by Roy, Chelsea
Sound of Heartache
a 'Sound Of' Novel
by Chelsea Roy
Kindle Edition
Copyright © 2015 Chelsea Roy
All Rights Reserved
Cover Design by Mayhem Cover Creations
Formatting by Mayhem Cover Creations
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events described in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
DEDICATION
You motivated me to heights I never thought possible. Everything I have reached for and achieved, I have done so because of you. I love you always.
TRADEMARK RECOGNITION
All trademarks and copyrighted items mentioned in this book are the property of their respective owners and include but are not limited to:
Mercedes-Benz, Lexus, The Simpsons, Sprite, Ritz-Carlton, Honda Civic, Xanax, Tao, Benihana, Midori, iPad, and Starbucks.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
TRADEMARK RECOGNITION
PROLOGUE
PART ONE – SUPPOSITIONS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
PART TWO – REVELATIONS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR'S NOTE
EXCERPT FROM SOUND OF REGRET
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
Brent wiped the sweat off his forehead with a hand towel and then threw it on a stool. The summer heat was killing him. Las Vegas nights didn’t provide even the smallest break from the oppressive and stifling temperatures. He was sure bouncing around a brightly lit stage and playing his heart out to thousands of fans didn’t help any. The thrill of fans screaming along to music he had a part in making never seemed to get old and he gratefully put up with a sweat-soaked shirt to keep doing what he loved. He quickly stripped off his t-shirt and pulled on his spare. He routinely did a clothing change during performances because the spot where his guitar rested always got damp and sweaty.
He guzzled down a cold bottle of water before stretching out his back muscles. Night after night of performing live with almost no breaks was starting to make him feel old. Hell, he’d just hit thirty and didn’t know when time had snuck up on him. He glanced up as his best friend Eric approached, his own bottle of water nearly empty. The look on Eric’s face as he approached was unusually solemn and it gave Brent pause. He and Eric made up half of an incredibly popular rock band called ‘Destruction’ and they’d been friends since college. Eric was the eternal optimist of the band, so to see him clearly shaken was disturbing.
“What’s up? You look…” Brent struggled for the right words. Eric was always upbeat and energetic. “Like someone told you they’d never play the Simpsons on TV ever again.” He finally said. He meant the words to be teasing because Eric loved the Simpsons, and hoped to get a smile from his friend. Eric shook his head and came to a stop, standing within several inches of Brent. Eric was usually an in-your-space kind of guy, but this was different. His face was chalk-white and Brent saw his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed hard.
“I feel like I’ve seen a damn ghost,” Eric confessed shakily. Brent put a supporting hand out on his friend’s back. Brent wasn’t a small man by any stretch of the imagination, but Eric was tall and lanky and if he passed out they’d both be going down. He slowly guided Eric to the stool and pushed him down. Eric didn’t protest or even seem to notice.
“What’s going on man?” Brent asked. He was rapidly becoming concerned for his friend. Eric never acted like this so whatever was going on was huge. Eric’s mouth opened and closed several times before his shoulders drooped. He exhaled and ran a hand through his blonde hair.
“I’m pretty sure I saw Aimee in the crowd. She’s pretty far back from the stage but man, she has an unforgettable face.” Eric looked up at Brent, his hazel eyes full of emotion.
Eric’s words hit him like a ton of bricks and Brent felt the air leave his lungs. Brent had met Aimee when they had a biology class together and she had agreed to tutor him. It hadn’t taken long for Brent to develop real and lasting feelings for Aimee, and even though they’d been young, they had planned a future together. Eric had met Aimee through him, and had cared for her almost as deeply as Brent had. Unfortunately, she had exited their lives under the worst circumstances possible. Consequently, he’d been searching for Aimee for the last ten years and up until now, he had zero luck finding her.
It had taken a while to get the message through his thick skull, but he’d finally realized Aimee didn’t want to be found. Brent lived his life in the public eye and he wasn’t hard to find. Unless Aimee had been hiding under a rock for the last decade, she had known where to find him. He had long since given up on her and figured she’d moved on. To know she was here in the audience and finally within reach after all this time was mind-blowing.
“She still looks the same?” He asked Eric hoarsely. He barreled on before Eric had a chance to reply. “You’re sure it was her?” His heart was pounding out an intense rhythm in his chest.
“The exact same so yeah, there’s no doubt it was her.” Eric’s voice was ragged. He knew how hard Brent tried to find Aimee when she’d disappeared. Eric had put in his own amount of effort in finding her. He and Aimee had been close and he’d watched over her like a hawk, even calling Brent out on shit when he felt he needed to. Aimee’s departure had hurt them both.
