Once Upon A Rock Star

by Yessi Smith

  I know Gwen’s the one who tipped off the weasely fucker who shoved his microphone in my face and asked about Joslyn. How the hell she found out is a mystery. There’re only a handful of people who knew about her. Brock, Dean, and Miles, all my brothers from the band, my publicist, and my PR people. All of whom have been with me for years. All of whom are the only people I trust.

  Looking up, I see the band's publicist, Markus, making his way down the hall with the snarky cop who arrested me. The second they step to the side, my dick twitches when my sight flies up to the beauty in a red dress that lands just below her knees and wrapped tightly around her waist.

  Holy fucking long legs and tits all swatched in one devilish color.

  “I don’t believe there’s a need for any introductions here,” Marcus states, his finger pointing back and forth between her and me. His brows shooting into his hairline. Eyes puncturing several more holes in my head to tell me to shut the fuck up and don’t ask questions. He doesn’t have to worry. I’m stunned to silence anyway.

  “Hello, Roman. I’ve been informed you need an attorney.” Say what? Jesus, that sound. It has always been the sexiest, sultriest voice I’ve heard in my life. It shoots straight to my dick.

  While her presence has captured my tongue, my eyeballs are working fine. They roam down the delicate slope of her neck. My eyes bulge when she juts out her hip, places a hand on her waist, and a familiar silver bracelet dangles from her dainty wrist. I swallow. Hard. She’s also sporting a small scripture tattoo on the inside of her arm. I can’t make out what it says from this angle; it has me wondering if there’s more hidden underneath her dress. Hot as fuck.

  For shit’s sake, she is stunning. I’m talking any man would fantasize over this woman. Might draw blood for her, too, and they probably have. Some have probably dreamed of lying flat on their back, positioning her over him, and gliding her right down to sit on his face. I’m harder than the steel on these bars thinking about how good she tastes. My mouth is getting wetter by the second. She tasted divine back then. Bet anything she’s ripened to fucking delicious.

  “You have got to be shitting me. Did she agree to this? Does she know everything?” I’m beginning to wonder if there is anyone in this world I can trust. Sneaky fucking bastard found her. I’d like to know how. Last time I checked, she was still living in Chicago. Of course, that was about a month before I met Gwen.

  I didn’t have parents who gave a crap about me. Neither did the woman standing in front of me. We both grew up in the same foster home from ages six to ten. That’s about the time I started getting into trouble. The state sent me to another home across town. I learned my lesson well when I realized I wouldn’t be seeing her as much as I was used to. I was very thankful they kept me in the same school district though, or I would have gone batshit crazy without having her in my life.

  “I’m standing right here, and she has a name. One you used to know quite well. I know enough about what’s going on to get you out of here. After that, I don’t give a shit what you do, Roman,” she snaps. This is her way of telling me to fuck off. Well, fuck that noise. She’s here, and I’ll be good and damned if I’m letting her slip away from me again. It seems she not only changed her profession, but she’s grown a feisty little backbone as well. I love it on her. I’d like to be on her myself. Preferably with my cock buried between her thighs. I’m going to make that happen sooner rather than later if she isn’t with someone. Not sure why I can sense she’s not. Don’t care. I’m going to have this woman and take back what’s rightfully mine. Her heart. Her body. Her beautiful soul. Me and Joslyn forever.

  God, I can’t believe she’s here. Joslyn was everything to me back then. All of it and more. My childhood best friend. I fucked it all up with her without even knowing I was. The price of fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Not when it means you lose someone like her.

  It all started going south after I won a local talent scouting contest right after high school. They didn’t give me much time to plan my move to LA. I tried to talk her into going with me, but it was all too much for her. She was already enrolled at The University of Michigan on a full academic scholorship. Her dream school.

