The “live room” was a large soundproof space designed to achieve the best acoustics possible, or so Kellan told me. In the back was a room-within-a-room holding a drum set. There was another room off to the side that only had a microphone in it. Different sections of the main room were separated by movable panels that isolated sound. Two guitars were amped and miked, while a third space was empty and waiting for Kellan’s guitar.
Just being in there made my stomach buzz with excitement. Part of me wanted to pick up an instrument and start jamming away. Too bad I was astoundingly bad at playing everything. As the rest of the guys strolled into the room, Kellan waved at some people watching us though a large glass window. Setting down his guitar case, Kellan led me to the mixing room where the magic happened. Inside, I was introduced to about five different people who were the brains behind the album.
Eli was a highly respected producer, with a resume about as long as my arm. He’d worked on Justin and Sienna’s award-winning albums, and those were only a couple of his accolades. He seemed way too young to me to be as prolific as he was, but he sure knew his way around the very confusing assortment of levers, switches, and dials.
The dark-skinned man gave Kellan a complicated handshake for a greeting. Waving a hello to me, he turned to Kellan and said, “Heard you said yes to Sienna’s song?”
Kellan nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it should be interesting.”
Eli smacked him on the chest. “Interesting? It’s going to be hot! Just wait until you hear what she’s already laid down.”
I sat on a chair near the door and stared around the room, feeling a little out of my element. Kellan gave me supportive smiles, but he was at work now, and his focus was on his music. Realizing I should get to work too, I asked one of the men in the room if I was in the way in the corner. He assured me it was fine, and I dug through my bag and pulled out my notebook and story notes. I made time every day to write a little, and I was well over halfway finished with my novel. I still hadn’t shown it to Kellan. He was respectful, giving me my space. But I could tell he was curious.
As I tapped the pen cap to my lip, I tried to block out the world and remember how it felt when Kellan quietly pleaded with me to leave Denny and stay with him—when he’d given me the ultimatum that had seared my soul. Just remembering it brought tears to my eyes.
Just as I was about to write something, a voice intruded my thoughts. “Hey, Kiera. You okay?”
I glanced up, then did a double take. Justin Vettel, lead singer of Avoiding Redemption, was standing right in front of me. Having met him a time or two, the shock of who he was quickly left me. Giving him a warm smile, I nodded. “Yeah, what are you doing here?”
He nodded at Kellan, still talking with Eli. “Wanted to see how the album was coming along.” With light blue eyes and blond hair in a layered cut that only a rock star could successfully pull off, Justin was definitely cute. He was wearing a collared shirt, and I could see part of the tattoo that stretched from one collarbone to another. I still had no idea what it said, but it was a beautiful piece. He smiled as I tried not to stare. “We’re finalizing the next tour, and I want to get Kellan on it.”
“He’d love that. He had a lot of fun touring with your band.”
Justin smiled. “Yeah, it’s a hell of a lot more fun if you’re touring with guys you get along with.” He paused for a minute, then added, “Do you think Kate would join me for a couple of weeks if I asked?” Sputtering a little, he immediately added, “Or would that be too forward, since we’re not technically dating or anything.”
His cheeks were a little rosy and I marveled that this celebrity—who could have just about anyone—was flustered over my friend. Famous or not, in the end, Justin was just a typical boy.
“I think she’d like that, Justin. Actually, she wanted me to tell you ‘hi’ if I ran into you . . . so . . . hi,” I said.
I rolled my eyes at myself. Nice message delivering. Justin’s grin grew, and he bit his lip. Remembering something Kellan had told me once, I asked him, “I thought girlfriends weren’t allowed on the bus—only wives.”
Justin scrunched his brows. “The label doesn’t care who’s on the bus . . . so long as we’re on the bus.” A mischievous smile crept over his face. “Who told you that?”
Pursing my lips, I glanced over at Kellan. He happened to look back at me, and when our eyes met I minutely shook my head at him. He’d been teasing about the whole wife thing. Kellan cocked a questioning brow at me, and I giggled. “My husband,” I told Justin.
Justin laughed, then patted my shoulder. “Ah, well, congratulations.”
Justin left to say hi to Kellan after another minute, and I got back to work on my novel. Within seconds, I was absorbed in the story and had blocked out everything else around me. I started when a hand caressed my knee. Kellan was squatting beside me, an amused smile on his sculpted face. “We’re just about to start. You good here?”