Rocker (Rockstar BBW Romance)

by Demare, Laura

  Rocker

  (Rockstar BBW Curvy Romance)

  by Laura Demare

  Copyright© 2013 Laura Demare

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  1

  “April, I need you for a second,” Kenny’s nasal voice came from aisle 8. I sighed. I looked around for help. It was almost 3am. The store was a ghost town, I was alone with Kenny, and you can bet he knew it.

  “Ap-ril,” he said in a sing-song tone, “I need you.” I headed toward the cold beer section. That’s where he always tried to corner me. I shuffled slowly and he grew agitated quickly, “Move your fat butt, April. I don’t have all night.” He knew he could get away with it. He knew I needed this job. I slowed down a bit.

  “April!” Kenny called out as I rounded the corner down aisle 8. There he was all six feet, three inches of pot-bellied, lumbering, 47-year-old, perv. He was bent over the beer. His crack was showing. He straightened slowly and stiffly with his back arched. “Oh, there you are.” he said, looking directly at my breasts. They weren’t that much, but I guess they were enough for Kenny.

  “What’s this?” he asked, pointing to a six pack of beer with only 5 in it.

  “Uh, 5-pack?”

  Kenny’s dull eyes flared to life briefly, this was not going to be pretty.

  The oppression of badly needing to keep a job is the worst. I guess I was lucky to have a job. I’m not good at getting jobs. I don’t think companies like to hire people my size. It’s discrimination, but how could I ever prove it. Point is, I had to keep this job.

  I couldn’t afford to miss even one paycheck. I couldn’t pay my bills as it was. My car was eating all my money and I needed it to get to work. There’s no public transportation in Placerville, California at night. Worst part of it was, I had barely managed to get the old grey Accord into work on that night.

  My 99’ Honda had almost killed me coming to work. I had been in the middle of Route 50, cars whizzing past me, when my little car had had another coughing fit. Whatever was wrong with it was getting worse. Every once in a while, I would press on the gas and the engine would just sputter, stall, and then eventually come to life and take off again. Luckily no one rear ended me before the engine finally caught and I made it in to work.

  I was a desperate, lonely girl. I didn’t have an extra dollar to spend on that car. None of my friends or family had an extra dollar to help me out either. What had really set me behind was the last 800 dollars I’d spent to get the car to pass its emission test. I couldn’t even afford groceries for the month. How could I go to my mechanic again? How could I tell my abusive night manager to take this job and shove it?

  “I don’t know how many times I have to go over it,” Kenny was saying when I came out of my worry-filled daze. “If you keep selling single beers to these bums, I’m going to let you go.”

  I kept my own mouth shut even though I didn’t think Kenny had the authority to fire me. The grocery store is called Ben’s Food Place because it belongs to Ben. Ben does all the hiring and firing as far as I could tell. Kenny is Ben’s nephew, but I still don’t think he had the authority to let me go on the spot.

  “Now, fill up all those five packs and get back up to your station.”

  Ug, his breath was bad.

  How did I dig myself in so deep in my short life time? Was it bad karma from a past incarnation? Was I just stupid?

  I was fat as I’ve ever been, as broke as ever and there were no decent jobs within 50 miles of Placerville. Not for me at least. If I could get a few hundred dollars together, and the car running good, I would pack up and go down to San Diego and live with my sister. She’s barely scraping by, too; but at least I could have a selection of jobs to choose from and public transportation at night.

  I bent over the beer cooler and began to quickly tidy them up. Then out of nowhere, I felt Kenny rub up against me from behind. This was the worst assault yet. I swear I could feel his little erection spear me right in the butt as he boldly grabbed my hips in his spindly claws.

  I whirled around to slap him, but he caught my arm at the wrist. He put his weight up against me. I was leaning back over the cold beer. I was off balance. He had me. He squeezed my wrist hard, and said, “You really want to start trouble, young thing?”

  “Hold it right there you son of a bitch!” came a booming voice from down the aisle. Kenny froze. “Get your fucking hands off that woman, Mister,” came an order with so much authority that Kenny dropped my hand. Kenny backed away and looked like he might wet himself.

  What a badass my rescuer was. He was average height and weight. That’s where average ended. He was handsome, like oh-my-god handsome; stunning really. He looked tough as hell and beautiful at the same time. My heart was liquid.

  The young man strode right up into Kenny’s face. Glanced quickly at me, then back up at Kenny, and said, “Is everything alright here, Miss.”

  My heart was beating out of my chest. He smelled like I thought sex would. It had been a long time. He had a 3 day beard, tattoos, was striking fear into my nemesis, and had referred to me as miss.

