Hawk and Dove (Rock Star Romance Novel) Read online

  HAWK & DOVE

  by

  Amanda Lawless

  Copyright © 2013 by Amanda Lawless

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. An similarities to persons living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of all products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Acknowledgements

  I'd like to take a brief moment to thank the readers out there. It's only because of all of you that we authors are able to do what we love for a living. This story is dedicated to all the dreamers and doers who make this world a wonderful place. Always follow your heart and never give up hope.

  I hope you enjoy Ellie and Trent's story as much as I loved writing it.

  Special Thanks

  Editor: Ashlee Whitting

  Copy Editor: Connie Evans

  Beta Readers: Barbara Rahway, Jessica Kline, Kelly Allsop

  Formatting: Carl Jenks

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “Is that really necessary?” I ask, nodding at the recording device that's resting on the table among the coffee cups and condiments.

  The eager young reporter looks at me through his thick lenses, instantly apologetic. “I’m so sorry Miss Sims,” he says, snatching up the device, “I didn’t mean to make you at all uncomfortable, I—”

  “It’s OK,” I say with a reassuring smile, “I was just asking. You really don’t need to be nervous around me, Teddy.”

  “You...know who I am?” he asks, his eyes bugging wide.

  “Of course,” I tell him, leaning my elbows on the oilcloth tabletop, “Your brother Gary was in my year at Barton. You must be a senior now, right?”

  “Th-that’s right,” Teddy says rapturously.

  “I was the editor of the Barton Bugle when I was a senior too,” I say, “I loved it. After jazz band, writing for the school newspaper was probably my favorite part of high school.”

  “You were the best editor the Bugle’s ever had,” Teddy says eagerly, “Your editorial about gender stereotypes in elective classes is legendary.”

  “Ah, shucks,” I smile, bringing the coffee cup to my lips, “You’re too kind.”

  “Thank you for agreeing to this interview, Miss Sims,” Teddy says, leaning back in the well worn booth, “This is quite the exclusive.”

  “You can call me Ellie, you know. And I’m glad that everyone thinks this is such a big deal. The hometown support is nice, I have to say.”

  “Well, it is a big deal!” Teddy says, “You were chosen out of millions of up-and-coming bands to play at the Hawk and Dove festival. Haven't you seen the lineup? Some of the most famous musicians in the world will be there this year, and you’ll be right there with them.”

  “Not just me,” I correct him, “My partner in crime will be there too.”

  “Of course,” Teddy says, scribbling into his notebook, “Your duo is called Ellie & Mitch—I guess that Mitch is a pretty important component!”

  “Very,” I laugh, running my fingers through my short blonde bob, “I’ve got the pipes, but Mitch takes care of most of the music. He’s amazing, actually. He plays the guitar, the ukulele, the mandolin, the dulcimer...I could keep going, but we leave for Kansas tomorrow, and it would take me all night to sing his praises.”

  “And you two met at Barton High, right?” Teddy asks, his slight frame leaning forward to catch my every word.

  “That’s right,” I say.

  “And your relationship with Mitch is...?”

  “Very dear to me,” I say simply. I can see that Teddy is a little let down by my vague answer, but I’d rather not offer up my personal life as gossip fodder for the bored teenagers of my hometown. The little East Coast town of Barton can be rather dull at times, a fact I knew well enough from my own childhood and adolescence.

  I’m home again for the summer after wrapping up my second year at the Berklee School of Music in Boston. Mitch is going to Berklee with me, thank god—it would have been tough getting to know a new city without a familiar face close by. Mitch and I have been buddies since we met in High School, and now, with our little band gaining some traction in the music scene, we’re pretty much inseparable. Tall, somber Mitch has always carried a torch for me, though we’ve never spoken about it frankly. If we go our entire lives without addressing that particular elephant in the room, I’ll die a happy woman. I love Mitch like a brother, but I don’t think that’s what he’d be hoping to hear. We work perfectly together as a musical duo, and I don’t want anything to ruin that. Especially now that the world is finally starting to notice us.

  “You two want some more coffee?” says Vera, the buxom queen of this particular eating establishment. I’ve known this endlessly cheerful woman my entire life, and being back in her company after a year away at school is a balm for my homesick heart.

  “I’d love another cup,” I say, offering my mug.

  “Me too,” Teddy says, clamoring to follow my lead.

  “You’re a lucky man, Teddy,” Vera says as she pours the coffee, “This girl’s about to be the most famous person ever to come out of Barton. She’ll be too busy posing for Rolling Stone to give us the time of day.”

  “That’s just ridiculous. On about three counts!” I exclaim, “First of all, the entire town is making a way bigger deal out of this contest than is reasonable. And even if Mitch and I were about to become overnight celebrities, you know full well that we’d still be back here at Vera’s on our days off.”

  “Maybe you would,” Vera says, “But I don’t know about Mitchell. He’s never been much for community, has he?”

