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  LUCKY BREAK

  KACEY SHEA

  Copyright © 2022 by Kacey Shea

  Lucky Break

  Kacey Shea

  All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Editing: Shauna Stevenson, Ink Machine Editing

  Proofreading: Melissa Hake

  Cover Design: Tash Drake, Outlined with Love Designs

  Photography: Lindee Robinson Photography

  Created with Vellum

  CONTENTS

  1. Callum

  2. Tess

  3. Callum

  4. Tess

  5. Callum

  6. Tess

  7. Callum

  8. Tess

  9. Callum

  10. Tess

  11. Callum

  Also by Kacey Shea

  About the Author

  1

  CALLUM

  I’m not happy.

  My chest tightens with my sharp inhale, and my lips lock around the mouthpiece of my vape. I need to get on stage. My set was supposed to start five minutes ago, but the only thing I can focus on are the bubbling dots below the last text my girlfriend sent. Or maybe I should say ex? The way we’ve been fighting tonight, I’m not so sure.

  She’s not happy. I don’t make her happy anymore.

  I’m not sure how I pictured spending my thirty-second birthday, but this was not it.

  The door from the bar that leads to the alleyway swings open, and I hold my breath, waiting to see who’s discovered where I’m hiding.

  “Hey.” One of my best friends, Tess, shuffles over, her hands rubbing up and down her bare arms to combat the cool night. “Thought I might find you out here.” In the dim light, her pale skin stands in contrast to her heavy eye makeup and deep wine-colored lipstick.

  “Hey.” My heel bounces and I glance down to the screen of my phone. Still with the fucking bubbles. I wish Celeste would text me already.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Tess lifts her brow in question.

  “Aye.”

  Tess’s lips press together with her frown. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” I stand tall and slide my cell in my back pocket, trying to not care about whether or not Celeste texts me back. “It’s busy tonight.” I hold out my vape pen.

  Tess declines with a shake of her head. “Yeah, should be a good night for tips.”

  The Twisted Goat is enough off the beaten path it doesn’t attract the posh LA crowd or vacation goers like some of my other gigs. But the pay is good and the regulars sing along to my originals as much as the covers, which is something I’m grateful for.

  “Lars getting pissed?” I grin, imagining the manager cursing under his breath over my whereabouts.

  “He’s in the back office. You’ve got another ten minutes before he starts to wonder why it’s so quiet.” She smiles, kicking at a rock with her Docs. “So why is it you’re getting high instead of playing for your adoring fans?”

  Tess’s a good friend. One of my best friends here in the States. We met a few years ago when I started playing here on the regular not long after I moved to Los Angeles. While most people insist she’s an ice queen, I’ve never had that experience. Yeah, so she’s a bit of a sour patch—prickly and rude to anyone outside her circle. But that doesn’t matter, because her center is sweet, and she’s the best, loyal, most generous soul to her friends. She’s far too good to be slinging drinks at this bar or to be listening to my sob stories.

  “It’s Celeste, so you know how it goes.” I bite back the urge to sigh. On more than one occasion, Tess’s given me relationship advice when it comes to Celeste, and she’d listen now if I asked. But I don’t want to bring her down. Not now. Not tonight.

  Tess bumps her shoulder against mine. “Oh, you know I do.” She rolls her eyes, but there’s a good-natured grin tugging at her lips.

  “Let’s talk about anything else.” I stare straight ahead, feeling Tess’s gaze on my face as I take another long inhale from my vape.

  “Maybe later.” She laughs, taking the vape from my hand.

  Our fingers brush, and a wave of awareness ripples through my body. I shake it off, startled by the un-platonic feeling toward my friend.

  Tess takes a step back, clueless to my reaction, her smile wide. “I’m taking this hostage. I need you lucid on that stage if I’m gonna make any money tonight.”

  “Fine.” I pretend to pout, swipe the vape from her hand, and slide it in my back pocket. “Mother.”

  She punches me in the arm. “We’re the same damn age.”

  “Yeah”—I step ahead of her and open the door—“well, you’re an old soul.”

  “And you better start singing.” She glares at me, passing by to walk inside. “I’m not consoling your pretty face if Lars fires you.”

  I sling my arm around her shoulder. “Aw, you really care.”

  Her body stills. Or maybe it’s just my imagination, because a second later my phone buzzes from inside my pocket. I stop and pull it out to see who’s calling.

  Celeste’s face—a photo captured from a moment when we were happy—lights up the screen. “I should take this.”

  “Yeah.” Tess steps away, her lips pressed together as if she’s holding back from saying more. She probably thinks I’m a fool. I probably am.

  “I won’t be too long.”

  “I’ll run interference.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Before I can ask what’s wrong, she turns her back and walks through the storage room toward the front of the bar. My heart squeezes, missing the calm that surrounds me whenever Tess and I hang out. But the incessant ringing of my phone rattles that peace. Inhaling a fortifying breath, I brace myself before connecting the call and facing what’s sure to be another emotionally exhausting conversation.

