UNTIL EASTON
SANDY ALVAREZ
CRYSTAL DANIELS
Until Easton
Copyright © 2021 by Sandy Alvarez and Crystal Daniels
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published by Boom Factory Publishing, LLC.
* * *
Sandy Alvarez and Crystal Daniels, CONTRIBUTORS to the Original Works was granted permission by Aurora Rose Reynolds, ORIGINAL AUTHOR, to use the copyrighted characters and/ or worlds created by Aurora Rose Reynolds in the Original Work; all copyright protection to the characters and/ or worlds of Aurora Rose Reynolds in the Original Works are and shall continue to be retained by Aurora Rose Reynolds. You can find all of Aurora Rose Reynolds Original Works on most major retailers. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage or retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, story lines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales or any events or occurrences are purely coincidental.
Cover design by Twisted Sisters Cover Designs and RBA Designs
Image Provided by: Wander Book Club - Photographer: Wander Aguiar Photography
Edited by: Light Hand Editing
CONTENTS
1. Easton
2. Becca
3. Easton
4. Becca
5. Easton
6. Becca
7. Easton
8. Becca
9. Easton
10. Becca
11. Easton
12. Becca
13. Easton
14. Becca
15. Easton
Epilogue
Easton
Afterword
Connect With Us!
Also by
1
EASTON
I belt out the final chorus to our closing number and close my eyes as the fans sing along. I've sung this song thousands of times, but the lyrics hit my soul differently every time the crowd joins in.
I open my eyes as the last word hangs on the end of my breath. Looking back at me are thousands of faces, their arms reaching toward the sky. A sea of illuminating light sways like ocean waves. The only time I feel alive is when I'm on the stage performing with my friends. It's a natural high you can't get anywhere else.
I have a flashback to our first sold-out gig. Archer, Cody, Micah, and I were all incredibly nervous beforehand, but all my nerves evaporated when we went on stage. I was playing the same music and performing beside my friends. The crowd went bonkers. We’d never had people lose their shit like that before, and it was amazing. The same energy fueling my body right now is no different than what I felt that night so long ago.
"Thank you, Nashville!" I shout, the speakers amplifying my voice over the deafening cheers from the crowded arena.
As the guys and I exit the stage, our tour manager, Heisley, tosses me a bottle of water. "You've got the meet and greet in thirty minutes."
"Where's my wife?" Micah asks, and I grin at his use of the word wife. A month into our tour, he and his woman went and got hitched while we were in Vegas. They got married in true Vegas style in a small chapel with an Elvis impersonator presiding. The impromptu ceremony was exactly what we would expect from Micah. He and Tallulah marrying didn't come as a shock, either. The two have been together from the very beginning of East of Addiction. She's been at his side since we were nothing more than three friends, broke with pockets full of dreams and half a tank of gas in our first shitty 1978 Winnebago RV his grandad gave to him. When he found out Tallulah was carrying their first child, he was determined to give her his last name.
"In your dressing room!" she yells at my retreating back.
"Heads up, fellas," Cody says, wiping his face with a white hand towel one of the roadies gives him.
"Isn't that the same blonde we saw two nights ago in Memphis?" Archer mentions, and I look to confirm. Sure enough, the blonde is standing amongst the others, fixated on me. "Looks like you have a devoted groupie. Maybe if you gave the woman what she's after, she'd go away," Cody teases but knows I'm not interested. "Hey, man, I'll take one for the team." His hand lands on my shoulder.
* * *
"Easton, Cody, Archer, Micah!" The group of good-looking women shouts our names, eagerly waiting for more than an autograph as we make our way down the brightly lit corridor leading to the dressing rooms. I force myself to stop and give them my million-dollar grin.
"Ladies." I give them my attention, as do my bandmates, and begin signing our names on the merch they shove at us.
A long-legged blonde with large breasts and desperate blue eyes thrusts a black marker at me. "Can I have your autograph?" Her eyes drop, roaming over my bare chest. She chews her bottom lip.
"Sure thing, beautiful." I don't call her out for having seen her recently. "Where would you like me to sign?" I ask, already knowing her answer as she pulls her hand back and runs the end of the marker between her cleavage.
"Right…" she drags the marker over the swell of her left breast, "here."
I'm a man. I look. But her seduction does nothing for me. My dick doesn't even acknowledge the fact there is a sexy blonde bombshell eye-fucking me right now. Why? Because my head isn't in it—neither of them. I've had enough mind-numbing sex to last any average Joe a lifetime.
The truth is, I'm tired of the road, touring, women, hotel rooms—all of it.
I smirk at her anyway and play the part of the rock god I am. Removing the cap with my mouth, I scribe my signature across her left breast, which she eagerly exposes to me and my bandmates, who are standing beside me, getting equal attention from the other females.
