Scarred Melody: A Rockstar Romance: Bold Melodies Book One

by Heather E. Andrews

  Musically.

  As long as I kept my expectations on the music, it would prevent me from being disappointed in him personally. The man had a woman in every port, according to the tabloids. I highly doubted he’d want anything to do with my disfigured self. No matter how much we connected with the music, I’d never stack up to all the supermodels and actresses he was around all the time.

  I tried so hard not to fantasize about the man, but it was so difficult. Poor BOB almost lost his life last night. I damn near drained his batteries. I empathized with the women who stalked him; I had a cardboard cutout of him, after all! However, I didn’t want to be one of those desperate women panting after a man they couldn’t have.

  Amelia’s words danced in my head. Would Skyler Dalton want to take my virginity? Could I ask him? Maybe he has a secret virgin kink I can capitalize on. Then, I’ll have something special, something uniquely his and mine, forever.

  No.

  That train of thought had to end now. The idea of someone wanting me because of a small piece of tissue separating the world from my vagina was abhorrent. It was disingenuous, and I couldn’t be with a man I didn’t trust.

  The sound of the sliding door below had me sitting up straight. Skyler walked outside by the pool; he paused and put both hands on his hips, head bowed low. He ran both his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends. I could feel the frustration and anger radiating from him.

  My heart swelled. He’d defended me. Only Amelia had ever done that in the past. It’d been nice to have someone stick up for me but, I wished they didn’t have to. It was so unfair; I had to take a deep breath to stop the righteous anger from bubbling up again.

  Putting my guitar down, I leaned forward and projected my voice.

  “Don’t pull too hard or you’ll have none left. What will your horde of rabid lady fans say if you go bald?”

  He pivoted and barked out a laugh. He looked at me, one story up on my small balcony, smiled and walked forward. God, he’s sexy. It wasn’t fair for a man to fill out jeans like that.

  “I hear the bald rocker look is big these days,” he said.

  I strummed another chord, leaning back into the shadows, watching him move closer. He looked so good, despite his ruffled hair. Still in his tight T-shirt, dark jeans with the wallet chain, and chunky rings. Despite his age, he emanated rocker all the way.

  “They didn’t puke or anything, did they?” I asked, referring to that nasty bass player.

  “No, thank god.” Skyler shook his head, his eyes not meeting mine.

  “Elsie, I’m sorry for what Rush said. It wasn’t professional, and it certainly wasn’t true.” His voice was so sad, it made my chest tight and I strummed the guitar louder.

  Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. I didn’t know how to respond. Whenever I’d been insulted before, I just ran away; I never forced an aftermath scene.

  And look where it got me? Living in my house alone - a twenty-four-year-old virgin hermit.

  “It’s okay…”

  “No, it’s not!” Skyler interrupted, his voice dripping with anger. He looked around frantically before seeming to decide. He took a running jump at the trellis next to my balcony and climbed.

  “Skyler, what the hell are you doing? You’re going to kill yourself! And destroy my Wisteria!”

  “I will not talk to you from fifteen feet below. My apologies to the flowers.”

  “There’re stairs inside the house, you idiot!” I yelled, my eyes never leaving his muscular body as it moved delicately for its size.

  Reaching the top, he jumped onto my balcony, his breath uneven. When he smiled, my stomach flipped. God, that smile! The dimple on his left cheek, his straight white teeth, and the dancing light in his eyes. I’d never seen that look before in all my time watching him on TV or in the magazines. It was uniquely him…with me.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Skyler plopped himself on the wicker chair next to me, leaning back with a deep sigh.

  I shook my head at his antics, but his smile never faded. “Did you whip your young’uns into shape?”

  “I tried. God, they are young, aren’t they? I try to remember back to when I was just breaking into the business. Young… dumb… full of cum and all that. It was like someone had given me a credit card with no limit and told me to go nuts at the mall. I couldn’t stop trying new things.” He grunted his frustration. “I mean, I was totally about the music but I was finding out about a whole new world out there.”

