Uncharted (Unexpected Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

to do, like scouting for new talent. There are a few other tasks that won’t take much time, like playing as a session musician for other artists during their recording sessions, or updating the blog, among other shit. Talk with Matthew and let me know. There’s no rush, so think about it.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind, Padre.” I bow to him and head to one of the practice rooms.
    As I enter the music room I encounter Porter. Dark hair, brown eyes, and stubble.
    “You smell like pot,” I say as the whiff burns my nostrils. “Dad’s going to kick you out of the studio. The rules apply to you too.”
    The most important rule: no musician can step inside the building under the influence of alcohol or drugs. It doesn’t matter how famous or rich they are. That rule applies to everyone.
    Porter ignores me. He plays a melody that sounds like my sister’s shit. Snappy and fast-paced. Not the loud, screeching guitar with heavy drums in the background he likes to play.
    “That’s AJ’s.” I step closer.
    “More like ours. We compose together sometimes.” I’ve finally gotten his attention. “Is he really here—your father?”
    I shrug, giving him the “you’re fucked” glare.
    “Fuck, do me a solid and stall him.” Porter lifts his bloodshot gaze and stares at me. “I have to go back to the hotel, take a shower and change. I hate when he gets touchy about my personal choices.”
    My parents won’t be happy with me when they find out I’m enabling him. Chris hates when Porter’s poor choices include alcohol and pot. He always says that those things destroy careers, families, lives. He’d know. My father is a recovering alcoholic.
    “Whatever. You know my sister wouldn’t like it either.” I bring up his Achilles heel.
    “I never do this shit when my girl’s around,” he snarls at me. “Now go and entertain him while I leave. See you later, dude.”
    Porter doesn’t wait for me to move. He grabs his guitar case and exits the room. That’s what drugs do to him—numb his brain. They slow his thinking process and he fucks up a lot.
    “Kendrick, are you high?” Chris barks at him.
    Busted.
    I shut the door and begin to compose a tune worthy of my little star. If I ever see her again, I can brag I wrote a song or two for her. A quick recovery after coming on too strong. Man, I can’t believe that only after a few hours of meeting her she’s consuming my thoughts.

“Dreadlocks!” AJ screeches as she connects to Skype. “What the hell are you thinking, Matthew James Colthurst-Decker?” she questions with a twinge of annoyance that results in us laughing at her.
    “’Sup, babe?” Matthew’s the one able to speak, as I’m laughing at both the annoyed sister and the ridiculous brother. “I think I look rad.”
    “I think your hair is longer than mine.” She tussles a long, brown lock. “What happened to it?”
    “I’m redefining my style,” he responds. “Setting myself apart from Jacob.”
    We look similar, but not identical. At least I don’t think so. There are a few features that set us apart, like my eyes being a shade lighter than Matthew’s. He has a dimple on the left cheek; I have a scar close to my left brow. His voice is deeper, and he’s right-handed.
    “We’re now eons apart, Matthew.” I pull one of the locks and he punches me on the arm. I retaliate by pushing him off the couch where we sit.
    As he’s about to punch me, our sister screams, “Matthew, stop!”
    “Are the two of you behaving?” Sometimes she takes herself too seriously and pretends to be the oldest one—the one who has to keep us on a leash. We both laugh at her and she smiles. “Much better. How are you?”
    “Good.” I give her a side shrug. “How’s Teijas treating you?”
    “Okay-ish. How was your first day of school?” We both give her that low frown, arm-crossed posture that means she better start talking. “My roommate sucks. They paired me with the worst human on the face of the