ROCK GODS DON’T DATE POP PRINCESSES

  BREAK THE RULES

  BOOK ONE

  TABATHA KISS

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  More from the Tabiverse…

  Also by Tabatha

  About the Author

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2024 by Tabatha Kiss

  All Rights Reserved. eBook Edition.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Subscribe to my Newsletter for FREE books!

  Visit tabathakiss.com/newsletter for more info.

  For you.

  Yes, you.

  1

  KNOX

  This is why I became a rock god.

  I pause in the center of the golden lobby and take a deep breath, basking in the luxury of the Botsford Plaza San Francisco. It’s not the first time I’ve stayed at one, obviously. I practically live at the Plaza back home in Las Vegas, but that’s different. My best friend and bandmate Jonah is a Botsford. I'm used to living in his shadow.

  But the days of relying on him will soon be long behind me.

  Soon, I'll have my own luxurious shadow.

  It’s strange to think we’ve come this far. Jonah and I started this band when we were young teenagers, along with our friend, Bronson Isaacs. Back then, it was just me on the guitar, with the occasional piano to class things up, Jonah on bass, and Bronson on drums.

  Later, we expanded our sound by adding in our friend, Addison Abbey, a girl from Bronson’s school. She’s the only person we knew who could rock a keytar. Also, mixing in a little feminine energy was exactly what we needed to keep things from getting a little… stale.

  A few years later, Katrina joined us. Mostly out of necessity (she had nowhere else to go) and no one can out-piano me like my little sister can.

  Thus, Criminal Records was born.

  I’m the lead singer. The front man. I’ve led my band well and here we are: arriving in San Francisco during our second tour. Our latest single Down Down Baby owns the charts. Tonight’s venue is sold out. We’re on the way up. The sky is the motherfucking limit.

  Ain’t nothing going to stop us n— what’s that sound?

  Across the lobby, an employee in a blue blazer zips through the ballroom doors. Before they close, I spot rows of chairs pointed at a stage inside. My ears perk to the voice coming from within, a few pitch perfect notes quickly smothered as the door closes.

  What was that?

  “Hey, Knox!”

  Our manager Jordan Peck calls out to me by the front desk, her brown hair locked in a way-too-tight ponytail. She came along around the same time Addison did, a classmate of hers and Bronson’s. She started tagging along with us wherever we went and self-proclaimed herself our manager. No one bothered to stop her.

  “Come on,” she says, waving me toward them. “We gotta get across town for sound check.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be right there,” I mutter as I walk toward the ballroom instead.

  Along the way, I read a few signs pointing at the doors advertising some kind of beauty pageant taking place at the hotel today.

  Interesting.

  I pop inside.

  The room is packed; each chair filled. All eyes rest on the young woman sitting at a piano on the stage. I linger in the back, my gaze locking on her, too.

  She’s fit and petite, with long reddish-brown hair tumbling down her shoulders. Her dress is simple but elegant, made of neutral brown material. The bodice is an adorable corset that I’m sure makes it difficult for her to breathe, but she’s certainly not having any trouble hitting those high notes.

  I inhale sharply.

  Fuck.

  She’s incredible.

  With her fingers dancing across the piano keys, she belts out a song I don’t recognize. Goosebumps ignite on my skin, pushing me forward to get a better look at her. She scans the audience, her big eyes painted with glitter and gold, her face reflecting every emotion as she sings.

  “You’re wildfire, burning through my soul.

  I’m drawn to you, so out of control.”

  Definitely a love song. Not a happy one, though. A sad one. One of those I love you but I hate it songs. Not my kind of song, but I feel it deep in my chest anyway, the haunting melody quickly taking hold of me.

  My heart skips a few beats.

  Who is⁠—?

  “Knox.”

  I flinch as Jordan grabs my elbow.

  “I said, sound check,” she bites at me.

  “Wait, I was just⁠—”

  She pulls me out of the ballroom with her; my only options being to leave willingly or cause a scene. There’s no way I’ll risk interrupting a siren in the middle of her song, so I go with Jordan.

  But I lock everything about this moment into memory.

  Who was that girl?

  One show down. Nine more to go.

  But tonight, we party.

  Our ears still ringing from the screaming crowd, we make our way back to the hotel for a night of drinks and debauchery at the Botsford Plaza bar. We debuted some new material tonight, so tensions were high in the moments before we went on. But the crowd was everything we wanted and more.

  We grab the biggest booth near the back with enough chairs for us and a few special guests we picked up backstage after the show, and tell the bartender to keep the drinks coming.