  I watched her walk away from me with a promise we would do everything we could to try and work it out while I stood at the top of our childhood playhouse. Hands gripping tight to the railing. Mouth set in a tight line. Heart sinking to the bottom of my stomach. Somehow, I knew then it would be the last time I saw her. I watched her like a hawk until she slipped into the trees and out of my sight. It was the first time in my life I cried. The second time came a few months later. I haven’t shed a tear since. I want to cry now simply because she’s here. In the very beautiful flesh.

  We hung out in an old beaten-up railcar we’d found in the woods behind our home for years. Two innocent young kids only days apart in age played, dreamed, and at the age of fifteen fell in love. It was inevitable. We’re both thirty-two. Which means I have loved Joslyn for twenty-six years.

  Our love was powerful. She became my angel, and I wanted to be her warrior. To do what was in my means to make a better life for the both of us.

  And so I put the talent I was blessed with to use. I saved every dime I made for over a year, bought a guitar, and taught myself how to play. It wasn’t until the music teacher at our school heard me singing that I learned about the talent contest. Both Joslyn and I were thrilled for me to get this chance. I busted my ass to perfect the song Unforgettable, the one I wrote for her. The one I still sing on stage to this day. And every damn time I do, I picture her face. Her cries, her frustration when I told her I had to leave.

  And then a miracle happened only to be taken away.

  I shake my head, stand up, and circle my hands around the bars. She’s so close to me, but her thoughts are a million miles away.

  When I meet her gaze, I can’t help but be drawn into her eyes. The icy blueness darting back to me has produced a feeling like I’m being pulled into a lake of frozen emotions. Every fleck of color strikes out and slashes me with years of pain.

  She’s stuck back in time, and yet here we are in a place where the ice has cracked over the blunt news of our private situation. I can see every myriad shade of blue swirling together to form a sudden storm of built-up resentment and guilt.

  “I’m sorry.” Those words bleed out of me around a lump that has been lodged in my throat for years. It pushes its way through the tension I’ve no doubt Marcus and the cop can feel coursing through their veins. Because let's face the truth; there isn’t a single person out there who went through growing up as we did, two peas in a pod who created another, only to lose it when Joslyn was on her way to surprise me.

  She had barely started college and was giving it all up for our baby and me.

  My fault, all of it. The silence still rings in my ears from the angry words I said.

  She stands stock-still, and I wonder what the next words will be out of her mouth.

  “It’s fine. I’m fine. You’ll soon be fine, Roman. Officer, please escort my client to be arraigned.” That wasn’t quite what I was expecting. I’ll take it none the same if it gets me out of here and closer to her. Joslyn spins around on a pair of sexy-as-hell black heels and walks away from me without another word.

  “I’m glad you found her, Marcus. Whatever the hell you have planned up your sleeve by bringing her here better not explode in my face, or I’ll fire you like everyone else.” He waits for the officer to clip the cuffs around my wrist and push me in the direction of the hallway before he responds.

  “Shut up, asshole. I busted my balls to get her to drive across town. The rest is up to you. You’re welcome by the way.”

  “What do you mean across town? Has she been living here? For how fucking long?”

  “About three years,” he responds as the officer cuffs me and shoves me through the door. Son of a bitch. She moved here right around the same time I quit keeping tabs on her? Fate needs to walk away from me
and leave me alone for good this time.

  I’ve never forgotten about Joslyn Don’t think I ever could. She’s the only woman who had hold of my heart. Still does.

  When Joslyn miscarried our baby, not being able to help ease her pain tore my soul out pieces at a time. I went to Chicago to find her, but she had already left the hospital. I searched everywhere for her until the studio demanded I return. I left her there. Both of us broken and defeated.

  I’m not about to let anything come between the direction our lives were destined to go since the day she stood in the driveway holding the hand of the social worker who dropped her off. Not ever again. Not even her.

  I’ll do whatever it takes to steer our lives back on course.

  In the right direction.

