“I’ll look at my schedule, Momma. Soon, I hope. Okay? Love you.” He hung up and tossed his phone onto his bed, pulling his shirt off and heading to his walk in closet.
His jaw was tight and he felt anger coursing through him, as he slid clothes around on the rack, deciding what to wear. Finally picking something, he got dressed and headed back out into the living room where Gina was standing at the kitchen island overlooking the living area.
She was tapping away at a laptop, a serious look on her face. Her jet black hair was pulled up into a tight bun and missing any streaks of color it once had. She was wearing a pencil skirt and linen blouse, topped off with stilettos. As he walked in, she glanced up at him and then let out an exasperated sigh.
“What the hell are you wearing?” She smacked her hand down against the counter, sounding irritated.
“What do you mean?” Logan said, stopping in his tracks to look up at her.
“I put the outfit for tonight on the back of the closet door. Can you please go put that one on, we really don’t have time for this.” She rolled her eyes at him and then went back to typing.
“This outfit is fine, I’m wearing this,” he grumbled and she looked up at him again, fire in her eyes now.
“Seriously? Damn it, Logan, who is your manager? Who made you the star that you are today? Was it you? Was it your mom? No, it was me. So, if I say to wear a different outfit, don’t you think I have some inkling as to what I am talking about?” Gina was almost shouting at him as she clicked her heels across the floor, walking over to him with her hands on her hips.
“Ugh, fine, Gina. Yes, I know you did all that, but I’m not an idiot. I can pick a damn shirt,” he muttered.
“Can you please just go change, Logan? Don’t you think you owe me at least that?” Gina glared at him as she gestured to her side.
Logan followed her hands and thought of the small scar on her skin beneath her blouse and all that it implied. He sighed, feeling guilty, and headed back toward the bedroom.
He wouldn’t change his past for anything, because his mother was alive and healthy. But it had been a heavy cost.
Excerpt From
HER FORBIDDEN ROCKSTAR
Forbidden Rockers, Book #2
by Sarah Robinson
2014
Everyone dreads Mondays and the start of the work week, wishing they could go back to Friday night when the weekend was just unfolding. Everyone but Caroline Sanders. She bounced out of bed in a flurry of energy, readying herself for work and thinking excitedly about the week laid out before her.
She rustled through her closet, trying to decide between four different shades of brown pencil skirts. She finally settled on a beige-brown version, yanking it off the hanger, then grabbing a blouse to match it. For a final approval, she held them up in front of her body in the floor length mirror, over her nude bra and panties. She sighed and rolled her eyes as she tossed the clothes onto her bed and went to pick out something different.
Tossing a few other ideas out of the closet, she stood before her bed with her arms crossed and her foot tapping. Every outfit she owned looked the same and none of them were calling her name today. She pushed her chocolate brown, wavy hair over her shoulder, letting it run down her back in decadent waves. Sliding her fingers through her silky hair boosted her spirits since her hair was one of the very few things she actually loved about her body.
She patted on a bit of powder and bronzer over her naturally fair skin that she kept well disguised with weekly spray tans. She dabbed a bit of dark brown mascara on her eye lashes, complimenting her hazel eyes, and a slight bit of rosy gloss on her pink lips. She smiled at herself in the mirror, feeling satisfied. She went in search for some shoes, preferably heels, to boost her short, thin frame and found a nude colored pair on a shelf in her closet that would do the job.
She hurried to pull on her skirt, blouse, and matching heels, exiting her bedroom and flying around her apartment, grabbing her purse and keys. Caroline was a woman of routine and was never late to work, so she immediately dashed out her front door the moment she was dressed and ready to go. She stepped into the elevator and impatiently waited as it took her down to the lobby. The doors opened with a pleasant ding, and the doorman smiled at her, greeting her immediately.
“Ms. Caroline, how are we feeling this morning?” Jeremy, the doorman, nodded toward her as she stepped off the elevator.
“Just fine, Jeremy, how's the weather?” she responded brightly.
“It’s a little breezy for July, but it’s still warm! Really brightens up a Monday for you,” he said.
Caroline laughed, heading out the door as he held it open for her. She stepped onto the gray sidewalk and hopped into the waiting cab that Jeremy had already called for her, knowing her schedule after years of working for her building.
“4634 Lexington Avenue, please,” Caroline told the driver.
He nodded in response and pulled away from the curb. Caroline sat back and melted into the once-black, imitation leather seats, drifting into a daydream. She always dreamed of the same thing when she had time to herself, standing in a bookstore beaming at the rows of shiny covers staring back at her, all designed by her. Book covers of all genres and picture books with her illustrations bringing smiles to children’s faces.
Maybe it was all just a silly fantasy, at least that’s what her father kept telling her, but she couldn’t help dreaming about it anyway. Caroline loved to draw and paint, spending her weekends sitting in the park sketching the scenes around her. It made her feel less alone in overcrowded New York City to create worlds, scenes, and people with her pencil that she could just get lost in. Images she could erase and reshape to become perfect.
“Ma’am, we're here. That will be $15.85,” the cab driver said to her, snapping her out of her thoughts.
