Legendary Rock Star

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Maggie

Here I was. Sitting with Phoenix Steel.

The poster on my bedroom wall that I used to kiss good-night was of the guy who was here now, in the flesh, sitting across from me.

The closest restaurant had been an Irish pub.

His knee was near mine and my leg had goosebumps.

Seriously.

The closest I’d ever come to a high like this was when I’d won the international color guard competition as a flag spinner, where the teachers stuck the uncoordinated ones.

But then I’d been one of thirty girls. Now I was sitting here alone with Phoenix Steel.

And I had been singing—and it wasn’t just for the local Little League game or for church as lead in the choir.

I was on TV tonight and I wowed the judges.

I never went past that moment in any dream. And I certainly had never thought my current dream would directly clash with my childhood one.

It was crazy to be sitting down in a restaurant with Phoenix Steel like we were friends.

Under ordinary circumstances, we would never be friends.

Once the waitress had handed us menus and left us alone, Phoenix asked me, “So, you have a boyfriend?”

Most of the time, I told people I was waiting for the perfect guy to show up at church, but everyone knew I was lying. The men who came to church were typically already married or pretty broken, and I wasn’t about to spend my days mending some man when I had my own life to lead.

I had always dreamed of being a singer one day, and now, finally, all those years of training and hoping and waiting all mattered. Because I was here, living the dream. I stirred the iced water left for me and asked, “Why does it matter to you?”

He settled into his side of the booth and then reached out and took my hand as he said, “Because I hoped dinner might lead to … friendship.”

A spark rose from his touch. I couldn’t believe it. I had always thought it was just silly, the way people talk about a chemical reaction.

But if I was to have a reaction to anyone, it would be Phoenix—my first crush, even though he never knew I was alive, since he was thousands of miles away and couldn’t see through computer screens. I hid my excitement and quirked my eyebrow. “Even though we’re competing?”

“That’s only on TV,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

True. And if I had a chance to find out a little more about Phoenix, it might satisfy my curiosity. I wasn’t a schoolgirl anymore, and I knew anything more than friendship between us was impossible.

“Well, let’s have a drink and find out,” I said.

“You’re on,” he said, and frowned a little as the waitress came over to take our order.

He sat straighter and let me go first. I ordered a chicken sandwich and a glass of white Zinfandel house wine.

His face almost turned green for a moment, but then he ordered himself a cheeseburger and he whispered his drink.

I wasn’t sure I’d heard right. Had he said virgin? But then the waitress called to the bartender, “A white wine and a virgin Collins with elderflower.”

Definitely heard right. I met his brown-eyed gaze and decided to go for it and ask. I had nothing to lose. As we settled into the bench seats, alone, I asked in a low voice, “Elderflower?”

His cheeks blushed. Or maybe it was my imagination. He leaned closer and said, “It’s better for me than the sugar syrup.”

A moment later the waitress returned with two drinks on her tray and placed them in front of us. She gave Phoenix a look and I understood immediately. She must have recognized him, but not seen the broadcast tonight to know who I was.

I didn’t pick up the glass, but held my tongue until I was sure no one was listening to us. Then I said, “I wouldn’t have ordered the wine if I’d known …”

He reached out and patted my hand like I was a little girl that needed approval. “Don’t worry about it. I invited you out for dinner and a drink.”

The last thing I needed was to be treated like a child. I was an adult and about to win a singing contract. Not that I could ever, ever say that out loud. Women, as my parents had said many times, weren’t supposed to be confident. It was nonsense, but it still made me hold my tongue, for now.

I sipped my drink, mostly to appear relaxed, and then finally said, “I’m … I’ll admit, I’m curious about you. Indigo 6—now 5—was my favorite band when I was sixteen.”

And I’d been knee-deep in love with the saxophone-playing, backup-singing god. He seemed more human, now, sitting across from me. Though I wasn’t stupid. He’d only have to lift his eyebrow at the waitress for her to strip right here for him, and this wasn’t that kind of place. But Phoenix still had that s*x god vibe to him, even now. And especially when he gave me that smirk and said, “So, five years ago?”

I took another sip of my wine to cool down and for a few minutes we were quiet. Maybe too much so. I put my glass down and ran my hands through my hair like I was still a teenager in school dreaming about him.

Finally, I broke the silence. “That sounds so long, but you’re only twenty-three. And you were only eighteen when you failed like that.”

“Drinking was a crutch of mine,” he said, like that explained everything. He’d blown his chance to be in the number one band of the past decade, but he’d not ruin my shot now. Not even when he gave me that bad boy gaze that made my knees weak, and said, “You like rubbing salt in the wound?”

“Regrets are like acid,” I said, as I’d heard my parents tell me tons of times. I refused to have any regrets. I pushed my glass to the side and met his gaze when I asked, “Just curious. I know what the all the news stories said online, but what really happened?”

He sipped his virgin drink and glanced into the glass instead of at me as he said, “s*x, drugs, and rock and roll … It all went to my head.”

At least I had a head on my shoulders, and I wasn’t fresh out of school. Plus, my parents actually listened to me. I was lucky. But not all of my friends were, and I never judged.

“That’s awful,” I said. “Is that why you’re here for your second chance?”

