Nobody falls for the ope.., p.1
Nobody Falls for the Opening Act (Break the Rules Book 2), page 1
NOBODY FALLS FOR THE OPENING ACT
BREAK THE RULES
BOOK TWO
TABATHA KISS
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
More from the Tabiverse…
Also by Tabatha
About the Author
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2024 by Tabatha Kiss
All Rights Reserved. eBook Edition.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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think of me
the next time
you watch the stars.
1
HARVEY
“Anyway,” Bronson says. “You get all that?”
I stare at him, feeling far more confused now than when he led me out of the hotel restaurant. “So... Knox and Harmony aren’t actually dating?” I ask.
He nods. “Correct.”
“But they were at some point, right?”
“Yes.”
“Just not now? Now it’s just a publicity stunt?”
Bronson hums affirmatively.
I sit back on the royal blue couch and glance around the golden lobby, my eyes temporarily blinded by the morning sun pouring in from the windows.
Man, Los Angeles really is as bright as they say.
Bless my little Midwestern heart.
“Well, I can’t say I expected this,” I mutter. “You guys never seemed like the publicity stunt type of band.”
“We’re not. Generally,” Bronson says. “But Paul Monroe’s got Knox by the balls.”
“How so?”
He shrugs. He doesn’t know. Or he’s not telling. Hard to tell with this guy.
Bronson Isaacs, drummer of Criminal Records, is known for being a bit… monosyllabic.
“Hey, can I ask you something else?” I say, leaning toward him. “Since I’ve got you talking or whatever.”
He shrugs again. That’s a yes, I think. It’s going to be a minute until I get used to Bronson’s silent mannerisms.
“What exactly went down between Knox and Harmony?” I ask. “I wasn’t really paying attention at the time, but I remember rumors.”
“What rumors?” he asks.
“Just that Harmony was... kinda crazy.”
“Correct.”
“And Knox was also, like... kinda into it?”
“Yes.”
“And it all ended with him getting arrested for stalking her or something?”
He hums affirmatively.
“Okay.” I tilt my head. “What happened next?”
Bronson shrugs.
I nod. “Good talk, Bronson.”
“Look, if someone asks you anything about it, just do what I do.”
“What’s that?”
“Keep your mouth shut,” he says. “Or if you have to say something, say something positive but true. The tour’s going great! We’re all happy to have her back! They’re so cute together. You know. Whatever.”
“All right,” I say, nodding along. “I can do that.”
Bronson pats my shoulder before rising off the couch and making his way toward the elevators.
I sit back, taking the moment to just... soak it all in. Not just the strange publicity stunt in which I suddenly find myself, but the whole damn thing.
I’m sitting in a luxury hotel in the middle of Los Angeles, for fuck’s sake.
That’s not exactly typical me behavior.
Six months ago, I was nobody. Well, I still am a big nobody, but back then I was a super nobody.
I was just a student at Chicago North University. I lived in the best damn frat house in the world: Alpha Delta Xi. Music major, obviously. But if my stepfather asks, it’s just a minor. He still thinks I’m well on my way to a double major in Business and Economics — even after I told him about the radio contest.
A simple open-mic contest. That’s all it was. The winner got a thousand dollars. I almost didn’t even go, but I woke up that morning with nothing better to do, so I grabbed my guitar and I went.
Turns out, the grand prize was a thousand dollars... and a spot on Criminal Records’ upcoming summer tour.
That’s right. Criminal fucking Records held a secret contest in Chicago to choose their next opening act.
And I won.
That day is a blur to me now. That night, too.
Except for, well... her.
As if triggered by some cosmic cue, Addison Abbey walks out of the restaurant across the lobby.
Instantly, I sit up.
Fuck, literally everything about me rises to attention at the mere sight of her. Everything about her is perfect. Her body. Her beautiful face. Her hair; the perfect burnt auburn shade. Not too long and not too shiny. And that’s just surface level. She’s wicked talented. Her vocal range is off the charts. She’s an incredible guitarist. She can pluck the strings off a— she’s looking at me!
I grin and wave.
Addison arches a brow. She offers the bare minimum of a wave in return without breaking her stride toward the elevators. It’s time to pack up and get on the bus, I guess.
We’re San Francisco bound today.
“Oof.”
I flinch, then smile at August, now hovering over my shoulder. “Oof?” I repeat. “What do you mean, oof?”
My friend and manager, August Boyd, sets his duffel bag down and sits beside me. “I mean, oof,” he says again. “She brushed you off hard, brother.”
