Baby Surprises 7 Book Box Set

by Layla Valentine

  “Come on, Johnny,” said Marcus. “Rick wants us to give the crowds as many encores as they want!”

  “Shows how much he knows,” I said over the roar. “You know the trick is to always leave them wanting more.”

  Cole hopped down from the drums and joined in.

  “Yeah,” he said. “You don’t want to stay on stage until they get tired of you.”

  I grabbed my guitar by the neck, unplugged it, and stepped over to the kid.

  “Yo!” I said, squatting down. “What’s your name?”

  He was frozen in place. His parents, who seemed just as shocked as the kid did, helped him along.

  “Tell him your name, bud,” said the father.

  “M-Mike,” he said, barely able to get out the single word.

  “Nice to meet you, Mike,” I said. “My name’s Johnny. You play guitar?”

  “No,” he said, still able to only get out a single word.

  I handed the guitar over to him, the kid so stunned that he didn’t know what to make of what I was doing.

  “You do now,” I said.

  “Oh, my God,” said the mom, clearly unable to believe what was happening.

  Mike took the guitar and held it in his hands like it was a relic of the saints. A huge smile spread across his face.

  “What do you say?” his father said eagerly.

  “Th-thank you!” Mike said. “Thank you so much!”

  I reached down and mussed the kid’s hair.

  “One catch is you gotta get really good. If I see you in the front row again down the road, I might ask you to come up for a solo, you got it?”

  Still beaming, Mike nodded.

  I turned to the parents while pointing to a nearby security guard who’d been watching the whole scene.

  “Go talk to Josh over there,” I said. “He’ll make sure you get out of here without getting mobbed.”

  The parents nodded, and Mike thanked me one last time before they all went off.

  “Look at that,” I said to Marcus. “Can’t play an encore without a guitar, huh?”

  Marcus shook his head as the rest of the guys and I waved to the crowd and headed off stage.

  The four of us made our way down the hall leading back to the green room, the space lined with screaming groupies, fans with backstage passes, and music journalists.

  I wasn’t in the mood for any of them. The guys took their pick of the groupies, but getting a girl was about the least appealing thing I could imagine.

  Truth is, I was still hung up on Kendra.

  Once back in the green room, the noise in the hallway now a faint hum, I plopped on the couch. My eyes went right to the bottle of whiskey I’d taken a shot from before the show. I grabbed it, pulled off the top, and took a long, slow drink.

  “Daaamn,” said Cole as I set the bottle back onto the table and wiped my mouth. “Someone’s not messing around.”

  I wanted Kendra. Hell, I felt like I needed her. But she was gone, back in Seattle and out of my life.

  So, if I couldn’t have her, I’d take oblivion. At least until I got her out of my system.

  “What’s the plan for tonight, boys?” I asked, my eyes drifting to Stone’s pack of cigarettes. “And mind if I get one of those?”

  Stone raised his eyebrows. “I thought you quit?”

  “I did. But tonight I’m in a rare fucking mood.”

  The real truth was that I wanted all the substances I could get my hands on, anything to get my mind off of Kendra. Chain-smoking and slamming shots of whiskey sounded like as good as any of a place to start.

  “We got a lead on a major party down in the Mission,” said Stone. “Looks like there’s going to be girls, drugs, and everything else.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “Then why are we waiting around here?”

  I stood up, the booze already doing its thing.

  “What do you think, girls?” I asked, addressing the bevy of groupies in the room. “You ready to fucking party?”

  The girls all raised their hands, whooping excitedly.

  I grabbed the bottle of whiskey, pulled the top off with my teeth and took another swig. Once I’d had enough, I tossed the bottle over to one of the groupies, some big-chested redhead. She clumsily caught the bottle and regarded it as though she wasn’t sure what to do with the thing.

  “Tonight’s not going to be for the faint of heart,” I said. “So get after it!”

  More woos from the girls and yells from the guys. The redhead finally got the message and took a cautious sip from the bottle. She tried to imitate my effortless swig, but only ended up getting a little into her mouth and a lot down her cleavage. Stone, seated next to her, was quick to “clean up,” to her delight.

  I got up and led the crew out of the back entrance of the green room, out to behind the stadium where crowds were already gathered around and screaming for us. A couple of limos were already there, and the entourage of groupies, journalists, and fans was in tow. Normally, I would’ve thinned the crowd, not wanting things to get too crazy. But tonight, I was in a different kind of mood.

  I wanted to get insane. But most importantly, I wanted to forget.

  Once the two limos were loaded up and ready to go, we pulled away from the stadium, music blasting out of the open windows. The sunroofs were opened up as soon as we got out onto the road, the groupies not wasting any time in sticking the top halves of their bodies up and screaming out into the city.

  “What is it with girls and always saying ‘woo’?” asked Cole as he tossed me a fresh beer before cracking one open of his own.

  “College-girl mating call,” said Stone with a smirk. “Lets you know what they’re looking to get up to tonight.”

  I took a sip of my beer, the haze from the alcohol settling over me and filling my limbs with a pulsing warmth. A second sip drained the rest of the beer, and I quickly crushed the can on my leg and tossed it onto the ground of the limo.

