The Rock Star and the Girl From the Coffee Shop 2: Under Pressure (2 page)

"Yeah, I really wish I'd never looked at what was being said about me," she admitted.

"You can't let them get you down, Hanna."

Hanna lifted her eyes to see that he was looking down at her, sympathy in his eyes.

"It's hard, though. Ya know? They called me fat. A career killer. A gold digger. It hurt."

She wasn't sure why she was admitting it to a virtual stranger. She knew Tyson from touring with the band over the past month, but their interactions had been limited to a quick "hi" or if Bo wanted to relay a message to her.

Tyson was silent for a moment, and then sighed. "Let me tell ya something."

"Okay."

"A few years ago I worked for a female pop star."

Hanna was about to ask who when he stopped her, lifting his hand to silence her.

"I can't say who."

She huffed, but a smile remained on her lips, anxious to hear the story.

"She got real popular. Real beautiful, too. Had a bunch of hits in a row. And then the paparazzi started on her. Some of the stuff they said was correct, some made up. Most made up and it hurt her. Cried every time she saw a new story."

Hanna could relate to that. She was just the girlfriend of a celebrity and being hit with nasty words. She could only imagine the press that she'd get if she were an actual celebrity, and not just one by association.

"Down this way," Tyson said, grabbing her arm and hustling her across the street.

"Oh wait!" Grabbing his massive forearm she stopped him in his tracks and pointed to a '50s-style cafe. A young waitress in roller skates breezed past the open restaurant door.

Too cool. "Can I buy you lunch?"

"You can't buy me lunch, but I'll have lunch with you."

"You're on, Ty." She glanced up at him. "I can call you Ty, right?"

His expression turned stern, but an amused twinkle gleamed in his eyes. "Not a chance."

She snorted. "Oh, you're no fun."

Excitement rushed though her as they stepped into the restaurant. Fifties music played from a jukebox in the corner and all the waitresses had their hair in ponytails, wearing poodle skirts and roller skates. "This is too cool." She heard him chuckle beside her and her grin widened.

"Table for two?" a cute dark-haired waitress asked, skating up to them, two menus already in hand.

Hanna nodded and the waitress led them to a corner booth, placing the menus on the table in front of them as they sat.

"Would you like to know the specials of the day?" she asked, pen poised and waiting for their response. "Sure." As the waitress recited the specials, Hanna's eyes spotted an advertisement for their "world famous" chocolate shake.

"I'd love to have a shake and the cheeseburger platter," Hanna stated, passing the menu back to her without even looking at it.

Once Tyson gave his order she leaned forward, elbows braced on the table, and eyed him. The hard, no-nonsense expression Tyson normally displayed was gone and he

smiled back at her.

"What?"

"I like you much more all friendly like."

"Yeah, well, don't be telling Bo. He'd fuckin' flip. I’m not hired to be your friend. I’m hired to protect you."

Her grin widened, not taking offense. "I promise. So what happened with the celebrity you were telling me about?"

"She's in rehab. That's why I'm working for Bo and the guys."

Hanna's eyes widened in shock. "Rehab? For what?"

He shrugged. "She couldn't handle the shit being said. Got into snorting and," he shrugged.

"Damn."

"So don't let it get to ya. K?"

Hanna nodded. "Cross my heart."

Bo finished passing out a round of beers to the other four members of his band and flopped down into an armchair. Opening the beer, he tossed the bottle cap onto the coffee table and surveyed the men around him.

"So what are we doing? Any ideas on who we can approach to manage us?" he asked, getting down to the point.

"Fuck man, I dunno." Bo turned his attention to Trevor Carson, the keyboardist, who had replied first. "Was it wise to fire him, man?"

"Well, what would you do, Trevor? He fucking hit Hanna. He's lucky it was Anthony that pulled him off her or he'd have gotten more than a couple of whacks to the jaw and a ride to the hospital."

"He was a fucking drunk anyhow," his brother Jeremy, the bass guitarist, added. "He's been useless for months now."

"Yeah, long time coming," Anthony added, pulling out a little pouch of white powder from the inner pocket of his leather jacket and proceeding to form a line on the glass coffee table in front of him.

