Nobody Falls for the Opening Act (Break the Rules Book 2)

Chapter 1

“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.”

“Really?”

“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.