“Where is she in the crowd? I’m not going to miss this chance. Not when I haven’t been given one in a decade.” Brent was determined to see Aimee, to talk to her. He needed to find out what had happened to her, needed to know if she was okay. He didn’t care what it took, he was going to force her to sit and talk to him.
“Probably in row thirty or so. Center aisle, right side. Still has really long hair and she’s got a red bandana tying it back. She’s wearing a Destruction shirt. Can’t see what’s on the bottom. Knew you’d need the details so I tried to see as much as I could.” Brent stared at his friend, overcome with gratitude. Eric was a stand-up g
uy and his dedication to their friendship was evidenced here and now through his careful description of Aimee. He pulled Eric into a sweaty hug.
“Thank you,” he choked out. Eric gave his back a quick slap before pulling away. His face no longer looked so grim and Brent was glad to see the change.
“Dude, if I’d known the info would make you rub your sweat all over me I wouldn’t have told you!” Eric groused at him, but he was smiling so Brent knew they were good.
“Whatever. You know you like it,” he joked back. They’d been friends for too long to care about sharing a little sweat.
“Seriously, though, what are you going to do about Aimee?” Eric asked hesitantly. Brent looked at him steadily, never more certain of what he needed to do.
“I’m going to have Mac pick her up,” he said, referring to their head of security. Mac traveled everywhere with them and was dedicated to helping their lives run smoothly. Whenever the band had an issue, Mac was their go-to guy. He would handle the situation with Aimee quietly and would make sure she wasn’t able to slip away.
Eric grimaced. “That’ll probably piss her off,” He cautioned. Brent straightened up and shot a glare at Eric.
“Good. Then she’ll be ready to hear just how damn pissed off I am at her from hiding from me for years. What the hell would motivate her to stay away from me? It’s not like I’ve been hard to find!” Brent’s voice rose until he was almost shouting at Eric. Despite Brent’s show of temper and the sweat already coating their skin, Eric slung his arm around Brent’s shoulder and pulled him close. Brent leaned into his friend, needing the support.
“I have a feeling whatever motivated her is going to be epically big and you need to be ready to hear it without blowing your top.”
Eric’s advice was sound. Brent knew it was. He just didn’t get it, and wasn’t sure he ever would. He and Aimee had loved each other so much. It wasn’t possible to turn something like that off and her exit from his life had caused a gaping hole that never really closed. Not for the first time, Brent wondering if maybe Aimee’s feelings for him hadn’t been as strong as he once thought. Whatever the circumstances or reasons Aimee had, Brent intended to put his own questions to rest. And he was going to do it one way or another tonight.
PART ONE – SUPPOSITIONS
CHAPTER ONE
Brent looked over his class schedule and groaned. Why did he have to get stuck with the biology professor who failed half her class? Her name was well-known as the professor you should run screaming from if you weren’t a hard-core biology major. He was a music composition major and didn’t know squat about science. He was pretty sure he could go his entire life happy that way, too.
Brent’s head dropped into his hands. The joy he should have felt over the two lower division music classes on his schedule was completely overshadowed by his concern about this biology class. Music was his life, and given the amount of time he knew he’d need to study for biology just to try to pass it meant music would be put on the backburner this semester. He wasn’t a science geek for a reason.
“Dude, I’m sure they have tutors for the class.” His best friend and roommate, Eric, told him. Brent raised his head to look at Eric. Eric didn’t have a class schedule because Eric wasn’t in school. Further, Eric had no plans to go to school and Brent envied the fact that Eric was doing whatever the hell he wanted with his life.
“You think they have tutors? I’m sure as shit going to need one.” He wasn’t ashamed to admit to his lack of ability when it came to science. He also wasn’t modest about the fact he was extraordinarily gifted when it came to composing music. He figured one traded off for the other and provided a little balance in his life.
“I know they have tutors. There’s always guys like you who don’t know shit about shit,” Eric teased.
Brent socked Eric’s arm. In truth, Eric was one of his biggest champions. He and Eric loved to jam in their apartment, he with his guitar and Eric on the drums. Any time Brent struggled with composition, Eric waited him out patiently and was always up for trying new things. They were hoping to find a couple other guys locally to start up a band with but hadn’t found anyone they could stand to be around for more than a few minutes. Most of the guys out there in the local music scene were complete douches.
“I’ll make sure I sign up right away. Not that I care so much about my grade in that class, I just don’t want it to fuck up my music program. And I definitely don’t want to have to repeat the damn class.” Brent shuddered. Taking biology twice would be awful.
