so important to Pepper that my mother had allowed it to remain in the house even after she purged it of all other traces of our father's existence.
Me? I'd only picked up the drum six months prior,
"Some sort of weird deconstructed tuxedo thing," I answered immediately. I should know, I had practically memorized the way it clung to his torso like a second skin. "I need to speak with whoever dressed you."
He burst out laughing. "Aw man, I thought it looked cool." I could hear him lick his lips. This was a definite benefit to talking versus texting that I hadn't considered before. The ability to hear the little sexy sounds that he made. "I should hire you as a stylist."
I laughed. "That would be a terrible thing to do for your career. You should see what I'm wearing now."
"Oh yeah?" he said, rather quickly and more than a little bit sly. "What are you wearing right now? Tell me."
I felt the flush gather across my cheeks. "Oh wow, that was smooth."
I could hear the smile in his voice. "It was, wasn't it? How about this one," he said. "What are you wearing tonight?"
"Tonight?" I was confused.
"Tonight. You're saying the interview went well?"
I hadn't heard a word of it. "Yes," I said. "It went great. You were wonderful."
"I was hoping I could get you to say that."
I blushed.
"So you need to help me celebrate," he went on. "Tonight. You doing anything? Need to watch your brother?"
"Uh," I stammered. Both my mom and Greg would be home as far as I knew. Leaving me with no reason to say no, except the lingering pieces of the shell that was bursting open by the minute. "Sure."
"Great," said Low. "It's a date."
A date. I was now going on a date with a rockstar.
I hung up the phone, flung myself on the couch, stuffed a pillow in front of my face and screamed.
Chapter 12
Low
I hung up the phone, feeling fucking triumphant.
By all accounts, the interview had been fantastic. Both anchors congratulated me as soon as the cameras switched off, and I was fairly certain I had succeeded in Keith's goal for me. While I didn't know the exact state or location of her pantyhose, Maria Whatsherface at least looked completely charmed.
And what was even better, Zoe had liked it too.
I shook a few more hands, waved to the crowd that seemed to follow me everywhere these days, and headed back to the green room to get out of the tuxedo Zoe hated. Maybe I'd give it to her, let her burn it. She'd probably get a laugh out of that.
Maybe I'd make her take it off of me first.
My big, dumb grin was reflected back at me from across the dressing room. I sat down in the creaky chair and pushed it backward onto two legs.
It was strangely pleasant to be alone after a show like this. If I'd ever been alone like this before, it was a long, long time ago.
A long, long time ago, I was the one who'd noticed the flyer. It was hanging on the bulletin board at our elite private school, nearly covered by a reminder to order yearbooks, and sandwiched next to notices about soccer tryouts.
A call for an audition, but this had nothing to do with school. A couple of musician brothers were looking to form a band across town somewhere. Up until that moment, I had never even considered being in a band, but as soon as I saw the flyer, I had never wanted anything more.
It was something that could be mine. Everything I had was ours , everything I did was together , and to a skinny, fifteen-year-old kid with the world on his shoulders, that flyer looked like freedom. It looked like an escape.
I looked over my shoulder, then furtively ripped it down and stuffed it in my backpack before anyone of the more talented kids could see it and become my competition.
Pepper was the real musician in our little family. She spent hours down in our basement, practicing scales and arpeggios on the rickety old upright that we had inherited from my dad's mom, back when we still called her Grandma.
That piano was so important to Pepper that my mother had allowed it to remain in the house even after she purged it of all other traces of our father's existence.
Me? I'd only picked up the drum six months prior,
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