AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I put on clothes and meet Sara at the front door. It’s closed, and when I look at her, she says, “I didn’t want to just let some random person in,” and gets out of my way.
When the door opens, the man standing on my front porch turns around, a wicked grin on his face. “Well, well, well, Chris,” he says to me in German. “I definitely did not expect this when I decided to drive out to see you.”
Alwin, the lead singer of our band, looks between me and Sara. “I would say personal trainer,” he guesses, and I look over at Sara. She’s wearing yoga pants and a sports bra, like usual. “Did he interrupt your video?” I ask her in English.
She shakes her head. “I hadn’t started yet. You know him, I guess?”
I grit my teeth. A visit from Alwin is a reminder that the clock is ticking to put our next album together. “Alwin, Sara. Sara, Alwin.”
Alwin steps in as Sara backs up from the door, and he shakes her hand, looking smug. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Of all the people to have at my door, Alwin has got to be the worst. According to most of the media, he’s actually “the hot one.” While I am “brooding and trouble,” Alwin is “charming.” He’s the one most likely to bed a groupie—or groupies all at once, in a few instances—and he’s also the most likely to preen and brag about the band.
“Would you like some coffee? Or tea?” Sara asks, and I thank god with my next breath. It’s too early to deal with Alwin without coffee.
“Coffee would be great,” I say, closing the door. “Someone is going to need it on his drive back to wherever he came from.” I glare at Alwin.
“No problem,” Sara says, turning and walking to the kitchen.
Alwin watches her go with a tilt of his head.
I move to block his view and switch back to German. “What are you doing here?”
“Me? What areyoudoing? Do you have an American girlfriend? Did you meet her on tour?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I say. “And she doesn’t know about Verduistering.”
Alwin’s eyebrows nearly shoot off his face. “What?”
“She doesn’t know I’m in—”
Alwin claps his hand on his mouth, sheer delight on his face, and I know I’m going to get a ribbing about this forever. “I am so glad I drove from Berlin.”
I snort and tug on his sleeve, leading him back toward the kitchen.
Sara, despite not being a coffee drinker herself, has the machine on and is pouring two mugs when we get into the kitchen.
“Thank you, Sara,” Alwin says and takes a seat at the table. “Join us, yes?”
She glances at me, and I nod.
“I’ll just make myself another cup of tea.”
“So, I’m sorry, you two are . . .?” Alwin trails off to let us fill in the blank. He’s needling me since I already told him we’re not together; he just wants me to say it in front of her.
“Roommates,” I say firmly.
“And how do you know Chris?” Sara asks Alwin.
“We’re colleagues,” he says smoothly and winks at me while she’s not looking.
He probably thinks I’m doing something seedy—well, seedier than hiding my fame from Sara—and is ready to jump in feet-first to back me up.
I’m reminded of all the times we had to bullshit our way through the industry. Fake it till you make it is very apt, and we often told tales of grandeur to people—promoters, groupies, radio DJs, anyone who would listen and might get us a foot in the door.
“Where are you from, Sara?”
“A small town in Texas,” she says. “But lately, I’ve been living outside of Austin. Still a small town, but near the big city.”
