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Reforming the Rock Star

A Head Over Heels Novel

Entangled Publishing, LLC

Sydney Metcalf stared at her friend in utter disbelief, dread forming a ball in the pit of her stomach. "You want me to spend two weeks in Fairbanks to cater a week's worth of events around your wedding day? Is that what you're saying?"

She'd been in San Fran for three days with the Hanover sisters and their friend Lita for their annual girls' weekend and she was just hearing about this now? Sure, there had been a ton of wedding talk, but nothing about Syd providing the catering services and, more importantly, nothing about her having to be in Fairbanks for half a month.

Might as well have been a lifetime.

Seemed very convenient, "forgetting" to ask her until now. When her bestie had called to see if she wanted to meet up for lunch on Syd's last day in California, she'd known by the tone of Callie's voice something was up. She'd never imagined it was this. It had taken Syd most of her trip to get her head around spending even a couple nights in Fairbanks to fulfill her duties as bridesmaid at the star-studded nuptials.

She'd already carved out some stellar excuses to get out of the less important stuff — anything to minimize the amount of time she had to be in her hometown. The very idea that Callie was asking her to provide the food for a guest list that included Grammy winners and rock legends for a wedding that was now going to last for more than a week? That was so not on the menu.

It was a beautiful idea.

Jake wanted to sweep Callie away from the gossip and strife in San Francisco and bring her back to her hometown to create memories together. But Jake didn't know Fairbanks, and despite Syd's reassurances to Callie that it was going to be great and how the people and place had surely changed for the better, she'd only said that to make her friend feel better. She was pretty sure everything was exactly the same in the worst possible way. The stress was already making the acid in her stomach gurgle.

Add to that the pressure of catering something of this magnitude, and it was almost overwhelming. This was an extravaganza of events. The destination wedding to end all destination weddings, complete with a private fair, a bachelorette party, hell, there was even a hoedown planned. Not to mention the wedding itself.

"I've only been catering professionally for a few months." What if she screwed it up?

You will definitely screw it up.

The familiar refrain played in her head like a broken record no matter how much she tried to stifle it. She'd heard it often enough. From her mother. From her stepfather. Never from Callie, though. Callie Hanover had always believed in her and even now studied her through hazel eyes that blazed with indignation.

"Stop doubting yourself. The business is one thing, but you've been feeding people since you were nine years old. I know, I was one of them, remember?"

How could she forget? The three of them — Callie, her sister Lori, and Sydney — at Shady Maples trailer park with nothing in either of their families' dilapidated double-wides to eat besides maybe a can of olives, a box of old noodles, and a block of neon-yellow government cheese.

Syd swallowed the lump in her throat at the memories. It had been years since she'd fed Callie, and she was pretty sure good old Macaroni Surprise wasn't going to be on the wedding menu.

Still, it was during that time, eating bad food with friends who made life seem just a little less awful, that Syd had realized she wanted to feed people for a living. Food made people happy. Food was love. Food was everything to her, including a one-way ticket out of Fairbanks, Montana.

When Callie had asked if she could stand coming to Fairbanks for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, she'd agreed out of love and loyalty. But this was too much.

The place was filled with bad memories, bad karma, and worse people. Syd picked up her water goblet, slick with condensation, and took a long drink. Time for some real talk.

"I'm very flattered, and if I was ever going to go back there for more than my annual drive-through visit to see your mom, it would be for you. But —"

"Don't but me, Syd. I need you." Callie set down her salad fork with a clink and took Syd's hand, squeezing it tightly in her own. "I need all my girls to be there for all the events and the moral support. I don't want to experience a single second of this special time without you there. And just think of what this exposure could do for A Lil' Taste of Heaven!"

Syd blew out a sigh and closed her eyes. That was playing hardball. As scary as it would be, she was a great cook and had the utmost faith in her sous chef. The food at Callie's wedding would be stunning and could very well put her on the map. Her business was well on its way to expanding in Butte, and a high-profile gig would do wonders toward a possible magazine spread. Theoretically, it was like a gift from the gods.

Even if she was stuck between a rock and a nightmarish hell-scape of childhood memories, could she really say no?

"If I say yes, would I be able to get out of wearing a wretched bridesmaid's dress?"

Callie's eyes brightened, and she leaned forward to grab Syd's hand. "Yes. You can wear whatever you want to the ceremony. And by the time the reception is underway, you'll have already taken care of the food preparation and can hand off to your sous chef and come enjoy the party. We have a small staff that came with the rental of the manor, and they will take care of daily breakfast and making sure the fridge is stocked with eats for day to day. It would only be the actual events you'd be on tap for."

