Rockstar Lost - Taryn Quinn Page 0,33

shot through the trio of stained-glass windows in the ceiling as I got closer to the top floor. Huge antique benches lined the room in every possible configuration. It was the middle of the day, so they were full of bodies. Unhappy children, disgruntled tourists, and the everyday commuter traffic created a wall of noise.

In the distance, I heard music. A violinist was busking at the edges of the ticket area. On the other side of the massive room, a crowd of people circled another musician. A pair of security officers were also hovering on the fringes.

I’d been to New York a handful of times and saw people working the subways, but it seemed a far less likely thing here. Especially with the “no loitering” signs posted near the tracks.

I headed for the ticket booth, but a haunting combination of notes floated my way. I didn’t know the song, but it didn’t stop my shoulders from hunching up in reaction. There was a sadness to the melody that climbed inside me and urged me closer. Whomever it was, they had a talent that couldn’t be denied.

Even with the overwhelming feedback from speakers calling out track numbers and the cacophony of conversations, I knew that was definitely the thundering echo of a keyboard.

“Plenty of keyboard players out there,” I muttered to myself. Still, I moved forward toward the crowd. Tall as I was, I still couldn’t see over the heads of half the people. A guitarist strummed out a frantic pace, accompanying the piano. I dodged heads and weaved around people. A few shuffled out of the way for me, but a woman directly in front of me was intent on keeping her spot.

It couldn’t be.

Suddenly, a voice rose—and my heart stopped.

There was no denying it now.

Myles.

The urge to back up was overwhelming, but there were too many people around me. The lyrics were unapologetic, the music a study in grit with less polish than I was used to when it came to his songs. The guitar was a steady thrum followed by a slap against the body of the instrument until it mimicked a heartbeat. It framed out Myles’s playing and made the need for drums obsolete.

But it was the words that I couldn’t shut out.

These roads I’ve traveled

Have all led me back here

A shadow of a man

Heart carved out and in hand

In my mind

I offered her all

In my heart

I didn’t trust

These faces I’ve studied

Reminded me of the one

I’ve missed for so long

Heart bleeding and in hand

In my mind

I offered her all

In my heart

I couldn’t trust

These nights I’ve lived

With the ghost of her

Now I need her light

Heart beating in hand

In my mind

I offered her all

In my heart

I needed to trust

Tears dripped down my chin and splashed my chest before I realized it. The lyrics were powerful and gritty. Honest to the point of a knife’s edge. Totally different than the music he created with his band. Myles had always had an amazing voice, but here there was no artifice. It was so raw it made my chest ache.

Finally, the girl in front of me moved to the side.

Myles’s hair was in his eyes and the cords in his neck were straining with the power of his words. He wore a long-sleeved white Henley, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing the winding color of his ink. A navy vest made his shoulders seem wider. Each wrist was banded with a leather cuff that showed off his amazing arms. A flash of silver caught my eye as his fingers chased down the keyboard before he started slamming out notes again as the song built to its end.

The people around me clapped and a wolf whistle traveled up my spine like an icy finger.

This was a Myles I’d never heard before. Never seen either. He was actually busking like a street performer. There was even a half dozen bills and handfuls of coins littering the guitarist’s case. I didn’t recognize the scruffy-faced man with messy ginger hair and Buddy Holly glasses who was accompanying Myles.

Myles flung back his head and his chest heaved with exertion. He raked his fingers through his curls before smiling into the crowd. “Thanks. First time I’ve played that one.” His smile froze and slid away as he found me in the audience. “I wrote it with a particular someone in mind.”

I tried to back away, but his voice lifted as he picked out soft notes, the song pure and sweet with the barest piano accompaniment.

I have