FanGirl Squeal (RockStars of Romance Book 1) by Jackie Chanel, Madison Taylor

sweet.”
    “He said your friend, Cash.”
    “OH MY GOD…CASH!”
    We were both giddy and talking over each other. I was barely
holding it together.
    “This was exactly what I wanted,” I muttered. “I just wanted
him to know that we think he’s…” I couldn’t even finish the thought. I just
broke down in tears.
    “Don’t cry, Banana. If you cry, then I’m going to cry and
you know how I feel about crying in public places.”
    “I…can’t…help…it!” I wailed.
    “Stop!” Amy demanded. “You still have to open the boxes.”
    I sat on the floor of the foyer in front of the two boxes
with my iPad so Amy could see.
    “God, I love technology,” she murmured as I ripped off the
purple wrapping paper.
    “Dolce and Gabbana!” we both screamed when the wrapping
paper revealed the smooth black box and gold lettering.
    “Is it shoes?”
    “It can’t be shoes,” I replied. “It’s too big. Besides, how
would Cash Myers know my shoe size?”
    “Maybe Tracy told him.”
    “I don’t think so,” I said doubtfully while lifting the top
of the box. “We’re not that close. She was just my RA at UCLA for a couple of
years.”
    I pulled out a royal blue leather tote and gasped.
    “Is that the…”
    “The Dolce and Gabbana Miss Escape bag we saw in Vegas. Yes
it is!”
    “That’s a $2500 bag.”
    “And it’s mine!” I squealed as I hugged my new favorite bag
against my chest. “Amy, it’s sooooo beautiful. I wish you could feel it.”
    “I am so jealous of you right now.”
    “I know,” I laughed. “I’m sorry.”
    “Open the big box before I die over here,” Amy pouted.
    I gently lowered the box to the floor. It was super heavy. I
lifted the lid and moved the air packets out of the way.
    “It’s a guitar.”
    “A what!?” Amy screeched.
    I didn’t repeat myself. I recognized the limited edition
Cash Myers guitar case. I unzipped the case because the box was too heavy for
it to be empty. Lying on the felt was a replica of Cash’s red and white strat.
His signature graced the headstock.
    “I’m done,” I said over and over. I couldn’t take my eyes
off the priceless treasure sitting in front of me. “I’m officially done.”
    “You’ve always wanted that for your office.”
    I looked at Amy’s face and tears were pouring out of her
eyes. I began to cry too. This was too much, way too much to take in all in a
matter of minutes. The flowers, the email, and now gifts.
    “I don’t deserve this,” I told Amy.
    “Yes you do,” she snapped. “You do so much for his fans.
Whenever someone needs a pre-sale code for tickets, you make sure they get it.
How many trips have you organized so that we could get together and go to
shows? Hell, you gave up your chance to meet him so that Michaela could. Did
you know that he is paying for her to get better treatment? You know that would
never have happened if you hadn’t given her your pass. You’re generosity might
just save that child’s life. You are the reason so many people have awesome
Cash Myers memories, so don’t ever say you don’t deserve it.”
    “You’re the one who had the idea,” I cried. “You also do a
lot. Who came up with the t-shirt idea? And you put that together that cruise
we went on last year and didn’t even go yourself.”
    “That’s the difference,” Amy said. “I do it for my friends.
You do it for anyone who says they’re a fan. Banana, you deserve it. I’m really
happy that Cash gave you that guitar. But I have to go. My husband just walked
into the gym and I’m supposed to be in my yoga class. I will call you as soon
as I get home.”
    We ended our call and I just sat in the hall staring
aimlessly at Cash’s gifts. The moment was surreal. I re-read his email. My
finger hovered over the reply button.
    Did I dare?
    My parents taught me manners and proper etiquette. They’d be
so displeased if I didn’t say thank you.
    I hit reply.
    Cash,
    Thank you so much for the flowers, bag, and