That was good. She wouldn't be tied to the kitchen the entire time. And no taffeta nightmare in her future was a definite plus. Could she really pull this off? "How many guests did you say?"

"Small." Hope brightened Callie's gamine face. "Fifty people, tops."

That was definitely doable. "Did you pick the exact location?" She was already planning the menu in her head when Callie's lip twitched in a way that sent Syd's radar squealing. "Why do you look like that? What aren't you telling me?"

"The Holmes estate on the lake."

The lake. She of course meant Echo Lake. Where they'd spent summers swinging from ropes and splashing around before going home to misery. Seemed like all her memories of Fairbanks were bittersweet that way.

Kind of like a circus. Half popcorn, spun sugar, and laughter. Half pathetic, abused animals performing tricks and traveling misfits who life had cast aside. It was way harder to focus on the popcorn parts when she was in Fairbanks. Every place held another memory.

"Please, Syd. It's two weeks out of your life, and the first week will just be with us preparing. We'll get tons of girl talk time and work on our tans. And just think of all the opportunities to show your stuff and make everyone fall in love with your food."

Tempting ... and still? Fairbanks.

"We're not even going to see anyone we know. The whole event will be at the estate. We won't even have to go to town for anything unless you want to. I can have stuff delivered and everything. You have more than a month to get your head around it." The pleading on Callie's face mixed with her own drive to push her business into another realm made it hard to say no.

How bad could it be? She'd be surrounded by famous people, supporting her best friend, and doing what she did best. If she put her head down and pushed through the hard parts, just like she always did, everything would turn out fine.

"All right." She slapped her hands on the table and nodded. "I'll do it."

Callie's eyes lit up with pure joy. "Are you sure?"

Her word was her bond and once she gave it, there was no turning back, regardless of how badly she wanted to. "I'm sure. No point in wasting time. Let's talk menu. I'm thinking fresh, local ingredients whenever possible. Lake trout lunches, strawberry parfaits, steak tartar."

The more she talked, the more the passion for her job ate away at the anxiety. Maybe it would be okay. Surely Callie was right. The estate was separate from the seedier side of town where she and the Hanover sisters had grown up — and even if she did decide to go into town for supplies, it would be a quick in-and-out deal.

She tuned back in as Callie chattered about bruschetta for the rehearsal dinner and smiled. One thing she had to admit, her friend looked truly happy. Her skin had a glow to it that had nothing to do with the California sun and everything to do with that California man she'd landed.

Jake was the real deal. She'd only met him one time, but when she saw how he looked at Callie, most of the reservations she'd had about her friend hooking up with a musician who'd left his fiancé started fading away. He was definitely crazy about her.

She brushed away the tinge of sadness that came with the realization that she would probably never have that. Guys like that fell for girls like Callie. Not girls who had been too busy working at the local diner through high school to learn how to flirt or do makeup or buy the perfect outfit.

Those were the facts.

No point in being sad about it. She made a mental note to call Supercuts and get a trim before the festivities. The last thing she needed was those damned bangs hanging in her eyes when she was trying to cook.

"So when do we start?"

"Well, everyone is already on board. We're going to fly out the bridal party a week early for some fishing and relaxation as well as last-minute wedding planning. That will give you a full seven days to go over your projected menus for the events and prep as much as you can ahead of time. Do you have enough info to figure out how much staff we need?"

"I'll bring my sous chef and two prep cooks with me. I plan to do all the pastry myself. The rest will be people who can handle the line, dish out the food, slice and dice and whatnot. I can source them locally through a temp agency or one of the hotels."

She stared across the table at her friend and tried to emulate her optimism. It was going to be great. The best two weeks of Callie's life.

So why did she feel like Marie Antoinette agreeing to cater her own beheading?

* * *

Laz stepped out of the Mustang Jake had picked him up in and gave a good stretch. "Somebody shoulda told me it was a two-hour drive from the airstrip," he said, wincing as he worked out the kinks.

After two months on the road, sleeping in a trailer half the time, followed by a four-hour flight from LA, he was stiff as a board. He made a mental note to check out the estate's gym, stat. "I would've talked you into renting that fancy-man Mercedes you been talking about if I'd known."

Jake let out a snort and pushed open the driver's side door. "Yeah, yeah. Make fun, but we could've kicked back with those plush seats and all that leg room and traveled in style."