CHAPTER TWO
Amazingly, even though Eric had never attended a single day of college, he was spot on with the fact that there would be a list of people who needed help to pass basic biology. Unfortunately for Brent, many of them had already signed up for help. There were equally as many people in his boat who were stuck without a college-provided tutor because every single one of the available campus bio tutors were already booked.
When Brent sat down on his first day of class he wasn’t feeling very hopeful. He opened up his laptop and fired up his music program. He could at least do something while he waited for class to begin. He didn’t bother looking up when he heard someone move into the seat next to his. When a soft feminine voice said, “hello”, he didn’t respond other than to lift a hand in a brief wave.
“Well aren’t you just a charmer,” she said. Brent sighed heavily. Apparently his neighbor was chatty and wasn’t put off by his attitude.
“I’m sitting in a class I’m pretty sure I’m going to fail so I’m not feeling too chatty.” Brent muttered. He saved his projected and closed the lid to his laptop.
“Why didn’t you sign up for a tutor?” He was asked. Brent sighed again, knowing he was being a complete prick to the girl and it wasn’t like him at all. He was usually so full of charm girls fell all over him trying to get his attention. And it really wasn’t her fault that he was in a shitty mood.
“They were all taken, that’s why.” He said, and he finally turned to look at the girl sitting next to him.
“It’s your lucky day, then.” She told him with a wide smile on a face that Brent would describe as classically pretty. He found himself staring directly into her eyes. He’d never seen such a warm chocolatey brown before.
“Why’s that?” He asked, moderately interested. He changed his tone up a little and tried to apply his normal charm. He noticed a slight pink flush creep across her cheeks.
“I’m a bio-chem major, that’s why. Pre-med. This stuff is cake for me. We’ll buddy up and I’ll help get you through it. But only if you promise to keep being so charming.” Brent felt a slow smile curve his lips upward. This girl was cute and she had brains. Life could definitely be worse.
“You’ve got yourself a deal. I’m your slave for the next eighteen weeks if you can get me through bio with a passing grade.” The girl laughed out loud and held out her hand.
“Aimee Lansing. Aka your savior for the next eighteen weeks and I promise you’ll pass this class.” Brent shook her hand slowly, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. He notice how long and limber her hands and fingers were. The musician in him was very appreciative of their graceful appearance.
“You could be a musician with these hands. You ever tried?” He asked her intently. Her warm hand rested in his and she made no move to withdraw it.
“Future surgeon here. They’ll be used for something equally good.” Aimee didn’t seem concerned that he was a virtual stranger as he sat and studied each of her fingers. He noticed small nicks and cuts that had long since scarred over and added to the overall beauty of her hands instead of detracting from it. This was a girl who got out and lived life.
“Athlete?” He guessed. He could tell a lot about a person by their hands and he was the type of guy to pay attention.
“Extreme sports. Hiking, rock climbing, that sort of thing. Doesn’t give me pretty hands but I love it.” Aimee finally pulled her hand from his and began tugging out her book an
d laptop.
“Nice laptop,” he commented inanely.
“It’s great,” she enthused. “Being pre-med means I’m going to need this baby a lot.” She eyed his laptop as if wondering why it was sitting there. He took no offense to her comment because he knew exactly the image he presented to people. His longer sideburns, Elvis pomp, belt chains and Chucks gave off a less-than-serious vibe.
“I don’t know what I’d do without mine,” he told her. “I’ve got tons of different music programs loaded on here and it’s so much easier to work on composition this way.”
Aimee smiled over at him and Brent liked the fact that her look was friendly rather than appraising. Most girls he met looked at him as their potential next hookup and, although it was great most of the time, sometimes it was nice to just be himself.
“So, since I’m your official savior, am I worthy of knowing your name?” She teased. Brent grinned, enjoying her easy humor.
“Brent Pearson, future rocker to your future surgeon. Nice to meet you, Aimee.”
CHAPTER THREE
Two weeks into the biology class had Brent giving enormous thanks to karma for sending him Aimee. It turned out she really did know her shit and he really didn’t have a clue what was going on. He was continuously taking notes on his computer and when he was able to, he’d ask Aimee to explain the things he didn’t understand. Which happened to be a lot.
Aimee was always unfailingly patient with him while she explained things in terms he could easily understand. He was also developing a grudging respect for their professor. She was hard, there was no doubt about it, but she wasn’t a bad professor. Bad professors didn’t care about their students, or didn’t care about the material, and that wasn’t the case here. This professor just demanded a lot from her students.
