My Rock #5 (The Rock Star Romance Series - Book #5)

by Taylor, Alycia

  MY ROCK #5

  THE ROCK STAR ROMANCE SERIES

  By Alycia Taylor

  Copyright 2014. All rights reserved.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  TRISTAN

  Damn it! Someone was banging on the damned door! I pulled the covers up over my head and ignored them, hoping they would go away. I snuggled down deep under the comforter and, just when I closed my eyes again, the persistent SOB knocked once more.

  Fuck! “What?”

  “Tristan, it’s nurse Carter.” She stuck her head in the door and said, “The doctor wants to see you in about fifteen minutes, okay?”

  I pushed back the covers and looked around. I forgot where the fuck I was for a minute. Shit!

  “I see him in the afternoon!” I told her, pulling the covers back up.

  “He wants to see you this morning, Tristan. Fifteen minutes.” She had that tone, the one that told you she might look like a sweet little lady, but if you messed with her, she could kick your ass, easily. I didn’t have to see her face either to know she was giving me ‘the look.’ I seemed to garner it from her frequently. She left and closed the door behind her. Fucking nurses and doctors! I was ready to get out of that damned place. I was tired of people telling me when to get up and when to go to bed and when to see the fucking doctor. I threw the covers back again and pulled myself up.

  I looked out the window. The L.A. sun was shining through the smog and I ached to get out there into it. I could go out on the smoker’s patio, but it wasn’t quite the same. I did the basics: face, teeth, hair, and then slipped on a clean t-shirt and the funky slippers they gave you when you’re admitted. I had pajama pants on, a thing I wasn’t used to. At home, I usually slept naked, or in my boxers, but there you never knew when nurse Ratchet was going to poke her head in the door.

  Wondering what the hell the doctor wanted with me so early, I headed down the hall to his office. Hopefully he wanted to talk about discharge. I felt ready. The last time I went to rehab, and the time before that, when I went right back into a shitty environment around a bunch of losers with more than questionable habits. I was using within a week both times. I’d start with alcohol, telling myself it was okay because that wasn’t my drug of choice, but it had always led up from there. I promised myself I wasn’t going to do that this time—I would be homeless, but at least I’d be alone. I’d stay away from the bars and the dredges of society and just work on writing songs.

  I found my doctor sitting behind his desk, as usual. I wondered if his ass ever got sore from sitting on it so much. “Hey, Doc.”

  “Good morning, Tristan, have a seat.”

  I sat down and he said, “I’m looking at your progress here and I think you’re about ready to go. How do you feel about that?”

  “I think I’m ready to go, too,” I told him. Thank God!

  “My only issue with letting you leave is where you’ll be going?”

  “Home,” I said. I never told him I was getting evicted. He didn’t really need to know, I thought.

  “Is someone going to be there with you?”

  “No, but I’m a big boy, Doc. I wipe my own ass and everything.”

  He had no sense of humor. He gave me a stern look and said, “I honestly don’t think you’re ready to be alone, Tristan. Alone seems to be when you mess up…am I right?”

  I shrugged. The truth was that alone was when I did everything. I was always alone. “I live alone, Doc. I’m not sure what you want me to do. You’ve met my parents.”

  “Okay, we can have you stay a bit longer until I feel more confident that you’ll be okay on your own…”

  “No…no, I’m ready to be out of here.” I had a thought and before I really thought it through, I blurted it out… “I can stay with my friend Elly. Remember, she’s been coming by to see me a lot and sat in on that fiasco with my parents. She offered already….”

  He raised an eyebrow like maybe he didn’t believe me. I’m sure he looked at Elly…so clean cut and soft-spoken and thought surely she’d never see anything in a guy like me. Finally he cleared his throat and said, “Fine, but I’ll need her to be at all of your outpatient appointments then. She’ll be a part of your recovery. Is that going to work for her?”

  “Yeah, of course. She’ll be fine with it.” I had no fucking idea if she’d agree to that or not, but I suddenly felt like I needed out of there, immediately. I was pretty sure I could talk her into it.

  “Okay then, I’ll have the nurse get together your discharge papers. You’ll start your outpatient treatment next week. You’ll get a call to come in later in the week to sit down and make a schedule that will work for you and Elly.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” I told him. I would have agreed to suck his dick at that point. Not that I’d do it, but I just wanted to agree to whatever I had to so that I could go home. I’d even agree to do Nurse Ratchet out there.

  I left his office and started packing. I could taste my freedom at last. I was packed up and ready to go and I still hadn’t seen the nurse. It figured, when I didn’t want her there, she was in my face. When I needed her, she was on her ass at the nurse’s station. I took my duffle bag and went out to the nurse’s station.

  The nurse saw me coming and said, “Oh, now he’s up.” She could be a sarcastic bitch sometimes.

  I rolled my eyes and told her, “Doc said you’d have my paperwork.”

  “I have it right here,” she said, proud of herself for pulling out a few forms. She put it up on the counter and showed me where to sign, date and initial. I was ten years older when I got done.

  “Is that it?”

  “That’s it, Tristan. You be good.”

