Accidental Rock Star by Emily Evans Page A

of her
ass with ‘Sax’ tattooed on it.” Whatever. They hadn’t caught her
yet. He didn’t want to talk about the insane shit in L.A. The guys
needed to understand the new crazy shit in Texas. He dug his hand
into his short hair. “What I really need to know is how to win Aria
back.”
    The three of them
looked stumped.
    Garrett’s expression
turned speculative. “Does she have a car?”
    Max shook his head.
“He’s not getting her a car.”
    Caz’s look said,
‘that’s a dumb shit idea,’ but in a superior English way. “Right.
How personal is transit? What does she like?”
    “Country music.”
    They all shuddered.
    “Country music with
cello.”
    That made them
wince.
    Caz shrugged. “Settled.
Get her a cello.”
    They all started
arguing at once and none of them were understandable on the
speakers.
    Max hit some key that
made the speakers screech, and they all shut up. “Man. No. What
does she want that’s not an object?”
    Good question. No idea.
“Huh.”
    “Find that out and give
it to her,” Max said.
    Garrett finished off
his sandwich. “How bad was this date? What did you do?”
    “Nothing.”
    Caz narrowed his eyes.
“What do you mean nothing ?”
    Suspicious fucker.
    “He did something .” Garrett lifted a cookie and waved it front of
the camera. He eyed it with appreciation. “Get her some cookies.”
He tilted his head. “And the cello and a car.”
    “She has a car.”
    Garrett broke the
cookie in half and shoved it in his mouth. He ran his thumb over
the remaining half of the cookie. “A good one?”
    “No.”
    “Where did you take her
on this date?” Max asked.
    “Restaurant. Nice one.
Tablecloths and shit. Bottle of wine. We sat down, and then she
went to the ladies’ and texted me she was leaving.”
    “The old loo ruse.”
Garrett shook his head in sympathy. “Oh, fickle heart of the fair
sex,” he moaned and stared hard at the remaining piece of cookie in
his hand. Then he ate it. “These are damn good. I’ll ask Marissa to
send you some of her next batch.”
    “What exactly did you
say to your date?” Max kept focus. “What exact restaurant did you
take her to?”
    Tyler shrugged one
shoulder. “I don’t know. Nicest one within two hours of here.
Crystal chandeliers, rooms and crap.”
    “Rooms?” Caz’s crisp
voice sounded accusing. “He took her to a hotel. No wonder they had
a row.”
    Heat hit his cheeks.
“It’s not like I checked us in and ordered room service. My dates
never walk out.”
    Caz made a superior
clicking sound. “Guess this answers the age-old question for you:
does your fame matter…?”
    “Fuck you, Caz.”
    Caz grinned.
    Max pointed. “I’ve seen
chicks walk out on him.”
    “As a game. Aria
meant this. She wasn’t waiting around in the lobby with a room key
in her hand or in my car with nothing on. What do I do?”
    “Don’t back down,” Caz
said. “Arrange a bigger hotel, penthouse with a private waiter and
bar service.”
    “Man, no,” Max
said.
    Garrett looked up from
his cookie. “Max went with flowers when he had to apologize to
Hannah. Right, Max? The scent of apology? The fragrant hope of
forgiveness? Blossoms. The age-old symbol of beauty that says, ‘I
will adore you until you wither and fade like these flowers.’”
    Max grunted.
    Caz carried on with his
own suggestion. “And have an orchestra playing when she gets to the
hotel room. With a cello. But a small orchestra, so they can leave
discreetly.”
    “Don’t ditch the hotel?
You’re sure?”
    Caz nodded. “You were
right to follow your instincts. You lacked scope, impact—”
    Max cut Caz off
mid-sentence. “No. He wasn’t.”
    Caz took on an
insistent look. “Had his plan been better, he’d have gotten a
better result.”
    Tyler had his doubts.
“Maybe something else.”
    “What drinks did you
serve?” Caz asked.
    “It’s not like he set
up tequila shots on the coffee table.” Garrett turned toward his
frame. “You didn’t, did