Hawk and Dove (Rock Star Romance Novel) (30 page)

Chapter Twenty Five

“I thought we were having dinner at your place?” Trent says.

I smile, turning into the parking lot of Vera’s diner. “We
are,” I tell him, “This is just something of a business meeting.”

“Whatever you say,” Trent sighs. He’s not the only one who’s
bound to initiate flights of fancy in this relationship.

We step out of the car and make our way into the restaurant.
A string of bells rings our welcome as I push open the door and step into the
familiar, homey space. Everything’s exactly the same as it ever was in my
favorite haunt, except for one feature.

“I’ll be damned...” I breathe, taking a gander at the
gigantic picture of me that’s tacked up in the restaurant's front lobby. “Vera
wasn’t kidding.”

Trent smiles at the picture, and image of me from my first
concert at Hawk and Dove. No doubt Vera had one of her young employees print it
off some gossip website or another.

“You’re a hometown hero,” Trent teases, wiggling his
eyebrows, “You should be proud.”

“Or something,” I say.

“Well, look who it is!” I hear a familiar voice crow. In a
heartbeat, a pair of meaty arms have me all wrapped up in a hug—my face pressed
uncomfortably close to some very familiar cleavage. Vera holds me like I’m a
long lost daughter, returned from the war. She’s nothing if not hopelessly
dramatic whenever she gets the chance.

“What did you think, I could stay away from your home fries
forever?” I laugh, straightening up in her crushing embrace.

“So it’s just the cooking you’re back for?” she sniffs, “I
thought you’d want to come grace me with all your tales of celebrity.”

“I don’t have all that many yet,” I remind her, “But I
promise not to leave you out of the loop.”

“You’re damned right,” she says, “I’m singlehandedly
responsible for feeding you and that Mitch character all through high school.
The least you could...” but she trails off, catching herself having mentioned
Mitch.

“It’s OK Vera,” I tell her, “It’s not like we were star
crossed lovers or anything.”

“Tell that to him,” she says, “You know that boy was crazy
about you. In fact, it seems like you’re collecting smitten musicians left and
right these days...” I follow her gaze to Trent, who’s been standing at the
door, waiting for a break in her bumbling affections.

“Hello,” he says smoothly, sidling up next to me, “I’m Trent
Parker.”

“I know who you are,” Vera says, eyeing him up and down.
“You’re the fancy pants rock star who’s stolen our Ellie’s heart away.”

“Vera!” I exclaim.

“I just call them like I see them,” she says, raising her
hands in the air.

“That you do,” I say, tugging on Trent’s arm. “Come on,
we’ve got someone else to meet.”

I tow my rock star away from Vera, over to my favorite booth
in the place. As we approach the table, I see a familiar face waiting for us.
Just like I planned.

“Hello Teddy,” I say, drawing up to the booth.

The young man looks up, doing a bad job of masking his
nerves. “H-hi Ellie,” he smiles, “It’s good to see you again.”

“I’m sure it is,” I say coolly, “This is Trent Parker, as
I’m sure you know.”

“Of course,” Teddy says, “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr.
Parker.”

“It’s Trent,” he says, looking confused. “Ellie, who’s
this?”

“This,” I say, sliding into the booth, “Is the little man
who’s responsible for my first landslide media coverage. You know—the one I got
trapped under just as I was arriving at Hawk and Dove.”

“You didn’t like the story I wrote?” Teddy asks, as Trent
sits down beside me.

“I didn’t like that you lied about where your story was
going to be printed,” I tell him archly. “I thought we agreed that our
interview was going to go in the Barton Bugle?”

“We never...
actually
specified,” Teddy says, his
voice rising a note with every word.

“You’re going to make a great journalist,” I tell him,
“You’re already weaseling through loopholes like a pro.”

“You have to admit,” he says, leaning onto the table, “That
article did cause a pretty big spike in your popularity.”

