Violet Lane (Love is Music Book 1)

by R. M. Lynn

  “You’ll love it,” I tell her and kiss her. “You’ll see a totally different side of the business.”

  “I’m just looking forward to being with you and Lucy,” she tells me.

  “I love you,” I whisper and lay my forehead to hers. “I always have, and I always will.”

  “I love you, too,” she whispers and kisses my lips.

  I cup her face in my hands and deepen the kiss. She’s coming. I’ve never been more excited about a tour until now. My daughter and Alivia with me on tour is almost as good of news as when we found out we were going to get signed to Frontier Records.

  “I can’t wait,” I murmur to her as we pull apart.

  Alivia smiles up at me and replies, “Me neither. Better get used to my shit everywhere. I’ll need more than a drawer for this.”

  “You can have the whole closet, babe. But beware. It’s looking like my kid might outdo you on the wardrobe needs.”

  “A girl after my own heart.”

  I kiss her again. We are strong now, stronger than before. Nothing could get in the way this time. I have a family now, and soon, it will be permanent. She’ll have my ring on her finger within a year from now. I’d bet my playing hands on it.

  ◆◆◆

  Epilogue

  Dylan

  We leave tomorrow for our three-month tour. We’ll start in California, and we’ll make our way across the country until we hit New York. From there, we’re going to pack all our shit onto a private jet and fly across the ocean until we hit Europe. There, we’ll spend another three months traveling across the continent for another three months. It’s one of the longest tours we’ve done, but we all feel like it’s necessary at this point in our careers.

  Well, the band feels this way.

  Me? I just want to play music. I want to sing for anyone who will listen. That’s all it’s ever been about for me.

  And then, I met a new love.

  Her name is cocaine, and she makes me feel like I’ve never felt before. It’s almost euphoric, the way she flows through my veins and hits every nerve in my body. I never have to worry about anything else after that. The feeling never lasts long enough, though. When her effect wears off, I’m back to scrambling for her affection all over again. I need her. Cocaine. The love of my life.

  My bandmates thought going to a bar was a good idea to celebrate the night before we head off. I know Kyler has doubts because he knows how I am in a party environment. But after snorting a few lines in the bathroom, I don’t care what Kyler thinks. He thinks he’s better than me, with his daughter and his girlfriend. He has a happy little family, and all I have are drugs and empty fucks with whatever woman I find for the night.

  I’ve felt his eyes on me all night, waiting for me to show a sign that I’m high as a fucking kite. Thus far, however, he can’t seem to decide where my head is at.

  Good.

  When I’m sober and wallowing in self-pity, I actually give a shit about what my best friend thinks and wants for me. Good thing, I’m usually not sober, so for the most part, I couldn’t give a shit. He wanted me to get help. He told me so. I remember him telling me he’d help me find someone. In fact, a week after the conversation, he sent me an email full of psychologists, psychiatrists, and treatment centers. I swear, I looked at them. I even Googled a few.

  But then, I realized it was so much easier to reach for the little baggie of cocaine on the nightstand next to me. It worked so much faster than even dialing one of the phone numbers. I don’t think I’ll ever feel the relief I feel when I use. Therapy would never give me that.

  Thankfully, Kyler believed me when I told him I started to see a therapist. When he asked how I’ll maintain sessions, I made up some bullshit about how my therapist agreed to do sessions over the phone while on tour. None of the other guys know about my drug of choice, and Kyler has kept it all our little secret. When the others ask about certain behaviors of mine when I’m high, I lie and say I’m stressed about the music, the tour, the press, or anything else to divert the attention away. It always works. I should feel bad for lying, but whenever I do, I snort some coke or take a few pills. Then, I don’t feel so bad anymore.

  I make eye contact with Kyler from across the bar and give him a little nod to let him know I’m aware he’s watching me. He diverts his gaze back to his girlfriend, Alivia, and I watch him dip his head so he can whisper something into her ear. She smiles up at him and wraps one of her arms around his waist.

  I wish I could be that happy.

  I down a shot because I can feel myself begin to come down from my high. I watch Kyler for another moment to make sure he doesn’t look back up at me. When I know he’s engaged in his conversation with Alivia, I slip into the crowd of the bar and head to the bathroom.

  The little baggie in my pocket feels like it’s singeing my jeans. All I can think about is how much I need the powder inside of it, how fucking great I’ll feel once I take a hit of it. I hide in a bathroom stall, locking it behind me. I can’t get the baggie out of my pocket fast enough. I line the powder across my hand before I inhale it sharply through my nose. I feel the rush instantly, and I give my head a small shake with the sensation.

  I know by now Kyler’s probably realized I’m gone. So, I shove the baggie into my pocket and head out of the stall. I run a hand through my hair, check the mirror to make sure there aren’t any remnants of the drug under my nose, and head for the bathroom door. I open the door and begin to turn down the hall toward the bar. However, my body slams into another just as I exit the doorway.

  “Fuck, sorry,” I mumble at the blonde head of hair at my chest.

  The girl pulls away from me with a shake of her head and mutters, “Yeah, maybe next time you should walk straight.”

