By
Shanora Williams
writing as S. Q. Williams
© Shanora Williams, 2013.
This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws, and all rights are reserved, including resale rights. You are not permitted to give or sell this book to anyone else. Any trademarks, product names, service marks, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. All rights are reserved.
The names, events, and character depictions in this novel are not based on anyone or anything else, fictional or non-fictional.
Editing by Yours Truly, The Editor
Cover Art and Design by Mae I Design and Photography
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty Two
Twenty Three
Twenty Four
Twenty Five
Twenty Six
Twenty Seven
Twenty Eight
Epilogue
Thank You
I can’t believe I’m here.
At a building belonging to a damn magazine company. This isn’t like me. The real Roy Sykes wouldn’t be doing this. He wouldn’t be standing in front of a door where loads of nosey fucks are waiting to hear about him… his story. They want to know everything. Where I came from. What environment I grew up in. How I got started with music. If I’ve ever loved anyone.
The last one is what gets to me.
Love.
Love is what fucked me up. Love is what literally twisted me up, tossed me around, spat me out, and destroyed me. I got so caught up with her that I didn’t even see the darkness at the end of our tunnel. She was my everything, but sometimes we weren’t everything the other wanted. Sometimes we weren’t enough.
Sometimes we give our all and nothing comes out of it. We give one-fucking-hundred percent, but in the end, we’re left with zero. It wasn’t supposed to end that way, and to this day, I blame myself for all the screw-ups.
It’s so hard to face this building. To relive it. To think about how heavy she used to make my heart beat or how her smile made me putty in her hands. That girl… damn she worked wonders on me. She turned me into a man. She was my first at a lot of things in life. She made me face reality. I wanted to grow up and become somebody for her. I wanted to get out of the slums, out of the shit I used to deal with, just for her.
And now, I’m here… about to tell all the FireNine fans and the rest of the fucking world why I’m so standoffish and why I’m so selfish with my personal life. Why I’m so quiet… why I always want to feel like a ghost in this enormous world.
“Roy?”
I spin around, facing Kelsey.
My one and only. My baby girl.
Soft green eyes meet mine, and a smile appears on her plush pink lips. My eyes travel down to her tight olive-green dress, gold heels, and the jewelry to match. I never thought there’d be a day I’d call another female the “woman of my dreams”. She’s perfect… like no other. Long and voluminous, dark-brown hair. Thin, cat-like eyes. Curves in all the right places. Delicate, caramel-brown skin. She isn’t what the fans expected—hell, she isn’t what the band expected. I guess they all thought if I were to fall for someone, she’d be some tall, boney model with no ass and no tits.
Hell no. I couldn’t get down with that shit.
Kelsey has it all, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in this fucking world. When I met her, she was real. I saw something in her eyes. I wasn’t sure exactly what, but I wanted to find out. I wanted to dig deeper because, in some sort of way, what I saw in her eyes had also been hidden behind mine. We had some things in common—in fact, a lot of things in common. Meeting her changed me. It… opened me up, which is a hard thing for someone to do. She’s the main reason I’m at this station right now. If it weren’t for her motivation, I’d currently be sitting in my room playing on my guitar.
“You ready?” she asks, hooking her arm through mine. She stands on her toes to kiss my cheek, and I laugh, a genuine, real laugh. “Stop laughing about my height, okay? Not my fault you’re built like a giraffe.” She bites on her smile, and I chuckle, pulling her into my arms.
“Babe, this shit is killing me.” I kiss her forehead. “I have to?”
“Yes, you have to. Roy, this is what you need… what the fans need. They want to hear you let it out. Everyone loves you, yet they know nothing about you. I told you how much it frustrated me that, as a fan, I didn’t know a single thing about you, but I still loved you.”
I raise my eyebrows. “For my looks?”
“Not only for your looks, silly,” she says, laughing.
“For what, then?”
“For… everything. The charities you donated to, the way you put on a real smile for your real fans.” She twists her lips, debating on the rest of her response. “There’s just something about you… and they all want to know what it is. When you go in there and tell these people what’s really up—like you told me—they’ll understand you. They’ll respect you. Right now, they think you’re some douche who doesn’t appreciate his fans…”
“Oh, get the fuck outta here! I have more appreciation for my fans than all the boys combined.” It’s true. I have the utmost respect for my fans because they gave me this life. They’ll root for us no matter what.
“Then prove it, Roy. Go in there and give them a piece of you. If anything, it should make you stronger.”
I look her in the eyes. She’s right, and I know it, but this shit is hard. I don’t want to think about it—none of it. “Kelsey, I—”
“Don’t say you can’t, ‘cause you can. If you can tell me, you can tell them. You don’t have to spill everything… just enough.”
“But I trust you. Knowing how these people are, they’ll blow it out of proportion and turn it into some bullshit story.”
“True, but you and your band are popular, baby. You can’t expect the simple things in life anymore.”
Sighing, I run my hands over my face then take a look over my shoulder at the back door, debating on whether this is right or not. I look at Kelsey, who’s already looking at me with a reassuring smile. It’s the smile she gave me when I first met her. It’s lazy… sexy.
