My Rockstar's Secret Baby by Jamie Knight (red seas under red skies .TXT) 📗

had burned down because of faulty wiring. We were still said to have gotten off on a technicality.

I could understand the anger, honestly, and held no ill will against the locals hurting for the loss. My ire was reserved for the slanting media and pragmatist courts. We could have written a song about it.

Or a series of online articles, as Stig suggested, though that wouldn’t really have done anything. We decided the best way to punish those who would rather we didn’t exist, to the point of nearly locking us up, was to go on doing just that.

Our continued existence as the band became a monument to their failure. The fact that we were about to have three albums on international release was just the icing on the cake. We planned to send an autographed copy, in both CD and vinyl, to every news editor, station manager and prosecutor who gave us shit during the trial.

But for now, we were just enjoying making our music. And I was enjoying the sweet memory of being with Stephanie last night— and already hoping to be with her again soon.

That wasn’t my normal style— I usually moved on after a one-night-stand— but something about her was different.

I was determined to keep her in my life as long as I could. And my next goal was to see her again, which couldn’t be that hard, considering that Seth had just married her sister

Chapter Four - Stephanie

Traffic began to mangle as I pulled off into the parking garage. Happily, everyone at the company had their parking space, well away from the maddening crowd. That was one of the perks to being an overnight success, even if the term had lost some of its meaning after the turn of the millennium.

It was an interesting bit of meta that the company operated both online and in retail, combining online shops with the brick-and-mortar variety. It helped hit both the youth market and the older set in one go.

Could be why it grew from an indie operation on Etsy to a billion-dollar empire. Nice work if you can get it.

“Morning, Pat,” I said, signing in at security.

“And to you, lady Stephanie,” he said, with a dandy tip of his uniform cap.

Patrick O’Malley had worked in the building for over thirty years and had seen all manner of business come and go through the marble lobby. Old desks out and new desks in, as the economy ebbed and flowed, bulls becoming bears and back again.

Not that Seattle was anywhere near Wall Street, shielded by the overlords in the East by the mountains and a strong sense of identity.

There was a reason there was never a style of music called “The New York Sound” or “The Boston Sound,” while I did have, at least vague memories, of a “Seattle Sound.”

“What’s on the agenda?” I asked Maddie, as I breezed by her desk.

“There’s the meeting with corporate this afternoon, and you have to decide on the final designs for the new line, and you have a lunch meeting with Fawn Birch.”

“Fawn who?”

“The designer we’re thinking of contracting. She sent over some samples.”

“Remind me.”

“Um, lots and lots of white gold and sapphires, filigree…”

“Right, right, very good stuff. Okay, book a table at the Cedar Lounge for just after one o’clock and–”

“It’s already booked. She said so could only meet at twelve, so that’s when it’s booked for.”

“Right, okay, I can work with that.”

Maddie lowered the clipboard she’d been holding up like a shield. Apparently, my assistant was under the impression I could throw daggers, as opposed to just stare them.

There wasn’t much time before lunch, so I postponed choosing the seasonal line and focused on meeting prep instead. I still had three hours, after all, but I liked to go in prepared.

“Drink?” Maddie asked.

“Green tea.”

She scampered off to make it and I took my place at the desk, revisiting the urge to turn around. As powerful as the view made me feel, I also got a bit dizzy from the height. It wouldn’t have been so bad were the entire wall not basically a window, but as it was, I always felt like I was going to plummet to my death. Not the best state of mind for positive productivity.

Fawn Birch was an odd duck, to be sure. For starters, she had been christened Amanda Collins, but took her ‘chosen name’ in her early 20s.

Still, it couldn’t be denied the girl knew her jewelry, particularly when it came to stone contrast. Each of her designs had a look that was both ancient and modern at the same time. Unique and beautiful, exactly what Asgard Fine Jewelry was looking for.

The opportunity to meet the enigmatic artist came even sooner than expected. The Cedar Lounge was on the other side of the town, so I had to leave early to evade the lunchtime rush.

This admission might sound strange for a city girl to make, but I really didn’t like massive crowds. It was within reason; I needn’t elect to always be alone. It was just when the dozens became hundreds that I started to get a bit edgy.

There were twelve diners already at the Cedar Lounge when I was seated. It would be just over a baker’s dozen with me and Fawn, when she arrived, assuming she wasn’t already here.

There was every possibility she was in the bathroom, a fact which divided my attention between two doors while waiting her arrival.

The front door was the one to finally deliver my lunching companion.

“Sorry I’m late, am I late?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“Oh, cool.”

Her scent was strong but not unpleasant. It was some kind of oil, likely rose, mixed with sage incense.

More of a surprise was her hair, done in what could only