Bo forced his eyes away. Anthony's addiction was becoming worse. He was still one of the best drummers in the business, but Bo had been seeing his downward spiral. That was a problem that would have to be dealt with sooner rather than later, he suspected.

"Hey, is it true? Victor gave that chick you were banging a couple mill to piss off?"

the lead guitarist, Tipp, asked Jeremy.

Bo turned his attention to Jeremy. He hadn't had much of a chance to speak to Jeremy about Hanna's friend bailing on him, but he suspected that it was a bit of a sore spot.

Jeremy had a hard surface, but deep down he didn't take embarrassment or

disappointment well. Hanna refusing the offer while her friend took it was definitely a source of embarrassment.

Jeremy's jaw clenched and he took a swig of his beer. "Yeah, well. That's the story anyhow."

Finishing the line he'd been snorting, Anthony wiped his nose and smiled. "Two mill or Jeremy's cock," he leaned back on the sofa, his grin widening. "That must have been a no brainer." He turned his attention to Bo. "Which makes me wonder what you're doing for Hanna to get her to pass it up."

Bo gave his head a shake and pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to fend off a developing headache. "Can we just get back to the reason we're all here?"

Trevor jabbed Anthony in the ribs and muttered something under his breath that

caused Anthony to snicker.

"I was thinking we should get hold of Nadine Vessy," Tipp offered, his suggestion quickly approved by all the guys in the group but Bo.

"Geez, I don't know about her, guys..."

"She's already the promotions manager. Why not?" Tipp defended, accompanied by a number of nods from the others.

Bo cringed.

A grin spread across Jeremy's face. "'Cause he's scared Hanna will get pissed since he fucked her."

"Man, we
all
fucked her," Trevor butt in.

"What? All you fuckers fucked her?" Anthony exclaimed, his dark eyes narrowing. "I only got a blowie." The men began chattering among themselves, the conversation moving from Nadine to other women they'd scored with recently.

Bo let out an exasperated sigh, taking a swig from his beer and reclining back into his chair. This was going nowhere. Hanna would be home from her little sightseeing trip with Tyson and they'd still not have this resolved. He had to admit Nadine seemed to be the logical choice. She was already working with the band, just in a different capacity.

She'd been in the industry since she was a child. Her father had been a tour manager all of his life, so she learned the business at an early age.

Well shit fuck
, he groaned inwardly. The guys were right. But there was the slight problem of his little fling with her a little over a year ago. It hadn't meant anything to him. He'd simply seen her as a hot, sexy and kinky-as-hell chick who he had some fun with. Her allure wore off quickly and he walked away, but he knew she still carried a slight hope he'd restart things with her. She'd fucked every guy in the band hoping to get a rise out of him. It hadn't worked, only made him glad he'd ended it when he did.

Bo sighed, thrusting a hand into his hair in agitation. He had to think about what was best for the band and that was Nadine, whether he liked it or not.

*****

Tyson laughed. "Whatever you say."

Over the course of the afternoon Hanna had finally managed to get Tyson to open up and she felt she was safe to assume she'd found a friend in him. Despite Jackie only being gone a week, she'd been missing having her around to confide in. Sure, Jackie hadn't been the best of friends all of the time and had thrown her under the bus a time or two, but still...

"Seriously." She moved her wrist closer to his eyes. "Looks good, right? And only fifty bucks."

Tyson stopped walking and she stopped with him, in the center of Times Square.

Taking her wrist in his massive hand he took a better look at her watch. "Not bad. You know, I could have taken you into Brooklyn and gotten you a much better fake one for thirty."

Hanna huffed, pulling her wrist from his grasp and narrowing her green eyes at him.

"Then why didn't you mention it? We could have gone to Brooklyn."

Tyson crossed his massive arms over his equally massive chest and raised a brow at her. "Yeah, and then when Bo asks us what we did and you tell him I took you into Brooklyn, he'd fire my black ass."

Hanna rolled her eyes at him. "He would not."

Tyson's gave her a look that said he had no doubt in his mind that Bo would.

"That's silly. It would've been my choice."

