Summer With The Rock Star (Blue Bay Beach Reads Book 2) Read online

  “Eisley happened to know the guy she waited on,” Billie pointed out.

  Eisley, a slim woman with honey brown eyes, poked her head between them. “Remember, I didn’t know it was him at the time,” she said, referring to her longtime friend Ford and now her husband.

  “True, but for all I know he could be an ogre under his sunglasses and hat.” Claudia gestured to the guy at the table by the window.

  “But he’s well built. Not like an athlete or a marine—” Eisley lifted and lowered her eyebrows because her husband was the latter. “But he looks like he takes care of himself.”

  “In my day, I was a sucker for a guy’s voice.” Betty started to sing along to the song from the sixties playing on the restaurant’s radio. She always tuned to that station during her shift.

  Earlier in the summer, the restaurant hosted a Beach Blast from the Past party and as the night had worn on, Betty and her husband, Gus, sang a duet of some oldies. It warmed Claudia’s heart because they were adorable up there together—that was something she’d always wanted and envisioned, being able to sing with her true love like that—and boy, could Gus croon.

  “He didn’t sound like Gus, Betty.” Claudia stuck out her tongue. “He sounded like a seagull being strangled.”

  The cook called Claudia’s name for the smoothie and she begged the others to bring it to the customer. They were all suddenly busy bringing refills, bussing tables, and getting change.

  Claudia approached the guy by the window slowly, willing her nerves to calm. She set the Pina Colado smoothie down next to the customer she’d completely embarrassed herself in front of when she’d asked him on a date. The smoothie was in a coconut shell cup and had all manner of umbrellas, straws, and other colorful decorations poking out of it.

  He still wore his glasses and hat, but she got a good look at his jaw, which was strong and lined with a few days’ worth of stubble. The visible bits of his hair were a medium shade of brown and a bit shaggy. Mostly though, she focused on his lips. She was drawn to them. They were pouty and perfect when he said, “Thank you,” she imagined kissing him. There was something about his voice, after all.

  Claudia shook her head to snap herself out of it. She had been struggling for the last month to keep up with her new job, her aunt’s care, the financial mess she was slowly sifting through, and nervously waiting to find out about her master’s degree project. She’d applied for an extension, but expected an email or call from Professor Printz anytime to discuss the parameters of the project.

  Had she simply been visiting the beach town, she’d have been delighted to go on a date, but she was no longer in the market despite Betty’s initiation. She had her aunt to take care of.

  “Can I get you anything else?” Claudia asked.

  “I’ll take your number,” Hot Lips said.

  She continued to shake her head.

  “For that date you asked me on,” he added. His voice no longer sounded like a dying bird but had a melodiousness that was both intriguing and mesmerizing.

  “Oh, right.” She scribbled down a fake name and number on the back of an order slip. She’d tell the girls he never called and voila, she’d have held up her end of the dare and gotten out of the situation. She was in no position to date despite what she could see of his good looks.

  Before long, he paid, and on his way out said, “I’ll call you soon.”

  Betty and Eisley rushed over. Billie smirked from behind the register.

  “His voice,” Betty said.

  “I almost feel like I’ve heard it before,” Eisley added.

  “It was dreamy,” Betty said as though she was sixteen all over again.

  It sure was, but it would remain just that, a dream because Claudia had too much going on to entertain a date with a handsome guy like Hot Lips.

  After she told her coworkers how he’d asked for her number, she floated through the rest of the afternoon because Betty was right, his lips and his voice, at least after that first time he’d spoken, were indeed dreamy.

  Later that day, as Claudia was leaving the restaurant, her phone beeped. She got the email she’d been expecting from her professor. He skipped pleasantries and went straight into the details.

  The final assignment: Through research and a series of interviews, you are going to explore the life of a prominent musician. Your assignment is to learn what brought them to where they are today and get a sense of where they’re going in the future. In other words, you’ll be bridging the past, present, and future.

  Whoever springs to mind, whoever you're scheming about who you’ll research and interview, stop. I've saved you the trouble. Because of your delay and extension, I’ve selected a subject for you. He happens to be in Florida as well. I promise this is the only part of this assignment that's going to be easy. The details for every stage of the assignment are in the attached packet.

  Claudia opened it and stopped swiping when she reached the fifth page. There were five more. She went back to the email.

  You will be documenting all of your sources. You will conduct at least three twenty-minute interviews in various settings. For example, a casual place such as a coffee shop or setting where they feel most in their element. Each of these places and how your subject behaves in them gives you vital information about who they are beyond what they tell you. Exceptions, of course, is if your subject is incarcerated or otherwise unable to leave their current residence or facility in which case, you’ll do the interviews at that location.

  The culmination of your interviews will be a ten-page paper combining your research and interviews along with an original composition inspired by their music and what you learned about them. Bonus point for a duet with your subject.

  Contact information for your subject to follow.

  Claudia pressed her head into her hands. Basically, her professor was asking the impossible. For one thing, she didn’t perform with anyone or in front of anyone and certainly not an original composition. Sure, she could demonstrate a sample of a famous piece and practiced plenty to keep up her piano playing chops while at school, but she’d never shared her work or a piano bench with another musician. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t.