  2

  TESS

  Jealously, thick and suffocating, fills my lungs as I turn and leave Callum to answer his phone. But it’s soon replaced with guilt, and if I’m being honest, a little shame too. I have no business feeling anything other than friendship toward Callum. But the thing is… I can’t help how I feel. I’ve tried to ignore it. Fight it. Deny the fact his very presence makes my day automatically better. So, yeah. I’m in love with my best friend. And he can never know. No one can. Because while I can’t stop the feelings I have, I don’t have to act on them.

  Not while he’s with her.

  And they’re never breaking up. No. They might argue and fight, but they always make up because once Callum O’Neill decides he wants something, nothing gets in his way. It’s why he got on a plane and left his home in Ireland almost a decade ago with nothing more than a hundred bucks and a Gibson to his name. He’s the most loyal, beautiful, talented, and kind man I’ve ever known, and I’m lucky to call him my friend. If that’s all I ever am to him, it’s enough. It’s more than enough. It’s everything.

  I head out to the bar and check in with Parker. We don’t always work together, but when we do, the shift goes by quickly and the tips are good. He’s a massive flirt, and we both carry our weight when it comes to the work load. It’s a decent crowd, but in another hour we won’t have a second to breathe.

  “Oh no.” Parker shakes his head as I walk behind the bar. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Have you told your f
ace?”

  “I don’t smile, Parker. It’s my thing.”

  “Scary Spice. Yeah, I know. But you don’t look angry.” He narrows his stare. “Are you sad?” His eyebrows shoot up and he points at me. “You are sad! Fuck. Are you going to cry? Oh my god, let me get my phone so I can document this momentous occasion!”

  “You’re an idiot.” I roll my eyes, then catch a few of our regulars watching our banter as if we’re the entertainment for tonight. Which I hate. Dude, Callum needs to get his ass on stage, and now. I pick up a glass to dry off and put away.

  “But I’m not wrong, am I?” Parker comes close. “Wanna talk about it?”

  “If I wanted to, it would not be to you, Mr. Chatty Cathy.” I bat my eyes.

  He presses a hand to his chest. “I’m practically a licensed professional.”

  “You took one psychology class.”

  “But my psychic told me I was destined to be a therapist. And I bartend, which is basically the same thing.”

  “You’re ridiculous.” I try not to smile, but it’s impossible.

  “That’s better.” He grins back and thankfully leaves it at that. “I think we need another bottle of gin before things pick up and we’re almost out of limes. I hate it when the day shift skimps on the prep work.”

  “I’ve got it.” I turn around and head back the way I came. I don’t mind, and also I need to see if Lars is still in his office. Maybe I’ll run into Callum. Hopefully he’s not still on the phone.

  I step into the walk-in fridge, my skin prickling with goose bumps at the temperature. My push up bra, Twisted Goat black tank, shorts, and fishnets doing nothing to protect against the cold. Collecting the limes in a clear plastic container, I exit before I become a human popsicle.

  “There you are!” Lars calls from across the room. Beads of sweat gather at his temple and his cheeks are flushed. He throws his hands in the air, stomping closer. “Where have you been?”

  I open my mouth to answer.

  “Never mind.” He rushes forward to take the limes from my hands. “I need you on the floor with Ava. You have the section with the booths. Ava can cover high tops.”

  “But I’m behind the bar tonight.” There’s no way I’m getting screwed out of tips by waiting tables tonight. The bar gets way better action.

  “Nope.” He shakes his head. “Not until they leave.”

  “They?”

  He hunches forward, his eyes giving away his excitement. “We have a music label arriving in fifteen minutes.”

  “What?” I practically shout, then glance over my shoulder to see if Callum’s on his way back inside yet. I need to tell him. Or maybe I shouldn’t. Fuck. This could be his big break. I don’t want to get in his head tonight any more than Celeste already has.

  “You’re the only one I trust to do a good job without acting like a fool,” he says in just about a whisper, the sweat on his forehead magnifying and making a lot more sense. “A security team called earlier and now they’re here doing a sweep of the place. They asked for discrete. No press. No cameras. This is real big-time Hollywood shit.”

  I nod, excitement building in my chest.

  “Go, go! They’ll be here any second!” He waves me toward the door.

  “Oh!” I spin around. “Parker needs more gin too!”

  “On it! I’m right behind you,” Lars mumbles to himself and heads for the locked closet that contains our liquor.

  I don’t waste another second, and as I push out into the busy bar, my entire body radiates with a feeling I haven’t experienced in so long it’s unfamiliar. Hope.

  3

  CALLUM

  I shouldn’t have picked up.

  The chill of the night kisses my forearms and I consider taking another long inhale off my vape pen. The buzz I had before is totally ruined. I’ve been listening to Celeste cry and rant and complain for almost ten minutes now. We’re talking in circles and I’m trying to stay present, but I really need to work.