“It also caused a huge falling out between Mitch and I,” I
tell him, crossing my arms, “A falling out that wouldn’t have happened if you’d
quoted me correctly.”

“I’m...I’m sorry if you were hurt,” Teddy says quietly, eyes
darting nervously toward Trent, “That wasn’t my intention at all. I just knew
how talented you were, and figured that I could earn myself a reputation in the
music journalism world with an exclusive story about you.”

“It was a shitty thing to do,” I tell him.

“I know,” he sighs.

“But,” I go on, “The fact of the matter is that breaking off
my partnership with Mitch was for the best.”

“Oh?” Teddy says, his ears all but perking up, “You don’t
say?”

“I do say,” I tell him, “In a weird, roundabout way, you’re
sort of responsible for the start of a much more...exciting collaboration.”

Teddy’s eyes grow wide, skirting between me and Trent. “You
mean...you two?” he says breathlessly, “I did that?!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Trent says under his breath.

“Your article created the circumstances that let Trent and
I...get to know each other,” I tell Teddy, “So, I can’t be that angry with you.
In fact, I wanted to offer you another exclusive, if you’re interested.”

“Of course I’m interested!” Teddy squeals, “An interview?
With both of you?”

“Is that OK, Trent?” I ask, “Since we’re here.”

“Oh...Why not,” Trent says, “You’re the mastermind, here.”

“Lovely,” I say, “Here’s the thing, Teddy. There have been a
lot of rumors going around about me and Trent, and I want the record set
straight. I’m offering you the chance to be the person who does that
straightening. There are a couple of conditions, though. For one thing, you
have to actually report what we say accurately. Trust me, you won’t need to
take quotes out of context to make our story more interesting. Also, you need
to publish the story in the Bugle first. It’ll get picked up by every single music
magazine and blog out there, but I want to give back to the place that taught
me how to write in the first place, you understand?”

“Absolutely,” Teddy says, “Can we do this right now?”

“I don’t see why not,” I say.

Teddy plunges his hand into his pocket and digs out a tape
recorder. Trent raises his eyebrow at the device.

“How did you know to bring that?” he asks suspiciously.

“A reporter always comes prepared,” Teddy says, self
importance oozing from every pore.

“Right,” I say, “Why don’t we get started?”

“Just one minute,” Vera says, bustling up to us with three
mugs and a pot of coffee, “No good conversation ever happened without a cup of Joe
to keep it going.”

I think of my and Trent’s early mornings at Hawk and Dove,
sipping on coffee together as the world dawned over the festival. “You may be
right,” I allow.

Satisfied, Vera pushes a mug of coffee toward each of us and
hurries away. I take a sip, stealing a glance at Trent. He looks benignly
mystified, happy enough to go along with my master plan. I like that in a man.

Teddy fumbles with the settings on his tape recorder and
finally sets the thing down on the table, just like he did not too long ago,
back before any of the Hawk and Dove madness ensued. He looks up at us, eyes
big and hopeful.

“So,” Teddy begins, “You two are back from the Hawk and Dove
festival with some exciting news for the rest of the world...”

“That’s right,” I tell him, “During our time in Kansas,
Trent and I struck up a new musical partnership that we plan on exploring from
here on out.”

“We’re both very excited to see where it takes us,” Trent
puts in.

I have a feeling that’s he’s not just talking about the
music, now.

“Do you have any big plans for your collaboration?” Teddy
asks eagerly.

“We do,” I say, “This summer, I’ll be touring with Trent and
his band as they make their way around the country.”

“In what capacity?” Teddy asks.

“Oh...You know,” Trent smiles, “Muse, and such.”

“Trent and I might play some new stuff we’ve been working
on,” I suggest, “Or maybe I’ll open for the guys a couple of times. We haven’t
worked out the specifics. But we were so excited to find so much musical common
ground that we want to keep up our partnership.”

“Trent,” Teddy says, “Don’t you think that fans who’ve grown
used to your harder, tougher image might take issue with Ellie’s presence
during this tour?”