  Different emotions traveled across his face. It amazed me how easily the feelings came to him. There was no barrier between his heart and the world around him. As things happened, he’d feel them and process them. I experienced emotions as more of a physical reaction–tightening of my jaw, increased heart rate, and watering eyes. But everything else was blank. When Rush called me Freddy Krueger my body reacted, but until I had that guitar in my hand I wasn’t sure what I was feeling.

  I wish I could identify with Skyler. I remembered going on tour with my mother as a child and seeing the world, but I’d always been under adult supervision, never free to go out and explore on my own. After the accident, when I finally reached an age of autonomy, I didn’t want to go out. All I wanted was to be alone with my music. There was no teenage sowing of oats for me.

  “I can imagine it’s a culture shock. Especially for a talented and good-looking young man,” I said.

  Skyler’s cheeks flushed with color and his eyes turned away from mine. My hands began to rub against my shirt, pressing the fabric between my fingers involuntarily. Did I really say that?

  “That was especially hard to get used to.” He choked out a laugh. “Choir geek to Lothario. Then reading about it in the tabloids? How freaking embarrassing.”

  “Didn’t look like a hardship to me.” It was my turn to laugh.

  Skyler blew out a raspberry. “It’s fun for a while but when you reach a stage in your career where there’s fame and money, it’s hard to determine who wants you for what you can give them and who wants you because of who you really are. I never really trusted it—the fame. But I had Benny, and he kept it real for me.”

  His voice quieted when he spoke Benny’s name. It’d been a year, but he was still grieving, I could tell.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. Benny was so talented; the world is less for his loss.” I tried to imagine what it would be like sitting here with Benny Copeland and Skyler. Would he laugh more? Would he be more serious?

  “Yeah. Thanks.” He wiped his hand across his face and didn’t meet my eyes, quickly changing the subject. “Anyway, I’m really sorry for these dicks working for me. I expected better from them.”

  “Thank you, but it’s alright. People commenting on my face isn’t a novel experience. I usually wear my mask when I work so I don’t distract people.”

  I hated the mask at first. It didn’t fall exactly flat on my face when I spoke, and it made me sweat in the heat. Wearing it didn’t garner the attention my scars did, though. People were less critical. I came off more like an eccentric artist than a disfigured little girl in need of pity.

  It wasn’t my original plan to take off the mask that first day with Skyler. I’d been determined to hide and be as professional as I could. But, I was so frustrated at how he reacted when he first saw me; I’d felt the need to shock him and it was the best way I knew how.

  It didn’t work.

  My scars didn’t bother Skyler. He only seemed curious. It felt strange. Being around him was comfortable, and I didn’t think about them as much. The only other people I was comfortable with were my father and sister. Even my stepmother made me nervous. Of course, my stepmother would make inanimate objects nervous. The cow.

  Skyler’s jaw tensed. “Yeah, well, it shouldn’t happen. People aren’t entitled to be so judgmental.”

  “And innocent people shouldn’t go to prison. People work hard their whole lives and don’t get what they deserve. Life isn’t fair. Its human nature.” I shrug
ged my shoulders. “At least that’s what I remind myself.” I’d accepted the reality of my situation a long time ago. There wasn’t much I could do to remove the damaged skin; the only option I had now was to hide it from the public.

  “Is that why you work out here instead of LA?”

  “One reason. I love it out here, too.” I swept my hand out across the desert view on my deck. “It’s beautiful, calm, and not crowded. It doesn’t smell. LA is a cesspit. It takes an hour to drive three blocks. The people are narcissistic and entitled.”

  “I won’t argue with you there.”

  “Do they bother you? The scars?” My chest tightened, waiting for his answer. I’d never asked that question directly, but I had to know.

  “Fuck no!” His lips hardened into a thin line. “We all have scars, El. The only difference is I can see yours.”