  She signed into the student portal, an online space where she could find out about events at school, check on her grades, and communicate with professors and other students. She wished she’d become friends with Trisha sooner, but she had to reach out and ask about this project. She found her phone number and tapped out a text.

  Hi Trisha, This is Claudia from Printz’s class. I’m the one who embarrassed herself and then had to leave suddenly. It turned out that my aunt was sick and I had to take a leave of absence. I just got the assignment today though and am freaking out. I hope that you are not freaking out and are enjoying the summer.

  A few minutes later came Trisha’s response. Sorry to hear about your aunt but glad to hear from you. I’m convinced Printz has it in for us. I got the biggest diva in show business, but luckily, I know how to deal with divas. Lol. We’re not allowed to tell who we were assigned until we’re done. Good luck though, you’ll probably need it.

  Claudia sighed as she walked home. Strictly speaking, she didn’t have to get her master’s degree. But playing music and teaching it was in her bones. It was her dream to share her love of it with students and take it even further through programs in schools and communities that were underserved. Music had saved her life and she wanted to pay it forward. It was all she could see herself doing—she certainly didn’t want to wait tables for the rest of her life. Although given Aunt Margot’s sudden lack of money, it looks like that was exactly what she’d be doing.

  She’d been able to trace some of the money and saw that it had been transferred to another account but it was encrypted. The two women had briefly discussed finances, but as the weeks had passed, Margot had slipped more and more into her own world and often forgot details, information, and conversations. Claudia was able to piece things together and h
ad torn apart the office, searching for info and clues as to what could’ve happened to all the money, but she came up as empty as Aunt Margot’s bank account.

  The next day, Claudia got another email from Professor Printz. When she read the single sentence, she gasped. You’ve been assigned Wilde. He owes me a favor so it shouldn’t be any trouble getting ahold of him. There was a contact number and that was it.

  “No, no way.” If his name weren’t Wilde, his name would’ve been Trouble. Maybe it was his middle name.

  “No way, what, darling?” Aunt Margot asked. “That’s what I told Louis. No way.”

  At the mention of that name again, Claudia spun to face her aunt who sat with her on the lanai. “What? What do you mean that’s what you told Louis?” She struggled to keep her voice calm.

  It was as though Aunt Margot’s eyes glazed over. “I was thinking the dogs should be let out soon. It might rain later.”

  “Aunt Margo, please tell me what you meant about Louis.”

  “Bella, Bear, and Lulu probably need some fresh air.”

  “Of course they do.” Although Claudia was frustrated, she smiled. Her aunt was the best person in her life and she loved her so much. It pained her to see the changes, but she couldn’t get upset with her. “I’ll go let them out unless you’d like to come downstairs with me.”

  “You go on, darling.”

  “Would you like me to bring you some iced tea when I come back?”

  Margot nodded. “That would be wonderful.”

  Claudia let the three fluffy dogs out the back door. The gardens were beautiful and symbolized how much her aunt had achieved—despite the financial woes, Margot had built the life of her dreams—and had the stories of adventures with rock stars and musicians, travels to faraway lands, and a quiet little retirement with her three dogs to prove it.

  Tears pricked Claudia’s eyes, but all of her aunt’s wisdom and strength made her brush them away. “Aunt Margot didn’t raise me to give up or get upset when things get tough. She helped me to be strong,” she whispered.

  Claudia pushed back her shoulders and pulled out her phone. As daunting as the assignment from Professor Printz was, she’d do it. She’d get her master’s degree. She’d reach new heights and live the life of her dreams too.

  She punched the numbers for the contact info she’d received into her cell.

  As the phone rang, it felt strange knowing quite a bit about a person even though they’d never met. Being a musician herself made her pay attention to well-structured songs, but it was impossible to live in the modern world and not know who Wilde was. Even if he had a team of people writing his music for him, there was no denying his talent. Nonetheless, he wasn’t particularly private. His face was on every tabloid and he made internet headlines weekly.

  “Hello,” Wilde answered. The word was simple. One spoken countless times every day. It was English, but British English, and with those double syllables Claudia would’ve been smitten if it weren’t for what she knew about the speaker even before she started doing the research for her project.

  Wilde was, well, wild and known for being a bad boy rock star. His reputation was as big as his ego and aside from the fact that he was handsome, had a mesmerizing voice, and was genuinely skilled, she wanted little to do with him other than to complete her assignment. He was the kind of person Aunt Margot could’ve tamed in her prime. However, Claudia didn’t have the patience or fortitude for guys like him.

  “Hi,” she replied. “My name is Claudia Von Plata and I’m in the master’s degree program at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music.”

  “Fancy,” Wilde interjected in a languid, musical tone.

  Claudia ignored the way yet another word from his mouth practically took her breath away. “My professor, Hugo Printz, assigned me to contact you for my final project. He said you owed him a favor.”

  “Hugo,” Wilde said. “Ah, we go way back. Met at a gig in Rio years ago.”

