Love Song: A friends-to-lovers rock & roll romantic suspense

  Love Song

  KG Fletcher

  Copyright © 2020 Kelly Genelle Fletcher

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9798652234904

  Printed in the United States of America.

  **FAIR WARNING: This book contains scenes of detailed intimacy and liberal use of profanity. It is intended for readers 18+**

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Love Song

  is a STANDALONE

  Friends to Lovers Rock & Roll Romantic Suspense

  For a complete list of KG’s books visit: www.kgfletcherauthor.com

  Edited by Vicky Burkholder

  Cover art by Sodasac Author Services

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is greatly appreciated.

  Dedication

  For all of my performing friends in the biz.

  “If music be the food of love, play on!”-

  William Shakespeare,

  Twelfth Night Act 1

  Chapter One

  The show went off without a hitch, the band performing two encores and leaving the audience wanting more. Casey laughed with the other musicians in the van as they headed back to their hotel, grateful for another successful tour. She was ready to let her hair down after the long day of sound checking and the show, excited to chill in the nightclub conveniently located adjacent to the lobby. Apparently, a local, live band was supposed to be performing; a fun night of dancing and drinking with her band mates for sure. The whole group unloaded like clowns out of a tiny car at the circus onto the cobblestone driveway at the hotel entrance.

  “Dora, come by my room for a cocktail before we head down to the club,” she said to her striking Latino singing partner after remembering she had two beers left in her mini-fridge. The two of them were backup singers in the group and thick as thieves.

  “You bet, girlfriend,” she replied and ran her hand through her short, auburn hair, teased for the performance to look like a faux-hawk.

  Casey felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around. Sam Wildner grinned and pulled his wheeled drum cymbal case behind him. This had been his first gig with the group, subbing for their regular drummer who had double booked himself. There was a definite connection between the two of them when they first boarded the plane in Atlanta and chatted across the aisle from one another. A kind passenger offered to trade seats, and they ended up talking non-stop for the next hour and half, very closely, hitting it off immediately.

  “You girls want some menfolk to join you?” His smile was brilliant with perfect teeth, and his amazing blue eyes clear as the ocean in the Caribbean. During the show, Casey enjoyed catching glimpses of him doing his “thing” on the drums. He was talented – and cute; her favorite combination. Sam subbed for different Atlanta bands, and was also an extremely gifted teacher, sharing his craft with children and teens when he wasn’t on the road gigging.

  “Yeah man, I wanna go too. I’m starving and I heard the club offers some delectable bar food,” the quirky keyboard player, Rocky, chimed in.

  “Sure thing,” Casey replied grinning back at them from ear to ear. “Let’s run up to our rooms and drop our stuff off. We can meet in the hallway and walk down together.”

  The band loaded into the elevator, debriefing about their performance, giddy at the crowd reaction. Spilling out onto the sixth floor, they said their good nights to those who wouldn’t be joining them and headed to their own rooms.

  Casey shut the door with a click and turned on several lamps in the tidy room. Grabbing a beer out of the mini-fridge, she twisted it open and took a nice long pull from the bottle. She was excited the boys were joining them, especially Sam. Very quickly, she changed out of her show clothes, powdered her nose, and reapplied lip gloss. Eyeing her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she patted down her out-of-control show hair, frizzed slightly from the outdoor event. Batting her false eyelashes, she contemplated taking them off but decided not to—she liked the dramatic way they enhanced her big brown eyes.

  There was a knock at her door and she smiled, knowing it was Dora coming over for the last beer. She opened the door and pushed the large, silver security lock forward to leave it cracked for when the boys came by.

  “Hola chica! Time to party!” Dora entered the room and swayed her hips in a sexy salsa move. Casey giggled and handed her the cold beverage. The two friends clinked the beer bottles together in a friendly toast.

  “I’m hungry too. I hope they have some fries or chicken fingers on the menu. Junk food!”

  Casey laughed, draining the last of her beer and noticed Sam’s face peek from behind the cracked hotel room door.

  “Knock-knock. Y’all ready?” he asked, looking especially cute in his blue jeans, white collared shirt and black vest. His black skinny tie hung loosely around his neck as Rocky followed him close behind.

  “Yes, let’s go.” She started to grab her small purse and jacket before Dora handed her the half drunk beer she’d been holding.

  “Here… you finish. I’m already tipsy from lack of food.”

  Casey didn’t hesitate and put the bottle up to her lips, chugging the remaining beer in three gulps. When she noticed the guys watching her, she blushed.

  A huge grin blossomed across Sam’s face as he held the door wide open for everyone. “Looks like you’ve already primed the pump. I’ve got some catching up to do.”

  Casey smiled, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and threw the bottle into the trashcan with a loud thump. As she passed in front of Sam, she muttered, “Catch me if you can,” causing him to laugh out loud.

  Six floors down, past the hotel restaurant, they found the entrance to the nightclub where an older woman sat at a table collecting a five-dollar cover charge. Sam immediately pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet.