* * *
"Let's keep on schedule, men," Heisley announces, steering us away from the groupies, who begin protesting. "Don't worry, ladies. I'm sure a few of you will get to add another notch to your rockstar to-do list tonight."
I look at the blonde standing in front of me with pouty lips and hold out the marker for her to take back. "I'll catch you later," I tell her before walking away. It's a lie. Sure, a couple of the guys will snag themselves a warm body to hold tonight, but I'm not. All I want is to go home—alone.
Heisley's six-inch heels click against the concrete floor as we fall in behind her. "Goddamn. It should be illegal to have curves like that," Archer states, his eyes glued to our tour manager's ass. "Heisley, you gonna come see me tonight?"
Heisley continues walking without missing a single beat in her stride and flicks her long lilac hair over her shoulder. "Keep dreaming. I don't mix business with pleasure. I've told you that a million times."
Archer grabs at his chest, mockingly in pain. "You wound me." Heisley stops just outside our dressing room door. Archer looks down at her. "Come on. Let me show you what you're missing out on." I hang my head. My friend is laying it on thick tonight. He leans in close to her ear but doesn't attempt to hide what he says. "I promise you won't regret it."
"Can you contribute anything that my dog, a bowl of triple chocolate ice cream, and Bob can't take care of? If not, move along and stop wasting both our time."
I spit water from my mouth. Archer has been hitting on Heisley since she was hired as our tour manager. She turns him down every time with good reason. Archer lives his life like a true rockstar stereotype, and she is smart enough to stay clear of his lifestyle. My friend isn't a bad guy. Archer is upf
ront with who he is and how he chooses to live his life. Unfortunately for him, Heisley isn't into any of it.
"Who the fuck is Bob?" Archer's demeanor changes, and I look to our friends, who are taken aback by his sudden shift in attitude.
Heisley rolls her eyes. "Jesus." She looks at her watch, ignoring Archer, and then announces, "Freshen up. I'll be back and take you to the conference room where you're meeting the VIP holders in thirty minutes. After that, there will be a few interviews with the local press," Heisley says, then walks away, leaving Archer in his heated state.
"Who the fuck is Bob?" Archer asks once inside the dressing room, and I give him an are you kidding me look.
"You've bedded more women than you can count, yet you really know nothing about them?" I shrug on a clean shirt.
"I know enough," Archer grumps and strips his shirt off.
"Battery-operated boyfriend," Tallulah tells him, laughing as she throws her arms around her husband. Micah kisses his woman, then splays his palm over her stomach. Leaning down, he kisses her pregnant belly.
"Bob is a fucking dildo?" Archer runs his fingers through his long hair and blows out a breath. He plops down in a chair, looking both relieved and embarrassed. "That's the last image I needed in my head," he mumbles.
I chuckle. "Look, man. Heisley has toured with us since the beginning. She sees you in action."
"Meaning?" Archer throws on a clean shirt.
"Face it, Archer. You have a different woman in your bed nearly every night. Not all women want to be another conquest. Heisley doesn't want any of your bullshit."
"Are you saying I'm not good enough for her?" Archer's voice hardens with anger, but his face shows a hint of hurt.
"Not saying that at all. You're a good guy. Heisley wants more than a one-night stand. She wants commitment—a relationship. Are you willing to give that to her?" I ask. Archer stays silent, and I take it as his answer.
Miles, the band manager, walks into the dressing room with a grim look on his face. "Great show guys," he tells us and strolls toward me while holding a folder in his hand.
"What's up?"
He hands me the folder, and I open it to find another letter. Like all the rest, it's written in red ink and mixed with song lyrics, professing undying love for me and that we are meant to be together. The words on the paper bleed together as I read.
I would be anything for you. I would never hurt you. Unless you tried to leave.
If you do, I will cut you. I will break your legs. I may not be very strong, but I'm good with a sledgehammer. Then, I will kiss away all the tears of pain and regret. Please don't force me to do horrible things to you.
We are meant to be together.
Forever.
Stay with me. Love me. I'll take good care of you.
If you attempt to escape from my love, I must bind your hands to keep you from hurting yourself further.
Don't try to run from what we have.
I'll take excellent care of you. You will be happy. You love me just as I love you.
You are my Romeo, and I am your Juliet.
No matter what they say, what venom the world spits at us, or the evil, cruel intention the people you surround yourself with have to keep us apart…I will always love you. If they continue to stand between us, I will hurt them. Their lives are meaningless. Death awaits anyone who tries to keep us apart.
Eventually, they will lose, and we will be together. Then you'll understand the depth of my love. Not even your death will keep me from being with you.
* * *
I look at Miles. "Where did this one turn up?" I ask, prepared for him to say the usual fan mail.
"Taped to the tour bus door." He eyes me.
A knock on the dressing room door throws everyone on alert. Then Jax, our head of security for this evening, pokes his head in. He looks at me, then at Miles. "Mind if we come in?"