  Over the last 6 or 7 months, since I’d worked there, I’d heard Kenny the night manager backtalk so many shoppers it was ridiculous. It didn’t matter who it was, Kenny always had a snappy comeback. But something about my hero-stranger told Kenny he better keep his mouth shut. Kenny squinted his beady eyes, turned on his heel and walked off.

  My knight turned to me, put a hand softly on my shoulder, took the wrist that Kenny had squeezed, and inspected it for damage. I was flying. He was the man of dreams come to life. He was close enough to kiss.

  As Kenny got to the end of the aisle he couldn’t resist. Turning around he said, “Good luck getting a job after this.”

  My hero dropped my arm gently. He started toward Kenny, and boomed, “Good luck keeping your job, Mister!” Kenny literally scurried away. When my dream-come-true turned around, I got a good look at him.

  He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and old worn boots. That’s it, but in those few seconds my eyes took in worlds about him. The jeans fit perfectly with a thick belt and the thin t-shirt un-tucked at his narrow waist. I’m not a crotch watcher. I’m not even a big penis fan. I mean, I’d like to have one in me more often, I’d like to have a lover, I just don’t really need to look at penises to be happy. My point is, I couldn’t help but see that he had a bulge in his jeans that went down his leg.

  That was when I first consciously realized how overwhelmingly turned on I was by this man. He was all lean muscle, grit, and musk. I was swimming in my own passion.

  “Sorry about that,” he said turning his gaze toward me, “I’m Stevie.”

  “Thank you,” I gushed.

  “Not at all, Miss?” his voice went up as if to ask my name.

  “Miss April,” I blurted, “I. I mean just April,” I managed to get out.

  “Ho. K,” he chuckled, “It was no problem, Just April.”

  His smile was glorious. If I could somehow be around him and make him smile, my life would be complete. “No, really, thank you so much,” I said feeling flooded with adrenaline.

  “Ya know, Just April, I was only putting something the way it should have been. I had to do it of course,” Stevie said softly.

  “Yeah, but a lot of p
eople wouldn’t have done that for me,” I said, suddenly feeling choked up.

  “It was nothing. I don’t mean it was nothing because it was you. It was a big something that that jerk would manhandle you like that. I just mean, don’t think twice about it from my end.”

  “I still think it was heroic,” I managed.

  “A coward dies a thousand deaths,” Stevie trailed off. “What’s important is, how are you?”

  “Fine. I’m fine. A little shook up maybe,” I said.

  “Who’s in charge here?” he asked.

  “That was him,” I said, “Kenny the night manager. After 1, it’s just him and me.”

  “Let’s go,” he said turning and putting his arm on my shoulder. We walked toward the front of the store. Stevie holding me made me uncomfortable, but I was in awkward heaven. “I’m going to get you a cup of tea, and we’ll have a chat, and you’ll be good as new in no time.”

  A cup of tea? A chat? Who the hell was this guy? Are angels real? I mean an angel would be a badass, right?

  Dear Diary, I ran into a charming badass, at 3 am, in Ben’s Food Place. Yeah, he rescued me from my awful night manager. Then he put his arm around me and says he’s gonna buy me a cup of tea. It was just another night in the life of Cashier Girl.

  What was happening to me?

  Then I remembered my job. I remembered my bills. I remembered my little duplex already behind on this month’s rent. I remembered all the lack-of-money-obsessing that I do 99% of my waking life. It all came flooding back to fill the void that had been soothed by Stevie.

  “Wait,” I said. “I can’t just quit my job.”

  “You already have,” Stevie said, “Let’s get out of here.”

  We walked out of the sliding doors. What a relief. Had I really had to guard against Kenny all night long, every night? Was I really getting away? Did I really not have to fight off that creep for one more night?

  In a dream we floated toward the Denny’s.

  2

  Ben’s Food Place is actually the largest supermarket for miles and sits right next to the best hotel in town (Best Western) and the only restaurant that’s opened 24 hours.

  I found myself, in a Denny’s booth, sitting across from the most attractive human I’d ever encountered. I was holding a mug of steaming Lipton in front of me. “You don’t need that place,” he was saying.

  “Huh?” I said, trying to clear my head.

  “Let’s get some bacon and eggs, and fried potatoes in you, and see if you don’t come around.”

  “Cause I’m a biggie, right?” I said reflexively.

  “No. What?” he said. “No, because you've had a trauma."

  Stevie was definitely not from around here. I felt myself loosen up a bit. He was my dream man, but since I didn't have a chance with him, I might as well try to be myself.

  Biggie?" he continued. "No, you’re lovely.”

  “Yeah, more to love, right?” I said.

  “Uh, no,” he snapped. “I’m sick of this crap. Not you. I’m not sick of you. What I mean is, I see it everywhere we go. You’re supposed to have big breasts and a flat stomach or you’re not hot. And if you do have big breasts and flat stomach then you don’t need anything else, like a personality. Give me a break.”