  “This is for me and my friends,” he offered the lady with a grin.

  Dora patted his back. “You sweet thing. The first round of drinks will be on me.”

  The club wasn’t too packed and their small entourage was able to find a small, high-top bar table toward the back of the room. The swivel chairs surrounding the table had shiny, plastic seats and Casey slid several times in her leggings as she tried to adjust to the awkwardness of the chair moving constantly.

  “This is weird,” she giggled, feeling the effects of the beer and a half she’d just consumed.

  Sam grabbed the back of her chair with his strong hand and scooted it closer to his. “Here, I’ll hold on to the back of it so it won’t swivel so much.”

  Peering over her shoulder at him, she could feel the heat of his arm radiating down her back. “Thank you, professor,” she flirted.

  A round of drinks was ordered along with an assortment of greasy, typical bar food. The cocktails came in record time and they raised their glasses in a toast to a great show and to Sam’s debu
t in the band.

  Sam pounded his first vodka and cranberry like a frat boy. When he set the empty glass on the table, a look of disappointment crossed his handsome face. When the waitress came by their table to drop off silverware and napkins, he touched her elbow lightly. “Hey darlin’, can I get another drink, only this time with just a splash of cranberry? That last one was a little bit too fruity for me.” He smiled boyishly at the middle-aged waitress who took the bait.

  “Of course.”

  Casey sipped on her weak gin and tonic, occasionally stirring it with a red straw. The live band, which was a trio of guys, was setting up, getting ready to play their first set.

  “How’s your drink?” Sam asked, leaning into her, trying to talk above the thumping beat of a pop song the DJ was playing.

  “It’s a little weak too, but that’s okay. I’m still ahead of you.” She batted her false eyelashes at him.

  He hadn’t let go of her chair, holding it in place, and playfully leaned into her ear. His warm breath made her shiver. “Well, I’m about to catch up to you in no time.”

  The waitress brought over another cocktail and handed it to Sam. By the time the bar food arrived, he’d consumed three drinks to Casey’s one. “Looks like I’m winning,” he teased, grabbing a quesadilla off a large, white plate.

  Casey motioned for the waitress to bring her another cocktail, pointing at her empty glass. The band started to play and everyone at the table was immediately impressed, which was highly unusual for a group of seasoned musicians. Another round of drinks appeared, which made Rocky shake his head vehemently.

  “Dude! I have a one beer limit. Anything after that and I cannot be held responsible.” He ran his fingers through his dark shoulder-length hair.

  “Oh, come on Rocky. Two beers aren’t going to kill you. It’s on me, brother.”

  The band started to play the old Bobby Brown tune, My Prerogative. Dora jumped to her feet and grabbed Casey by the arm.

  “Come on! Come on! We gotta dance to this one! I love the eighties music!”

  They hurried down a few steps onto the tiled dance floor directly in front of the band. Sam followed and joined them, moving his hips and dancing with ease. The three of them laughed and showed off their best eighties moves, enjoying the music and camaraderie.

  When the song ended, Casey was feeling no pain from the effects of the alcohol in her system. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and boogied her way back to their table. Rocky proudly raised his second beer in the air welcoming her back to the table where another round of drinks awaited them. Slurping the remnants of her second (or was it her third?) drink before starting on the new one, she immediately squinted, reacting to the strong dose of alcohol.

  “Uh-oh… looks like you’re coming back pretty strong, little lady,” Sam said as he downed his drink.

  Casey followed suit, draining her new drink through the red straw in several gulps, her gaze fixed on his wide eyes and big grin. She took a deep breath and slammed the glass on the table, the alcohol burning her throat.

  “Whoa, chica! You need to slow down,” Dora exclaimed as she watched her.

  “No worries. I’m good,” she assured, holding up a finger to the waitress to gain her attention for another drink.

  Sam bit his lip as if trying to suppress a smile and continued to hold the back of the chair she kept sliding off of. Their eyes met, and she held his gaze for several seconds as an unspoken conversation seemed to happen between them.

  “Okay, kiddos, I’ve got to turn in. My flight to Manhattan leaves two hours before yours in the morning,” Dora lamented. She threw some money on the table and stood, leaning in to kiss everyone goodbye. When she got to Casey, she paused and grabbed her by the cheeks.

  “I love you girl. I had a blast this weekend. See you in January at the New York convention.” She kissed her forehead. “And start drinking some water or you’re going to be sorry tomorrow on the plane.”

  Casey nodded and watched her hot friend exit the club. Dora was a Broadway veteran and the only one in the band who wasn’t based out of Atlanta. She cherished their time together and always looked forward to the Association of Performing Arts Presenters convention in January where they could hang out on Dora’s home turf in New York City.

  Rocky stood and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “It’s getting late folks. I need to hit the sack too.”

  “Oh, no you don’t buddy. One more beer. Just one. Come on, man. It’s a celebration,” Sam pleaded.