For the three men in the muscle car, legroom was a hot commodity. Jake was the shortest, clocking in at just over six feet. At six three, Laz was used to being uncomfortable, but he couldn't get his head around saying no to a Mustang. As for Rocky, he was a giant, and the fact that he'd been stuffed in that backseat hadn't gone without notice.

He slammed the door of the cherry-red vehicle and turned toward Jake with a steely glare. "Next time I pick the car. This thing is a paparazzi magnet. We're lucky we didn't get followed."

"No one knows we're here yet, man, chill." Before Rocky could respond, Laz let out a low whistle. "Nice digs. I was hoping it was as pretty as the picture, but this is amazing."

He took in the sprawling ranch-style estate and pegged it well over fifteen thousand square feet, not including the three carriage houses that dotted the land around it. That was a lot of real estate. The honey-colored wood exterior of the main house gleamed in the high Montana sun, and he closed his eyes to soak in the rays.

San Francisco was in the midst of a rare but dog-fuckingly long heat wave and standing outdoors with the light breeze tickling his face and the sun a pleasure instead of a punishment, he decided instantly that he was a fan of Fairbanks, Montana.

A door slammed and a female voice called out, "I'm so glad you guys are finally here!" Callie ran up, looking fresh as a daisy in a pair of jean shorts and a cropped top. He glanced at her feet and grinned.

"Nice sneakers." His best friend's fiancé had made a name for herself designing fancy shoes, and he'd never seen her in anything but heels. This was a good sign. Maybe they really would all get to relax and have some fun this week.

Her dark ponytail bounced back and forth as she jogged over and threw herself into Jake's arms. "I hate being away from you," she murmured and planted a big kiss on him that was way over the top considering they'd only been apart for half a day while Jake came to pick them up at the airport.

Jake tugged her closer and deepened the kiss.

"Take it inside, man," Rocky muttered.

Laz eyed his friend and wondered, not for the first time, what was going on with him. He'd always been quiet, but the last few weeks, he'd been almost surly. His stomach clenched as he recalled the last time one of his band members had clammed up and gotten sour like this.

It had resulted in Dash leaving The Rift without explanation.

They hadn't been the same since. There was a general feeling of discomfort all the time. Like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe the pressure was weighing on Rocky, too, and just talking about it would get him in a better frame of mind.

He made a mental note to spend some one-on-one time with his buddy tomorrow once they'd settled in to try to get to the bottom of things. The ones who held it in were always the ones to watch, and he knew Rocky was still nursing some deep wounds after Dash had left the band.

Laz hadn't blamed him for leaving. Life on the road could be heavy, and when Dash missed the funeral of the man who had loved and raised him because he was in Europe and hadn't received the news in time, it pretty much broke him. Rocky understood his pain, but still felt betrayed by the sudden departure and Dash's seeming unwillingness to try to work through it and keep the band together.

This would be the first time all the members, past and present, of The Rift would be in one place at the same time for an extended period.

They might not share blood, but they'd spent more time with one another than Laz had spent with any other human being in his life. They ate, drank, and slept under the same roof half the year. They traveled the world and created music together. It was a bond that most people would never understand. This could be a fresh start for all of them if they let it be, because at the end of the day, they were brothers. And who knew? Now that Dash had found happiness with a woman he loved and worked through some of his emotional shit, maybe he'd even consider rejoining them.

He shoved that false hope aside and shook off his reverie, determined to kick back, keep it worry-free and enjoy the festivities.

Callie and Jake broke apart, both beaming, and Laz felt a twinge of envy. Dash wasn't the only one madly in love. That made two buddies who had landed the girls of their dreams. He was happy as hell for both of them, but he'd been there, done that, and had found out the hard way that he wasn't capable of maintaining a relationship and a successful music career simultaneously.

It was one or the other, and the choices he'd made the last time he'd fallen in love with a woman had almost killed her.

More power to Jake and Callie if they could make it work, though. The idea of having someone to come home to after a long tour and spend his days and nights with was something he could totally get on board with.

"Lori and Dash went into town but should be back in time for dinner. You guys must be starving after such a long ride." Callie wrapped her arm around Jake's waist, and he slung his around her shoulder.

Laz grabbed his guitar case and suitcase from the trunk before following the group as they made their way up to the white wraparound porch and up the steps. "This place is really something."

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Excerpted from Reforming the Rock Star by Christine Bell, Kerri-Leigh Grady. Copyright © 2014 Christine Bell. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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