  “Well?” I egged him on.

  “Well, it leads directly to the plastic surgeon’s office for some plastic breasts. Then you can starve yourself thin, bleach your hair blonde, and go get a fake tan. I’m all for people who want to look good,” he continued, “I’m just tired of the way media has pressured us into thinking a certain look is what’s hot. There should be a million definitions of what’s hot.”

  “What do you think is hot?” I asked him, not noticing the server with her order pad in hand approach our booth.

  He looked at her, her name tag, and said, “Hey, Renee. We’ll have two Number 4’s please.”

  She smiled at him a little too long, said, “Yes, Sir,” in a friendly tone, and walked off.

  Stevie turned back to me. “I think you’re hot,” he said.

  It seemed like I could feel the revolution of the earth, maybe its journey around the sun, too, and possibly the sun’s movements around the galactic center. At the same time I could also feel a burning blush rising to my pale cheeks. He gently rubbed the top of my hand with his index and middle fingers. He caressed the part of my hand between my thumb and forefinger.

  Just because I had fantasized about a guy like Stevie my whole life did not mean that it could come true. “Is this a sick joke?” I said, looking around.

  He chuckled sincerely, “Oh, April. You don’t even know how attractive you are.”

  I felt my blush deepen. Maybe I did have a chance with him.

  “You’ve never heard of Peter Paul Rubens?” he asked.

  I looked at him blankly.

  “Rubenesque?” he asked.

  “Fat, you mean?”

  “Rubens was painting the most beautiful women of his time,” he said softly, “Now we call them fat.”

  “OK,” I said.

  “Well, that is just what I’m talking about. Ever since I was a kid, I thought those Rubens paintings were way hot. I don’t know, maybe I’m reincarnated from that time or something. Those are just the kind of women that really do it for me.” He stopped and gave me a suggestive look.

  I went back to blushing. I was speechless. He was making sense to me. Had I been in a cloud of culture that had me believing I was hideous?

  The food came. I was famished. I had been trying to diet all night, but for once I had trouble eating. My stomach just wasn’t up for it. I was way too excited by my own life.

  As Stevie wolfed down his meal and some of mine, I nibbled. Stevie took a sip of black coffee. He licked his full lips. His clear brown eyes looked intently into mine. He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. A jolt of fire traveled up my arm, down my spine, and caused my clit to hum like a tuning fork.

  3

  “We’re called Mercury 7,” he said. His arm was around my shoulders, in the false dawn, as we walked toward the Best Western. I knew he had to be an artist of some sort. He was in rock band.

  It was the most bittersweet moment of my life. He was more wonderful than all my fantasies combined, but I knew he would be gone in a breath.

  This was just the way my life had seemed to go along for 23 years. Here, in the middle of nowhere, I found a real Prince Charming. I found a real hero who liked me, big thighs and all, but he was just passing through with his band.

  “Mercury 7,” I said thoughtfully.

  “Yeah, we’ve been together almost 2 years. We just played a club in Tahoe. The Empire?” he asked. I shrugged. He continued, “We’re heading down to Sacramento tomorrow for another gig. It’s at a place called Rocky’s, an outdoor venue. You should come see us play, April.”

  “I’m having a little car problem right now.”

  “There’ll be more shows,” he said, smiling and squeezing my shoulders.

  That was all Placerville was good for, passing between Tahoe and Sacramento. I’d probably die here, like my dad, watching people with real lives as they passed between Sacramento and Tahoe. My friends all lit out of here as soon as they could; all except for Tara. She already had a toddler and was living in a big house with a husband that adored her. Tara and my relationship wasn’t anything to brag on though. The only thing she and I ever did was sit talking over coffee. She would do the talking. It alternated between how great her life was and what I needed to do with mine.

  “So, rock ‘n’ roll, eh?” I asked Stevie innocently.

  “It’s called garage ska,” Stevie said as we crossed a deserted side street between a gas station and a Burger King, the stop light flashing red in the dewy fog.

  “Garage ska?” I queried.

  “Yeah,” he said, “it’s a cross between pretentiousness and I want to save the world.” He took his arm off my shoulder and put his hand into mine.

  �
�Oh, ho! Humor,” I said, a little too enthusiastically. I tried to tone it down. “I’m a little slow on the musical genre comedy bits.”

  Stevie smiled. “I've always loved to play guitar. Obsessed with it I guess.”

  “So, it’s just rock ‘n’ roll, then?” I asked looking at his plump lips in the light of the streetlamp.

  “Yeah, just rock ‘n’ roll, Just April. Nothing fancy, just music for people to get out of their heads for a while, hopefully. Move around a little bit, maybe. We just want it to be good. We work hard. The people come out into the night and spend money and listen. What about you, April? What do you do outside of Ben’s Food Place?”