"Get your ass in here," I tell him, and he fully steps into the room with his wife Ellie, then closes the door behind him. Jax strolls toward me and holds out his hand.
"Good seeing you again."
"Likewise." I then look at his wife. "Ellie, how are you, beautiful?"
"Hey, Easton. I'm good. The concert was fantastic." She beams.
"The rest of the family enjoy those VIP tickets I sent you?" I ask. Jax and I have met a few times over the years. Whenever we perform in or near Nashville, he is the first person the band calls to keep the venue secure. I've gotten to know Jax and the men he works with, and they are good guys.
"They loved it, man. Thanks again." Jax's expression shifts to a more serious, all-business mode. "I hope you don't mind, but Miles brought this stalker problem to my attention earlier when he asked us to beef up security." Jax crosses his arms over his chest. "He tells me it's been going on for a few months now?"
"Yeah. But it's the first time this person has been bold enough to leave a letter in person at one of our events." Anger rises in my gut. "And this time, he or she threatened not only me but my friends and family." I look around at my friends standing quietly nearby. "This needs to stop before something bad happens."
"Mind if I take a look at the letter?" Jax asks, and I pass him the folder. I watch his face as he reads the letter.
"Mind if I keep this? I'd like to investigate further," he inquires.
"Yeah?" I look at him.
Jax nods. "Yeah. This looks like much more than an obsessed fan. He or she is resorting to written threats. You should have it investigated."
"I agree," Miles says. "I also think you and the rest of the band need to lay low for a while. This was the final show. All of you take a break—go on vacation until we sort this mess out."
"What about studio time? We have it booked to start recording new shit next week," Cody states.
"I'll get it pushed back a few weeks," Miles tells him.
"Not to step on any toes, but I would also suggest personal security for everyone since threats were made against those in this room. You should also assume those threats include family, friends, or anyone you associate with." Jax's serious tone puts me on edge more than I already am.
Heisley pokes her head in the room. "Time's up. Let's go."
"Can we discuss this later?" I ask Jax.
"You got it," he says, and my bandmates and I walk out of the room.
* * *
Later in the night, after we've interacted with fans, signed hundreds of autographs, and dealt with the media, everyone but me loads up on the buses. Jax and Ellie walk up with Miles. "You got my ticket?" I ask Miles.
"Your flight leaves before noon tomorrow." He eyes me with concern. "You think you should be flying out there with this threat looming over your head?"
"It's only for a couple of days. I'm not missing my niece's birthday," I tell him, then add, "I'll find somewhere to lie low and recharge after I get back from Montana."
"Want me to book you a stay somewhere—maybe that Villa in the Florida Keys? It's private and secluded," Miles mentions, and, at first, the idea of being on a beach all by myself sounds nice. The appeal quickly fades.
"I have a suggestion," Ellie interjects, and I look at her, raising my brow. "My friend Becca, who works at the salon, runs a bed and breakfast."
"Where?" I ask Jax.
"Here in Tennessee. Not far from Nashville actually—Connelly Ranch."
"Can't say I've heard of it."
"Well, if you're looking for a different, change-of-pace place where you can disappear for a while, I couldn't recommend a better location than my hometown. And your business would be more than appreciated."
"You'll keep me posted on this stalker business?" I look at Jax.
"I will," he tells me.
"Miles, you mind keeping Gizmo for a while?"
"Sure," Miles agrees.
"Alright." I look between Jax and Ellie. "Connelly Ranch, here I come." I clap my hands together, having no idea what waits for me in the small town.
2
BECCA
Waking every morning before the sun is something I have done since I was a kid. Call me crazy, but mornings are my favorite time of the day. Probably because I spend that time with my grandfather. Sure, chores are involved, but the time I have with him is the brightest part of my day.
When I was six years old, my parents died in a car accident. Mom and dad were on their way home from Texas, where they’d picked up a mare that had spent years being neglected to bring her back home to the ranch. Mom was passionate about horses, and most of the horses on Connelly Ranch were rescues.
Sadly, a long-haul trucker fell asleep at the wheel and crashed into mom and dad's truck head-on. I'll never forget the night the sheriff came to the house to deliver the news. I had been staying with my grandparents while mom and dad were gone. The loss of my parents had been a devastating blow to our family.
My mother was an only child, as am I. My parents met when my mom was only eighteen years old. My dad came to work at Connelly Ranch when he was twenty. Dad was from Louisiana and had lost his mom a year before. He used to talk about how he was a drifter with no real purpose until the day he showed up at the ranch looking for work. He said the moment he laid eyes on my mom, he had found his home.
I never got tired of hearing that story. After the death of my parents, my grandmother had fallen apart, but it was my grandfather who stayed strong and was the glue that held us together. My grandparents took over raising me, and our bond became even stronger. Then, a few years ago, my grandma passed away, and I became the strength my grandfather needed.
Until Easton Page 1