Rock Hard: A Bad Boy Rock Star Romance (2 page)

Damn it.

And so I found myself back in my bedroom where I'd spent time meticulously going over my wardrobe trying to find the perfect combination of clothing that would be acceptable for going out while clearly communicating to a bunch of aging rock star wannabes trying to go back to the well one last time before they faded permanently into pop culture obscurity that there wasn't a chance in hell they were going to have a chance with me. Only now Kayla was going over everything in my wardrobe looking for an outfit that screamed the exact opposite of everything I wanted my original outfit to scream. I wasn't surprised, but I was a little disappointed I didn't get away with my scheme.

"Damn! Don't you have anything halfway slutty in here?" Kayla asked.

I sniffed. That wasn't a very charitable assessment of my wardrobe. Then again, she was looking in the complete wrong place if she wanted to find any of my "slutty" outfits, as she so eloquently put it. I sighed. I could continue to protest, but really this was ruining Kayla's night. This wasn't being a very good friend. I'd put up my token resistance, she'd shot me down, and that was that. There was no point in continuing to resist.

"You're looking in the wrong place," I said.

Kayla turned and blinked at me. "I am?"

"Look in the dresser. Top right drawer," I said.

Kayla arched an eyebrow at me, but she followed my directions. Her eyes went wide as she saw what was waiting there.

"Damn!"

"What can I say? I was optimistic when we moved to the city."

Optimistic that I'd actually have time to go out. Optimistic that I'd have time to hit the bars. Optimistic that I'd be able to do all of the fun night life stuff that young twenty somethings fresh out of college were supposedly flocking to the city to have close by.

All of that was before I discovered the joys of office work. The joys of being so damn tired when I got home that the only thing I could consider was heating up some dinner before I crashed.

But I still had a wardrobe from those days when I'd been slightly more optimistic about my chances for having a social life. Even if that optimism hadn't paid off in the broad strokes, at least it would allow Kayla to have some fun tonight. I suppose that was a small bit of consolation.

She pulled out a perfectly folded top. It was so sheer as to almost be see-through.

I shook my head. "No. No way!"

"Come on!" Kayla said. "This might be your only chance to meet Twenty Promises! Actual rock stars! And they're still in their prime no matter what you say! Mostly."

I rolled my eyes. "If you think that an aging rock band is still in their prime then you're deluding yourself."

Kayla rolled her eyes in turn. "You have to at least act like you're having fun tonight!"

"Fine," I said. "That was the last jab. I promise!"

"You'd better!"

She tossed the sheer top down next to me. It was a tank top, but again it was so thin that it barely even deserved to be called clothing. They'd be able to see my bra under the thing. At least I could wear something sensible under it. Maybe something dark that would blend in with the top. Definitely not something…

Red. Lacy. Designed to draw every male eye in the vicinity.

"You've got to be kidding," I said.

"You promised!" Kayla said as she tossed the bra down beside me.

I promised to go to the concert with her. I didn't promise to go to the concert dressed like I was about to hop onstage and do a pole dance. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I needed to go with the flow. To give in. This evening would go a hell of a lot easier if I did.

Besides, even if I was dressed like this it's not like any of the members of Twenty Promises would notice me or have a chance in hell to get with me if by some miracle they did notice us from our perch in the front row.

And so I found myself pulling on the sluttiest outfit I'd worn in years. At least since we'd both graduated college and moved away. Which wasn't that long ago, even if it did feel like an eternity!

It's not like I was against getting dressed up. Far from it. It's just that I wasn't exactly a fan of getting dressed up for an event where I wasn't interested in attracting any of the men who were on offer. Which I figured would pretty much be the guys in the band.

A reunion concert for a band who hit their peak of fame ten years ago wasn't exactly going to be a target rich environment for a young single girl fresh out of college looking for a good time. No, I figured the only guys who'd be at the concert were either gay or being dragged there by their wives, girlfriends, or whatever woman they happened to be having sex with at the moment.

Finally I stood in front of my mirror looking myself up and down. A dark see-through top. A red bra underneath that was painfully obvious. A skirt that barely went past my ass cheeks. A thong under the skirt. I don't know what the hell Kayla thought was going to happen tonight, but her imagination and the reality in my mind were two very different things.

Still, I was dressed similar to her now. At least I was showing solidarity with my friend, even if there was no chance any rock star hands were going to be making their way up my skirt. I was sure that was what Kayla was hoping for. Again, fantasy and reality were two very different unrelated things in her mind today.

I looked at her and arched my eyebrow. "You're not going to redo my makeup?"

"No," she said. "Your makeup is cute. It's the rest of your frumpasaurus outfit that was the real problem."

I smiled and resisted the urge to reach out and smack my best friend. That would really put a damper on the evening before it started. Instead I reached out and took her hand.

It was time for us to go out on the town. Tear it up like we hadn't since we both got full time real world jobs. As we walked out dressed to the nines my excitement was only slightly tempered by the knowledge we were going out to tear it up by seeing the biggest bad boy rock act in the world ten years ago.

3: Poor Little Rich Boy

Everything was blurry, but it was an unfamiliar blurry. It definitely wasn’t the view of the beach I was used to.

Where the hell was I?

I blinked and reality resolved around me showing my bed that ran the length of the tour bus. That was right. I was on the tour bus. Not as comfortable as the house overlooking the ocean, but then again that bed had felt unfamiliar back when we stopped touring and I started enjoying a less nomadic lifestyle.

