Page 13 of Tattoos and Heartbreak
Like I was something that hadn’t been worth his time.
I narrowed my eyes at him, glaring with everything I had, and strummed the guitar once. It wasn’t my guitar but it would do. And now that I thought about it, I had the perfect song for this situation. I hadn’t played it yet but I’d written it a year ago and spent a long time perfecting it. It wasn’t slow or peaceful so this audience might not like it, but it was all about hating the way a man could treat a women—like she didn’t matter—and walk away from a relationship scott free.
And as the lyrics came back to me, my brain supplying them like I’d taken them off a menu, I started to smile.
Yep, this song would be perfect.
And bonus: It was one of my favorites. I loved the way the words sat in the music like they’d been born there. I adored the melody. And I’d worked so hard on it that it felt a whole lot like it had been branded into my soul.
I could sing it without even thinking about it.
So if there were any agents hanging around the tour who happened to be here this morning, they’d get a perfect idea of what I could do.
I yanked my eyes away from Rivers’, took a breath, and started playing.
* * *
Only I couldn’t keepfrom looking at him as I sang. Despite everything he’d done and everything he was—and how much I should hate him—I couldn’t stop my gaze from swinging back to him as I sang. Our eyes clashed time and again and every time I looked at him, I remembered the way he’d told me that I’d be brilliant in LA, and that I was beautiful.
I remembered the way he’d looked the first time I saw him when we accidentally fell into his room, and how I’d thought he looked sad and lonely.
The guy was so gorgeous it made my heart hurt, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking that there was way more to him than that. He was like a lost boy that needed saving. An orphan in a hot, tattooed, very powerful body.
And he’d somehow wound his way around my heart and grabbed it while I wasn’t looking.
I finished up the song and let the last chord die out, wondering if I’d actually just sang the whole song straight at him, and when I yanked my gaze away from him and looked out at the rest of the crowd, I found them grinning and clapping wildly, turning to say things to each other. Hell, even Anna was smiling and clapping.
God, maybe they’d been in the mood for a song after all.
* * *
I’d barely gottenoff stage when people started trying to talk to me. One diner after another came up and shook my hand or asked whether I had a contract, and I was getting so overwhelmed that by the time a girl with hair nearly as red as mine appeared in front of me, I almost pushed her away.
“Lila Potter?” she asked.
“Yes?” I asked, trying to figure out how short I could make this conversation.
She stuck her hand out and gave me a smile that made me very nervous. “Taylor James, agent,” she said.
Oh.
Thank God I hadn’t pushed her away.
I reached out and took her hand, my heart climbing up into my throat. “Taylor James. Of course. Agent to Olivia Johns and Connor Wheating.”
Her smile turned more genuine. “Correct. And to the Global Authors, who are currently on tour with them. In fact, it’s those Global Authors I want to talk to you about. More specifically, their lead singer.”
What?
I froze, trying to understand where this might be leading. I’d been incredibly excited about her being an agent, but why was she talking to me about a band that already had a full lineup?
Did she know about me and Rivers? Was I about to get in trouble—or be warned about his reputation?
“What about them?” I asked haltingly.
She leaned in and took my arm. “Come get coffee with me. We have some things to discuss.”
I followed her, casting a quick glance at Anna for help, but my friend was stuck in her seat with her mouth hanging open, so I was on my own.