  I shivered at the heat zinging down my spine. He called me El. Swoon.

  “Do you have scars?” I thought I knew everything about Skyler Dalton. It shouldn’t surprise me that the man kept secrets from the world. Not everything is meant for public consumption.

  “You want to know my deepest and darkest? I thought you already knew everything about me, Ms. Clarke?” He smirked.

  My face heated to five hundred degrees. Oh, if he only knew the half of it! After our first day in the studio, I’d considered leaving the cardboard cutout in the kitchen to scare him.

  “Are you…” he gasped. “A fan?” Mirth danced in his eyes at my discomfort.

  I scoffed. “I may have had a poster of Mechanical Disturbance on my bedroom wall as a preteen. Or two.”

  “That’s it? I’m disappointed! I’ll have to try harder.”

  “My father used to bring home the studio recordings so I could get a first look. He wouldn’t let me go to one of your concerts until I was eleven.” I’d wanted to go into the studio to meet them, but my father didn’t feel comfortable with me being around professional musicians at that young age. From what I know now, I don’t blame him.

  “When you were eleven? So we’d been playing…”

  “Five years. It was your third album, opening night at the Hollywood Bowl. My father had a seat in the front garden. My mother put dark winged eyeliner and mascara on me. I felt so grown up and emo.” I laughed at the memory.

  We’d all gone as a family. My mother, sister, and I had matching outfits. Afterward, we went backstage to meet them. When I held out my hand to shake his, Skyler got done on his knee and kissed it. I felt like a princess and he was my musical knight in shining armor.

  It was that night I became obsessed with Skyler Dalton. I listened to his album religiously, played his songs over and over, and thought of him every day.

  Skyler pulled me from my thoughts. “What’s your favorite song?”

  “Memories of my Wishes. Hands down,” I answered instantly.

  “Wow. Throwback.” He reached out his hand. “Give me your guitar.”

  My eyes widened as I handed him my prized possession. He cradled it as he strummed the opening chords of my favorite song. My heartbeat raced. Skyler Dalton was sitting on my balcony, playing my favorite song. If ever there was a moment to ridiculously fangirl, it was now!

  He sang, and I joined him, turning the classic into a duet as we’d done with Hallelujah. Hearing his voice mesh with mine, singing these words, was indescribable. Nothing else mattered at that moment.

  This world ain’t made for our kind

  Harsh, foul, and cruel.

  Nothing ever seems to be fair

  Expecting more makes me the fool

  No matter what was going on in my life, this song had always been apropos. Now more than ever. It wasn’t fair that the world rejected my talent because of my face. Because of what happened to me.

  I had my family’s support; I knew that. But it was other people who scared me. What would it be like walking the red carpet at the Grammys to accept an award? What would it be like, standing on a stage, performing for thousands of strangers? There was a time before the accident when performing was the only thing I ever wanted to do. Creating songs for other people was awesome, but I could never capture the excitement and adrenaline I experienced when I watched my mother during one of her concerts.

  When Skyler strummed the final chord, he closed his eyes. I savored the moment with him, enjoying what we’d created together.

  “I’ve never enjoyed singing that song so much,” his voice choked with emotion.

  I smiled, memories racing through my mind. “After my accident, when I realized how my life was going to change, I listened to that song on repeat. Nothing was going to be the same again. I tried—still try—to accept it.

  “How did things change for you?” He put down the guitar gently on the stand.

  “For the longest time, I wanted to be like my mom. To be on stage feeling the electricity from the crowd, creating an experience with them and the music.” I stared off into the distance, my eyes glassing over with tears. “I wanted to travel with my mother back then. We were going to be the Clarke Ladies on tour. Like the Judds!” Giggling, I remembered how thoroughly I’d planned it in my head. “But then she was gone.”

  “Elsie, you can still perform. There’s nothing stopping you. Scar or not, you’d take the music world over.”