  Chapter Two

  Joslyn

  “Your Honor. Since the day Mr. Nixon broke out as a solo artist, he has been one of the most consistently followed celebrities in Hollywood. He was leaving the courthouse after signing his divorce papers and was attacked by not one but dozens of members of the press asking him questions about something that happened in his life years ago. A very personal matter, I’d like to add. He did nothing to spur on this uncalled-for behavior. He has a squeaky clean record, he’s an upstanding citizen, and if I may, sir, I would like to add that my client very rarely talks to the press about his personal life. In fact, he doesn’t at all. With his celebrity status, he was expecting questions regarding his divorce. Not for a man to pull the rug out from under him and ask him if he knew his high school girlfriend, who happens to be me, had suffered a miscarriage. There’s no shame in a man protecting himself or anyone else from pain. Therefore, I address the court and the district attorney’s office to reconsider the charges and have them dismissed. I would also like to ask that Mr. Nixon be allowed to walk out of here on the merit of recognizance instead of paying the ridiculous bail amount set forth by the DA,” I announce then sit back down shakily and try to hold it together.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat, not quite understanding what in the hell I just did. I’ve gone and thrown my heart right in the mix of this with my admission. Whatever. They have all heard about me anyway. I’m sure of it. May as well give a few more pieces to the media who were all over me this morning like flies on shit enough to let them argue about who reported it first.

  They were awful a little while ago when Marcus escorted me in here. It was bad enough to wake up this morning and see my face on every scaggy lying rag magazine in the world when I strolled by a vendor. Now it’s flying around the Internet. I’ve even made the morning news. Probably in fifty fucking languages by now, too. Only, the story they are telling is the truth this time instead of all the lies they usually spill.

  This was definitely not my idea of becoming a well-known hotshot lawyer. I’d much rather stick to the boring side of being a general practice lawyer after this and fiddle around with people’s taxes. There isn’t anyone out there I know who loves to hear that word. Including me. I’ll do it if it gets them to stay off my back.

  There shouldn’t be any more questions asked by anyone in this room that’s suddenly silent. Even if the district attorney objects, all they’re going to do is waste everyone’s time. What that slimy asshole did was uncalled for. The only thing hurting on him is his ego and his supposedly broken nose, a few cracked ribs, and a swollen esophagus from being throat punched. I’m sure his wallet won’t be hurting for quite some time. If ever. Neither will every magazine that printed this.

  If the DA is willing to do his job by tossing this out, then he doesn’t give a crap either way that I’ve fallen off the cliff I was dangling on before this bomb hit me out of nowhere. I’ve been shaking in my seat while waiting for Roman’s case to be called. I only hope the judge is the only one who noticed; not the man sitting close to me. I saw the pity in the old man’s eyes when he walked out and searched me out from his seat on the bench. Pity is not what I need.

  I’m a mess. Barely keeping it together at the moment. I’m also damn good at my job, but I now think I went a tad too far by representing my client to the best of my ability. I’ve pretty much admitted what they were trying to confirm. They all want to know if I lost our baby. I did.

  I’m also angry with myself for treating Roman like shit when he never did anything wrong. It was me who tore us apart. Me who gave up on us after the devastation that messed me up for a very long time. I stood in front of him and shot bullets out of my mouth. Directed my emotional baggage at him when what I should have done was send his publicist in to tell him his lawyer would like a private word with him. Except, there wasn’t much time left before he needed to be here due to me stalling when getting ready this morning. It hurts to see him.

  Seeing him again is like acid pumping through my veins. Every drip a constant biting fear of wondering if that will be the one to drag me under. He’s perfect. More handsome than all the times I watched him on television. The photos I would see lined up on covers of magazines while standing in the check-out line lost in thought. Remembering all of the times we would climb trees, making up our own games with the few toys we had. Stumbling upon the railcar and the excitement two young kids felt over a secret hideaway.

  A part of me shivered when he spoke my name. The part I’ve guarded since the accident, the big black hole in my chest retrieved back into herself, leaving years of hurt to be hung out to dry. It did nothing to protect the instinctive reaction my body had to the deepness in his voice that to this day is rooted deep inside of me.