August has been with me since the very beginning. He actually earned a double major in Business and Economics, so he’s officially far smarter than I’ll ever be and therefore the perfect choice for my manager. We roomed together at Delta Xi for a year before he graduated and started working on his MBA.
Then that contest happened.
August put his Masters on hold to go on this tour with me because he’s a learn by doing kind of guy and no classroom will ever teach him what he’ll pick up on the road. That’s a direct quote from him.
“No,” I say. “She didn’t brush me off. That wasn’t an oof.”
“I’ve seen a lot of oofs in my day and that, my friend, was a big oof.”
“Nah, man,” I say, my chest still tingling. “It’s gonna happen.”
He laughs. “Sure, it is.”
“No, I’m telling you! You weren’t there, okay? It was—”
“Here we go again.”
“—the stroke of midnight,” I continue, unbothered. “Just the two of us in Chicago at the hotel bar. We shared a moment.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“She looked at me. I looked at her. And—”
“Literally nothing happened.”
“Something happened,” I say firmly. “I felt it. She felt it. And we shall feel it again.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t just gas?” he jokes.
But I’m not joking.
“Just you wait, August. In a few weeks, it’s gonna be me and her. Guarantee it.”
August sighs with sympathy. “Buddy, you need to let her go. All right? You’re on tour together and from what Jordan tells me, Criminal Records has very specific rules when it comes to mingling with people on the road.” He pats my shoulder. “Addison Abbey isn’t going to suddenly wake up tomorrow morning and be madly in love with you. No one is.”
I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He chuckles. “Nobody falls for the opening act, bro.”
“I won’t be an opening act forever, Augie,” I say. “Someday soon I’ll be a rock god just like she is, and we’ll be equals.”
“Whatever you say, Harvey,” he teases.
“I’m not saying it’ll be easy. She’s my Everest, that’s for sure.”
“Apparently, reaching the summit ain’t that big of a deal anymore,” he says.
“What?” I ask. “Why not?”
“Rich people just hire folks to walk them all the way up.”
“Rea
“Yeah, you go up there right now and you have to wait in line to take a selfie.”
My shoulders sink. “Fuck, dude,” I say, disappointed. “Is anything difficult anymore?”
August shrugs. Very Bronson-like.
“Whatever,” I say, brushing it off. “Still, Addison is a big mountain and I just want to...”
“Mount her?”
“Yes.”
August laughs. “I wish you the best of luck, my friend. I look forward to seeing how it all blows up in your pretty face.”
I shake my head, ready to move on from this conversation. “Hey, did you know Knox and Harmony aren’t really dating?” I ask.
“Yeah. Some publicity thing,” he answers. “No one told you?”
I sigh. “No.”
“Sorry,” he says. “That one’s on me. Manager foul.”
“It’s all right. Bronson just talked me through it.”
His head swivels. “Bronson talked?”
“It was honestly pretty crazy, yeah.”
“Damn. Cool. Well, keep your mouth shut,” he says. “Don’t let it slip.”
“I won’t.” I scan the lobby again in search of Addison, but she’s long gone now. “I have other things on my mind, anyway.”
August snorts again, but I meant my words.
A few more weeks of this tour and it’s gonna be me and Addison Abbey.
Guarantee it.
2
HARVEY
A Few Weeks Later
Thunder rolls along the northern sky as rain plummets against our tour bus.
Luckily, we’re heading south, away from the storm. We crossed the border earlier today and now ride on American soil once again. With the first of two Canadian shows officially under our belts, the Break the Rules Tour has entered its second phase.
Bye-bye, Vancouver.
Sayonara, west coast!
Next stop: Montana.
I look out my window as we pass a road sign. Now leaving Spokane. Two hundred miles to Missoula. Our driver, Mac, is determined to do the entire drive in one go, but with this weather following us into the night, we may have to stop somewhere off the road.
Not that that would be a bad thing.
My eyes drift toward the front of the bus on their own, targeting — who else? — Addison Abbey.
Rock guitarist.
Rock goddess.
She’s sitting alone with her back to the windows and her feet propped up, wearing an old Criminal Records tour hoodie that’s seen better days, but that just makes her look cooler. The light from her tablet shines on her face, highlighting the delicate lines of her cheekbones as she reads. She likes to read. She does it a lot.
Fuck, she’s pretty.
The remaining members of the band are resting, mostly. I haven’t seen Knox and Harmony in a little while, so I assume they’re cuddled up in a warm bunk in the back. Bronson snoozes in the seat behind mine, his head flopping inelegantly against his seat back. Jonah softly strums his acoustic with Katrina across the aisle; the two of them diligently working on his wedding song for Marla. Which is coming along great, by the way.