Caroline rustled around in her purse and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, handing it to him through the opening in the plastic partition between them.
Caroline scooted out of the taxi. “Keep the change, thanks!”
She hopped out on the sidewalk in front of the Java Jolt, her favorite coffee shop, that was just down the block from her law office. She wasn’t a lawyer, despite her law school degree. Her father had gotten her a job as a paralegal at a famous New York City law firm that his friend was one of the partners at. She was currently studying to take the New York Bar Exam, or at least that’s what she told her father. She was in no rush to become a lawyer like him.
Her father did almost everything for her, including purchasing her Upper East side condo for her. Caroline Sanders came from a long line of country club, old money, upper class lawyers. She went to the finest prep schools in the city, ivy league for college and law school, and still spent every summer at their family house in the Hamptons where her parents now lived year round. Her wardrobe consisted of polo t-shirts, pencil skirts, and ridiculously oversized hats.
Even though it wasn’t what she really wanted to do, she loved her job and her coworkers so her morning commute was always cheerful. Most of all she loved her morning coffee and muffin. The Java Jolt wasn’t a franchise brand, although it did have another location in Washington, DC, but it also wasn’t a hipster joint overrun with kids in baggy hats and skinny jeans.
It was becoming harder and harder to find a coffee shop that wasn’t one of the two, which made this her favorite place for her early morning caffeine. Her breakfast here every morning consisted mostly of lattes and warm blueberry muffins.
She pulled open the front door to the shop as the aroma of coffee swirled around her nose, bringing a smile to her face. She nearly pranced up to the register, greeting the baristas who knew her all by name.
“Caroline! Have a good weekend?” George, the manager, asked her as he started ringing up her usual order.
“Same old, same old, George. Just spent some time in the park. What about you?” Caroline handed over a few dollar bills.
“The wife and I actually got a chance
to go to that bed and breakfast you suggested. It was wonderful, so nice to get out of the city for a couple days and just relax.”
“That’s wonderful, tell Marcy that I said hi!” Caroline collected her warm blueberry muffin and headed away from the counter.
She looked around for an open seat to start enjoying her breakfast while she waited for her coffee, but every couch and table was occupied. She finally spotted a couch in the far corner that only had one man sitting on it. Even though he had spread his things across the open seat, half the couch was technically open.
Caroline walked over to him and put her muffin down on the coffee table, waiting for him to notice her and move his things. She noticed that most of it was sheet music and what looked like scratched out lyrics.
“Excuse me? Do you mind moving your things so I can sit here?” she asked, pointing to his books and papers since he seemed oblivious to her presence.
The brooding man glanced up at her briefly from under his worn out gray, army-style cap, then looked back down at his papers and continued to write. Caroline stood there awkwardly, waiting for him to respond, but it quickly became apparent he was ignoring her.
She squinted her eyes at him, studying the obviously tall man, since his legs were bent at a harsh angle to fit between the couch and coffee table. He wore an army style cap that was worn out gray and tipped down over his face, keeping him directly from view. His cap was doing a good job of hiding his face, even though his wavy brown hair stuck out from beneath.
Caroline couldn’t stop herself from noticing his chiseled chest and bulging biceps flaunted by his black v-neck shirt tucked into his tight, faded jeans.
“Okay, since it seems like you’re have some difficulty moving your arms, I'll help you out.” Caroline started picking up his papers and moving them to the coffee table.
“Hey! Hey, lady! What the hell, don’t touch my things,” he growled angrily, jumping up from his seat and glaring at her.
He snatched his things out of her hands and picked up the remainder, moving it to the coffee table like she had wanted in the first place.
“Couldn’t you find another place to sit? It’s a big place, and I like my privacy.” He scowled at her. “I don’t need to be sitting here with some woman I don’t even know, just to end up with picture on TMZ because of it.”
Still fuming, he sat back down in his seat, but this time leaving enough room for her to comfortably sit as well.
Caroline stared at him wide-eyed, but then shrugged her shoulders and sat down. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? It’s not like people walk around ending up in tabloids every day, even if this is New York.”
“It’s not dramatic, it’s my life. Paparazzi are everywhere. I don’t need a scandal right now,” he retorted before going back to his work. His attempts at giving her every nonverbal signal possible to leave him alone had only piqued Caroline’s curiosity into his last statement.
Who am I sitting next to? she thought to herself as she stared at him blatantly before finally responding. He looked slightly familiar, but barely, and she got a nagging feeling that maybe she’d met when they were younger. Or maybe not, she really wasn’t sure.
“Sounds dramatic to me. Am I supposed to know who you are or something?”
He turned to look at her with a puzzled look on his face. “Are you being serious?”
“Of course I'm being serious. Are you God’s gift to the world or something?” she asked, turning her face away from him. “I don’t think so, buddy.”
George walked up to Caroline at that moment, handing her the latte she ordered every day.
“Thank you, George,” Caroline said, but received no response.
She furrowed her brow in confusion as she tried to gauge his expression. George was looking nervously over at her couch mate, a clear battle between self-control and excitement on his face. When he returned back to the counter, she saw him whispering to his coworkers behind the bar, pointing in the mystery man’s direction. She turned back to her fresh latte, still puzzled, and picked up the newspaper in front of her.
