Rock Angel (Rock Angel Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Oda nodded. “What did you think of them?”
    “I thought Dan’s friend Ty was a stone fox,” she admitted, wresting a laugh from Shan, “and he’s very nice. Struck me as straight shooter.”
    “How about the other one? Quinn?” Dan swore he was a genius, but Denise couldn’t stand him. She’d confided to Shan that Quinn demonstrated every repulsive characteristic of the male persuasion. He was arrogant, she said, overbearing, and much too full of himself.
    “Hard to say.” Oda looked thoughtful. “He’s a charmer. Good talker. Cute, too. Nice smile, but there’s something a little bit chilly about him. He keeps blinding you with that smile, though, so you don’t notice right away.”
    “Dan says he’s brilliant. He thinks he’s the most talented musician he’s ever met.”
    “If he is, then he’s sure to snap you right up. The Grotto’s jammed every time you play, Shan, and that says a lot about you.”
    After Oda went to bed, Shan twisted her hair into a braid and thought about Oda’s words. The Grotto was known as an industry showcase and not without justification. The owner, Mike Shapiro, had a reputation as a music visionary. He was selective about who graced his historic stage, but he’d selected her and the prestige of the place helped her land other gigs. Now she was earning enough to support herself. She liked her roommates well enough, the apartment was comfortable, and she had enough money to live on. Her needs were simple; she could get by as long as she could afford guitar strings and food and the drugs that were a necessity, despite her repeated attempts to get clean.
    Even with the tea Shan couldn’t sleep, so she reached for Joanie. She left the apartment quietly and climbed the stairs to the roof. It was a clear night and the stars winked down on her as she took a seat in the folding metal chair she kept up there.
    She looked out over the SoHo rooftops as she began to play. The air was chilly and she recalled what it was like to live on these streets. She’d moved from neighborhood to neighborhood, sleeping on benches and in subway tunnels, foraging through supermarket Dumpsters for food, and begging for nickels and dimes. She’d never forget that first January on her own, huddling inside doorways with nothing but a denim jacket between her and the cold of the New York winter.
    She shivered and began to sing. It was a song that didn’t have a name, really, just a song that she sang when she was on the roof, the verses changing according to her moods.
     
    I’m in a place where I’m allowed
    To let the things that hurt
    Drift on up among the clouds
    They don’t bother me
    And I don’t care
    ‘Cause I’m on the roof and dreaming
     
    She played for a long time, gazing up at the sky as her melodies wafted down over the sleeping city.

chapter 4
    Quinn stirred as voices infiltrated his sleep. He burrowed his head into the pillow to muffle the noise, but a burst of laughter jarred him further awake. Annoyed, he yanked the pillow over his head and his forehead hit the arm of the couch with a solid thwack.
    Tossing the pillow aside, he sat up and scowled at Dan and Ty. They were at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and smoking a joint. Ty lifted his cup. “Wake and bake!”
    “No thanks.” Quinn hoisted himself off the couch and headed for the bathroom clad only in his boxer briefs. He slammed the door behind him and positioned himself in front of the john, the seat of which was conveniently upright. That’ll change soon enough, he reflected, eyeing the pile of mascara, lip gloss, and other cosmetics on the shelf behind the toilet.
    He came back and scrounged for his jeans at the foot of the couch, then fished through his duffel bag for a T-shirt. He found one and pulled it over his head. Berklee College of Music curved lyrically across his chest.
    Quinn poured a cup of coffee then sat down at the table. “That couch is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever slept on,” he