Hawk and Dove (Rock Star Romance Novel)
Read Hawk and Dove (Rock Star Romance Novel) Online
Authors: Amanada Lawless
HAWK & DOVE
by
Amanda Lawless
Copyright
©
2013 by Amanda Lawless
All rights reserved. No
part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any
form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or
mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product
of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. An similarities to
persons living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Trademarks: This book
identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered
trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author
acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of all products
referenced in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks
is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
I'd like to take a brief moment to thank the readers out
there. It's only because of all of you that we authors are able to do what we
love for a living. This story is dedicated to all the dreamers and doers who
make this world a wonderful place. Always follow your heart and never give up
hope.
I hope you enjoy Ellie and Trent's story as much as I
loved writing it.
Special Thanks
Editor:
Ashlee Whitting
Copy Editor:
Connie Evans
Beta
Readers: Barbara Rahway, Jessica Kline, Kelly Allsop
Formatting: Carl
Jenks
Table of
Contents
“Is that really necessary?” I ask, nodding at the recording
device that's resting on the table among the coffee cups and condiments.
The eager young reporter looks at me through his thick
lenses, instantly apologetic. “I’m so sorry Miss Sims,” he says, snatching up
the device, “I didn’t mean to make you at all uncomfortable, I—”
“It’s OK,” I say with a reassuring smile, “I was just
asking. You really don’t need to be nervous around me, Teddy.”
“You...know who I am?” he asks, his eyes bugging wide.
“Of course,” I tell him, leaning my elbows on the oilcloth
tabletop, “Your brother Gary was in my year at Barton. You must be a senior
now, right?”
“Th-that’s right,” Teddy says rapturously.
“I was the editor of the
Barton Bugle
when I was a
senior too,” I say, “I loved it. After jazz band, writing for the school
newspaper was probably my favorite part of high school.”
“You were the best editor the
Bugle’s
ever had,”
Teddy says eagerly, “Your editorial about gender stereotypes in elective
classes is legendary.”
“Ah, shucks,” I smile, bringing the coffee cup to my lips,
“You’re too kind.”
“Thank you for agreeing to this interview, Miss Sims,” Teddy
says, leaning back in the well worn booth, “This is quite the exclusive.”
“You can call me Ellie, you know. And I’m glad that everyone
thinks this is such a big deal. The hometown support is nice, I have to say.”
“Well, it is a big deal!” Teddy says, “You were chosen out
of millions of up-and-coming bands to play at the Hawk and Dove festival.
Haven't you seen the lineup? Some of the most famous musicians in the world
will be there this year, and you’ll be right there with them.”
“Not just me,” I correct him, “My partner in crime will be
there too.”
“Of course,” Teddy says, scribbling into his notebook, “Your
duo is called Ellie & Mitch—I guess that Mitch is a pretty important
component!”
“Very,” I laugh, running my fingers through my short blonde
bob, “I’ve got the pipes, but Mitch takes care of most of the music. He’s
amazing, actually. He plays the guitar, the ukulele, the mandolin, the
dulcimer...I could keep going, but we leave for Kansas tomorrow, and it would
take me all night to sing his praises.”
“And you two met at Barton High, right?” Teddy asks, his
slight frame leaning forward to catch my every word.
“That’s right,” I say.
“And your relationship with Mitch is...?”
“Very dear to me,” I say simply. I can see that Teddy is a
little let down by my vague answer, but I’d rather not offer up my personal
life as gossip fodder for the bored teenagers of my hometown. The little East
Coast town of Barton can be rather dull at times, a fact I knew well enough from
my own childhood and adolescence.
I’m home again for the summer after wrapping up my second
year at the Berklee School of Music in Boston. Mitch is going to Berklee with
me, thank god—it would have been tough getting to know a new city without a
familiar face close by. Mitch and I have been buddies since we met in High
School, and now, with our little band gaining some traction in the music scene,
we’re pretty much inseparable. Tall, somber Mitch has always carried a torch
for me, though we’ve never spoken about it frankly. If we go our entire lives
without addressing that particular elephant in the room, I’ll die a happy
woman. I love Mitch like a brother, but I don’t think that’s what he’d be
hoping to hear. We work perfectly together as a musical duo, and I don’t want
anything to ruin that. Especially now that the world is finally starting to
notice us.
