Rockstar Secrets Read online

  “I’m sorry, I need a moment to review the menu. Brione after you.” He extended his hand towards the counter and she stepped forward. She appeared as surprised as he was. The chemistry between them was as real as the nose on his face.

  “Huh, sure.” She stepped to the counter and tossed her purse on her shoulder like a barrier between them. No, baby girl, that purse ain’t gonna save you.

  She started to order and the sounds of the room faded into oblivion as Marques scanned the length of her body, the curve of her backside, and…

  “And for you sir?” The barista wiggled his eyebrows. Heat rose to Marques’ face, caught. But her hips were too tempting to ignore in pants that left no curve to the imagination.

  “Our order is not tog—”

  “Make it two of what she’s having.” He passed his credit card and turned back to Brione.

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “You’re welcome,” he teased, her expression much too severe for him.

  Her eyes softened, “Thank you.”

  Brione stepped to the side and waited as Marques collected his receipt. They stood in heated silence both snagging discreet glances at the other waiting for their coffee. He had no clue what she ordered, thankfully he wasn’t allergic to anything.

  His senses were ablaze with her nearness. The closest comparison would be the moment he completed a new song. It gave the dueling emotions of exhilaration and exhaustion simultaneously.

  “Are you off to work today?” He noticed the button up blouse and dress slacks.

  “No, I’m meeting a friend. And you?”

  “Business.” She scanned his body in a sweeping motion. He wore a baseball cap with jeans and shirt. His goal was to blend in with the good people of Houston. He wished now that he’d given it more thought. Her mouth took on an unpleasant twist. “What you don’t approve of my casual attire?”

  “Oh no. I think it must be nice.”

  He searched her eyes and wished he could read her mind. The barista called his name for the order. Marques passed a cup to her and grabbed his own. The place was filling up quickly. He snagged a table and pulled out a chair for her.

  “Join me while you wait.” She hesitated. “Please.” Brione slowly lowered to the chair. The floral scent of her perfume couldn’t compete with the aroma of the coffee beans but it was a soft statement of her presence in the busy cafe.

  Marques sat across from her finding it hard to contain the odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. He took a drink of the hot coffee to distract himself. The taste of caramel and whipped cream warmed his mouth. “This is delicious. What is it?”

  “A custom drink. It’s my favorite.” She lifted the cup to her mouth and took a sip too. Remnants of her gloss left on the white lid.

  “I’ll have to get this again.” He grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of the sleeve. “So Brione tell me, are you from Houston?”

  She sat her cup on the table, pulling closer. Their knees brushed, her eyes widened. “No.”

  He waited for her to continue, she crossed her hands over the table. “Are you always this talkative?”

  Her husky laughter rippled through the air. “No, it takes me a minute to warm up to people.”

  He nodded. Brione dropped her hands to her lap, “What about you? Are you from here?”

  “No, I’m from Georgia.”

  “You said you’re here on business. What type of business are you in?”

  “I’m in a family business. I’m taking a little time off before we enter a busy season.” It was obvious she didn’t recognize him. It made him relax, he didn’t feel "on."

  “Do you travel often?” She asked.

  “Not as often as I’d like.”

  “So you enjoy traveling?”

  He nodded, “I do. It is a love of mine, I acquired it as a child. I traveled a lot with my parents.” He took a drink of his coffee. He joined his father on many tours over the years. “The food, architecture, music, museums, I love all of it.”

  “Where all have you visited?” The warmth of her smile echoed in her voice.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and extended his legs. “I visited, at last count, 40 or so of the great states of America. I’ve hit the tourist spots. Australia, Canada, South Africa, Rome, London, Egypt, I love it there too. Dubai, New Zealand, India, China, Morocco, Italy, Bali. There are more but you put me on the spot.”

  “Tell me about your favorite place.” She leaned over the table and rested her chin in her hand. Her eyes bright and inquisitive.

  “Uh…” her smile made it hard to think straight, he searched his mind, “I can’t pick just one. My most recent trip was to Bora Bora.”

  “That place is on my wish list.” A smile danced on her lips, heat coursed through his veins. Get a grip!

  “Put a star by it. It is a place you’ll never forget. The warmth of the water. Its vibrant turquoise color. There’s something magical and healing about the island.”

  Her expression stilled and grew serious.

  “Add this one to your wish list too.” He wanted to see her smile again. “Torres del Paine National Park.”

  The spark returned. “Where is that?”

  Marques leaned forward enjoying the light in her eyes. “It’s in Chile. There’s more sheep than people but the valleys are the most vibrant green and the sky the bluest blue you’ll ever see. There is a small window when the weather is appropriate but it is worth it.” He winked and something told him she mentally noted every word.

  He wondered what she was thinking as she dropped her head, brushing her hair behind her ears. Her phone buzzed against the table and Brione glanced down at the screen.

  “That’s my friend.” She held up her phone and finished her coffee. “We have to reschedule.”

  She stood from the table and leaned over to toss the empty cup in the trash.

  “Would you like another?”

