Page 13 of Filthy Rock Stars
I laugh. “It’s not an opera like with orchestral accompaniment and divas and period costumes. It’s not even a real rock opera. It’s all electronic music. By necessity, I play all the parts myself at home.”
Owen folds his hands together. “That’s so cool. I love a good space opera. Nico, please, please let me hear your album.”
I rub my hand over my face, embarrassed but excited, too.
“You can listen to this one song,” I mumble, then mess with my phone and hand the headphones over. “It’s almost done.”
That’s my way of saying,Hey, I’ve worked on this for years and poured my heart into the song. Hope you don’t hate it!
I watch nervously as Owen listens, and much to my relief, he seems to love it. He gets wrapped up, obviously following the lyrics as the spaceship crashes and the heroes search for each other on the frozen planet. Little sparkles of joy tickle me all over.
Owen pulls the headphones out. “Nico!” he says, impressed. “I had no idea!”
“You like it?”
“Yeah, I’d say. It was like traveling to another dimension! The keyboard sounds otherworldly, and your voice is lovely!”
I laugh, quite happy. “Well, thanks!”
Owen tilts his head to the side, then rises on his toes, spotting something behind me. “It’s Fox! This is perfect timing. Do you mind if I play this for him?”
When I turn, I see that Owen’s fiancé is walking in. He’s got a black jacket over a white T-shirt, and he flashes me a smile before hitching Owen close for a kiss.
“Oh, uh…” I trail off, not answering the question. Owen is so sweet. Sharing with him felt doable, but Fox works with some of the hottest rock bands on the radio. He even got one of my favorite bands, Kissing Dirt, to play a benefit show at the museum. He doesn’t want to listen to my dorky song.
“What is it?” Fox asks.
“Nico is writing an album. He plays keyboard and sings.”
Fox hums appreciatively. “Can I?” he asks, gesturing toward the headphones.
If I say no, I’m an asshole, so despite my sinking horror, I manage a nod. “Sure.”
Fox doesn’t have the same reaction Owen does. Instead, his brow tightens, his eyes narrow, and he just barely nods his head. I’m certain he hates it, and my gut twists tight while I’m watching him listen, but then he slides the headphones off and nods.
“Shit. This is good, Nico. That’s all you?”
“Yeah. It’s a solo project.”
“Cool,” Fox says. He rubs his jaw, dark with stubble, eyeing me. “You know Kissing Dirt?”
“Of course,” I say eagerly. “They’re brilliant.”
Not only does the band write catchy, original songs, they sing about stuff like climate change, tackling real issues with rock music. I don’t listen to the radio much or follow hit bands, but of course I love Kissing Dirt.
The world can be so terrifying, but their music reminds me of the good.
“They’re looking to add someone to the band. You should audition.”
I laugh, my voice so loud in the office that I slap my hands over my mouth.
Fox hums under his breath. “I’m not joking. I think Mare would like your sound.”
I look to Owen for confirmation that I heard right, and he gives me an encouraging nod. “That song really is great, Nico.”
“But that doesn’t mean I should audition. I don’t know how to be in a band. I’m not a rock star!”
Fox shrugs. “If you say so,” he tells me casually, then tosses his arm over Owen’s shoulder. “Although it would be fun to discover the next big talent while I’m stopping by the office to take my fiancé out for lunch.”