If the answer was yes, I would be competing against his second-chance story. I had to prove I was worthy of winning this whole thing, on my own. I probably shouldn’t have asked and shouldn’t know. I needed to be smart and stay objective where Phoenix Steel was concerned.

But those sexy brown eyes of his made me pause.

I wasn’t that closed off.

Music poured out of my pores because I felt everything so intensely.

And then the sexiest man alive said, “I was a clean-cut TV actor and singer. But we were heavily supervised on our weekly show. I went out of control when I didn’t have handlers anymore.

“But the only thing I ever actually loved in life was singing for people. I’d like to do that for a living again, instead of being considered the washout.”

And there it was. His background outclassed mine, by tons. I had directors and voice coaches, but they weren’t professional grade with ties to music executives.

It’s why I needed the show to prove myself—and why he didn’t need this as much. I had to win, so I decided to chance the topic and said, “Fair enough. I read something in the news years ago about your parents?”

It had been big news at the time, but I wanted to hear the story directly from his lips.

He sipped his water this time and said, “I divorced them when I was fourteen.”

The food arrived and the waitress pushed a business card at Phoenix. It probably had her number on it, and I wasn’t jealous. I refused to react. Once she left, I scraped the plate as I cut my chicken sandwich and said, “Why?”

I’d never gone a day without my parents. And not having them around when I was a teenager would have made some horrible dates—like when Tyler laughed at me for wearing lace and a long skirt for a dress to the dance—so much worse. They’d talk me back to normal, over popcorn.

But Phoenix said, “They were living on my paycheck and spending it all away.”

“Where did you live after that?”

“The show had staff to watch out for me. My agent, Mark, shuffled me around. But when I had time off, I stayed with an aunt and uncle in Pittsburgh and hung out with my cousins.”

“At least you had a place to go.” My parents wouldn’t take a dime of my money even if I shoved it in their account. I added ketchup to my plate and said, “I’m glad I had it different.”

He fixed his plate too, then he asked, “Your church-going parents saved you?”

“Don’t knock it,” I said and bit into my sandwich. For pub food, this wasn’t bad.

He winked at me and said, “I’m not.”

We both ate our dinner quickly. I hadn’t intended to eat much, but somehow the dinner made me relax and I wasn’t analyzing the notes I’d sung or the guy I was sitting across from.

I was having a good time.

But then a song started to play on the radio. The same one I’d sung on stage. I finished my last bite and I hoped the song was good luck. The judges had liked it. I waited for him to finish eating, and then I reached across the table like I would if he was a friend, and squeezed his hand. I instantly felt a spark as I said, “Tell you what, let’s make a bet.”

I let him go quickly, but I could tell from that sparkle of curiosity in the look he gave me that he liked being dared. Maybe no one else ever dared him. If I survived this slight tremble that still ricocheted through me—not that I’d ever mention that to him—I’d test that theory out again. He leaned closer to me, and asked, “A bet?”

A sing-off. Not that he knew that yet. I scooted closer and ignored the awareness of him in my skin and said, “Yes. If I win, you come to church with me some time.”

He crossed his arms, which made his muscles hard, and then raised his eyebrow. “First you make the bet, and then you set the stakes, Carrigan.”

“You can call me Maggie.”

“Maggie.” He said it like my name meant something to him.

I probably shouldn’t have let myself think that. I pointed toward the microphone on the stage and got back on topic. I said, “Right. We’ll sing right here, on that karaoke machine. Whoever gets the most applause wins.”

“That’s it?” he said, like he’d already won. Then he leaned closer and I smelled his woodsy cologne as he said, “Your stakes are small.”

Well, he did have name recognition. I gave him that. But then, surprise was all in my favor. I crossed my legs under the table and said, “It all depends. What happens if you win?”

He stirred his straw in his iced water and a smile grew on his face when he said, “If I win, I get to kiss you.”

The idea played across my mind like it had when I was a teenager, in love with a poster that I stared at for hours until I fell asleep. I even kissed my hand and pressed it to his picture every time I walked out of my room. But no … he was far too close. The heat in my face couldn’t be ignored. I shook my head, ignored the tingle on my lips, and said, “Nope, that’s not an option. I’m saving myself.”

His gaze narrowed and he stared at me. Luckily, I was still wearing layers of clothes, but it didn’t feel like enough to stop his penetrating gaze. He asked, “For what?”

The last thing he’d know was the truth. Music was my rebellion and I honestly believed that someday the right guy would show up. The one I’d been saving myself for. I said, “For … not a bar bet. Name something else.”

He sat back and my heart drummed in time with the rhythm he tapped lightly on his cheek. If he called me a virgin, I might melt, and that wasn’t good. Finally he nodded and said, “Fair enough. If I win, you sing and record a duet with me.”

Singing a song with him might be fun, and a small dream come true. So I jumped right to what I needed to know, “Where and when?”

He placed his hands on the table as he said, “In my home. I have a studio. I’ll give you a copy you can use as a demo, free of charge.”

“You’re on.” I said. I half wanted to lose this competition now, but I led him toward the stage. Recording a song with him might finally make me forget how obsessed I had been with him, for so long. I had read all the articles I could find about him, like some stalker might, for longer than any of my friends did.

But when we hit the stage, I became Maggie Carrigan, the star that needed to break out of my life and shine. Singing was in my blood.

We both had the crowd’s attention for our karaoke battle.