  “No, I have studying to do.”

  “Studying?” He hoped to prolong her departure.

  “I’m a law student.” The glimmer in her eyes dulled.

  “If I remember correctly there are three of them here.”

  “You are absolutely correct.” She placed her purse on her shoulder and picked up a black portfolio. He missed that earlier.

  “Would you like to grab lunch or something?”

  “I really need to go.” She shook her head and glanced at her phone. “Thank you for the coffee and the conversation.” An easy smiled played at the corners of her mouth.

  “No, thank you for this wonderful concoction.” He held up the cup shaking it.

  “You’re welcome. Have a nice day.” She turned to leave and he reached for her arm.

  “Take my number. I’m in town for a couple weeks. I really would like to see you again.”

  “I don’t have time. I—”

  “Take it…just in case. Pass me your phone and I’ll enter it.”

  She searched his eyes for so long he thought she’d say no again.

  “Okay.” She hesitantly passed her unlocked phone, holding the top with the tip of her fingers, as if trying to avoid his touch.

  He entered his personal cellphone number and placed the phone in her open palm. “I’ll talk with you soon.”

  Chapter Three

  Brione sat to study for finals, she had two weeks left before summer break. But his voice, his smile barraged her. “Study Bri!”

  Thoughts of coffee with Andrew had her head in the clouds. The way his head fell back when he laughed. The twinkle in his eyes when he teased her. It was a chasm in time that passed too fast, she wanted more.

  Closing her eyes she estimated his height was close to six feet, the outlines of his shoulders strained against the fabric of his shirt. He stood before her with his hands shoved in his pockets and a killer smile wide with perfect white teeth. His classically handsome features made him beautiful for a man.

  People passed their table slowing to gawk at him,
not once did he look away or acknowledge their presence. She wondered what his hair looked like beneath the cap but figured it really didn’t matter. The man could be bald and she was sure she’d find him absolutely breathtaking—star quality.

  Brione shook her head trying to rattle the images of him from her memories. But it proved impossible.

  She tried reading the case at least ten times with no luck. But his soft encouragement, add this one to your wish list, rendered it impossible. Adding him to her list sound better. Forget it.

  She opened her laptop and clicked on an internet browser. She typed in, Torres del Paine National Park and pressed enter. The results populated, her inner child didn’t know where to start. She squealed stomping her feet beneath the table to release the energy. Pictures, she’d start there.

  Brione clicked on “Images." The pictures before her eyes made her lean into the monitor. There were mountains, valleys, glaciers, snow, a winter heaven. What had he done during his visit? Did he hike? Was he alone? Was it as cold as it appeared?

  She grabbed her phone and went back to his contact. And she noticed the note, Call me and let's have dinner sometime. She had stared at it for most of her non-effective study time.

  She could send a text.

  Her fingers hovered over the screen. No. She shook her head, and then what? He’d text her back and want to talk on the phone. She put the phone back on the table. Music. That would help.

  She stood and turned on the wireless speaker, stopping by the kitchen for some water. Back at the coffee table, she sat in front of her textbook. She untwisted the top off the plastic bottle and took a cool drink. She scanned her phone for some music, pressed play and turned back to the case.

  Brione read through several immigration cases for class. Her doorbell rang and she glanced at the clock. She wasn’t expecting anyone, she never had guests except... She stood up and walked to the door and glanced through the peephole. Her heart dropped to her feet. What is he doing here?

  Stewart leaned into the doorbell. Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding dong.

  “I know you’re there. Open up and stop staring at me through the peephole.”

  Brione jerked back, placing her back against the door. She cracked her knuckles and exhaled a shaky breath. Her palms sweaty, she looked down at her t-shirt and leggings. Her clothes didn’t matter. But she felt more in control in a suit. Less like the young woman that fell for his smile and honey-laced words only to get stung by a wasp.

  “You can do this Bri,” she whispered running her wet hands down her pants. She clutched one hand in the other to still her shaking limbs. “This is your space. You are in control.”

  Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding dong.

  “I’m not leaving.” He stated.

  She placed a hand on the handle and unlocked the bolt. She peeked through the opening created by the chain. “What do you want?”

  “I promise this is not the way you want to handle this situation.” He leveled his deadly stare.

  “I’m studying.”

  “I guess Kayla will call you next week then. Give you time to study.” He stepped back never breaking eye contact with her. She unlatched the chain, stepping back as he strolled in like he owned the place.

  Brione closed the door. Stewart was like the boogeyman. People refute its existence until it pops up under your bed.

  He sat on the couch and leaned back. “Are you always this rude to your guests?” He stretched his arms across the cushions, obviously comfortable. “Can I get some water, sweet tea, a sandwich? Damn.” He laughed at his own joke.

  “You didn’t drive to Houston for water or a sandwich. So stop with the dramatics. What do you want?”

  “What I’ve always wanted, you.”

  Stewart Bradley knew how to pop up on her doorstep when she felt confident, when she finally decided to not let him push her around, then he emerged from the shadows to call her bluff.

  “Have a seat? I won’t bite.”

