Lick and a Promise-Diary of a Rock Star Groupie (Rock Star Series Book 1)

by Veronica Moreau

  “Haven’t seen you here before…oh God what a line!” he laughed.

  I smiled, “You guys sound pretty good. Been together long?”

  “Nah,” he said, “just about six months.”

  Silence.

  A man of few words. Well, this will get him going.

  “I like the way you handle your stick,” I said coyly.

  He blushed. He actually blushed!

  Looking straight ahead at the bar, he licked his teeth with his tongue and nodded. He had the look of a man at a crossroads.

  I was clearly under 21, but I was killer hot and already getting wet between my legs. Did he want it or not?

  He tilted his head and looked over at me.

  “How old are you?” he almost whispered.

  “Old enough to know how to fuck.”

  “Hot damn!” He practically slammed his drink down, took me by the hand and led me to a back door.

  Outside was a black Chevy van and when I saw it, it reminded me of the van I rode in with Tim/Flash, Cindy, Bing and Marco. Whatever happened to that crew?

  He gently pushed me up against the door and said, “I only have about 20 minutes.”

  “Well,” I said, “you’d better make it count.”

  He laughed and slid open the van door and the smell of pot hit my nostrils immediately. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a joint, he lit up, and we took a few tokes.

  I inhaled deeply and coughed, taking in all the fumes that the green bud had to offer. It didn’t taste like marijuana and he said it was something called “green” which was pot that had been laced with PCP. Yeah, I knew what green was by now.

  After we smoked, he climbed inside the van and pulled me in with him. It was dark except for the windshield up front and there wasn’t a whole lot of room back there. Especially for a big boy like him.

  I knew that we didn’t have time for one of my famous blow jobs and I didn’t really care about that. I needed to get laid, get high and get low so we began to kiss.

  His lips were salty like peanuts which I love but not on someone’s mouth. We kissed for a few moments and I reached down and could feel him getting hard. After a few minutes of clumsy kissing, the salty taste went away but so did his hard on.

  We continued kissing, his hands cupping my boobs as he gently laid me down on the van floor. My head hit an amplifier, my legs were cramped and I really didn’t care anymore.

  He unzipped his pants and pulled out a would be whopper of a dick if it had only stayed hard.

  After about 15 minutes of bumbling around, nothing was happening and all I could think about was the song, “The Little Drummer Boy” and the line, cum they told me, pah rump pa pa pum.

  Well, that wasn’t going to happen!

  Suddenly the back door of the bar opened and out walked two of the band guys, “Where did he go? Maybe he’s in the van with some chick.”

  They knocked on the door, “Hey Mike, you in there?”

  Not waiting for a response, they slid the door open and there he was, limp dick in his hand, my pants down around my ankles and the reddest face I have ever seen.

  The two guys said, “Oops, sorry man,” and walked back inside.

  Mike, like my aunt’s retarded dogs.

  He was a nice guy and really embarrassed. “I’m sorry honey,” he said. “Sometimes, after I play for an hour like that, I am exhausted and too tired to get it up.”

  I just pulled up my pants, stepped out, and brushed myself off from some dusty shit in the back of the van.

  He got dressed and jumped out. “Can I have your number though?”

  He was cool, I smiled and didn’t want to hurt his feelings so I gave him a phone number and walked back over to the motel.

  Hope he doesn’t wake up Cindy when he calls her later tonight.

  I crept back into the room and all was well. My aunt was sound asleep on the bed, the TV on and it wasn’t even 1 am.

  It was another 300 miles to Indiana and according to her directions, the longest route yet was going to be through four states, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska and Wyoming. Oh man, just kill me now! Over 1,400 more miles to go.

  My aunt liked to drive and liked to switch it up by one day starting off in the early morn then stopping for a few hours, getting some shut eye then taking off again in the middle of the night.

  As soon as I had taken a shower, took off my makeup, then laid my head down for the night, I heard her get up and go into the bathroom.

  I was hoping that she just had to pee but no, she was raring to go back out on the road again.

  It was 2 am.

  She “woke” me up, since I was pretending that I had been in the room the whole time, and told me to get ready that we were heading out.

  I questioned the fact that she had paid for a room, why not use it all night and she insisted it was fine since the church was paying for it and they wouldn’t care about the cost.

  Whatever!

  So by 3:30 we were on the road again and headed toward Toledo then we would cross into Indiana. Boring!

  I fell asleep almost immediately. I decided to take my smelly dog blanket and crawl into the back seat, which didn’t provide me much room, but I wasn’t very big and didn’t take up too much space.

  I woke up, the sun was coming up, and we were just pulling into Nebraska.

  We stopped to get gas and she seemed annoyed that I had not put any money toward gas at that point. I was running out of funds but didn’t want her to know that, not that she would care, but knowing her she might dump me on the side of the road once we hit the desert and leave me there for buzzard food.

  I gave her $20 which shut her up.

  After eating a shitty breakfast at a small truck stop, we hit the road. She commented that she thought the food would be better since so many truckers were out front and “they seem to know where the best food is.”