“You two want some more coffee?” says Vera, the buxom queen
of this particular eating establishment. I’ve known this endlessly cheerful
woman my entire life, and being back in her company after a year away at school
is a balm for my homesick heart.
“I’d love another cup,” I say, offering my mug.
“Me too,” Teddy says, clamoring to follow my lead.
“You’re a lucky man, Teddy,” Vera says as she pours the
coffee, “This girl’s about to be the most famous person ever to come out of
Barton. She’ll be too busy posing for
Rolling Stone
to give us the time
of day.”
“That’s just ridiculous. On about three counts!” I exclaim,
“First of all, the entire town is making a way bigger deal out of this contest
than is reasonable. And even if Mitch and I were about to become overnight
celebrities, you know full well that we’d still be back here at Vera’s on our
days off.”
“Maybe you would,” Vera says, “But I don’t know about Mitchell.
He’s never been much for community, has he?”
“He’s just private,” I say, “You can’t blame him for not
wanting to be the center of attention in this town. You all are wonderfully
supportive, but it doesn’t exactly add to our ‘hipster cool’ factor, does it?”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your hippy dippy cool
factor,” Vera sniffs, “I’m hanging a big old picture of the two of you front
and center in this diner whether you like it or not. We’re all so proud of you
kids, Ellie.”
“Thanks Vera,” I smile, “I hope you know we appreciate it,
even if Mitch can be a little...”
“Stiff?” Teddy suggests, “Withdrawn? Broody?”
“I was going to say quiet,” I say, a bit archly, “But thank
you, Teddy.”
The young man blushes brilliantly and scribbles away at his
notebook as Vera laughs and bounces away. It feels a little silly to be giving
an exclusive interview to my high school newspaper—it’s like I’m playacting at
being a musician, rather than actually living it. But I suppose that’s how
everyone feels right before they have their first big break into the business.
Stop that
, I think to myself for the umpteenth time.
I can’t think of the Hawk and Dove festival as anything but an awesome
opportunity for Ellie & Mitch. Sure, we won the New Voices contest, but
that doesn’t mean we’re going to be strolling down Easy Street from here on
out. We’re still going to have to work our asses off to make it as a band, and
it won’t do to forget that. Still...I can’t help but think that big things are
going to happen once we make it to Kansas.
At first, Mitch didn’t even want to enter the contest with
me. We’ve been playing music as a duo for a couple of years, and our sound is
pretty offbeat. The musicians influencing us are all over the map—from Joni
Mitchell to Joanna Newsom, from Johnny Cash to Eddie Vedder, and everything in
between. We’re as far away from commercial rock and roll as it gets, a fact
that Mitch is extremely proud of. He nearly spat when I mentioned playing at
the Hawk and Dove Festival, to him it would be selling out.
It took me the better part of a month to convince him
otherwise...or at least to convince him to come along with me. I know he’ll be
happy once we get there, but I’m not exactly looking forward to two days in the
car with him griping all the way. I push the thought out of my mind and bring
my attention back to Teddy, who I only now realize has been talking for about
two minutes.
“Sorry,” I say, “Could you start over? I’m a little spacey
today.”
“Oh,” Teddy says, “I was just wondering what you’re most excited
about, when it comes to the festival. Have you ever been before?”
“Every year since I was sixteen!” I say happily, “Usually
with my older sister Kate. But she’s got a big girl job now, so this year it’s
just me and Mitch.”
“What keeps bringing you back to the festival, year after
year?” Teddy asks.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” I say, “It’s five
straight days of nothing but music, art, food, booze...and excellent company.
There are no distractions, there’s nothing to worry about. The community there
is so enthusiastic, and welcoming, not at all what you’d expect. It’s probably
my favorite place on earth, that little field in Kansas.”
“A lot of drugs too, right?” Teddy smiles.
“I plead the fifth,” I wink, “But honestly, that’s not the
main attraction for me. I just love driving down there with the windows open,
pitching my tent, and enjoying the atmosphere.”
“It’s going to be pretty different for you this year,
though!” Teddy says.
“That’s true,” I laugh, “Though I don’t think anyone’s going
to make a big deal out of us. We’re playing on the teeny tiny stage they save
for the no-namers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful to have been chosen at
all, but we’re still a pretty new act, you know? Ellie & Mitch is a toddler
compared to some of the other bands that will be there.”