  “Maybe. But I wouldn’t be with my mother.” I tried hard to put the idea of being on stage out of my mind, despite how much Amelia pushed. Facing the hard wall of public scrutiny was exhausting to think about.

  “It would still be amazing. Elsie, you are gifted. Your mother would be proud of you.”

  I turned my head away, not able to look him in the eye as a tear slipped down my cheek.

  “You are so talented, El. I’ve never seen anything like it. Your eyes light up like the Fourth of July when you play. I can see a stream of joy radiating from your body. It’s the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice had gone soft–nearly a whisper.

  He stared at me, his face intent. I saw the truth in his eyes. He really felt this way.

  The man I’d idolized and adored from afar since I was eleven years old called me exquisite.

  What a beautiful word.

  I Don’t Know Me

  Elsie

  After watching Skyler climb down my trellis, I slid open the door to my bedroom, hanging my mother’s guitar on the wall. I liked to keep it there so I could look at it and remember her when I woke up each morning.

  Talking to Skyler had relaxed me. He was so different from what I expected. Behind his facade of an ill-behaved, ego-driven rock god was a genuine man with a kind heart. After meeting and talking with him, it wasn’t hard to imagine Benny being the bigger party animal between the two. Skyler never had a reputation for using hard drugs, but they had photographed him a few times sloppy drunk.

  Just more of the ‘lifestyle.’

  Sitting down at my piano, I thought about Benny.

  Benny Copeland. Guitar maestro and gay heartthrob. I often wondered if he was on the autism spectrum like me because he played so well. Nothing had been written suggesting it. He was just great. And Skyler had relied upon him.

  I touched a few keys on the piano and let myself play songs of loss as I thought about the young man. He’d died of an overdose at a stranger’s house after coming home from touring. Drugs and music, that’s what he’d lived for.

  My fingers played Elton John’s Candle in the Wind. Was he like Marilyn Monroe? Was it an accident, or did he purposely kill himself? I wonder what his last interaction with Skyler was like? Did they hug and say goodbye? Or was there an angry exchange?

  The last words I had with my mother weren’t happy ones. She was stressed about being late and frustrated with my violin teacher. She said I didn’t need to go anymore, and I was angry about it. I’d mastered the instrument quickly and, not knowing what to do with me, Ms. Daniels and I just played together during our sessions. We wrote songs and jammed. I wasn’t learning as much as I was spending time
with a classically trained musician who was as passionate about music as I was.

  Unlike me, my mother didn’t want me wasting my time with someone I couldn’t learn from. She wanted me to do more regular kid things, like go to sleepovers and join the chorus at school. I just wasn’t like that. It was hard for me to make friends.

  “I am not a regular kid!”

  That was the last thing I said to her. I yelled it at her, actually. Then the car crashed and the next thing I remembered was waking up at the hospital. And she was gone.

  Opening up my phone, I found a picture of Benny on the internet and put it on the piano. It was a picture of him and Skyler at an awards show. They had their arms around each other, Benny making the devil’s horns sign. Skyler was so happy. The light in his eyes was incredible.

  I started playing Highway to Hell by AC/DC, slowing the pace, bringing all my emotion into it.

  No one could slow Benny down. I could see it in his eyes. He was headed over that cliff no matter what anyone said or did. And now Skyler was left alone, finding his own direction. Eighteen years he spent with his best friend making music. They were a duo. Now he was a solo. Who was he without Benny? What did it feel like when he got the news?

  All these questions swam in my head as my fingers found fresh notes. The melody came along with the words. I heard Skyler’s voice in my head. I heard his pain.

  Woke up at the bottom

  Lost and incomplete

  Everyone I love

  Eventually leaves

  What do I do?

  How do I breathe?

  When you’re not here, I don’t know me.

  The more I hold tight

  The more I lose

  Now I’m all alone

  With fuck to do

  What do I do?

  How do I breathe?

  When you’re not here, I don’t know me.