  Once that was done, I grabbed a nearby bottle of vodka and went to work on that.

  “Damn, Johnny,” said Cole. “You’re really getting after it.”

  “No shit,” I said.

  “Okay,” said Marcus. “Partying is fine but don’t get too wild. Everyone’s got a phone in their pocket, and the last thing we need is people taking shots of any of us getting up to anything shitty. We’re trying to clean up our image, remember?”

  “I’ll get up to whatever I want to get up to,” I said. “If anyone doesn’t like it, they can listen to whatever bullshit music they want.”

  A worried expression crossed Marcus’s face, but he at least knew better and kept his opinion to himself.

  I sat and drank as the limos drove down the evening streets of San Francisco. I could feel the energy in the air, and I was ready for whatever the night had in store for me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as one of the groupies, a blonde in a skintight black skirt and low-cut top moved over to my side and slipped her arm around my shoulders.

  “We don’t have to go party, Johnny,” she said. “We can drop everyone off at the club and take the limo for a nice, long ride around the city, just you and me.”

  I let out a snort of a laugh. Wasn’t hard to imagine what kind of “ride” she had in mind. But despite how easy this girl was making it, I couldn’t bring myself to be interested. There was only one girl I wanted, and she wasn’t in this limo.

  “Need my space,” I said. “Hands off.”

  Her expression turned from sultry to surprised in a blink, and she quickly did what I asked, taking her arm back and scooting away. Stone was quick to give her some attention, pulling her close and putting the smile back on her face.

  “Here we are,” said Cole as we pulled up to the club. The thumping of bass filled the car, and out in front was a huge crowd of people waiting for their chance to get inside.

  The doors to the limo opened, and we poured out. A crowd had already gathered around, eager to see who was in the limos. Jud
ging by their screams, they were happy with the answer.

  The crowd screamed around us, but I strode through them, eager to get inside. Once the bouncers at the doors saw who was coming, they let us all in without a word, holding the doors open as we strode into the club.

  It was a huge space, a massive dance floor packed full of club-goers in the center. The club went up three more stories, and from the bottom floor, I could see that they were just as crowded as the first floor.

  A bottle of booze came out of nowhere and ended up in my hands. I didn’t waste any time tearing into it, draining as much as I could with a single pull.

  It was just what I wanted. Between the noise and the booze and the crowds, I didn’t have a single thought in my head. The band and the girls at my sides, I strode into the middle of the dance floor like a conquering hero. Every set of eyes latched onto me and went wide when they saw who I was.

  I took another swig from the bottle and let out a yell right as the bass dropped. Soon I was in the middle of the heaving crowd, dancing along with the rest of them.

  After a time, Stone pulled me close and spoke into my ear.

  “Yo, Johnny!” he said. “You feel like heading to one of the VIP rooms? Got more than just booze in there, if you know what I mean.”

  Then he flashed me a wicked smile. I knew what he meant, and I was down.

  “Let’s do it!” I yelled.

  The last thing I remembered before I totally blacked out was weaving through the crowds, the bass pounding in my head as Stone led me deeper into the depths of mind-erasing hedonism.

  Chapter 17

  Johnny

  The first thing I was aware of when I woke up was the unbelievable pounding of my head. Next was the cool of the concrete where I’d passed out. Then was the voice of some woman, speaking in a detached, professional tone.

  “After being developed as a military fortification in the early 19th century, Alcatraz Island was refitted in 1934 as one of the most secure federal prisons in United States History.”

  My eyes still shut, I listened to the woman’s words with total disbelief. What the hell was she talking about?

  She went on, rattling off various bits of trivia. I knew the fastest way to get to the bottom of what was going on would be to open my eyes, but between my headache and the still-drunk feeling I had, I couldn’t bear to do it, not just yet.

  I needed a little more time to rest, maybe even a few more hours of sleep. The concrete I was on wasn’t comfortable, but it would do.

  “Holy shit!” came the voice of what sounded to be a teenage boy. “Is that—”

  “That’s Johnny Maxton!”

  So much for a little more shuteye. I forced my eyes open, letting out a groan as the harsh sunlight poured into me.

  “Yeah, that’s him,” said a woman. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  “That’s a good question,” spoke another woman, a voice a recognized as the first one.

  I rubbed my eyes and looked around me to see that I was lying on the floor of a dirty jail cell in what looked to be a prison.

  “Ugh,” I groaned. “My fucking head.”

  I felt like pure death. My head pounded, my stomach churned, and my skin felt like it was about to slide off my body.

  And, of course, standing in front of the bars of the cell was a tour group of about twenty people, a smartly dressed woman standing in front of them with a look on her face that made it clear she wasn’t at all amused by my antics.

  The crowd started talking eagerly among themselves followed by, of course, the sound of phone cameras snapping pictures.

  “No pictures!” I yelled out, barely able to speak the words as I struggled to my feet.

  I glanced down to see that I was shirtless, wearing nothing but my jeans and boots. It wasn’t the best look.

  “Hey,” shot out the tour guide. “I don’t care who you are. You’re in a restricted area. How did you even get in there?”