  I smirk, but the grin falls when I take in her face. I know her. I didn’t know she was going to be in town, and I couldn’t understand why she’d be here in the first place. However, here she is.

  “Aubrey?” I ask softly and look her over.

  Her light brown eyes meet mine, and she tilts her head slightly as those eyes light up with recognition. “Dylan?”

  “Fuck, you’ve grown, huh?” I say with a grin.

  “I suppose,” she laughs out nervously. “You look…different. I guess I should’ve known you’d be here.”

  “Oliver didn’t say you’d be in town,” I murmur and take a step toward her so I can get a better look at her.

  Her hair is down, and I can tell that she’s wearing makeup, but it isn’t overdone like a lot of the girls I usually try and bring home. Her lips are painted a soft pink, and her cheeks are slightly flushed as she takes me in. Her blue skirt ends at the tops of her thighs, and I imagine she practiced bending over in the mirror before she left the house to make sure her ass cheeks didn’t peek out when she did it.

  I don’t know if I’m any different than I was, but then again, I didn’t exactly get to know her while we her in school. However, to me, she’s the one who’s different now. Although, she’s always been different than her brother, Oliver. He’s dark everywhere with tattoos covering his body. She’s like fucking Elle Woods standing next to him. Her blonde hair and the light colors she wears. She’s a classic kind of beauty, like a star in one of those 60’s romance movies. She was cute, in college, but looking at her now, she’s a fucking knockout. Her ass has filled out, and her jeans hug it perfectly. I’m an ass guy, so I take notice to things like that. Her tits aren’t bad to look at either, the soft, white skin of her cleavage peeking out of the v in her shirt.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think Oliver thought I’d be here either,” Aubrey says with an eye roll. “I was hoping for a backdoor or something. So, I can escape. I can tell he’s pissed I’m here.”

  “You want to head out?” I ask with a raise of my brows. “Back door is further down this hall. I can get us a car.”

  She looks me over. “You’re not worried you’ll break me?”

  “Because of what happened?”
r />   I was there the night her friend called Oliver saying Aubrey may or may not have been drugged by some frat guys. I was also there when we found her in a bedroom, her face surrounded by dicks, her skirt around her ankles and her tits out on display. I was the one who had to haul her up and steady her against me while I tried to adjust her clothes. All the while, Oliver beat every guys’ ass in there.

  “Oliver doesn’t look at me the same since,” she whispers and bites her bottom lip.

  I don’t hesitate as I murmur, “I never looked at you one way or another, so how can I look at you differently now?”

  “Where will we go?”

  “Wherever you want,”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  I shrug. “Because I want to get the fuck out of here, too. Because maybe,” I take a step toward her and feel her chest brush mine, “I know what it feels like to be looked at differently by people you give a shit about.”

  “Call a car,” she replies. “Hurry up. Before I change my mind.”

  I smirk and pull my phone out of my back pocket. I dial, put the phone to my ear, and put a hand to the small of her back to lead her down the hall to the backdoor.

  Normally, if I were sober, there would be a loud, giant red siren blaring in my ears. It’d be screaming at me not to do it. It’d warn me to turn my ass around and pretend like I never fucking saw her in that hallway. But my love, cocaine, she always takes away my inhibitions. She makes me do things I normally wouldn’t. Sometimes, it’s truly a good thing. I can’t even say how many times she’s helped rid me of nerves before a show. Other times, she takes a hold of my life and fucks it every which way all the while laughing in my face at the repercussions.

  I know it’s a terrible idea. It will one hundred and ten percent come back to bite me in the ass. Hard. But if she’s willing, cocaine won’t let me say no. She stands next to me silent while we wait for a car to arrive. When the black town car comes to stop in front of us, the driver gets out of the front seat to open the door to the back. I slide in after her and watch her pour herself a glass of tequila as the driver gets back into position and begins to drive.

  “Where to, sir?” he calls to me from the front.

  “Just keep driving,” Aubrey answers for me. “Make it the scenic route.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he tells her.

  “And roll the glass up, please,” she orders and takes a sip of the tequila, and I’m amazed she can drink something like that straight.

  The glass divider rolls up, and she looks to me, offering to pour a drink for me. I opt for a glass of whiskey, knowing the alcohol will help dissipate the crash I’ll begin to feel within the hour. I should’ve taken more than one line, but there’s nothing I can do at this point.

  She downs her drink and looks to me again. I take a sip of my own drink and smile over the rim at her.

  “Do you pick up women from bars often?” she asks.

  I shrug and reply, “Often enough, I guess.”

  “Would you say you’re pretty experienced?”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “You can’t tell Oliver,” she whispers as she leans close to me and takes the drink from my hand.

  I cock my head to the side slightly, and watch her put the glass in one of the cup holders above the minibar as I ask, “What can’t I tell him?”