  “Printz played a gig?” As the question was out of her mouth, she knew she was off-topic even though nothing about her uptight professor suggested he played rock and roll. Then again, he was roguish, rebellious, and assigned the most insane project ever so she supposed it was possible.

  “Yeah. He said one of his students would be in touch.”

  “Do you have time for an interview?” Claudia asked.

  “Love, I have all the time in the world.”

  Tingles shot through her like heat lightning.

  She cleared her throat. “Great. So we can get started. When did you first start playing music?”

  “Actually, I only conduct interviews in person.”

  “Oh. Okay. I’m kind of juggling a lot right now. Where are you because if it’s far it would be great if you could make an exception. Perhaps we could do a video chat.”

  “I’m outside Miami and no exceptions.” His tone wasn’t stern, but rather teasing as though everything he said was a way to amuse himself.

  Relief swept through Claudia. “Okay, I’m just north of Miami.”

  He gave her the address. “See you soon, love.”

  That heat lightning had bottled itself up and threatened to explode out of Claudia. She took a deep breath to calm herself because no way was she going to let a guy like Wilde with his dreamy voice distract her.

  Chapter 4

  Carter

  Despite Carter’s best efforts at remaining off the radar of fans, management, and paparazzi, his stint in the quiet seaside village of Blue Bay Beach was brief. He didn’t even have the opportunity to check into a hotel when someone spotted him leaving Coconut Cove Café, snapped a few photos, and splashed them all over social media. His management team instantly tracked him down.

  He expected them to be upset, but they were beyond pleased for several reasons. Among them being his stunt was true to form and the “Wilde brand.” They said his wild antics drove up interest and therefore ratings as well as serving as another discussion topic on the show Rockers in Rehab that he’d agreed to do and subsequently regretted, prompting his little escape.

  There were two truths and one lie tied up in that messy situation.

  Truths: he was a rocker and he did need rehab, but not because of a drug or alcohol problem. He needed to rehabilitate his career, and maybe his spirit, like one might an old house. The bones were good but the rest had fallen into shambles—though everyone around him thought it was great entertainment. The lie was the one he was living out daily.

  Keeping up the image, fabricating stories to amp up his reputation and sell more records was tiresome, made him feel slimy, and to be honest, he was bored with the whole thing. He missed fooling around with his guitar and his best mates, jamming and recording new music instead of pumping out more and more to feed the hungry fans and fame beast.

  As he waited for Claudia Von Plata, an honest to goodness music student, he played with the sound of her name in his mouth. It had a musical quality, but with an edge to it. He hoped that she did not and would go along with his plan.

  As he waited in the common room of the rehab center, a couple of the other rockers on the show goofed off at the ping pong table, two others played a video game, and the rest were probably in their counseling sessions or being interviewed for the private confessionals featured on the show.

  Carter was a musician, which meant he was also a storyteller and had no problem weaving tales of debauchery and excess, but it was getting old and felt like stale crackers in his mouth. Never mind the fact that most of them were embellishments of the truth or outright lies. His manager, Joey, insisted it was what sold. He wanted to think his music was what brought in the cash, but everyone around him insisted it was the wild persona. Would he tell Miss Von Plata the truth or keep churning out the trash?

  An aide entered the room and stalked over to him. “Mr. Wilde, you have a visitor.”

  The ample woman stepped aside and the brunette from the restaurant, the one with the long legs and the adorable gap be
tween her teeth, stood in front of him.

  “Have mercy.” She was gorgeous. He probably didn’t notice the first time because he was preoccupied with not being recognized.

  She blinked a few times.

  “Have a seat, love.” His lips quirked. Of all the luck.

  She hesitated before lowering into the metal chair.

  “Just so we’re clear I apologize for not calling.” He snapped his fingers. “Wait. Is it Claudia or Alice? You definitely seem more like a Claudia.” He liked the way her name sounded falling from his lips. By the slow blink of her long-lashed eyes, it seemed she liked the sound of his voice too.

  The space between her eyebrows creased. “Alice?”

  “The name you wrote on the paper with your number. I would’ve called, but as you can see, I’m a bit confined at the moment.”

  A beat passed before it seemed like she made the connection that he’d made the moment she’d walked in. The girl who worked at the restaurant was the same one who’d called to interview him.

  He suddenly grew suspicious—countless people had tried to take advantage of him over the years. Many still did. Then he made another connection. She’d given him a fake name and number after she’d nervously asked him on a date. He wanted to be mad, but he’d been giving a fake name and cultivating his fake character for years.

  She skipped acknowledging the situation, any further pleasantries, and took out a notebook. “Can we get right to it?”

  He leaned back in the chair, taking a long sip of her...gorgeousness. That was the first and only word that came to mind. The woman opposite him was gorgeous. However, she had a shy, reservedness that made him think she didn’t realize her own beauty. His chest stuttered, but he played it cool. “What do you have for me, love? Oh, wait, just sign these papers.” He slid a few sheets across the table, leaned over the content, and pointed at the line where she’d sign. “Just nondisclosure nonsense and that kind of thing. Don’t want you sharing anything I say that’s off the record, right?”