  Jonah basks in his golden Botsford greatness with a blonde under one arm and a brunette under the other. Bronson does what he does best and listens, piping in at just the right moment to continue charming the adorable girl next to him. Addison hustles a few guys at the billiards table, her eyes clearly on one of them, while Katrina scrolls through her phone reading out reactions to the new songs. I flirt with the blonde sitting between me and Jonah, knowing that he’ll give her up when the time is right.

  A great night. And it could only get better.

  Occasionally, I look up from our table, my eyes trailing across the lobby on their own toward the wide double doors of the ballroom. When we returned after our show, the pageant signage was long gone. The ballroom, empty.

  Unfortunately, with the hustle and nerves of the night, I can’t for the life of me remember the name of the pageant. I make a mental note to ask the front desk — adding in a prayer that I’m not too fuzzy to remember that mental note in the morning.

  I want to know who that girl was.

  I want to know where she came from.

  And I want to know where I can find— oh, there she is.

  I nearly lurch out of our booth, her sudden appearance across the bar taking me by surprise. Though… I’m not sure how sudden it was, actually. She’s clearly been here for a long time. Her reddish pink drink is practically empty.

  Damn. I should really work on being more observant.

  She’s sitting by herself in a darkened corner, her table barely illuminated by a simple lamp in the center as she scribbles in a spiral-bound notebook. Beneath the table flows the bottom of her brown dress. Sneakers poke out from beneath the skirt, her ankle lightly tapping against the leg of her chair. A few strands of hair fall down from a sloppy bun to shadow her eyes.

  Those eyes. Still full of emotion.

  Sadness, mostly.

  Jonah pats my shoulder. “Yo, Knox. You in?”

  I look right through the blonde girl between us. “In what?”

  “We’re heading up to the roof,” he says as the others slide out of the booth. “You in?”

  “Yes,” I answer, a gut reaction as the girls giggle
. “Yes, I am. Absolutely.” I glance into that darkened corner again. Still scribbling. Still sad. “But I’ll meet you up there. I gotta do something first.”

  “Like what?” Addison asks, a smirk carved into the corner of her mouth.

  “Just… something. I’ll catch up.”

  She eyes me curiously, but happily leaves with her arm looped around a guy she just swindled her next three lunches out of — but he seems fine with that. The rest of them group together and walk out into the lobby toward the golden elevators while I hang back.

  I sit alone for a few minutes before finally forcing myself to stand up and go fucking talk to her already.

  She looks up as I approach. Her back stiffens, so I flash a friendly smile, but that just makes it worse. Her big brown eyes grow impossibly bigger, matching the faded colors of her eyeshadow. Sharp cheekbones. Little lips.

  Goddamn, this girl is gorgeous.

  “Hi, there,” I say.

  “Hi,” she says, quickly closing her notebook. “Sorry. Did you want this table?”

  “Oh, no!” I hold up a hand to stop her from standing up. “No, please. Keep your table. I was just... I saw you over here and I thought that I’d come say hi. So... hi.”

  “Hi,” she says again, no less nervous.

  “Hi.”

  She stares at me. “Is there something you wanted?”

  “No. I mean, maybe.” I shake off the nervous laughter threatening to take hold of me. “Actually, I would love to buy you a drink.”

  “Oh, uh. Okay!” She swallows hard. “Why?”

  This girl is fucking adorable.

  “Because I saw you sing earlier,” I answer, “and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since.”

  Her already pink cheeks turn a deep crimson shade. “Oh,” she squeaks. “Thank you.”

  I point at her drink. “What are you having?”

  “Uh...” She blinks. “Strawberry daiquiri. Virgin,” she adds.

  “I’ll be right back.” I turn, then pause. “What’s your name?”

  “Harmony.”

  Fucking perfection.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Harmony,” I say. “I’m Knox.”

  She smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Knox.”

  I walk to the bar, my heart pounding harder with each step. After ordering her another daiquiri (and one for myself), I pull out my phone and send Jonah a text.

  Have fun up there without me. Something came up.

  Jonah

  Something good?

  I peek over my shoulder at Harmony and grin, a song in my chest growing louder and louder.

  Something great.

  I put the phone on silent before dropping it into my pocket and returning to the table with our drinks. Harmony appears no more relaxed at all, her stiff posture keeping her back fused with her chair.

  “Thank you,” she says with a nod at the drink.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” I ask her.

  “Sure.”

  I grab the nearest empty chair and slide it over to sit down across from her. Clearly, I should keep some distance. Some girls’ body language, like the girls we brought back from the concert, for instance, will instantly tell you that you can get real close. I don’t sense that from Harmony.

