URGENT (Book 2 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 22: Rock Stars Return

Well, folks, it's the moment some of you have been eagerly awaiting. Our favorite rock star is back in first person....

(Dedication/Warning for @MmmWhatever and others on Team Maybe-Baby...don't ugly cry. Stay with me...)

Trace... Nine Days Later

"Fuck this long distance bullshit. I'm quitting the band to live as your broomstick, KitKat. Every WITCH needs one right? That way you can ride me all the time."

I'm sitting on top of a roadie case, in the Richmond Coliseum, face-timing my girl in front of an empty stadium. I left her in LA this morning. I couldn't leave in her Vegas. I just couldn't. I took an extra two days with her in LA, while Matt and I did about thirty interviews together. The label was thrilled; the guys not so much.

I'll make it up to them. Kat and I had to have a few more days, to settle in as a real couple. And I already miss her like I can't even fucking believe. It's hard to breathe, knowing we are on opposite sides of the country.

Kat's beautiful smile lights up my small screen. She's sitting outside her little bungalow on the WITCH Campus. All "fixed up", as we would say back home in Atlanta—her long dark hair is beach-waved, her make-up is matte and understated, her nails are manicured, her tan is sprayed on but very nicely, her casual tank top is high-end and layered with necklaces. She's adapting to LA nicely, I note with pride.

She had WITCH Campus orientation today, and soon Bridge and Street are taking her shopping for stuff for her bungalow bedroom. I can't wait to see what she chooses. It sure as hell isn't going to be blue, I know that much.

"I really can't ride you all the time, Trace. My vagina needs a break," she whispers as she sips an iced coffee.

Goddamn, the way her eyes sparkle when she teases me makes my heart race.

I gotta get a grip, here. I mean really. What the fuck? Am I fucking rock star or a lovesick puppy?

I put my sunglasses on and hop off the case. I'll feel more like myself with a guitar in hand.

"Well, you have a little time to recuperate from our lovin'. But I'm warning you, you better get your girl in shape. Because when you meet me in Nashville...just know it's  gonna be a fucking marathon."

"Fucking marathon. Good one, TG." Kat's not looking at the camera anymore, but into the distance.

She nods eagerly at whoever is there, as she rises. "Yeah, be right there. " She looks back at the phone camera—at me—all tenderness. "I gotta go, baby. Your brother just pulled up."

"Just him? What happened to Bridge?"

"I don't know, I guess we are going to pick her up." Kat looks away again, holding a finger for Street. "Hey," her attention is all back on me "I really do miss you already, you know..."

"I know, Kitty. Me too. We'll get busy, it'll get easier. Have a great evening, ok?"

"I will. You have a great first show back, Rock Star."

I pull my glasses off. "Can I tell you something? I'm nervous as shit."

Her eyebrows bunch and her lips purse, but then realization dawns and her face smooths. She sits back down and holds the camera steady. "Ah. Lot of expectation, your first show as a del Marco."

I bob my head. "Yeah. It's shouldn't matter, but it does. Parts of this show are being recorded. Everyone in the industry is watching me now."

"Hey, you know who else will be watching, thanks to you hooking me up with the livestream? Me," she assures me with the prettiest smile I've ever seen. "So you play for me tonight, ok? Like it's just us. Like when I was thirteen and you were on your roof with your old Gibson, and I was looking up at you like you were the moon and the stars."