Page 2 of Not Another Rockstar
“Because I’ve a flight to Munich in the afternoon,” Phoebe admitted, as her phone vibrated in the pocket of her black midi dress.Is there anything better than a dress with pockets?
She hoped it was Cillian. Instead, it was her brother, Nick, the guitarist of Brothers of Anarchy or B.O.A for short, telling her he’d left her ticket for their concert at the hotel she’d booked last minute.
“I should’ve known that he’d make you go to him,” Lena said, when Phoebe explained what was going on. “You haven’t seen him since he proposed.” Lena’s moaning was interrupted by a couple asking to buy a print of an illustrated flowerpot with a terrible scowl and flaming petals. Phoebe tried not to laugh as Lena was forced into silence. The customers finished congratulating her before leaving with their purchase. Once they were out the door, Phoebe worried Lena was going to explode as she turned the same shade as her auburn hair.
“He doesn’t even know I’m coming—it’s a surprise,” Phoebe explained. “With the exhibit over, I finally have some time before I have to work on my next collection. I want to spend as much time with him as I can, maybe start planning the wedding. I was thinking Italy, something super small at the villa where he proposed.” She was getting carried away, but they had to start planning at some point and her Pinterest board was getting crowded with ideas.
“Italy is a beautiful idea, but there’s no rush. You’ve only been engaged a few months,” Lena said, always erring on the side of caution.
“I’m not saying I’m going to fly off tomorrow and elope.” Phoebe tried to act as though she hadn’t considered it. She’d never been to Vegas, and with their busy schedules, it was an option. If they eloped, they wouldn’t have to worry about the press.
She doubted Cillian’s fans would be happy with his engagement. It didn’t matter that they’d been together since they were fourteen, an engaged rockstar wasn’t as sexy as someone attainable. Phoebe did her best to keep herrelationship away from her social media; she only posted about her art and the process that went into it. She liked to keep her private life private. But with Cillian and her brother being in one of the world’s biggest bands, it was hard to hide in the shadows.
“You’d better not! But if you do, please call me. It’d break my heart not to be there!” Lena gave her a tight squeeze.
“I promise not to get married without you.”
As much as she loved the idea of a private ceremony, having Lena by her side felt equally important. She struggled for years to find a trustworthy agent, but she and Lena had been fast friends since they met at an art show last year. Any time she doubted herself, Lena would (metaphorically) slap some sense into her.
“Thank you, and since you promise not to elope, I suppose I can join you at the crack of dawn.” Lena released her and put down her glass of champagne.
“I’ll bring you a latte with an extra shot,” Phoebe promised as they headed over to a group of guests.
The exhibition wouldn’t go on much longer now that most of the paintings were sold, but she wanted to do some more mingling to thank everyone for attending.
“Better make it two extra shots!” Lena grabbed another glass of champagne. “Also, I purchased a painting for my parents. They fell in love with the breakfast scene I sent them. It’ll go perfectly in their cottage kitchen.”
Phoebe stared at her wide-eyed. “You didn’t! I would’ve given it to you. Or made a copy for them!”
“Of course I did.” Lena blew her a kiss. “My best friend and client is a sell-out artist, it’s my duty to support you.”
Phoebe couldn’t argue as they joined the other guests, but she reminded herself to buy Lena a large coffee and her favourite chocolate croissant in the morning.
Morning yoga had been the perfect way to relax after the exhibit. Even Lena enjoyed herself, but that might have been the three shots in her coffee that kept her awake during the asanas. But now, Phoebe’s trip was proving to be anything but relaxing. The flight to Munich had been delayed for two hours. The woman sitting beside her stank of old cigarettes, and she desperately wanted to jump in a hot shower and freshen up once they landed. But of course, her suitcase was the last out.
The traffic wasn’t too bad, but the hotel had no record of her last-minute booking. By the time she made it to her room, washed off the smell of airplane and changed into a cute outfit, she was out of time.
In the back of the taxi, she tried to focus on her excitement, on how happy Cillian would be to see her, instead of having to wait three weeks until the band travelled back to Dublin. Unfortunately, by the time Phoebe arrived, stadium security had shut the doors. She groaned as she heard the show commencing inside.
Her general admission ticket was useless.
“Sorry, miss, but the concert has already started. Please move along.” The security guard dismissed Phoebe in her thick German accent. “You can join the other fans and press gathered at the side entrance hoping to catch the band afterward.”
The two hulking security guards gave her a weird look when she didn’t move along.
“I’m sorry I’m late, but I’m friends with the band,” Phoebe pleaded, rocking on the heels of her favourite silver knee-high boots to keep warm. “I’m sure everyone says that trying to get in, but please call Anita Scott, their manager. She’ll let you know who I am,” she rambled on, hoping she wouldn’t be escorted away like any other deranged fan trying to get in. She didn’t want to use the ‘my boyfriend is in the band’ excuse, but she couldn’t wait out here all night. Wearing a short white dress, even with long flowing sleeves, in Munich in February had been a seriously stupid idea. However, she hadn’t expected to stand outside the venue very long, or for the temperature to drop even further. With all her bad luck, Phoebe wondered if she should have stayed at home.
“Do you have a backstage or visitor’s pass?” the security guard asked, barely looking at her.
“No, I wanted to surprise the band.” Damn it—why hadn’t she called Anita ahead of time? The whole plan had been stupid. She’d planned on texting Nick to sneak her in so Cillian wouldn’t find out, but he was already on stage.
“Who are you exactly? Do you have some ID?”
“Cillian Hunt’s girlfriend, and Nick Fletcher’s sister?” she informed them quietly. Judging from their bemused faces, they didn’t believe her.
The security guard rolled her eyes. “I’m sure youthinkyou are. However, all friends and family are required to have a security pass. We need to keep yourboyfriendsafe.”
“I wanted to surprise them. I didn’t plan on getting here so late. Hold on, I have my ID.” Phoebe reached into her tote bag for her purse, but winced when she realised she’d left it in the hotel.