  I would like to, though.

  So let’s take it slow.

  She clutches the drink, gently tapping the sides with her perfectly painted fingernails. “So, you saw me before?” she asks. “At the pageant?”

  “I did,” I say, taking a sip from my glass. Sweet and delicious. “You have an incredible voice. And you play beautifully.”

  She blushes, but says nothing.

  “By the way, a singer named Harmony?” I say. “Love it.”

  “Thanks,” she says, barely above a whisper.

  “Is that your real name?”

  “It is, yeah. My mother has always been obsessed with music. She almost named me Melody instead.”

  “Harmony is the better choice.”

  “I agree.”

  “I’ve never heard that song before,” I say. “Did you write it?”

  “I did, actually.”

  “No shit?”

  She nods.

  “Wow,” I whisper, fully aware my mouth is wide open. But I can’t help it. “You’re really talented, Harmony.”

  “Oh, I…” She looks down. She shakes her head. All the cuteness. “I’m not really.”

  “No, you are. Trust me, I know. You definitely won, right?” I ask. “I only saw you for a couple of seconds, but there is no way anyone out-pageanted you up there.”

  “Uh, well…” She hesitates. “No.”

  “No?”

  “No, they didn’t, um… the judges thought the other girls had more interesting… talents than I did.” She stirs her drink with her straw. “I lost.”

  “You lost?” I ask, stunned.

  “Fourth place.”

  “Fourth?!”

  “Yeah, I got fourth place.”

  “That’s bullshit!”

  Harmony looks up, reacting to my outburst. “It happens,” she says, shrugging it off. “That’s how these things go. Sometimes.”

  “You sound pretty jaded there, Harmony,” I say. “This ain’t your first pageant rodeo, is it?”

  “It is not.” She nods. “My mother has been coaching me in these things since before I learned to walk.”

  I wince. “One of those moms, huh?”

  “A little, yeah. But she means well. She just wants... you know, she wants the best for me.”

  Her eyes fall to the table, the tension still taut in her shoulders.

  “Well, if you don’t mind me asking, where is she now?” I ask. “Why are you sitting here alone in a hotel bar?”

  “Oh, uh...” Harmony hesitates. “So, this pageant was supposed to be my big break. The winner got a meeting with some big shot Hollywood agent or something and... well, she — my mother — like you, she highly disagreed with the judges’ assessment of my performance. At least, that’s what she told me when she was screaming at me in the parking garage afterward.” She laughs dryly. “Then, she handed me this notebook and told me to go sit somewhere and write down all the reasons those girls were better than me and that I wasn’t welcome at home until it was full.”

  She punctuates it with another nervous chuckle.

  I blink twice. “Harmony.”

  “Hm?”

  “That’s insane. You know that, right?”

  She nods. “Yes.”

  I exhale. “Good.”

  “I know how she can seem on the outside,” she says. “But she really does want the best for me. It’s hard for other people to understand that.”

  “Oh, I know exactly what you mean.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, my mother runs a cult out in the desert, so...” I shrug.

  She grins. “Oh, then you know!”

  “Yup!”

  We laugh. It’s not a wound I usually expose within minutes of meeting a person, but sometimes a kindred spirit comes along. That’s exactly the feeling I’m getting from Harmony now. A kindred spirit. A soulmate. Perhaps even a...

  I smother the word before it forms. Don’t want to jinx it.

  Harmony takes a sip from her drink and licks her lips, sitting a little more at ease now. “I got about halfway through the notebook before I hit a wall,” she says, glaring at it.

  “You...” I lean forward. “You filled half of that notebook with reasons why you lost?”

  “Reasons why the other girls were better than me, yes.”

  I point at it, insanely curious. “May I?”

  “Uh...” She waits a moment before slowly sliding it toward me. “Okay.”

  I flick it open and smile. Her penmanship is exactly what I expected, full of perfect loops and hoops. There are doodles in the margins; sloppy stars and imperfect hearts.

  Frowny faces, too.

  I skim the list, which she helpfully formatted with simple bullets for easy reading. Her hair wasn’t shiny enough. Or it was too shiny. On one page, it was too short. On the next, it was too long. One of the other girls had a better tan than she did. Another’s skin was just pale enough. They were skinnier. Prettier. Worthier.

  It’s all bullshit, obviously.

  My throat clenched during the second verse and I missed a note, I read, these words less legible than the others. I thought maybe they didn’t hear it, but they must have. I know you heard it, Mama. I’m sorry.