  I felt his eyes penetrating into me as I took in his short-cropped dark hair, dark-colored eyes that always reminded me of hot chocolate on a cold winter night. I used to wrap myself up in their warmth. He’s taller, filled out with muscles everywhere. Tattered jeans, black boots, and a stretched black T-shirt across a chest that I want to rub my hands down before falling into a dreamy sleep while lying naked by his side.

  I should have never walked out of my office and into the break room for a bottle of water yesterday. But I did. Good ole Joslyn Reynolds, the woman who doesn’t ask her secretary to fetch things she can get for herself, walked right into a small room with a dozen of my co-workers, while they all stopped what they were doing and stared at me with their jaws hitting the floor.

  My high school picture, along with several recent photos and my life history were flashing across the television screen right next to his, and in a matter of minutes, the heart I’d worked years at trying to build back up I felt ripped right out of my chest. I turned white as a sheet.

  If it hadn't been for my co-worker Chad convincing me to take a seat, I would have grabbed my gun and driven up here to shoot Roman dead, whether it was his fault or not. Which I know it isn’t. It’s his skin-and-bones supermodel plastic Barbie wannabe ex-wife’s fault. I only know this because Marcus told me their suspicions. The bitch better hope I never have to see her, or I’ll wrap my hands around her scrawny little neck and choke the hundred pounds right out of her.

  Yet here I am helping him out after getting what started out to be a phone call to warn me. To which I basically told Marcus to fuck off and die because I already knew. Except, when he told me the best thing I could do to show the vultures they weren’t getting to me was to show up and represent Roman, I found myself angrily saying yes.

  I ignore the stare I’m receiving from Roman and rest my hands on the desk in front of me while we wait for the judge to make his ruling when suddenly I’m torn apart even more by uninvited memories I’ve hidden for years.

  I knew Roman was going to win the contest with the first word that came out of his mouth. He had a talent like nothing I had heard before. When his name was announced, he didn’t wait for the announcer even to finish before he jumped off that stage and brought me into his arms. I was happy for him. This young man who had been abandoned by his parents the same as me deserved the world, and as much as it killed me, I wasn’t going to stand in his way. I relied on him too much as it was.

  W
hen he told me they wanted him immediately in LA, I convinced him to go instead of being the clingy girlfriend who wanted desperately to cry and tell him to stay. I wasn’t that type of a girl. I had dreams of my own. I wanted to be a social worker, to help other children who weren’t as fortunate as the two of us were.

  I didn’t know where I would eventually end up in my life the day I walked away from him standing at the top of the stairs in the one place that holds more happy memories for me than anywhere else. I just had the nagging feeling that our separation was going to drive us apart.

  Little did I know that on that very same day, the last time we had sex, I would end up pregnant. Life sure does have a funny way of changing directions in a blink of an eye.

  So, I packed up my bags and listened to my heart instead of the voice in my head telling me to let him go and not tell him about the baby. I couldn’t do that to Roman, our unborn child, or to me. We all deserved to be together. I missed him like crazy, and he missed me. We were young, barely able to speak to one another on the phone due to our conflicting schedules, but through it all, we loved each other more than we did ourselves. I could hear the desperate pain of how much he missed me in his voice every time we talked.

  I felt out of sorts the day I started the long drive in my run-down Toyota to surprise him. I chalked it up to nerves over seeing him, his reaction, and driving across the country by myself.

  By the time I hit the busy traffic outside of Chicago, my palms were sweaty, and my knees wouldn’t stop shaking as I sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic with my music blaring. What I should have done was pay attention to what was happening behind me. A semi barreled into a vehicle a few back from mine, causing a domino effect of every car to collide into the one in front of it or veer sideways and hit the cement barrier. I didn’t see it coming. Had no idea what happened until I woke up in the hospital days later, disoriented and in a state of panic.