Summary
“My life was definitely smack dab in the middle of a monsoon season.”
Life for Kendra Ellings has been on a downward spiral. After walking in on her boyfriend with another woman, Kendra finds her ability to play the drums vanishing into thin air, and with it her scholarships to Beasley University’s prestigious music school. In a last ditch effort to rediscover her mojo, Kendra decides to try busking in the streets—a decision that brings her face to face with the gorgeous and flirtatious businesswoman who will change her forever.
What is it like to feel that passionate about something?
For Melany Crawford, routine is king. Her strict discipline and willingness to sacrifice everything for her business—including love—earned her millions at an early age. Now, Melany can’t help but feel like something is missing. When a projectile drum stick brings a sexy street drummer into her life, Melany thinks she might’ve found that something—or someone.
She was just a one night stand. I don’t even really know her.
Their night of passion was never supposed to be more than a one-time fling, but now Melany can’t get Kendra out of her head. How can Melany, the entrepreneur who’s never been in a relationship in her life, convince Kendra to give her a chance? Will Kendra be able to get over her fears and find love and music again?
1
Kendra
They say when it rains, it pours. If that’s true, my life was definitely smack dab in the middle of a monsoon season.
I stared up at the weekly schedule tacked on the cork board in the restaurant’s back room, counting and recounting my posted hours. They couldn’t be right—I’d only been scheduled for two shifts that week, a drastic cut down from my usual. That was only six hours of work. Even with tips, that was barely anything. I was scraping by as it was, so how the hell would I afford rent now? Or food?
My co-workers, who were also gathered around to look at the schedule, grumbled to themselves and shuffled away. It seemed like I wasn’t the only one who had time cut.
I know exactly when my monsoon season started, and like any decent monsoon, the rain came down hard right from the get-go. It was seven months ago when I decided to take a spontaneous weekend trip back home from Rosebridge to Manchester to visit Max, my then-boyfriend. I showed up at the bar he played gigs at—Max was a bassist—and I hoped to give him a surprise in the back room. Only, it was me who got the surprise. I burst in, a big bottle of our favorite Belgian beer in my hands, and there he was on the couch with his dick in some groupie’s mouth.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way he reacted. How his eyes barely widened, and how he said “Kendra, what are you doing here?” so nonchalantly as he continued to sit there, making no effort to stop what was happening. The girl doing the sucking looked my way and actually started going harder—slobbering, gagging, the whole deal. She was putting on a show, like this wasn’t the first time they’d been walked in on in the back room.
For a brief moment, the bottle of beer felt disturbingly close to becoming a deadly weapon. Instead, it exploded on the ground next to my feet and I was out the door without looking back. I don’t know if I’d ever felt such intense rage and sadness all at once. I was never going to go back to that town.
Max and I met in our high school orchestra class. I was a drummer who also played timpani percussion, and Max was a bass guitarist who also played the upright bass, and we decided to form our own rock band with some friends. Things between Max and I started to become more than friendly, until eventually we were officially boyfriend and girlfriend—our firsts. I can’t remember who was the one who initiated it, but after being cheated on, I started wonder why I’d been with him in the first place. Max wasn’t super attractive or anything. He was a good musician, and that’s probably why I’d felt something for him, but honestly, I wasn’t that even into guys in the first place. Had I loved him? I thought I had, but now I wasn’t so sure. Now I wasn’t so sure I even knew what love was.
After that, the rain continued to pour on my sad little life.
It felt like all of my focus went completely out the window. My grades dropped in all of my general ed classes, and drumming, something that’d always come so easily, now felt distant and unnatural. I couldn't keep tempo. I couldn’t focus. I kept fucking up even the most basic rudiments. Dr. Adler, my drumming mentor and the man I respected the most at Beasley University, told me I was losing it. I failed the class and got put on academic probation. I lost my scholarships. At the end of the last fall semester, I was forced to drop out.
And now, four months later, my work hours were slashed. It rains, it pours; monsoon season.
I stuck my head into my manager Herschel’s office and cleared my throat to get his attention. He looked up from a laptop surrounded by receipts and paperwork. “Hey, Kendra,” he said, pushing up his glasses and smiling weakly. “I know why you’re here.”
“What happened, Herschel?” I asked. “Two shifts?”
“Everyone had to take cuts. You’ve seen how slow things have been the past two months. It isn’t getting any better. I’m doing all I can to keep everyone on staff.”
“You’re thinking of letting people go?” I asked, shocked.
He sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Just keep your fingers crossed that things pick up.”
“Herschel, I can’t lose this job.”
“If it were up to me, we’d all get raises and I’d make it rain hours,” he said. “But it’s not up to me. Anyway, you do realize you’ve missed a lot of work the past few months? And you’ve had a problem mixing up orders—I see you zoning out sometimes. What happened, Kendra? What’s going on with you?”
I winced. “Nothing is going on. Just some personal stuff.”
Herschel eyed me. “Well, nothing is happening yet. But really, Kendra? Little bit of life advice here. If you can’t afford to lose a job, then don’t wait until things hit the fan to try and secure it, hm? I’m a nice guy, but there’s only so much I can do when Mr. Miyaguchi steps in.” Mr. Miyaguchi was the place’s owner.
His tone pissed me off, but there wasn’t an excuse I could give that wouldn’t have been a blatant lie. It was true—I’d been screwing up at work. It was probably a lucky thing that I hadn’t been let go already.
“Right,” I said, nodding. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”
I turned to leave.
“Kendra, hey. I don’t mean to come off as a dick. Just keep your shit together and I’ll do what I can,