Sweet Temptation: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players, Book 3)

how? They stole it. While he was loading up his truck behind the venue. One minute my equipment is there, all stacked up and ready to go, and the next, my wardrobe case has taken a walk into oblivion.” I was already on my way home from the show, with friends, when it happened. Sledge, my longtime roadie-slash-technician had called me practically in tears, he felt so bad about it.
I felt so bad for him, I couldn’t even be upset.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Elle said.
“Uh, what were you gonna do about it?”
“Well, nothing. But… moral support?”
“Whatever. It’s insured. I’m sure whoever stole it probably thought they were making off with a way better haul than a bunch of clothes. But a lot of it was custom outfits and stuff I’d collected over time. And there was some jewelry… including the diamond ring my dad gave me when I turned eighteen.”
“Oh, Summer.”
“I know. I should never have left it. But I was all sweaty after the show and I took it off. Honestly, I’d rather they stole my equipment. It would be easier to replace. I don’t think I can even bear to tell my dad.”
“Shit. Any chance you can get it back?”
“I doubt it. We called the police, but they couldn’t do anything but take a report. Whoever it was was fucking fast and long gone.”
“Babe, I’m sorry.”
“Oh, there’s more,” I told her. “I was woken up at like five in the morning, you know, after an hour of sleep, when my neighbor’s house alarm went off. It was so fucking loud, I couldn’t go back to sleep after, so I gave up and got up… to discover that I was out of coffee. The day pretty much went downhill from there.”
Elle cringed sympathetically.
“Then Yancy called this morning to tell me we had three shows cancelled in New York in December because the club only wanted me on the bill for their first annual pre-Christmas party if I was coming again next year, and hell no, I’m not playing some fucking club next Christmas. By next Christmas if I’m not on a world tour with my band, rocking my ass off, I want you to cancel my career.”
“And… how would I do that?”
“I don’t know. You’re a superstar. You’ll find a way.”
“And why would you want to cancel your career?”
“I’m just saying. If I’m not a rock star by next Christmas, I’ve done something horribly wrong and I don’t deserve to call myself a professional musician anymore.”
“I think your worldview is a little skewed right now.”
“My worldview may be skewed right now, but I see my path clearly. I love being a DJ, but I’m done, Elle. I’m so done with Yancy and these gigs where they treat me like I’m disposable.” I was more than done. I had only a handful of gigs to fulfill for Yancy, my former booking agent, and after that… Rock and roll, here I come.
“I hear you,” Elle said. “And you’re almost there. You’ve got Brody and the Players now. One bad day won’t ruin you.”
“I’m not done yet.”
Elle’s slender eyebrow raised. “There’s more to this day from hell?”
“Oh, there’s more. When I called Brody to tell him about the cancelled shows, he started going over my schedule with me, for the umpteenth time. The man is obsessive about syncing our calendars and color coding shit. He starts asking me about the wardrobe fitting I have booked this week, because apparently he wants to get all up in my budget, which I did not know was a thing, by the way… and when I mention that some of my wardrobe got stolen last night, he flips out because I didn’t call him the moment it happened. It was like two a.m.. He has a baby. I didn’t know he’d want that call in the middle of the night.”
Elle gave me a cringey look.
“Come on,” I said. “It’s not like he could’ve done anything about it. I called the police and the insurance company. I’m not helpless.”
“I know. But babe, you should’ve called him.”
“Apparently. Then he gets all worked up about it and my general ‘lack of security’ and decides to inform me that I’ll be ‘requiring’ a bodyguard at some point, sooner than later. Which is going to cost me and my so-called ‘budget’ all kinds of dollars.”
“Sweetie,” Elle said gently. “If Brody thinks it’s time for you to have personal security, it’ll be worth every penny it costs you. Believe me.”
“Right,” I said, doubtful. “Then I kinda got mad at him, and we kinda had our first official manager/musician argument.”
Elle waved that off. “I have arguments with Brody all the time.”
“Have you ever called him a bossy-boss grump-tyrant?”
She snort-laughed. “Probably.”
A couple of women walked into the room, sweeping past us and into the toilet area.
“I couldn’t help it,” I went on, lowering my voice. There was music playing in the washroom, so they probably couldn’t hear us, and clearly they hadn’t noticed the celebrity sitting on the chair in front of me. “I cracked. He said he was gonna go over every line of my budget with my accountant, at which point I had to break it to him that I have neither a budget nor an accountant, and he got all surly on my ass.”
“Wait. You don’t have an accountant?”
“Well, my dad does my taxes. What more do I need?”
Elle just stared at me. I did not like that look.
“Anyway… The whole thing had me on the phone for way too long with Brody, then the insurance company called with questions. Then I had to call my dad to get him to send me a bunch of paperwork, and the next thing you know it’s ten o’clock and I’m supposed to be here, but I’m in my bra and panties in my basement, digging through file boxes full of receipts, and the whole thing has me late for your event.”
“Aw, babe. It’s not my event,” Elle insisted. “I’m leaving soon myself.