You Really Got Me (Rock Star Romance #1) by Erika Kelly

absolutely right. I never thought of it like that.” She looked at him so attentively, like she was interested in what he had to say. “It’s hard work, huh?”
    “It’s fucking hard.”
    She laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Why is everything in life so hard?”
    “Your life is pretty sweet.”
    “Ha. You think because I work for Irwin Ledger my life is easy? I’m a personal assistant, Slater. Other than writing a few articles for
Rolling Stone
, which I never even considered a huge achievement until you just pointed it out, I’ve done nothing on my own. Ever. Before I left for college, I was basically my dad’s personal assistant. I work for people. I don’t have a talent of my own.”
    “You’re great at figuring out what we’re doing wrong. That’s a talent.”
    She looked at him, and slowly, surely, a smile bloomed across her features. “Maybe it is.” And then she sighed. “I don’t know why we picked such a mean, tough business.”
    He looked away, his chest tightening. He wanted to say it had obviously picked them, but he’d exposed enough of himself. “I don’t know about you, but I want to get laid.”
    She eyed him skeptically, sadly even.
    “Sorry. Old habits.”
    She leaned just a tiny bit toward him, so close now he could feel her cranberry-scented breath on his skin. “What do you really want? For real?”
    His pulse kicked up, making him feel a little panicky. His impulse was to crack a joke, be crude, but the way she held his gaze . . . it skewered him to the spot. And then, without really thinking, he said, “I don’t want to be a failure. Like my dad was.” And where the hell had
that
come from? Christ, he didn’t even want to see her reaction. Then again, she probably knew all about his fuckup dad from Derek.
    Why wasn’t she saying anything? Finally, curiosity got the better of him—he
wanted
to know her reaction—so he looked at her. The moment he did, she gave a gentle smile.
    “I don’t think that’s possible. I’ve heard your songs. You’re really talented. Was your dad?”
    He shook his head. “My dad was all over the place. He wanted to be a rock star, but he never stuck with anything long enough to actually be good at it.”
    “Does he have any songs lying around that you could, I don’t know, finish for him? That’d be kind of sweet, right? Maybe he failed during his life, but his son, the one he devoted his entire life to helping, turns one of his songs into a hit. Kind of a tribute to all he did do right in raising you.”
    Slater swallowed. He felt like he’d taken a blow to the chest. He couldn’t take a full breath. Could she see how he was struggling here? Did she know the impact her idea had on him? He chanced another look at her. Still with that gentle smile.
    “Just an idea.” And then she turned back to the stage to watch the shitty band.
    He didn’t move, he was still holding on to the idea she’d planted in him. All the things
his dad had done right
in raising him.
    He’d always resented his dad—had lived with a tight knot of rancor in his chest. Like a tumor growing close to a joint, making him wince with every move he made. Yet, oddly, in spite of the anger, he’d held on to a bold and vibrant love for him. Yeah, his dad had embarrassed the shit out of him, but he was . . . well, he was Slater’s dad.
    And, frankly, he owed it to him to become a rock star. Because, seriously, no matter what Slater thought of him, his dad had devoted his entire life to making his son successful. Even if he’d gone about it the wrong way. Even if Slater had hated every moment of it.
    It would suck if his dad’s life’s efforts amounted to nothing.
    But, man, what a fucking compliment. That Slater’s talent was
proof
of something—Jesus. It blew him away. Not just that someone like Emmie thought he was talented enough to write hits—although that idea alone made him feel a degree of success that had always seemed elusive to him.
    But