Free Rock Star: The Song (Book 1 of a Bad Boy Romance) by Kate Ward Page A

didn’t push it.
    Chase was a different story altogether. I could see how anxious he was, as if someone was about to tear away from him his life savings. No doubt, he had more money in his bank than I could have ever obtained in several lifetimes of serving lattes.
    But that didn’t register for him.
    It was almost like he had been conditioned to believe that his self-worth was wrapped up in that next hit song. He’d said that it did worry him that people would forget him. With so many up-and-coming artists, the pressure to stay relevant was more than ever.
    Sitting side by side sharing what I had written wasn’t like it was with Spike. Spike was always in a hurry to get to the solo. As if it somehow would impress me.
    What was the deal with him today? Coming out, when he could have texted or waited? I hadn’t seen that side to him before, but then again, he always was hovering around Sophie.
    Being around Chase was different.
    It wasn’t just that he was known, but he listened intently. He weighed my suggestions and took them seriously as if he was collaborating with an equally talented peer.
    “So you want to stay for supper?”
    “Um,” I glanced down at my watch. “Shoot.” I had completely forgotten to text Spike. It was close to eight o’clock.
    “Listen, I have to go.”
    “Sure. You going to swing by tomorrow?”
    “Yeah.” I paused at the door. “It was good. Today, I mean. To do this.”
    “So I passed your he’s-not-a-dick test?”
    I offered a warm smile. “Well, for today.”
    As I turned to leave I looked back again.
    “And Chase.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Thank you for stepping in today. I don’t know what you told them but I appreciate it.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    For a brief moment I felt the inclination to stay. I wanted to stay. But I knew Spike was probably livid by now, and if I didn’t show up, no doubt he would make his way out here.

    * * *
    W hen I arrived at the café, there he was, slumped down inside the front entranceway. All the lights were off inside. A few people were on the street. An old couple passed by from an evening walk, or maybe a late-night dinner.
    “Spike. I’m sorry, I completely lost track of time.”
    “You think? Where were you?”
    “Running errands. Finalizing the sale on my father’s house.”
    He got up and strolled over to his bike.
    “Where are you going, didn’t you want to —”
    Sliding onto his bike, he replied, “You’re not very good at lying.”
    “What?”
    “You weren’t at the realtor’s today.”
    I screwed up my face. “Are you spying on me?”
    “Of course that’s what you’d think. Ol’ Spike would go out of his way, to spy on you.”
    I wasn’t sure what to make of this. What the hell was his problem? Ok, I was a little late, but I had never seen this side to him. He’d always been carefree, and now he was so interested in where I’d been.
    “If you don’t want to work together, just say so, Meghan, but don’t lie to me.”
    I stood with mouth agape. With that he peeled away into the night without another word. Pushing my key into the door and letting myself inside, I climbed the stairs to my apartment. My feet felt heavy, but my heart felt even heavier. Why was I made to feel bad about this? I did apologize for being late. What was his deal?
    As I made my way inside my apartment, I thought about what Chase had said earlier that day. About how people changed around him once doors started opening in the music world. He said it couldn’t be helped. Some felt that the very fact that they hadn’t had the opportunity handed to them, meant that it shouldn’t be given to anyone else. There was a sense of entitlement in others as most thought you should bring them along for the ride. Or that if you mentioned anything related to what you did, you were bragging.
    When I asked him how he’d handled that, he simply replied that over time he’d stopped discussing how well his songs did, or how many award shows he’d