"Yeah, but if you haven't noticed he's become pretty protective of you."

Hanna crinkled her nose up, not sure how to respond. Truth was, she hadn't. She'd been with him practically every moment of every day. She'd been by his side virtually every second since he rescued her the night at the coffee shop when the paparazzi ambushed her.

"I haven't noticed." She was about to change the topic, but the question of his past women came to her mind. If anyone would know about Bo's past lovers it would be his head of security. "So is he like that with all his girlfriends?"

Tyson laughed. "There haven't been any that I know of."

"No women at all? He must have at least had some sort of brief relationship with someone..." Bo had said previously that he'd had a pretty limited love and sex life over the past couple of years, but it just seemed hard for her to believe. She saw with her own eyes how the other guys partied hard with the groupies, who were not in the least bit shy about flaunting themselves to the guys in the hopes of a night with them. Hell, most of the time they barely got a night, normally it was an hour or two. In the case of the lead guitarist, Tipp, he usually took them two and three at a time.

Tyson grimaced, suddenly looking extremely uncomfortable with the line of

conversation. "I really shouldn't be discussing this with you, Hanna. It's not my place."

Hanna sighed, giving in. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you on the spot."

He let out a loud huff of air, clearly relieved.

Hanna's eyes caught sight of a convenience store and she motioned to Tyson to follow her across the street. The afternoon was giving way to night and the lights of the square began to illuminate and cast an assortment of colors through the darkening sky – it was a magical sight to her.

"We really should get back, Hanna," Tyson protested, but followed behind anyhow.

"We'll only be a minute. If Bo was done with his meeting with the guys then he would have sent me a text anyhow," she reasoned. Looking over her shoulder at Tyson, she laughed at the stern expression on his face, the expression he usually had when "on duty."

Entering the store with Tyson in tow, she immediately made her way to the slushie machine. She hadn't had one of those for years, so long she couldn't even remember the last time. "Want one?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him while grabbing a clear plastic cup and pouring herself a cherry slushie.

"Nah, thanks. I'm good."

Once the cup was full she pressed the clear plastic dome cover onto it, adding a straw and, bringing the neon pink straw to her lips and taking a big gulp. The cold, cherry-flavoured slushie was like a flavour explosion. So good. She was in the process of marvelling in how damned good it was and wondering why it had been years since she'd had one when a sharp pain sliced across her forehead, making her groan out load, double over and press her palm to her forehead.

"Ouch! Dammit!"

Tyson's laughter had her lifting her eyes to meet his. "Brain freeze is not funny! Like a jackhammer to the brain! It frackin' hurts!"

Tyson's deep laughter grew louder. "Frackin' hurts?"

"Yes! Frackin' is a word."

"I don't think so," he challenged, his laughter subsiding slightly.

She thrust the cup of pleasure and pain towards him. "Go on... try it!"

"Hell to the no."

She groaned once more and gave her head a little shake. Straightening up she tossed a glare at the still snickering Tyson as they made their way to the checkout. As she waited in line with four other customers in front of her, her eyes caught sight of one of the tabloids. It featured a picture of her and Bo on the cover, taken at the coffee shop, when he'd kissed her for the world to see. The picture wasn't halfway bad, and she was reaching out to grab the magazine when she read the headline.

"Hanna, don't..." Tyson attempted to block her view of the magazine, but it was too late.

"Is rocker Bo Savage a chubby chaser?" she whispered the headline.

"They're a bunch of blood-sucking assholes, Hanna. Don't pay attention to that."

Grabbing the stack of offensive magazines Tyson pulled them from the slot and stuffed them behind a bunch of newspapers.

The line moved forward and he pushed her forward with it. "Don't pay them any mind, you hear me?"

She nodded, trying to push it to the back of her mind. But it was hard. She frowned, her brow creasing as she looked up into his sympathetic dark eyes. "Am I really chubby chasing material?"

The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Tyson's lips at her comment. "Hanna, anyone over a size two is chubby in the eyes of those assholes. There's a reason Bo chose you over millions of women. Keep that in mind."

She nodded. He was right. "It still stings," she muttered.