My lips curl up, and I reel her in by the waist. “Just promise to be around at all times. I wanna be able to look at you. See you. I can’t do this shit alone, Kells.”
“I’ll be standing right outside the door, Sykes. No need to fret.” She knuckles my cheek playfully, and I lean down, wrapping my arms around her. I pull her into me, enjoying the embrace. She’s warm, alive, beautiful… everything I’m not. Her tongue slips between my lips, and I groan, skimming my hands down her waist and squeezing her ass, letting my tongue coil to play with hers. She yelps from the squeeze and rapidly pulls back, slapping my arm with a wide grin.
“Just because I have an ass to grab doesn’t mean you can do it out in the open, Sykes.”
“That ass is mine, Kells. Can’t help it.” She blushes, and I laugh a little, grabbing her hand. She squeezes mine, and I take a deep breath, facing the door, knowing what’s about to occur is going to either be the best thing to happen to me and the band, or the worst.
Wi
th all I’ve been through, things aren’t clear, but I do remember the day I met Rosemarie like it was yesterday. Some would say it was a perfect fall day: blue skies, puffy white clouds, bright green grass, and a cool, comfortable breeze.
Gage and I were playing on our usual bench in the town park. He kept hitting the wrong chord, and we had to keep starting over. I was pesky that way. I never allowed the boys to slack off. We were doing better. We’d just graduated school, and shit was riding smoothly. Life was sort of… easy.
8 years ago
“Look, you keep hitting the wrong shit, and we’re gonna be here all day.” I blew out a breath, placing my guitar down beside me. I ran my fingers through my hair, and Gage groaned, setting his guitar on his lap and pressing the tips of his fingers on the chords.
“I got this. Alright?”
“Apparently not,” I scoffed, and he shook his head, strumming once.
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. How’re things with Ms. Joanne?”
I swallowed hard, lowering my gaze. “Not getting any better.”
“When’s the last time you visited?”
“Last night.” I left out the part where I stayed until six in the morning. “I’m picking her up tomorrow morning.”
Gage looked at me with excessive concern and then set his guitar down. “Dude, look… saying shit like this isn’t easy—and you know why—but all I can say is keep your head up. She’s a strong woman.”
I forced a smile. “Yeah.” I wanted to say more, but it was all I could manage. I hated talking about it. He looked me over twice before sighing. I was glad he dropped the conversation. I hated talking about Mom, and I knew how much he hated talking about parents and family in general.
“I’m gonna get outta here. I’m meeting some chick for ‘tutoring,’ and then I gotta work.” He strapped his guitar on his left shoulder while making air quotation marks with his right hand.
I laughed, picking up my guitar again. “Have fun with that.”
“Sure you don’t wanna come?” he asked, taking a step backward. “She has a sister… an older one. A hot one.” He wiggled his eyebrows, but I laughed again, shaking my head and aligning my fingers on my guitar.
“I’m good, dude. Have fun.”
Gage shrugged and then took off down the brick path. I watched him disappear before blowing out a breath and placing my guitar down. Things with Mom weren’t good. Not a bit. And it fucked with me. Bad. I couldn’t even think straight. My only escape was music, but for some reason—at this moment—the music just wasn’t flowing for me.
Quick footsteps came my way, but I didn’t look up. I knew it was someone jogging. They were panting. No need to be nosey.
But in a matter of seconds, the footsteps stopped.
I remained still.
“You play?” an airy voice asked above me.
I looked up with startled nerves, meeting sky blue eyes. A soft smile was on her lips, her platinum hair was shiny… silky. She had on exercise clothes—tight, black yoga pants that clung to her hips and thighs and a tight, white tee that revealed a glimpse of her erect nipples. I hesitated on responding, looking her over.
She was stunning. Gorgeous. Every word in the fucking book that related to beautiful. Her plump lips curved into a deeper smile as she flipped her ponytail off her shoulder before bending down to tie her shoe. She was standing at an angle, and I had the perfect view of her ass. Fuck, she had a hot one. It was so wrong of me to think sexually, but the way she was bending down, right in front of me, made me want to hop from that bench in a heartbeat, drag her some place private, and slam my cock right into her. I wanted to hear her moan, scream, cry my name. I wanted her to be pleased by me. I’m not sure why this sudden urge took a hold of me, but as my cock twitched, I knew I had to settle down before I ended up getting into some shit I didn’t need.
The girl stood back up with a smile still on her lips. “You hear me?” She giggled. It was cute. She was cute.
“Uh… shit. Yeah. Heard you.” I ran my fingers through my hair, grabbing my black acoustic. “Yeah, I play. Have been most of my life.”
“Oh.” She pressed her lips, shrugging. “Can I hear something?”
“Depends,” I sighed out. “You got some spare change?”
Her laugh was harmonious. It made my heart pound. “Well, no, but you look like you’re very good at it. Maybe I can reward you with something else…” She batted her feather-like eyelashes.
“Oh yeah?” I looked at her beneath my eyelashes, strapping my guitar around me. “What you got in mind?”