  I explained to her that the truckers only go where they can park their big trucks, not because the food is any better there than anywhere else.

  “That’s nice sweetheart.”

  What a long and boring ride! Between her church music, sermons and lectures about what she considered to be an inappropriate relationship I had with my cousin, I was ready to open up the car door and fling myself to the curb. It would be painful but maybe it would be quick.

  The situation with my cousin came up because he lived in Ohio and she had forgotten to mention it when we were there. She also went within 50 miles of his house, his father’s (her brother) and made no attempt to call or visit them. “We have to get to Salt Lake.” That was my aunt.

  My cousin Sam was 10 years older than me and had always been one of my closest friends. Certainly my closest cousin. We talked often and he was always there for me like a big brother. In fact, that’s how I looked at him.

  I went to stay with him one week when I was fighting with my parents and she thought it was an incestuous weekend full of sex and whiskey between a perverted old man and his teenage cousin. Whatever!

  “I cannot believe your parents allowed you to do such a thing,” the lecture began. “I mean, how old were you, 15 at the time? Sam is a grown man.”

  “He’s Uncle Billy’s son, Aunt Sylvia, it wasn’t like I met him in a bar or something.” I turned my head and rolled my eyes.

  “Well, where did you sleep?”

  On his face, is what I felt like telling her!

  “He slept on the couch and I was in his bedroom.”

  She shook her head in disgust.

  “I cannot believe your parents let you do that.”

  Are we there yet? Am I dead yet?

  I’ll give her one thing, that bitch can fly on wheels when she wants to. She put that pedal to the metal and we were pulling into Salt Lake City by that night.

  All I could do was thank God!

  We pulled into a small, narrow driveway on Vine Street that was near the Mormon temple and the LDS (Latter Day Saints) conference city.

  T
he small, modest home belonged to some church people she had been corresponding with and they were expecting her, but not me.

  It was about 10 pm and they opened the door in their church clothes and were very polite but seemed surprised when they saw me. I was dressed like a street urchin from Oliver Twist and probably smelled just as nice.

  My aunt, almost embarrassed that I was her niece, introduced me to them telling them that I had been a wayward soul growing up under the influence of my parents who clearly did not know how to raise me.

  Please!

  What was next for me? A full conversion into the church? An exorcism?

  We were directed to a small bedroom after being given some toast and warm milk. Who were they, The Waltons?

  The bedroom was immaculate and the tiny bed had a pink and blue chenille spread that looked like a bed for a baby’s room.

  Were we both supposed to sleep in this little bed? I suppose so and after being pushed out for the last time by my aunt’s massive girth. I went into the living room and slept on the couch.

  I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was him. Not the big Him whose house I was going to see tomorrow (the Mormon Church) but my him.

  I knew I had to find a way to get to LA but had no idea how to make my escape. So the next morning when our hosts invited us to visit the church, I jumped at the chance to possibly get some divine intervention.

  My aunt was planning on staying with this elderly couple until she got a place of her own. I thought to myself, these poor people better put her in their will because my aunt was in no hurry to go back to living on her own.

  The church was on West North Temple Street known as Temple Square, and sat majestically on 10 acres of heavenly land. I was not dressed to go inside but was told all of God’s children were welcomed.

  The church was massive and looked like a castle. It was built to resemble what the Mormons imagined the buildings in heaven (God’s house) to look like and although breathtaking, my thoughts were a bit sinful and feeling guilty, I made my way outside to wait for my aunt and her new buddies.

  After about two hours, they finally emerged and my aunt looked like she had just won the lottery. She was overwhelmed to be there in such a divine place and told herself that the church could not function without her.

  To my surprise, she suddenly asked me if I wanted her car. What? What had happened to my aunt once she crossed over into the heavenly abyss of the church? Had these kind, elderly people given her a makeshift lobotomy while she was in there? An exorcism?

  I could have her car, she said, for $100. Ah, the penny drops.

  The church was setting her up with a car and a small allowance and she no longer needed the old Nova.

  I knew my funds were running low but I needed to get to LA, so I gave her the money and that was that. According to the map, it was only a few inches away. What could happen?

  An hour later, I was on the road. California, here I come!

  California Dreamin’

  I knew that California was where it all went down. There was Hollywood, the Chinese Theater, the Hollywood sign…Los Angeles, the Sunset Strip, movie stars…I just left Heaven and was headed straight into Hell.

  I only had to go through Arizona and Nevada to get to California and who was I kidding. It was farther away than just a few inches on the map.

  I had come all this way with either my thumb or with a little something on the down low but now I was really on my own driving by myself in a car. A gold Nova with only two hubcaps. Not much of a dick magnet but hey, it was mine and would get me from point A to point B.

  My aunt had mapped out the route for me which was almost 700 miles and would take roughly about 10 hours or so.

  I am not embarrassed to admit, I was kinda scared shitless! There was a long stretch of nothing on Route 15 that went through mountains and the desert. I gulped hard when I looked at the map she left me.

  For a split second, I was thrown back into my rock star’s arms. Arms that only held me for a few moments each time we had been together but arms that made me feel safe.