  “Lady, if you find that out, I’m the first one that wants to know,” I said.

  The crowd laughed.

  I put my hands on the cold bars. “Anyone feel up for a jailbreak? I’m no Birdman, but I’m sure we could pull it off.”

  More laughs.

  The tour guide shook her head and let out a sigh. “Stand back.”

  I slipped my arms out of the bars as the guide stepped over to a huge iron lever. She gave it a hard pull, the doors opening with a metallic grinding.

  “I’m free!” I shouted as I trotted out of the cell.

  More pictures.

  I turned to the tour guide.

  “As nice as this place is, I need to get out of here. Any chance of some help?”

  She sighed again.

  “Head back in that direction,” she said, pointing down past the long line of cells. “Ferry to the city comes every thirty minutes.”

  I gave her an unsteady salute before hurrying off. The crowd continued to talk eagerly as I left, the tour guide doing her best to get them to focus on the tour. My boots echoed against the concrete as I made my way down the hall.

  I’d always wanted to check out Alcatraz. Just never thought this was how I’d do it.

  My hand shot to shield my eyes as I reached outside, the sun so bright I thought I might melt. After adjusting, I reached into my pocket for my phone only to find out it wasn’t there.

  “Of course,” I said out loud to no one in particular. “It’s not a drunken night out unless you lose your phone.”

  Luckily, I knew Stone’s number by heart. I found the offices and convinced, with a wink and a smile, one of the female employees there to let me use her phone.

  “Holy shit!” came Stone’s voice on the other line as I stepped outside of the office. “You’re alive.”

  “That’s not a good sign,” I said, trying to keep myself steady. “What the hell happened last night?”

  “Uh, a better question would be what didn’t happen last night,” he said. “What exactly do you remember?”

  I closed my eyes and tried to think.

  “I remember the limo,” I said. “And then the club. And lots of booze. Then I remember walking through the crowd to the VIP room. And…that’s it.”

  “That’s it?” asked Stone. “You don’t remember anything after that?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “That’s…insane. Because the club was just the first part of the night. We kind of tore up the city last night, bud.”

  I didn’t want to hear about it. All I cared about was getting back to the hotel and trying to sleep off the rest of this hangover.

  Then again, I was a little curious about my surroundings.

  “How about this,” I said. “Why the hell am I on Alcatraz?”

  Stone burst out laughing on the other line. “Holy shit! You’re still there?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? I just woke up twenty minutes ago.”

  More laughing followed.

  “Kind of a funny story, actually.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Well, you got hammered last night,” he said.

  “No kidding. Got the hangover to prove it.”

  “Well, we were all partying at Carter Hawk’s pad.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “As in the actor?”

  “Yep, Mr. Three-Time-Oscar-Winner himself,” he said. “And you happened to knock over some very expensive, very ugly statue he had in his living room.”

  “Oh great,” I said.

  “Don’t worry about it—you didn’t break it or anything. Not that you’d notice with how the thing looked.”

  “Go on.”

  “You said something about going to ‘party foul prison,’ how you ought to get locked up. Carter said he had a helicopter and just the place in mind.”

  “Great,” I said.

  “Probably for the best you called it a night then,” said Stone. “The way you were putting the booze away I was surprised as hell you were still standing.”

&
nbsp; I didn’t even want to think about it. Just the idea of booze was enough to make me want to puke.

  “We don’t have a show tonight, do we?” I asked.

  “Lucky for you, J, we’ve got the day off. Tomorrow we’re back to LA for another show, then a few days’ break, then back on the road.”

  Another leg of the tour, another few months on the road. I couldn’t tell if it was the hangover or what, but I didn’t have it in me.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m going to get back to the hotel. No bothering me for the rest of the day.”

  “Get that beauty sleep, killer. You’re going to need it.”

  I ended the call and handed the phone back to the still-smiling girl.

  The timing was perfect—the ferry going back to the mainland was pulling up right at that moment. I hurried on board and found a seat in the shade and closed my eyes.

  As Alcatraz faded into the horizon and the ferry cut through the water, I realized how lucky I was. I’d been reckless last night, throwing caution to the wind and acting like a stupid, irresponsible kid. But I wasn’t a kid anymore. I couldn’t drink like a madman and wake up ready to go on stage the next day.

  I’d done plenty to at least attempt to steer my life in the right direction, and now here I was, throwing it all away.

  I knew the reason why, however—Kendra. She’d been all I could think about, and that had been the problem. I’d drank like I had because I wanted to forget. But that was no excuse. I was a grown man and couldn’t deal with my problems by boozing and getting up to God knows what else.

  Today I was waking up in Alcatraz. The next time it happened I might not be as lucky. I might fall asleep and never wake up, my fate being yet another one of those rock stars whose hard-partying lifestyle finally caught up with him.

  I wasn’t going to do it. As I sat on the ferry, my head pounding and my stomach raging, I vowed that last night would be the last time. No girl, no nothing would ever get me to act that way again.

  But then another thought occurred to me. It was all easy to say now, but living like a madman was the lifestyle I’d chosen. This all came with the territory of being a rock star. If I wanted to change my ways, I had to get out and not look back.