She twisted her lips. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe—”
“Dinner and a movie?” Or dry humping until you’re willing to give into me?
What I asked obviously caught her by surprise because she clamped her mouth shut, staring at me with wide, crystal-like eyes. “I—um…” She laughed. “Uh… you would want that… with me?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“Well… I just… I don’t know.”
She blushed. She obviously was the type of girl who didn’t receive compliments much. I could tell. Her face was as red as a cherry.
“Come sit.”
She looked me over as I secured my guitar strap. I fought the urge to meet her eyes. What I was about to do was going to be something I’d never done. I’d never played my guitar for any female other than my mom. But for this girl… I wanted to play. And I also wanted to score myself some ass. It’d been a while. I didn’t usually go around picking up random chicks and fucking them, but I did have a way of getting a select few within a certain time frame in my bed.
“Your name?” I asked.
“Rosemarie… Rosemarie Beretta. Yours?”
“Roy.” I grinned, strumming my guitar and giving her a side-glance. “Sykes.”
“Nice to meet you, Roy,” she whispered.
“Pleasure’s all mine.”
I went with playing “Come On Get Higher” by Matt Nathanson, and as soon as I started, I couldn’t stop. There’s my inspiration. She’d just brought it right out of me. Singing wasn’t my thing. I had a voice like the people they rejected on American Idol, but I loved to play. I used to practice this song day and night, but I never had the chance to play for anyone.
Rosemarie’s knee brushed mine as she shut her eyes and inhaled the tunes. She was getting a thrill out of hearing the song. I figured she knew what the song was and the meaning behind it because, while her eyes were closed, a smile was hinting on those full, rosy lips.
I took the time to observe her as she bobbed her head and tapped her foot to the music. Her cleavage was popping out of the V of her T-shirt, and a trickle of sweat had dripped from her chest and slid between the plump curves. I wanted to stop what I was doing and lick that sweat away. I bet it was sweet, just like she seemed to be.
Her fingers were folded, and I made out a tattoo in cursive script across her right index finger. It read, “Life’s too short.” That was true, and in that moment, I realized maybe we had the same mindset. Apparently she loved music. I knew by the way she was swaying and humming to it. I knew she liked to have fun. Only a carefree soul would get a tattoo about the brevity of life. I had one myself.
There was something about this girl, and I wanted to know so badly what it was. I had a hunch… and it was shocking that I went along with it.
I finally stopped playing, and Rosemarie’s eyelids fluttered. She looked into my eyes, gave a crooked, alluring smile, and I think I nearly exploded in my pants. Fuck, her smile was sexy. She was sexy. Why the hell can’t I control myself?
“That was incredible, Roy,” she murmured.
I shrugged. “Lots of practice.”
“Yeah, I can tell. I enjoyed your little twist to it, too.”
I smiled. I didn’t think she’d catch the twist. Nobody else did except my band brother, Montana Delray. He had an ear for music.
Things became silent as I looked ahead, and Rosemarie lowered her gaze. The birds ch
irped above us, and a few people jogged by, some as a couple and some alone. I should have been speaking—I mean, it was rude of me not to—but I didn’t know if the plan of a dinner and a movie was going to work out. I had a lot on my plate, in fact too much. I didn’t want to drag some random chick into the picture. A part of me knew she wasn’t just some ordinary girl.
For one, most girls around Suffolk knew exactly who I was without the need for me to introduce myself. I was Roy Sykes, lead guitarist of FireNine. We were just a local band back then, but everyone around to knew and loved us. We got almost everything for free with a wink of an eye, did big gigs at Steele’s bar, and we’d always be the band playing at someone’s house party.
But this girl, Rosemarie, she didn’t know me. She didn’t have that spark of familiarity in her eyes. I was just a stranger to her, and for the first time, I was glad. I hated being idolized. I hated when girls kissed the pavement I walked on. I hated that they’d suck my dick just to get a kiss on the cheek from me… okay… I’m lying. I loved when they sucked my dick, but I just hated the popularity. I loved my peace. My quiet. I loved either being to myself or hanging with the boys I grew up with. My band. I knew we were going to have to rise to another level one day, but I was never ready for it. I wasn’t ready for any of life’s shit to be thrown at me, but I had to man up. I had to get over it and face it all.
Rosemarie shifted, and I looked at her just as she stood. “Well, that was great. Thank you.” She forced a smile and took a step back.
I hesitated, unsure of what to do… what to say. I wasn’t sure if she was going to be worth my time, or the bigger question, whether I was going to be worth hers. I didn’t know anything about this girl, and already, she was making my head spin, my cock twitch, my mouth dry, and my sentences short. I wanted her in my bed more than anything, but I knew she was worth way more than that. I had respect for women who had respect for themselves. She was one of the few girls who wouldn’t just give it up to any boy she came across.
She took one more step back as I stared at her like a fucking idiot. She probably thought I was crazy—hell, I thought I was crazy. I didn’t know what I wanted. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to fuck her brains out and ditch her, or fuck her brains out and keep her around. She looked like a keeper. She looked like she could provide nothing but happiness. Satisfaction. Peace.
Who I Am (FireNine) Page 1