“At least you're nice to some people,” the man beside her mumbled loudly.
She shot him an angry look, but didn’t respond. Instead, she went back to reading her newspaper, attempting to forget the uneasy feeling in her stomach.
The duo ignored each other for a while and went about their separate business, Caroline enjoying her latte and the mystery man writing his music. After about fifteen minutes had ticked by, the mystery man abruptly slammed down his pencil, took off his cap, and turned his body to completely face Caroline.
“Do you seriously not know who I am?” He seemed determined, and slightly irritated, as he raked his fingers through his long, shiny hair. “Have you never heard the name Logan Clay before?”
She looked up at him, immediately noticing how handsome he was without the cap covering his face. He had a chiseled jaw line and sparkling blue eyes that seemed to be shimmering, even in the dull light of the coffee shop. His skin had the perfect tan under the stubble of his five o’clock shadow and long dark eyelashes.
She cleared her throat in an attempt to keep her composure, quickly shaking any thoughts of attraction from her mind. She looked back at her paper, flipping to the next page nonchalantly. “Nope. Should I have?”
“Do you ever turn on the radio or read a magazine?”
He stood up from the couch, walked over to a nearby table, rifling through a pile of magazines until he found the one he was looking. Marching back to Caroline, he held it up to show her the front cover of the magazine.
Sure enough, there was Mystery Man, posing in leather pants and no shirt, exposing to the world a set of amazing abs and tattoos. In big letters at the top, it said ROCKSTAR LOGAN CLAY TAKES TOPS BILLBOARDS.
“Congrats?” she said, seemingly ambivalent.
His jaw dropped as he took in her indifference, standing in front of her a bit longer, still holding the magazine. With an angry grunt, he stalked back over to his seat and dropped down. Logan couldn’t understand why this beautiful woman was ignoring him. Women were always throwing themselves at him.
He wasn’t sure if it was because of her spunk or because of her beauty, but he couldn't deny that he was immediately attracted to her and yet somehow incredibly annoyed by her at the same time. The way she held her newspaper, purposely avoiding looking at him infuriated him to no end. Somehow, it was also the most intriguing interaction he had ever had.
How is it possible that this woman can be so irritating and so irresistible at the same time? Logan thought to himself, glancing at her.
Caroline was doing her best not to look at him, but she could feel his staring. She couldn’t explain why she was acting so distant and cold toward him. Especially considering how handsome he was, and how she was definitely attracted to him. Something about his entitled attitude turned her off quickly though.
That was the one quality in the world she couldn’t stand, probably because of her own background and copious experience with people like that. Caroline didn’t like to admit it, but she wasn’t happy living such a privileged life. She wanted to pick her own future and rebel against her family’s traditions, rather than follow her father’s dream for her to become a lawyer.
Her mind started to drift back to her earlier thoughts of painting, the idea of painting Logan quickly dashing across her brain. This man next to her would make a great subject piece, with his chiseled features and rugged looks. She quickly tossed those thoughts and blushed, thanking the stars that he couldn’t read her mind.
Reaching his boiling point of being ignored, Logan decided to leave. He could not stand sitting next to this infuriating and alluring woman another moment. Beyond irritated and confused, he also felt slightly rejected. Logan gathered up his music sheets and headed up to the counter to order a coffee to go.
Caroline glanced up to watch him leave and immediately felt a pang of regret travel through her, as if she had just mi
ssed out on something she would later regret passing up. To be honest, she had heard of Logan Clay before today and had instantly recognized him once he showed her the magazine cover.
However, Caroline was too stubborn of a woman to give him that satisfaction.
She put down her newspaper and sighed, seeing Logan had already left the store. She took the remaining sips of her latte and stood up. As she did so, George the barista, rushed over to her with his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Caroline! You’ll not believe what just happened!” George blurted out. “Do you know who you were sitting next to?”
He resembled a star-crazed fan with his wide smile and dancing eyes, his whole body twitching in excitement.
“Yes, Logan Clay. What about him?” she responded, halfheartedly.
“He was interested in you! You were sitting next to him for like half an hour, and I saw you guys chatting. Are you going to go out with him?”
“What? Of course not, plus you’re dead wrong.” Caroline stuck out her chin, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “He wasn't interested in me at all. He was a little full of himself, if you ask me.”
“Oh, really? I’m wrong? Well then, why did he tell me to give these to you?” George retorted with a snide grin as he pulled three tickets out of his apron pocket and spread them open in front of her face.
“Concert tickets? For this weekend’s show, front row at Madison Square Garden? I heard that was all sold out!” Caroline was astonished as she read the tickets. She did love music and any type of concert, particularly free ones, so it was a no brainer that she was going to go.
“Not just concert tickets, Caroline. THREE concert tickets. You know what that means?” George raised his eyebrows at her. “He definitely wants you.”
Caroline laughed at his presumption. There was no way that Logan Clay, the most popular rock star in the modern world, wanted anything to do with her, especially after their hostile encounter today. Although, she couldn’t reconcile the dramatically negative introduction with him leaving her tickets. It made no sense.