  Her lips press to mine in answer, and my hand comes up instantly to wrap around the side of her neck. Her tongue sweeps over my bottom lip, and I open for her. Our tongues meet, and I hear her let out a small moan as she presses further into me, her one hand on my thigh while the other slides up my chest. She tastes like strawberries and tequila. My hand runs up her side. She feels better than coke. She smells good, like roses, and for once my thoughts aren’t thinking about drugs. It’s just her. Her hands move up to the collar of my t-shirt, and she leans back against the car door, pulling me with her. I settle between her legs and jerk slightly when her hips press up hard into mine. I probably groan, but I’m too focused on kissing her that I’m not quite sure. I feel her fingers work between us at my jeans. I kiss down her neck and before I know it, my jeans are pushed down along with my boxers. My hand runs up her thigh while the other presses into the small of her back, pressing her up against me. Her nails dig into my shoulders as I slide her skirt up and over her hips. She’s not wearing panties, I groan when the realization hits me. I fumble with the wallet in the back pocket of my jeans, eventually finding a condom. I watch her rip it open and slide it over my cock hurriedly.

  “Please, Dylan,” she whispers and tips her head up to kiss me.

  I pull my mouth back before she can touch hers to them, and I murmur, “Please what? You have to say it.”

  “Fuck me,” she whispers.

  I kiss her hard the same time I thrust into her, filling her instantly. She moans, her head tipping back in ecstasy. I kiss her neck, as her legs wrap around my waist.

  “Fuck,” I groan into the dip where her neck meets her shoulder. “You feel so fucking good.”

  “Harder,” she moans out, her nails scraping over my t-shirt until she wraps her hands around my biceps. “Fuck me harder.”

  I’ve had a lot of women, and I've had a few who were all about the dirty talk in bed. However, the words coming from her pretty, innocent mouth sound so different. It’s such a fucking turn on, and I do as she asks. When I swipe my thumb over her clit one, twice, and then three times, I feel her legs begin to tremble around me. She kisses me, her tongue meeting mine in a dance, and my mouth catches her moans as she comes hard around my cock. The sensation of her clenching around me has me coming fast behind her, groaning into her neck.

  Afterward, I hold myself over her, my arms shaking slightly. She kisses me once before I pull out and shift back into the seat next to her. Gingerly, I pull the condom off of me and tie the top quickly. I glance around for a place to toss it, but end up opting to roll down the window and toss it out. I adjust my pants, zip them up and button the top as she shifts her navy-blue skirt back down. I watch her pull her phone out to check her makeup, swiping the pad of her finger under each eye. Her hands run through her straight blonde hair, and I watch it fall against the curves of her tits in layers. She grabs my glass of whiskey from the cup holder and downs it quickly. She makes a face after she swallows.

  “That was good,” she murmurs.

  “Fucking great,” I agree.

  She knocks on the glass until it rolls back down, and she tells the driver, “We can head back to the bar you picked us up at. It’s called The Dog House.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replies and the window goes back.

  I pour myself another drink and her a glass of a tequila. She sips at it, and we stay silent for the rest of the ride back to the bar. We pull up at the backdoor, and the driver opens the door for us. I hold the back door of the bar open for her, and she slips in past me, her arm brushing my chest.

  “Thanks,” she whispers and bites her lip as she looks up at me.

  “Thank you,” I reply with a smirk.

  She disappears down the hallway without so much as a second glance my way. I have a slight urge to go to the bathroom again, into the same stall as before, and inhale another line of coke. Slight being the key word. Usually, all my brain can think about is coke. I think about when I’ll get to have it next, where I’ll get my next supply, and how I can hide the effects from my bandmates. This time, however, it’s different. I must have fucked her pretty good, because all I think about is how much I want to do it again. I have an addictive personality; what can I say?

  Instead of going into the bathroom, like the cocaine addict within me wills me to, I head back to the bar. I don’t let myself look for her. I don’t look for women. They look for me. Before I can even reach the bar, a hand grabs onto my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. Kyler is there, spinning me around to face him, and I can’t help but smirk as he glares back at me.

  He’s such a grouch, really. Always trying to ruin my moo
d.

  “Where did you go?” he asks, and I can tell he’s pissed by his tone.

  I shrug and say, “I went for a car ride. That okay, Dad?”

  “Fuck off,” he snaps. “I’m not trying to be your dad. You left and didn’t say anything. I fucking looked everywhere for you.”

  “You could have called.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  I shake my head. “I told you, Kyler. I went for a ride.”

  “Are you high?” he asks me. “Be honest.”

  I smirk. “I fucking wish I was, man.”

  He looks me over, and I know that I’m already coming down, the alcohol I’ve already drank easing the symptoms I usually suffer from. He knows I’m hiding something, but he doesn’t press the subject further.

  “I swear I’m good, man.” I assure him.

  He gives me a nod and replies, “You better be good. Tour starts tomorrow, and I want you on your A-game. No distractions.”

  I smirk. Nothing could distract me. Not even a pretty blonde with a killer ass.

  “I’m always on my A-game, Kyler. You should know this by now.”

  ◆◆◆

  The End

  Coming Soon

  by: R.M. Lynn

  Violet Spark

  (Dylan and Aubrey's Story)