The three managers — Jordan, August, and Chrissy — are currently chatting at the table behind the driver’s seat, plotting and scheming and doing... whatever the managers do that makes this tour run smoothly. Or, as smoothly as it can, considering the circumstances.
Things have been a little cramped since Midnite Music gave Harmony the boot. No more contract meant no more Boom Boom. No more Big Pink, our affectionate name for her tour bus. No more Harmony.
And I thought my stepdad was a prick.
But overall, Harmony seems… relieved. In some strange way, losing everything made her happy. I’m sure her and Knox admitting their true feelings for each other didn’t hurt, either. They’re together — for real now. No more lies or publicity stunts. For a minute there, I thought the internet would burn them alive — and by association, me — but their fans don’t seem to care that much.
They want Wildfire.
I’m happy for them. And I think— oh, my god. Stop stalling and just go over there and talk to Addison already.
Now’s my chance!
I lurch off my seat, tugged upward by some phantom thread. I nearly trip over my own ankles as the bus’ momentum shakes me off balance. Slapping a hand on a seat back, I keep one eye on Addison and hope to dear sweet baby Jesus that she didn’t see me fumble like that just now.
Fortunately, she seems immersed enough in her book to not have noticed.
I discreetly slip into the seat behind hers. “Hey,” I say, clearing my throat.
Addison peeks at me, her deep blue eyes practically hidden behind epically thick eyelashes.
“Hey,” she murmurs as her eyes go right back to her tablet.
“Whatcha reading?” I ask.
“A book,” she answers.
“A spicy book?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised.
“Not really my go-to genre, but Katrina kept insisting I’d like it, so... I’m checking it out.”
“Well, do you?” I ask. “Like it, I mean?”
She doesn’t answer for a moment. “It’s okay.”
“Who’s it by? Maybe I’ve read it.”
Addison cracks a smile. I shiver. “You read romance novels?” she asks, clearly expecting a no.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I like to fill my creative well from all kinds of sources.”
She takes a breath, but she doesn’t seem annoyed. Not yet. Willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, at least. “Melanie Rose,” she answers.
“Oh!” I grin. “Let me guess: Soulmates in Sixty Seconds?”
Addison blinks. “Actually, yeah. It is Soulmates in Sixty Seconds.”
I slap the seat between us. “Classic! Loved that one.”
She stares at me, full of doubt. “You read Melanie Rose?”
“Read her? I know her! Her little brother Drew is my brother, too.” I raise my shirt, flashing the tattoo on my chest. Three Greek letters carved in black along my right abs. “Alpha Delta Xi, baby!”
“Ah,” she says, barely glancing at it.
“You know, we’re gonna be in Chicago in a few weeks,” I say as I let my shirt fall. “I can give Drew a call, see if he can arrange a meeting.”
“Oh. No. That won’t be necessary.”
“It’s no problem, babe! I’m sure she’d be down to meet you, too. Who doesn’t love Criminal Records?”
Addison cringes. “Don’t call me babe.”
“Sorry.”
“And I’m good, but... maybe Katrina would appreciate that.”
“All right, then,” I say, letting it go for now. “So, what chapter you on?”
Addison hesitates. “Look, Harvey...”
“I practically had that book memorized by the end of freshman year. You wouldn’t believe how effective Richard’s dialogue is with the ladies.”
“I know.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s your favorite line so far?”
“No, I...” Addison looks at me now like a high school guidance counselor. “I know you have a thing for me.”
My chest tightens. “What? What are you talking about?”
“Knox told me. And it’s okay!” she says. “I get it. Being on the road together like this, constantly in and out of hotel rooms. Thoughts happen!”
I say nothing.
“I’m flattered,” she says. “I really am, but I think we’ll both be more comfortable if one of us acknowledged it.”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No! But I just wanted to...” She makes a flat gesture with her hand. “Acknowledge it so the two of us can move on from it.”
Move on from it.
I chuckle to smother the sound of my heart cracking into pieces. “When every step forward feels like a lie, it takes courage to know when to say goodbye.”
Addison stares at me, her face blank.
“That’s from Soldier On,” I say. “By Dade Connery? One of the best rock songs ever written?”
“No. Yeah. I… I got it.”
“Good.” I place my palm on my chest, feigning relief. “You almost had me weeping for a sec there.”
“Big Connery fan, huh?” she asks.
“The biggest!” I say. “He’s the greatest living musician in the world. He’s the reason I picked up a guitar in the first place, you know? My hero. My idol.”