  The invisible shackles clanked around her ankles as she sat in the chair closest to the door. “What do you want Stewart?”

  “How are you?” His eyes scanned her body. She wrapped her arms protectively around her waist.

  “I’m fine.”

  “When did you cut your hair and what’s up with your clothes?”

  “Stewart I’m studying.” His mother was always dressed to perfection including a string of white pearls. He wanted a clone of Mrs. Bradley, the thought of her old sweats and short hair irking him brought a smile to her face. “And I like my bob.”

  “Is this how you’re carrying yourself nowadays?”

  “Is that why you visited? If so, we can end this conversation here and now.” She swallowed hard.

  “Don’t let law school go to your head. This is still my show.”

  “Why don’t you move on and let us move on too?

  “There is no us without me,” he growled. “You got into law school because of me. You can’t care for Kayla without a job. What about her education? Her tutors? Her nanny? And don’t forget about your pops.” His glare intimidating. “I will deliver his career in a wastebasket. Is that what you want? Do you want to ruin everyone’s lives because of your selfishness?”

  The boogeyman live and in living color. Panic was rioting inside her gnawing away at her confidence. Gnawing away at her plans and dousing her hope.

  She once trusted this man and thought he loved her. That was the face of love. It was laughable. Her tongue felt thick and her nerves made it hard to form a coherent thought. She was tired of him pushing her around.

  Don’t let him push you around. Brione couldn’t trust that voice, hadn’t she invited him into her life in the first place. She dropped her head, stirring uneasily in the chair, hoping to hide the shame from his probing eyes. It was the cost of trusting an untrustworthy person. A person who valued self-ambition and greed over people. How had I missed it?

  “Are you done playing with me?” His nostrils flared with fury.

  She nodded, fear splintered her heart.

  “Good.” The storm clouds left his eyes. “Mom wants us to set a date.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut gripping the arms of the chair. “Stewart you don’t want to marry me. We have nothing in common—”

  “Nothing in common? We have everything in common. Let me shoot it to you straight. I want a date or so help me, Brione Allen, I’ll bury you and your father’s dreams of sitting in the Oval Office. And I’ll ensure you never ever see our daughter again.” He ground the words out through clenched teeth. “Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Four

  Marques entered the studio and rounded the corner in search of Bruce following the music thumping through the walls. He passed a coffee table with industry magazines and the waiting room, following the sound transfixed. He recognized the 808 cadence as he reached for the door.

  He left the cafe perplexed by his entire exchange with Brione. Did he do that—nearly beg a woman for her number, to take her out, to spend time with her? Not until today he hadn’t. He shook his head.

  Nothing about her told him she was interested. That was a lie. Their chemistry could set the room afire. She did a better job of suppressing it beneath her chic blouse and those fitted pants. Her body could be a delicate treat for him to explore.

  Women came easily to him ever since he was a kid. Even then they fought for his attention on the playground. But there was something in her quiet, intense nature that made lyrics run through his mind. Melodies begging to capture the feelings she invoked. After watching her walk away with a second glance back over her shoulder, he knew he had to get to the studio.

  Music was his passion, his hobby, his therapist, and now his job, thanks to the sacrifices of his oldest brother and close friends. The man who made it all possible sat before him in a rolling chair, Bruce adjusted a few knobs then pressed a button.

  “Dude you look exhausted," Marques said entering the room.

 
Bruce stood. They clasped hands and hugged. “That’s because I am.” He dropped back into the chair. “I have to finish your tracks before Sandi has the babies.” A goofy smile spread across his face.

  “Are you ready?” They had several miscarriages before Sandra and Bruce decided to stop trying, then God blessed them with not one but two babies. Her family must have some crazy twin gene because her sister had twins too.

  “Ready? I can’t believe this is happening. It seemed like...” He dropped his head not able to finish his sentence, pinching the bridge of his nose. “God is good.”

  “All the time!”

  Bruce nodded and Marques got it. He watched as the two struggled through each miscarriage and now their family would double.

  “Get ready because I plan to spoil my niece and nephew like crazy.”

  “Not more than me,” he laughed.

  Bruce was more than his producer and his friend, he was his brother. He had seen Marques through the worst of times.

  “I’ll let you finish up. I want to write some lyrics. You have any tracks I can listen to?”

  “You know I do. Fast, slow, mid-tempo?”

  “Send me a mix. I have some lyrics in my head but listening to the beat will help me capture the melody.”

  “Sure thing. Let me send them to you.”

  Marques pulled out his phone and Bruce air dropped the tracks to his phone. Marques sat on the leather couch and checked his cellphone battery with forty percent, he was good. He opened the Note app and popped in his wireless headphones. He pressed play on the first track.

  “Bruce.” He glanced over his shoulder. “This track is hot!”

  Bruce winked and went back to work.

  Marques let the rhythm of the music fill his ears and it was like water washing over his body as he went under. Music was a transient process for him. He could mold and morph into whoever he had to become to breathe life into the song. Today he wanted to capture his experience with Brione.