“Is there anyone you’re really excited to see?” Teddy asks.
“Oh, yeah,” I say excitedly, “The coolest thing about the
festival is how many different kinds of musicians and artists show up. I’m
definitely pumped for some of the folk groups and jam bands. That’s more my
speed than anything else.”
“Not so much the headliners?” Teddy asks.
“To be honest, I’m not even sure who they are this year,” I
say, “Usually they get some famous rapper or classic rock star to show up.
That’s cool and all, but I’d kind of rather listen to someone who’s
contributing to the present musical moment, you know?”
“I don’t know,” Teddy says, “The lineup’s really stacked
this year. The Exes and Ohs are going to be there, and The Forward Facing. They
even managed to get Trent Parker this year.”
“Pretty impressive,” I admit, “But my heart belongs to the
littler guys, I guess.”
“Fair enough,” Teddy says, “Is there anything else you’d
like to say to the readers of the
Barton Bugle
?”
“Jeez, Teddy, I have no idea,” I say, popping the last of my
fries into my mouth, “It’s not like I have anything figured out that’s worth
passing on to posterity. I’m just making it up as I go along, you know?”
“But that’s what’s so cool,” Teddy presses, “It’s not like
anyone who’s a senior in high school now has a straight shot at an easy life.
We’re all fighting tooth and nail to get into college, but once you get in,
they just spit you out with a bunch of debt and no job opportunities. We’re all
scared shitless, you know? So to see you doing what you love...it’s kind of
inspiring, is all. I hope you don’t think that’s super weird.”
“Not at all,” I smile, “Thank you, Teddy.”
“Thank you for the story,” he says, “They’re going to give
me a gold medal on Monday when I say that I snagged some time with you.”
“Anything for the
Bugle
,” I say, pulling myself up
out of the booth. Teddy follows me out of the restaurant, with Vera wavering
feverishly as we leave. There’s nothing like coming home to get your ego
inflated like a damn hot air balloon. I can’t help but worry that all this fuss
everyone’s making is going to get my hopes up before the festival. To everyone
in Barton, Mitch and I are already famous, but to everyone at Hawk and Dove,
we’re just going to be another pair of hopeful kids.
I drive home in my twenty-year-old sedan, nostalgia pulling
insistently on my heartstrings. Even though I’m back home in Barton, I’m still
feeling wistful. Even though these are the exact streets I used to drive on,
even though nothing has changed about the town itself, I feel like I don’t
quite belong here anymore. Every time I come home from school, it’s like I’ve
outgrown the space I used to take up here when I was younger. I can’t ever
quite be the person I was when I left. I know that it’s normal, that everyone
has these growing pains, these bittersweet metamorphoses, but that doesn’t make
it any easier.
Shaking off the insistent, cloying touch of heartache, I
swing into the driveway. Our little Victorian desperately needs a paint job,
and there’s some clutter on the front porch that always seems to reappear, no
matter how many times we clear it. My mom bought this house when Kate was ten
and I was six. Before that, we lived in a big old pre-fab suburban monstrosity
across town. That was when my dad still lived with us. He was a Wall Street
type back then, a real captain of industry. He and my mom met in New York City
back in the eighties. She was a waitress, trying to be an actress, and he
wandered into her restaurant one night and wouldn’t leave until she agreed to
go on a date with him.
Their early years together sound like a fairy tale. A grungy
fairy tale, but all the same. They shared a little studio on the Lower East
Side while he worked up the power chain in his firm. She did weird, awesomely
experimental off-off Broadway plays and spent the days exploring the markets of
Chinatown. They were happy together, when they were poor. But then Dad started
to earn a little money, and decided that he wanted to get married and make an
honest woman of Mom. She agreed, not realizing what she was getting herself
into. No sooner was the ink dry on the marriage license than Dad moved them out
to the suburbs and knocked her up with Kate.
The promotions came rolling in for good old Dad, and by the
time I was born, he was bringing home buckets of money. As his bank account
grew, so did his penchant for the “finer” things in life. But to him, those
finer things were booze, coke, and hookers. He bought an apartment in the city,
in which he entertained his vices in excess. For some reason when I was born
things only got worse. This fact makes me feel unreasonably guilty.