  I winked at her and said, “I’m always good.” I think she actually blushed.

  I stepped outside the doors and took a deep breath of the fresh air. I’d been out, back and forth to the studio since I’d been there, but it wasn’t the same knowing I had to go back. The air tasted different. I was never going back. I was never putting that shit back in my body, if for no other reason than how fucking hard it was to get out.

  I got on the bike and headed home, feeling better than I had since I couldn’t remember when. This was my do-over and I wasn’t going to screw this one up. This was the first time since I was about twelve years old that being sober was a priority. I finally got that staying wasted all the time was no way to live and experience life. It was numbing the pain of what I’d been through, but until I sobered up and let that shit go, it would just keep dragging me back down.

  I parked my bike in front of my apartment and headed upstairs. When I got there, I dug the key out of my big ass duffle bag and tried to put it in the keyhole. I say tried, because the fucking thing didn’t fit. The locks were changed. Shit! I fished out the phone they gave me back when they discharged me and turned it. I laughed, sardonically when I realized that after almost two weeks I didn’t have a single missed call. I looked up Buck’s number and pressed send.

  “Hello!” he said, all pleasant and shit.

  “Hey Buck! It’s Tristan. I guess you kicked me out, huh?”

  “I’m sorry Tristan; I didn’t have any other choice….”

  “Where are my things?”

  “I’m sorry, Tristan,” he said again.

&
nbsp; “My stuff, Buck. Where’s my stuff?” I wanted him to focus. I wasn’t in the mood for his apologies all of a sudden.

  “Downstairs in your storage area, your key to that will still work. If you need some time to get them out, that’s fine.”

  Fuck, I couldn’t believe I was fucking homeless. It was the one thing I had left…shit! I knew it was coming, but the reality of it was like getting punched in the gut. There went my do-over.

  “Alright, yeah it’ll be a while.”

  “Tristan…good luck,” he said. Suddenly something came over me and for a few seconds I felt empathy for someone else. Fucking sobriety, the poor guy sounded like he felt like shit for kicking me out and I actually cared.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said. I couldn’t believe I was thanking him for making me homeless. I was practically a choir boy sober. Hopefully Elly will believe that when I show up on her doorstep.

  I took my duffel bag and left the rest of my shit in storage and headed over to see if Elly was going to take me in, or turn me away. I had a feeling that she was too nice to turn me out on the streets. If she wasn’t so nice, she’d have probably shut me down a long time ago.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ELLY

  I was trying hard not to obsess over the fact that I’d gotten fired from an internship. It was a paid internship, so it was a lot like a real job, but I’d gotten myself fired. I couldn’t believe it. I’d been blatantly defiant of their rules and I deserved to get fired, but it was so unlike me. On top of that, I was worried about money. I kept telling myself that I had plenty of money left in the bank to get me through until I could find another job. I doubted that I’d be able to get another internship in LA…but a job is a job. There were plenty of things I could do. I learned how to do a lot when I was working on the show. I was an expert at putting people in line. I hadn’t cried, but thinking about it nearly put me over the edge. Shit! I needed to get out of the bedroom and do something. I wasn’t going to cry, or wallow in self-pity. I knew what I was doing and I knew what the consequences would be if I did it. I had to find a way to live with them.

  I went out into the living room and found Susie sitting on the couch watching television. One look at my face and she clicked it off and patted the sofa next to her.

  “Sit, spill. What’s going on?”

  I sat and smiled at her. “I screwed up,” I told her.

  “That’s hard to imagine,” she said with a grin. “You’re perfect.”

  I laughed, “A perfect idiot. I lost my internship.”

  “Oh my goodness! Why? Tristan?”

  “Yeah, because they found out about Tristan and me seeing each other.”

  “Shit,” she said.

  “Yeah, my sentiments exactly.”

  “So who told them?”

  “I guess I did. Did you see the show the other night?”

  “No, I have it on DVR. I haven’t had a chance to watch it yet. Why?”

  I hung my head. “He needed a duet partner….”

  Susie slapped the arm of the couch. “Oh shit! You didn’t? You sang with him on live television?”

  “Afraid so,” I admitted. “And when the song ended, he kissed me.”

  “You got it bad girl!”

  “Shut up, I do not. He just didn’t have anyone else and he was doing rehab and trying and I felt bad…”

  “Yeah, okay,” she laughed a little and then she said, “You knew what would happen; you were just willing to give it up for him. I’m sorry though, about the job…internship. If you need any help…”

  “I’ll be fine,” I told her. “It’s really not a big deal.” I needed to keep repeating that until I finally believed it. “I’m worried about Tristan, though.”

  She smiled again and said, “More worried about the boyfriend than you are yourself…yeah, you got it bad.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  Before Susie could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. She was still looking like she had plenty to say, so I was grateful.

  “I’ll get it,” I told her.

  I got up and pulled open the door. I was shocked to see Tristan there…holding a duffel bag.

  “Hey, why aren’t you at rehab? More importantly, why are you standing on my doorstep with a suitcase? Oh shit! Did you get kicked off the show?”

