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“Ten years.”
That’s a long time, he doesn’t look very old, which means he started young like Dax and me.
“Tell you what,” I reach into my pocket for my wallet. “Take this,” I hand him a generous tip and a business card. “That’s my work email. Send me a few songs and if you’re good, I’ll see if I can’t get someone to take a listen. And don’t give that email out, I’d hate to have to change it again.”
Roger takes the card, dumfounded, and stares at it. Then he smiles. “You’d really listen to my stuff?”
His response makes me grin. “Sure. We all have to start somewhere, don’t we? Hey, you can do me a favor. Where can I get a good cup of coffee round here? Your hotel may be five star, but the coffee is complete rubbish.”
Roger laughs and scribbles down the name of a café with the address on the back of my credit slip then thanks me profusely and leaves me to eat my dinner. I figure that’s my good deed for the month, to negate me being a giant useless arsehole the rest of the time. Maybe the kid’s really talented, who knows?
* * *
It’s a nice walk from the hotel to the little café that Roger recommended. The bonus is that it’s also near the studio where I’ll start recording my album. One of the many things I won’t miss about L.A. is having to be driven everywhere. It was fucking maddening. This morning, I have a meeting with the band about our next album. We’re going to work on writing while I record my solo, so the guys are in town for a while.
I tug my brand new New York Giants hat down low over my eyes, put on fake glasses and pull the collar up on my lightweight coat. No sense getting mobbed at a coffee shop before my first day at work. The place is easy to find and busy, but not overcrowded. That’s good for me because it means that it’s easier to go unnoticed.
I order a massive coffee with cream and sugar and it’s in my hand within seconds. This detour was much faster than I thought, leaving me twenty minutes until I have to start walking to the studio.
Scanning the cozy shop for a spot to hide for a few minutes, I see a table being vacated by a couple of school-aged kids in the back corner. Perfect. I duck behind them and slump down in the seat, staying buried under my hat and coat while I pull out my phone to check my email. Great, one from Kiera. Sighing, I open it.
To: Adam Reynolds
From: Kiera Radcliff
Adam honey, when are you back in L.A.? I need you to go with me to the opening of Freddy’s restaurant. It’s next Saturday at 5. You should see the scripts I’m getting now, it’s unbelievable!
xoxo
K
Shaking my head, I can’t help but laugh. Kiera is so fucking self-centered. She didn’t even ask a single thing about me, or even how my flight went or if my hotel is nice. It’s only ever about what she needs me to do for her. I can’t be mad though, I knew this getting into it with her. After nine months of her selfishness, it doesn’t even faze me anymore.
Kiera’s not stupid, that’s for sure. She has a way of manipulating everyone into giving her what she wants. Kiera has no idea that I know exactly what she’s doing, because I never say a word. I certainly don’t deserve to be treated any better, so I usually go along with whatever she demands. L.A. however, isn’t going to happen. There’s no way I’m going back there for her or anyone else.
“Hello, do you mind if I sit here?”
I jerk up so fast at the voice that my knee bashes the table, making a bit of my coffee slosh out onto my hand. “Christ! That’s hot!”
Shit! Not drawing attention to myself isn’t achieved by screeching in a crowded cafe. I slouch back down into my coat and pull my hat down lower.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The same person who surprised me says, handing me a stack of napkins. I wipe my hand off and finally get a look at the woman who startled me and do a double take.
Bloody hell, she’s gorgeous!
“I’m Sydney. I’m so embarrassed that I made you spill your drink,” she says earnestly. “It’s just…” she glances around the full café nervously, then back at me, “I have some work to do and I usually sit here.”
She’s so charming that I can’t help but smile. “It’s fine by me, if you still even want to sit with me now that you know that I scream like a girl.”
Sydney laughs with me and lowers herself into the other chair. “You’re British,” she says, taking a sip of her own huge coffee.
“Far as I know.” She hasn’t said anything about knowing who I am. Maybe she’s not into music. “I’m Adam.” I
extend my hand across the table to meet her properly She takes it, but hesitantly, her eyes dropping down to the table instead of looking at me as her small fingers clasp mine.
Jesus, she’s unbelievably shy and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. She’s fucking stunning, all long red hair and pouty pink lips. Then she lifts her lashes and meets my expectant gaze.
Fucking hell!