  “He’s just private,” I say, “You can’t blame him for not wanting to be the center of attention in this town. You all are wonderfully supportive, but it doesn’t exactly add to our ‘hipster cool’ factor, does it?”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass about your hippy dippy cool factor,” Vera sniffs, “I’m hanging a big old picture of the two of you front and center in this diner whether you like it or not. We’re all so proud of you kids, Ellie.”

  “Thanks Vera,” I smile, “I hope you know we appreciate it, even if Mitch can be a little...”

 
; “Stiff?” Teddy suggests, “Withdrawn? Broody?”

  “I was going to say quiet,” I say, a bit archly, “But thank you, Teddy.”

  The young man blushes brilliantly and scribbles away at his notebook as Vera laughs and bounces away. It feels a little silly to be giving an exclusive interview to my high school newspaper—it’s like I’m playacting at being a musician, rather than actually living it. But I suppose that’s how everyone feels right before they have their first big break into the business.

  Stop that, I think to myself for the umpteenth time. I can’t think of the Hawk and Dove festival as anything but an awesome opportunity for Ellie & Mitch. Sure, we won the New Voices contest, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to be strolling down Easy Street from here on out. We’re still going to have to work our asses off to make it as a band, and it won’t do to forget that. Still...I can’t help but think that big things are going to happen once we make it to Kansas.

  At first, Mitch didn’t even want to enter the contest with me. We’ve been playing music as a duo for a couple of years, and our sound is pretty offbeat. The musicians influencing us are all over the map—from Joni Mitchell to Joanna Newsom, from Johnny Cash to Eddie Vedder, and everything in between. We’re as far away from commercial rock and roll as it gets, a fact that Mitch is extremely proud of. He nearly spat when I mentioned playing at the Hawk and Dove Festival, to him it would be selling out.

  It took me the better part of a month to convince him otherwise...or at least to convince him to come along with me. I know he’ll be happy once we get there, but I’m not exactly looking forward to two days in the car with him griping all the way. I push the thought out of my mind and bring my attention back to Teddy, who I only now realize has been talking for about two minutes.

  “Sorry,” I say, “Could you start over? I’m a little spacey today.”

  “Oh,” Teddy says, “I was just wondering what you’re most excited about, when it comes to the festival. Have you ever been before?”

  “Every year since I was sixteen!” I say happily, “Usually with my older sister Kate. But she’s got a big girl job now, so this year it’s just me and Mitch.”

  “What keeps bringing you back to the festival, year after year?” Teddy asks.

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” I say, “It’s five straight days of nothing but music, art, food, booze...and excellent company. There are no distractions, there’s nothing to worry about. The community there is so enthusiastic, and welcoming, not at all what you’d expect. It’s probably my favorite place on earth, that little field in Kansas.”

  “A lot of drugs too, right?” Teddy smiles.

  “I plead the fifth,” I wink, “But honestly, that’s not the main attraction for me. I just love driving down there with the windows open, pitching my tent, and enjoying the atmosphere.”

  “It’s going to be pretty different for you this year, though!” Teddy says.

  “That’s true,” I laugh, “Though I don’t think anyone’s going to make a big deal out of us. We’re playing on the teeny tiny stage they save for the no-namers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful to have been chosen at all, but we’re still a pretty new act, you know? Ellie & Mitch is a toddler compared to some of the other bands that will be there.”

  “Is there anyone you’re really excited to see?” Teddy asks.

  “Oh, yeah,” I say excitedly, “The coolest thing about the festival is how many different kinds of musicians and artists show up. I’m definitely pumped for some of the folk groups and jam bands. That’s more my speed than anything else.”

  “Not so much the headliners?” Teddy asks.

  “To be honest, I’m not even sure who they are this year,” I say, “Usually they get some famous rapper or classic rock star to show up. That’s cool and all, but I’d kind of rather listen to someone who’s contributing to the present musical moment, you know?”

  “I don’t know,” Teddy says, “The lineup’s really stacked this year. The Exes and Ohs are going to be there, and The Forward Facing. They even managed to get Trent Parker this year.”

  “Pretty impressive,” I admit, “But my heart belongs to the littler guys, I guess.”

  “Fair enough,” Teddy says, “Is there anything else you’d like to say to the readers of the Barton Bugle?”

  “Jeez, Teddy, I have no idea,” I say, popping the last of my fries into my mouth, “It’s not like I have anything figured out that’s worth passing on to posterity. I’m just making it up as I go along, you know?”

  “But that’s what’s so cool,” Teddy presses, “It’s not like anyone who’s a senior in high school now has a straight shot at an easy life. We’re all fighting tooth and nail to get into college, but once you get in, they just spit you out with a bunch of debt and no job opportunities. We’re all scared shitless, you know? So to see you doing what you love...it’s kind of inspiring, is all. I hope you don’t think that’s super weird.”