  He laughed and said, “Um, wouldn’t you like to invite me in first. Then, I will answer your questions.”

  “Oh yeah, sorry. Come in.”

  I stepped back and he stepped in. Nodding at Susie he said, “Hi, I’m Tristan.”

  She grinned and said, “Yeah, I figured,” she gave me the raised eyebrow look and I knew I’d hear it later. “I’m Susie.”

  “Let’s go in my room,” I told him. “Susie was trying to watch her program.”

  We started out of the room and Susie called over her shoulder, “No loud fucking. If I hear you, I’m coming in there.”

  “Shut the hell up,” I told her. Tristan busted up laughing. “You shut up, too,” I told him. “There’s not going to be any of that going on.” He continued to grin as he followed me into my room.

  When we got their he said, “I’ve been dying to get out of rehab so I can fuck you on this bed.”

  “Tristan, focus. Why aren’t you in rehab? Did you get thrown out?”

  “Oh ye of little faith,” he said. “No, I didn’t get kicked out. I got discharged into the outpatient program. He didn’t say it out loud, but I’m sure the doctor thinks of me as one of his finest students.”

  “Oh, well that’s great. Congratulations. What about the show? Did you get kicked off?”

  He looked at me strangely and said, “No, why?”

  “Because I did,” I told him. “They let me go and Clint said he would be talking to you…”

  He shrugged and said, “They haven’t called. Shit, Elly, I’m sorry.”

  I kept a neutral expression as I said, “It’s no big deal, I’ll get another job.”

  “Mother fuckers!” he said. At least it was nice to know he cared…a little.

  “Okay, next question, what’s the giant duffel bag about?”

  “Oh, that,” he said with another devilish grin.

  “Yeah, that.”

  “My doctor wouldn’t discharge me unless I had someone to stay with that could be a part of my outpatient treatment; you know go to groups and appointments and generally keep me out of trouble.”

  “Sounds like a huge job.”

  Still grinning he said, “Yeah, I thought you’d be the perfect candidate.”

  “You want to stay here?”

  “Please?” he said.

  Shit! This is not a good idea.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I told him.

  “I don’t have anyone else, Elly.”

  I didn’t know he had me. Every time he needs something, suddenly I’m all he has. I thought we were friends…kind of…with benefits. More benefits than friends, actually. I thought that was all that we both wanted. Then suddenly we’re roommates too, and I was part of his recovery program? Maybe somewhere along the way we became more and I missed it. It wasn’t my intention when it started for it to go beyond that. Most especially because I firmly believed that was all Tristan wanted too.

  CHAPTER THREE

  TRISTAN

  I woke up to banging pots and pans and opening and closing drawers and cabinets. Damn! A guy can’t get any fucking sleep. I rolled over and almost fell off Elly’s couch. She really made me sleep there. I thought for sure she’d be as happy as I was that we could sleep together and fuck every night if we wanted to—and for the record, I wanted to. I think she was just trying to prove a point or some stupid female shit though, so I didn’t argue with her.

  I opened one eye and looked at the clock. It was almost noon. I couldn’t really complain about the noise. I had to be at the studio in a couple of hours, anyways. I got up and stretched just in time to see Susie, the roommate walk out of the kitchen. H
er eyes got really wide and she was looking right at my crotch as she said,

  “Damn! You should buy some pajama’s dude.”

  I looked down at my boxers to see if I was hanging out. I wasn’t, but I did have some wood going on.

  “It’s just a dick,” I told her with a laugh. I wasn’t shy about it. “I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of them.”

  “What’s going on?” Elly asked, sticking her head out of her room. “Is there a problem?”

  “Yeah, there’s a problem. Your boyfriend’s dick is the problem,” Susie told her. Chick still hadn’t taken her eyes off of it. If it offended her so badly, you think she’d turn her head.

  Elly looked at my tent and laughed. That shrunk it a little. Then she said, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Okay, fuck buddy or whatever you kids are calling it these days. Just take him in the bedroom and fix it! Quietly though, I don’t want to hear any grunting or moaning.”

  Okay, now it had started to get a little awkward. I was shrinking more by the second. “Um, if we’re finished talking about my dick, is it okay if I use the shower?”

  “Take a cold one,” Susie said.

  Elly shushed her, but still laughing and said, “Of course you can use the shower. There are clean towels in the cabinet under the sink.”

  “Thanks,” I told her. Susie started to say something else and Elly shushed her again, this time with a look. I laughed it off and went to take my shower. I wasn’t going to take a cold one either. If Elly wasn’t interested, I’d do just fine taking care of it myself in her shower. I tried giving her a come-hither look on my way by, but she just rolled her eyes. It looked like it would just be my hand and me.

  After my shower and my relief, I headed down to the studio. It felt so good to just leave and not have to sign out and check in with ten people first. I also wouldn’t have to pee in a plastic cup when I got back. Freedom was sweet. I parked my bike and grabbed my guitar and slung it over my shoulder. I was on my way down the hall to the band room when that little shit producer Tony stuck his head out of an office and said, “Hey Tristan, I need to talk to you.”