Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Astrid
“Hey, blondie. I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you give me a private show.”
Blondie?
Men in this city are failing – big time.
I ignore whoever yelled that at me because I’m on a subway platform in midtown Manhattan with my guitar in my hands and its case on the ground.
I’m busking. It’s the same thing I do at least three times a week when the morning commuters rush through here with a cup of coffee in one hand and their phones pressed to their ears.
On a good day, I’ll make someone smile, and I’ll leave with a few extra dollars. On a bad day, I’ll be subjected to a man in an overpriced suit yelling obscenities at me.
Sometimes I’ll yell back because I know that a jerk like that will do the same thing to another woman trying to share her talent with people who need a little pick-me-up.
I skim my fingers over the strings of my well-loved guitar. I’ve had it for almost seven years. It was a gift on the day I graduated from high school.
I had visions of a record deal and a world tour. My dad and step-mom had a plan that included tuition at a community college back in Ohio. I stuck to their plan until I had a business diploma in my hand. That’s when I boarded a bus with the few possessions I had and came to Manhattan.
I start strumming as another train pulls into the station.
The people on their way out of here are a little more generous than those waiting to board the subway.
Maybe that’s because they’re grateful they made it to their destination without losing their temper or their belongings.
Glancing at the people stepping off the train and onto the platform, I recognize a few familiar faces.
A woman with dark hair and gray eyes strolls past as she drops a dollar in my guitar case.
She’s apologized in the past that she can’t give more, but I’ve always told her what I tell everyone who holds guilt in their eyes at the size of their offering.
“Thank you.”
I don’t busk to make a living. I have another way to earn the money I need to live in this expensive city. I busk because it feeds my soul.
Whenever I picked up my guitar and sang one of my original songs back in Ohio, the people who listened didn’t hear anything beyond a pretty melody and lyrics.
They couldn’t recognize that I spun each chord and word from my heart.
People who step onto this subway platform hear what I want them to hear. That’s a woman who lives and breathes her life in song.
“It’s my birthday today.”
I smile at the sound of that voice. Lester, a doorman who works at a building on Madison Avenue, stops in front of me.
“It is?” I smile.
He nods.
I launch into a soft sung version of Happy Birthday.
Lester sways as I croon his name. I smile when a few people nearby join in as the song nears its end.
Lester claps in delight as I strum the last note on my guitar.
“That’s the best gift I’ve gotten in years, Astrid.” He grabs the brim of the hat on his head to tip it forward. “I’ll never forget this.”
I kiss him softly on the cheek. “Happy Birthday, Lester.”
He moves on, disappearing into the crowds of people all racing to get somewhere.
I turn back to my guitar case when I hear the unmistakable sound of coins dropping into it.
I’m met with a gorgeous smile and beautiful blue eyes.
My gaze trails over the man’s face. He’s handsome. The dark brown hair on his head is messed from the wind whipping outside.
The collar of the black wool coat he’s wearing is upturned.
“Thank you.” I don’t take my eyes off of him. “I appreciate that.”
“Have a good day,” he says in a voice that catches me off guard.
It’s deep and warm. The tone is comforting and kind.
With a nod of his chin, he takes off, following Lester and all the other commuters into the streets of Manhattan.
I watch him walk away, wishing I knew his name and wondering if I’ll ever see him again.
“You’re back!” My cousin, Eloise, grins as soon as she spots me come through the doorway.
“I brought coffee,” I say with a smile. “It’s brisk out there today.”
She nods as she looks through a stack of records on the checkout counter. “I’m putting together an order that I’ll ship out this afternoon.”
Eloise has been working for me part-time since I inherited this record store from my mom.
The only other employee I had was her brother, Draco, but he quit three months ago to work at their dad’s carpenter business in Buffalo.
Since Eloise is a student at the Fashion Institute of Technology, she can’t help out as much as I’d like her to.
Hiring another employee is on my to-do list, along with seventy-five other things I never seem to get around to.
“That scarf you’re wearing looks high-end.” She brushes a strand of her brown hair from her forehead. “Who is the designer?”
I set the tray holding the coffee cups on the counter before placing my guitar case on the floor at my feet. “This happens to be an Eloise Rehn original.”
“It’s fabulous,” she draws the word out syllable-by-syllable. “Soon, everyone in Manhattan will want one.”
I tug on the end of the red scarf. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”
Eloise knit my scarf last winter whenever she had a moment to spare during her shifts. I didn’t complain. Although a steady stream of customers passes through Vinyl Crush every day, our online sales are booming. I set that in motion after I became the owner five years ago.
I dip my hand into the pocket of my black leather jacket and grab hold of the bills and coins I collected this morning when I was busking.
I drop it all into the large glass jar atop the checkout counter.
“From the sounds of it, you made bank today,” Eloise says.
I peer into the half-filled jar. “It was a good morning. Lots of friendly faces and one particularly handsome one.”
Her eyebrows perk. “Do tell.”
I shrug off my jacket. “It’s the same story every time. A good-looking stranger tosses some change my way, and then he disappears into the crowd, never to be seen again.”
Eloise’s lips dip into a frown. “That’s sad. Write a song about it.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I’ll pass.”
“What’s that?” she asks just as I pick up my guitar case so I can put it and my jacket in the office at the back of the store.
I spin back around to face her. “What’s what?”
Her finger hovers over the donation jar that I dropped my busking tips into. “That.”
I look inside the jar again, but my eye catches on something this time. It’s shiny, gold and…is it a small key?
I fish it out and hold it up.
“It looks like someone threw something your way they didn’t mean to.” Eloise takes a sip of her coffee. “I’ve got my fingers crossed that it’s the handsome stranger.”
I let out a chuckle.
“Don’t laugh.” She playfully wags her finger at me. “I can picture it now. He’ll find you tomorrow morning in the same spot, he’ll ask about the key, and it’ll be love at first sight.”
“I already had my first sight of him today,” I remind her while holding in a laugh.
“Love at second sight,” she corrects herself. “Hold onto that. It might be the key to your future.”
I shove the key toward her. “Maybe it’s the key to your future since you spotted it first.”
She grabs it and drops it into the drawer behind the counter. “The key to my future is fashion.”
I start toward the back of the store. “The key to mine is helping you with our online orders. I’ll be back in a flash to do that.”