  Like the untamed wilderness that I was about to drive into, making love to him was like riding a horse that was partially untamed. One minute he let me take control, the next I could be bucking for the ride of my life. I said that word again didn’t I, love. I had to keep reminding myself that it was not real, not real in any way.

  The scene at his house played over and over in my mind. I had read that he had been "pussy-whipped" by his wife, but maybe this horse has been broken, broken by me. I only dreamed of such a love.

  It was late afternoon when I finally got on the road and the elderly couple asked me to stay with them another night and I declined. I was afraid that they might be putting something into my food and make me convert to their religion overnight.

  I had come from a long line of hypochondriacs, every little headache was a brain tumor, every pain, a cancerous tumor, and I knew that every dizzy spell could mean rat poison in my soup.

  I had very little money, a little bit of gas and a whole lot of dreams. I had always wanted to go to California but the dreams I had were a lot different from what I set out to do now.

  It was hotter than a two dollar pistol and like a dummy I had not checked the radiator for water.

  I was somewhere on I-15 S going toward Las Vegas/Cheyenne when I saw some white steam start to pour out of the engine. I pulled the Nova to the side of the road and screamed. I literally screamed!

  Cars, trucks and buses whizzed by me at a rocket ship pace and I thought now what?

  I got out, stood out by the car, and looked both ways. Up and down the highway, there was nothing. Surely, someone will stop to help me.

  Suddenly a car pulled up and a woman rolled down her window.

  “Excuse me,” she said, “is this the road to take me into Las Vegas?”

  Was she kidding me? I’m broken down lady!

  I pointed to my car and told her I needed help. She made a face and said that she was sure someone would stop and help me and she whizzed off. Bitch!

  I kept thinking, I couldn’t make this shit up!

  After a few more minutes, a small two door car pulled up in front of me. There were two women up front and a guy in the back. The front door opened and the woman let the guy out and he approached me.

  “Looks like you’re overheating!” he said, shielding his eyes from the blaring sun.

  By now the steam had subsided some and although the hood was hot, he attempted to open it and stood back. The rest of the steam began to escape its hell under the hood and I just stood there.

  He looked around the engine as though he was a mechanic. The radiator was too hot to open but he did check the other fluids.

  He was about 30 and dressed in jeans and a cool jacket.

  “Honey, when is the last time you checked your oil?”

  I just shrugged.

  He sighed and walked over to me. “Well dear, your car is toast!”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, not only is it out of water, the oil looks like it hasn’t been checked or filled in quite some time. How long have you been driving it like this?”

  I told him the story of my aunt selling me the car back in Utah and he said, “Well, she either sold you a junker or she didn’t take very good care of it herself.”

  He looked at me with some sort of pity. “You can’t drive it like that, the engine is locked up.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do? I don’t have anything else to drive.”

  “Where ya headed?”

  “Los Angeles…”

  He looked back at the car and said, “I’ll be right back.”

  He walked up to the driver’s side and said something to the women inside and then he made his way back to me.

  “We are going as far as Vegas if you want us to give you a lift. You’re not an axe murderer or anything are you?” he laughed.

  “No, are you?”

&n
bsp; He smiled and said, “No, come on get in.”

  I grabbed my shit from the car, put it in their trunk and hopped inside.

  His name was Ross and the women were Monica and Angie. They were best friends and dancers. But I could tell these were not big time showgirls. The guy was their “manager” and he asked me what I was doing out there all alone.

  I told him the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I was headed into LA to be a model.

  No dummy, he didn’t buy it.

  “Awfully short to be a model, aren’t you?” he smiled.

  I just shrugged.

  “Now tell me the truth.”

  I told him and the car got quiet. The driver lit up a cigarette and then they all started giggling.

  Thinking they were making fun of me, I felt stupid.

  Monica said, “We’re laughing because that is the story of our lives too! We all want to fuck a rock star, huh Ange?”

  They lit up a joint, we got high, and I sat back and fell into a light slumber.

  I woke up and looking out the window, I saw the lights of Las Vegas. It was ablaze with color and I stared at the buildings with the amazement of a little girl.

  Ross was on the phone, Angie was trying to find a decent radio station to listen to and Monica was driving.

  They pulled into a hotel next to a nightclub called Tabu. It wasn’t the Ritz but it looked like an okay place.

  Okay, here was the scene. These three yahoos were here to talk to a woman named Gerri who promised them a job. The girls were gonna strip and Ross was going to tend bar. They asked if I wanted to talk to her too. About what?

  I was only 18 and certainly didn’t have the body to dance naked in front of people nor did I want to. The pay may be good but that just wasn’t my scene.

  I didn’t say anything but went inside with them and was led back a dark hallway to a black door marked “Management.”

  Gerri was an older, heavy set woman who looked like a gypsy fortune teller; way too much makeup and in need of a hair stylist. She told the three of them they could come back tomorrow and start.

  She looked me up and down, “I didn’t say anything about a fourth person.”

  Ross stammered, “I know, but, um, she’s a friend of ours and is in need of a job. How about it?”