“Anyone who thinks that way just doesn’t have any idea how
tough Ellie really is,” Trent says, throwing me a smile.

“Let me rephrase,” Teddy says, “Your styles of music are so
different. Trent, you play hardcore rock, and Ellie, your songs are far more
folksy and lyrical. How do you expect resolve that disparity?”

“Just because we’re different, doesn’t mean we don’t
complement each other,” Trent jumps in, “A little variety makes for an exciting
partnership. Ellie and I seem very different at first glance, but there’s a lot
that we see eye to eye on. Our differences only strengthen our resolve about
the things that are really important.”

“That’s very insightful,” Teddy says.

“You sound surprised,” Trent sneers.

“No! It’s just...Your tone during interviews is usually not
so...”

“Intelligent,” Trent says. “I know that. My fans should
brace themselves from here on out for a different shade of Trent Parker than
they’re used to. I’ve been doing some spring cleaning, in terms of my personal
brand, my approach to music and my public persona. I’ve let myself become
pretty predictable these past couple of years, and I admit that I’ve sold out
some.

This tour will be a great opportunity to take back my autonomy
as an artist. I’m done putting on airs for people, or pretending to be
something that I’m not. I plan to make a full return to authenticity this
summer, and that might piss some people off. But you know what? I’m sick of
trying to live my life for the sake of record sales.

The true fans will stay loyal, no matter what. And those who
don’t like the new direction I’m taking can go find some other Top 40 machine
to worship.”

“Strong words,” Teddy says excitedly, “Ellie, do you see
yourself as part of this transformation in Trent? Do you feel like you’re the
catalyst for this change?”

“I don’t think it’s a transformation as much as a
revelation,” I say carefully, “I feel very honored to have Trent trust me the
way he does. We’re very open with each other.”

“Pardon me for saying so,” Teddy starts, “But this sounds
like more than a strictly musical partnership to me...”

I look over at Trent, hesitating. Is this it? Do we come
clean to the public, our fans, as a couple? We’ve never even really discussed
any titles or labels where our relationship is concerned. I’d feel rather
strange calling Trent Parker my “boyfriend”.

He’s much more to me than that, after all.

Trent takes my hand under the table and smiles cavalierly at
Teddy. “We’re partners in many senses of the word,” he says. “Maybe even every
sense.”

“Meaning...?” Teddy leads.

“Did I stutter?” Trent barks, “I just fed you your headline.
Take it or leave it, twerp.”

Teddy turns eighteen shades of red, and I have a feeling
that I’m blushing just as deeply. Just like that, we’ve declared ourselves a
pair to the rest of the world. There’s no turning back now.

“Good luck with your story,” I tell Teddy, standing up from
the table, “And remember, no fudging the quotes.”

“You got it,” he says softly, as Trent and I begin to walk
away. Vera waves at us as we make our way back to the car, and I’m pretty sure
I see her tacking up a second picture onto my wall of fame—one that includes
Mr. Trent Parker.

“You’re pretty good at this media thing, Jackson,” Trent
tells me, as we slip back into the car, “Maybe you'll be our new manager?”

“Please,” I scoff, “I’ve got my own brand to deal with,
thank you very much.”

“Well...Maybe you could stick around in a more permanent
capacity anyway,” Trent says, “Like...as an actual band member?”

I let my keys fall away from the ignition. “What?” I say
dumbly.

“You should be a part of the band,” he repeats, “You’re
already coming on tour with us. And now that we’re between managers, we can
make any drastic changes that we want.”

“I’ve only played with you guys once,” I exclaim, “You
haven’t even talked it over with the others.”

“They love you,” he insists, waving away my protests, “And
besides, I’m the front man. I call the shots.”

“Why do I feel like they would take issue with that?” I
laugh.

“Hypothetically, then,” he says, laying a hand on my knee.
His smallest touch still sends chills straight through me, “Is that something
you might possibly be interested in, in the future?”