On instinct I rolled over and ran my arm along the side of the bed expecting to find some pretty young thing lying in bed next to me. Only my arm hit nothing but sheets.

I grimaced. Right. That was another difference from when we used to go on tour. A difference because of a deliberate choice I’d made.

No more. Never again. I wasn’t repeating the mistakes of the past in the present, damn it. Even if it did mean I didn’t have anyone to wake up next to in the morning.

I checked my watch. Late afternoon. Late enough that there were probably already crowds gathered at a safe distance from the buses. Late enough that I should probably go ahead and make my first appearance of the evening. After I got ready.

A half hour later I stepped off the bus and the screams started. I put on my sunglasses even though it was late enough in the afternoon and the surrounding buildings cast enough of a shadow that they weren’t strictly necessary. Rock Star 101. Don’t let them know which way you were looking.

I nodded to Jake who was sitting in a folding chair reading a book. He looked up at me and grinned and then it was back to the book. Not that he was really needed with the fence doing the heavy lifting security-wise, but I’d seen what the man could do and I was glad he was there even if he wasn’t needed right now.

I looked over to the chain link fence separating the buses from our rabid fans with a fake smile plastered on my face. That fake smile almost turned to a grimace. Those buses were something else that was very different from the last time we were on tour.

Back then we all traveled on the same bus. We were like brothers. We’d hang out, play video games, drink, do stuff that was a little worse than drinking, and have fun with girls on that bus. It was my home when we first hit it big.

There were times I missed those days, but they were gone. Everyone had their own bus for this big reunion tour. And I couldn’t blame them. Todd had his wife to travel with, though the kids were back home with their parents. Eric had his brand new wife to think of. They were always sneaking back to his bus under the dirty looks of fans who wished they could be in his new wife’s place. That bus spent a hell of a lot of time rocking, is what I’m trying to get at.

The only one who was out here on his own was Blake. Still my partner in crime years later, but he insisted on his own bus too.

That left me alone in my bus that didn’t do any rocking. No, I wasn’t going to have a repeat of my misspent youth.

I gave a half assed wave to the women lined up at the chain link fence. I suppose I owed them at least that much. A wave of earsplitting shrieks followed my wave.

I stopped to look at the crowd. The girls here were almost enough to make me rethink my policy about not cutting a path of broken hearts along the tour.

“Damn,” I said under my breath as I looked at the selection. As I hated myself for thinking of fans as “the selection” even as it rose unbidden in my mind. More out of habit than anything else.

I was surprised to see girls who looked like they were college aged. Definitely a decade younger than our prime demographic which was high school to college aged when we were first famous but had aged solidly into the mom demographic since. The MILF demographic if some of the thirty-something women shrieking at the fence as though they weren’t going home to hubby and the kids when the concert was over were any indication.

Those younger girls, though. They were a surprise at every concert. Then the same thought occurred to me that popped up every time I saw them. They were probably in elementary school when we were famous the first time around and now that they were old enough to go to our concerts they were getting in on the fun.

Damn I felt old. I gave one last wave that set off a fresh wave of shrieks. I knew I could have any one of those girls tonight, I was Grant Thompson. Lead singer of Twenty Promises. Only I wasn’t that guy anymore.

I made my way inside and got directions to the green room.

“Hey! Pretty Boy decided to grace us with his presence!”

I grinned at Blake and flipped him off. It was a good natured flipping off though. He laughed and returned the gesture and then went back to picking at his guitar. The man was a god on that instrument.

“How’s it going man?” Todd asked from across the room.

“Doing great,” I said. “How about you?”

“Living the dream, man. Living the dream.”

Yeah, it sure looked like he was living the dream. He was sitting on the green room couch with his wife Lisa. She still looked as stunning today as when she first started hanging out with the band halfway through our first brush with fame.

“Lisa,” I said with a nod. “How’re the kids?”

“Supposedly driving grandma crazy,” Lisa said. “Though I’m sure having the nanny along to help out means that’s a little bit of hyperbole.”

“Good to know.”

Damn did she look good even after having two kids. Of course it wasn’t how hot she was that had me so jealous. No, it was just the fact that they were so happy together. It was a not-so-subtle reminder of the consequences of my lifestyle way back when.

“Where’s Eric?”

“Where do you think?” Blake asked, looking up from his guitar and making a rude gesture with two of his fingers and his tongue. Even Lisa laughed at that one.

Of course they were back at his bus. They’d probably be there right up until ten minutes before we were supposed to be on stage, and they’d make a beeline right back to his bus as soon as they could make an excuse to get away from the after party. Assuming they didn’t get too worked up at the after party and just go off to some secluded corner where they could do what came naturally to newlyweds.

Yet another reminder of what I didn’t have. Of what I could’ve had but decided that having a random girl in every city was more important. At least until the Incident.

At least I had free food. Well I suppose in a way it wasn’t free. We were probably paying for it somewhere down the line in the contracts the legal people drew up, but I didn’t have to break out any cash or my credit card so that was as close to free as didn’t matter to me.

“So how’s the food selection tonight?”

“Dismal,” Todd said.

“Yup. It’s just some chips and cans of soda.”

“Ha ha, very funny you two.”

Only when I made my way over to the table it turns out that wasn’t too far from the truth. There were a couple of bags of potato chips set out. Not even poured into bowls. There was a vegetable tray that looked like it was hastily snapped up from a supermarket and it had definitely seen better days. When I leaned in close to inspect the packaging I saw that it was a week past its expiration date.