  “You don’t understand how lonely it is. I can’t see our future anymore. You know I love you, but I’m not spending the rest of my life waiting around while you chase your dreams.”

  “It doesn’t have to be like that. I can write and play music and give you the life you want.”

  “But can you?” She inhales so sharply, her breath rushes through the line. “Because from my point of view, it feels like more empty words and promises.”

  I scrub a hand across the scruff of my jaw. “We’ll talk when I get home.”

  The door to the back patio swings open with a groan. Lars stands there with wide eyes. “Good god, Callum! What the hell are you doing back here? I need you on stage!”

  I can’t afford to lose this gig. It’s one of my steady, better paying ones. “Coming, sorry,” I whisper away from my cell.

  But Celeste hears. “Seriously?”

  “I’ve got to go,” I say as gently as possible, my footsteps following Lars inside. His pace is rushed and hurried through the back storage room and I practically jog to catch up.

  “You better not hang up on me!” Celeste practically seethes in my ear.

  It’s a coward’s move, but I pretend not to hear her and end the call. Then I power off my phone, because I know her too well. She won’t just leave it until I get home. She’ll blow up my cell until I give in. And I always give in when it comes to her. Maybe that’s the problem. A relationship should be a partnership. A give and take. I shouldn’t feel such deep dread when she calls. She should be supportive that I’m out here hustling and bringing in money to make rent.

  Pushing out into the bar area, I’m so in my own head that I almost bump into Tess. “Sorry.”

  “Hey.” She steadies the tray of drinks in one hand and reaches out with her other, touching my shoulder. “You good?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Internally I try to shake off the conversation with Celeste.

  Tess meets my eyes, her stare intense. “Take it all and leave it on stage. Got it?”

  How does she always just know? “Yeah.”

  “You’re gonna be great,” she says, almost as if she’s trying to hype me up. It’s a little weird, because this is Twisted Goat. The crowd knows my stuff and I mix in enough covers to make any newbies happy.

  “Okaaaay.” I drag out the word and glance around.

  “Stage. Now!” Lars barks from behind us.

  “You’ve got this.” Tess narrows her gaze at me, then gives me a little push.

  My brow scrunches and I let loose a little laugh. She’s being weird. So is Lars. Fuck, they probably have some stupid birthday thing planned. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  Tess’s eyes widen with panic. “No!” she answers too quickly and then rolls her eyes. “Stop being an ass!”

  I laugh, hearty and real, for the first time all night. “I’m going, I’m going.” I hold my hands up and saunter toward the small stage in the corner of the bar. I pick up my guitar and settle the strap over my shoulder before testing the mic. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” I say, and I’m rewarded with shouts, cheers, and a few cat calls. “For those who haven’t partied with us on Thursdays, I’m Callum O’Neill and I hail from a teeny tiny town just outside of Dublin.” I strum out a few chords. “I promise to play my heart out while you drink your arses off. Deal?” I flash a grin. “Don’t forget to tip your bartenders and servers, yeah?” The spotlights are bright and block my view of most of the crowd. I don’t know where Tess is, but I guess where she’s watching me from and wink in that direction before strumming my guitar. “Let’s have us a good night then, yeah?”

  4

  TESS

  I’ve never felt the need to meddle when it comes to someone else’s career. But the thing is, for as long as I’ve known Callum O’Neill, I’ve understood two things. The first, is that he’s crazy talented. The man came to the United States with a prayer and a dream. He started out living in shelters and bussing on park corners all because of his love for music
and the belief he could be something more. But the second thing—the thing he’d never admit—is that Callum doesn’t expect, and never will ask for, a hand up from anyone. It’s what keeps him humble. He doesn’t use people, and the idea of working the social ladder to find success puts him off. I know because it’s one thing he and Celeste fight about often. It might be the only thing she and I agree on. Whereas Celeste is all about making friends and leveling up, Callum is content to take the long road. And over the last year, he’s stopped hustling so hard.

  I don’t know why. I don’t even think he realizes it. But he’s gotten a little too comfortable. He pays his bills and is doing what he loves, which is more than most can ask for, and I think he’s scared to rock the boat. To ask the universe for more.

  Fear has a crazy way of holding us back.

  Sometimes we need someone else to push us toward the edge of the cliff, because the jump really isn’t as frightening as we think it’ll be.

  Well, I pushed.

  Hell, I campaigned, emailing every music label on the West coast with a simple recording from my phone. I’d hoped—no, I’d begged and prayed—that someone would open my email and give him a listen. Because if they did, they’d know exactly what I believed with my entire heart: Callum O’Neill was meant to be a star. He was destined for greatness. Almost as if it were written in the stars.

  Because of my meddling, there are a couple of record label executives sitting in a back booth, and I’m waiting their table while they admire Callum’s performance.

  He’s killing it. There’s an intensity with every note, every song. I don’t know if he can sense there’s more on the line, or if it’s fate. But tonight feels different. Almost as if he’s pouring all of himself into each and every word.