  “Not at all,” I smile, “Thank you, Teddy.”

  “Thank you for the story,” he says, “They’re going to give me a gold medal on Monday when I say that I snagged some time with you.”

  “Anything for the Bugle,” I say, pulling myself up out of the booth. Teddy follows me out of the restaurant, with Vera wavering feverishly as we leave. There’s nothing like coming home to get your ego inflated like a damn hot air balloon. I can’t help but worry that all this fuss everyone’s making is going to get my hopes up before the festival. To everyone in Barton, Mitch and I are already famous, but to everyone at Hawk and Dove, we’re just going to be another pair of hopeful kids.

  I drive home in my twenty-year-old sedan, nostalgia pulling insistently on my heartstrings. Even though I’m back home in Barton, I’m still feeling wistful. Even though these are the exact streets I used to drive on, even though nothing has changed about the town itself, I feel like I don’t quite belong here anymore. Every time I come home from school, it’s like I’ve outgrown the space I used to take up here when I was younger. I can’t ever quite be the person I was when I left. I know that it’s normal, that everyone has these growing pains, these bittersweet metamorphoses, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

  Shaking off the insistent, cloying touch of heartache, I swing into the driveway. Our little Victorian desperately needs a paint job, and there’s some clutter on the front porch that always seems to reappear, no matter how many times we clear it. My mom bought this house when Kate was ten and I was six. Before that, we lived in a big old pre-fab suburban monstrosity across town. That was when my dad still lived with us. He was a Wall Street type back then, a real captain of industry. He and my mom met in New York City back in the eighties. She was a waitress, trying to be an actress, and he wandered into her restaurant one night and wouldn’t leave until she agreed to go on a date with him.

  Their early years together sound like a fairy tale. A grungy fairy tale, but all the same. They shared a little studio on the Lower East Side while he worked up the power chain in his firm. She did weird, awesomely experimental off-off Broadway plays and spent the days exploring the markets of Chinatown. They were happy together, when they were poor. But then Dad started to earn a little money, and decided that he wanted to get married and make an honest woman of Mom. She agreed, not realizing what she was getting herself into. No sooner was the ink dry on the marriage license than Dad moved them out to the suburbs and knocked her up with Kate.

  The promotions came rolling in for good old Dad, and by the time I was born, he was bringing home buckets of money. As his bank account grew, so did his penchant for the “finer” things in life. But to him, those finer things were booze, coke, and hookers. He bought an apartment in the city, in which he entertained his vices in excess. For some reason when I was born things only got worse. This fact makes me feel unreasonably guilty.

  Soon, his bad habits started catching up with him, and my mom did the only thing she could. One weekend, while he was off paying for love
and whole lot of other drugs, she had divorce papers drawn up and made an offer on a house for us girls. Dad didn’t even seem to notice that he’d been divorced when he got back. Probably, he was happy to be rid of us. Joint custody was never a question. He sold the house once we were gone and holed up in his New York bachelor pad.

  The last we heard, he’d been fired from his big, cushy job. And he definitely wasn’t going through any much-needed twelve-step plan, or we would have heard about it. He certainly has a few things to apologize for, not that he necessarily deserves forgiveness.

  Mom pokes her head out the front door as I step out of my car. She’s got a calico scarf wrapped around her blonde curls, and there are streaks of yellow paint all over her arms. I can’t help but grin back at her as I make my way up the front walk.

  “What’s today’s project?” I ask, taking the steps two at a time.

  “The kitchen!” she says happily, “I’m making it sunnier.”

  “I thought you’d be building sets or something,” I say, giving her a kiss on the cheek and earning myself a paint splotch in the process.

  “Not this time,” she says, bounding back toward the kitchen. It was a fair guess, though. Mom’s been the drama teacher at Barton Elementary for over a decade. She gets pretty enthusiastic about the yearly musical, and has always been the type to take her work home with her. I can’t even count the times I’d come home as a teenager to find a bunch of twelve-year-olds rehearsing Guys and Dolls in my bedroom. It wasn’t always the most welcome thing in the world, but it’s more than a little endearing to look back on, now.

  “Is Kate home?” I ask my mom, trailing her into the kitchen.

  “She’s just about to head out,” Mom tells me, snatching up her paint roller. The kitchen is in utter disarray—just the way Mom likes it.

  As if on cue, my older sister comes hustling down the stairs. “Do we have anything to eat?” she asks, pulling her hair into a tight knot. Her baby blue scrubs are a little rumpled, and her eyes are still half-full of sleep. As a night nurse, Kate is constantly bouncing back and forth between Full-Throttle energy drinks and coma-like slumber. She’s saving up for a place of her own, and the night shifts at the hospital pay a little better. But even so, I can’t imagine doing what she does. I know that music is important to people, but this girl literally saves lives every day. She should be the one with the story in the newspaper, not me.