  Casey chimed in, “Yes Rocky, one more. Please?”

  Rocky rolled his eyes and sat back down. “Okay…. One more.”

  A final round of drinks came and Casey knew she was in trouble. She tried to act casual as Rocky and Sam had an animated, in-depth conversation across the table from one another about some jazz drummer, or was it a pianist? The loud thumping of the band echoed in her ears, and she couldn’t understand what they were saying. She tried to lean her swirling head on her hand and her elbow slipped, nearly causing her to fall off the swivel chair.

  “Uh-oh,” Sam grunted, catching her before she fell to the ground. “Looks like the gin is catching up to you.” Pulling her chair closer, he put his arm around her waist, holding her taught against his sturdy frame. Casey closed her eyes and tried to calm her sloshing stomach by breathing deeply through her nose. She knew she should’ve eaten some of the bar food they’d ordered earlier. She had only picked at the French fries, concentrating more on her cocktails and trying to outdo and impress Sam.

  Rocky sipped on his third beer, oblivious to what was going on between them. When he excused himself and headed to the bathroom, Sam swiveled Casey’s chair around and placed both hands on her thighs. His palms were hot, sizzling through her leggings to her bare skin. Squinting woozily at his smiling face, she was desperate to keep her neck from bobbling.

  “Are you okay? Do you need some water?” Sam asked quietly.

  Focused on his chin, she realized she really liked his goatee and felt compelled to reach out and tug on the little brown hairs sprouting from his face. “Mmmhumm,” was all she could mumble.

  Sam used his fingers like a comb and pushed her long hair back from her shoulder. When he unexpectedly leaned in to kiss her neck, she sighed happily, and closed her eyes….

  The next thing she remembered was the alarm on her phone going off in her hotel room. Blinking against the muted light filtering in from under the curtains, she determined she was in the bed, fully clothed—all alone.

  Chapter Two

  Casey stared at her reflection in the hotel bathroom in disbelief. Her false eyelashes from the show the night before clung haphazardly to her eyelids, looking more like insects than lashes. She pulled them off quickly, shaking her head in disgust. Covering her face in makeup remover, she started to clean off the heavy show makeup just as her phone pinged with a text message. Sitting on the toilet lid, she woozily looking at the screen.

  “I won…” It was a message from Sam that included a smiley face emoji.

  She immediately texted back. “How did I get to my room? OMG, I’m mortified!”

  Her phone rang. She hesitated before answering, not sure if she was ready to hear about her after-hours escapades, disgusted with herself for letting her drinking get away from her—again. Beer was usually her drink of choice, and she had no idea why she’d started drinking the hard stuff in front of her friends. Perhaps she was trying to feel relaxed around Sam, whom she was genuinely attracted to. And then, of course, he started egging her on in their little impromptu drinking contest. Why did she play along? What had gotten into her? And why was he so freakin’ cute?

  “Hello?” Her voice was raspy and she realized she was dying of thirst, the very thought of gin making her gag.

  “Hey you. How ya feeling darlin’’?” She could tell that Sam was smiling on the other end.

  “Ummm. How do you think I’m feeling?”

  He laughed.

  “Was I a complet
e idiot? Did I embarrass you in any way?” The thought of a variety of drunken scenarios in her vulnerable state crossed her mind, and she suddenly felt nauseous. If her overprotective sister knew what she had done, she’d be livid.

  “No. You were a very good girl. A little drunk and quiet, but very good. Rocky and I helped you back to your room. I hope you don’t mind that I had to look through your little purse to get out your room key.”

  “Oh…. yes, that’s okay. That’s fine.” She fingered the soiled washcloth in her hand, not sure what to say.

  “I have your jacket. You left it in my room—”

  “I was in your room?” A bolt of panic shot through her system.

  “Yes. You and Rocky came to my place for a few minutes before we took you back to your room. You were adamant that the night was young and you weren’t ready for bed.” He chuckled. “That didn’t last long. We got you back, safe and sound.”

  “Oh… I’m so sorry Sam. I don’t usually drink like that. I don’t know what got into me.”

  “No worries. I’m heading down to grab breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Just meet me there when you’re ready and I’ll give you your jacket.”

  “Alright.”

  She ended the call and turned on the shower, ready to cleanse her body and her mind of the drunken ordeal. A faint flashback of Sam’s face extremely close to hers crossed her mind and she absent-mindedly touched her lips. Looking in the mirror, she vaguely remembered him kissing her lightly before saying good night to her. Or was that a dream?

  The steam from the shower fogged up the mirror in the bathroom and her mind clouded in its own haze of fuzzy memories from the previous night. The only clear things she could distinctly remember were the awesome band, and Sam’s crystal blue eyes. His gaze transfixed her and drew her to him like no other. Shaking off her daydream, she climbed into the shower, anxious to get cleaned up and downstairs where she could talk to him one-on-one and find out what exactly happened.