by B. B. Hamel
Marrying the Rock Star
B.B. Hamel
Contents
Special Offer!
1. Chase
2. Delia
3. Chase
4. Chase
5. Delia
6. Chase
7. Delia
8. Chase
9. Delia
10. Delia
11. Chase
12. Delia
13. Chase
14. Delia
15. Chase
16. Delia
17. Chase
18. Delia
19. Delia
20. Chase
21. Chase
22. Delia
Hating The Rock Star Preview
1. Grace
2. Joss
Also by B.B. Hamel
About the Author
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1
Chase
Tijuana is a blur.
I know we got there early. Joss was on the phone the whole time with Grace, talking about some married couple stuff, I don’t know, and Nathan was his usual sullen self. Landon invited me for a round of Mezcal, which was probably where everything went wrong.
That stuff is brutal. It’s basically tequila, but worse.
Landon took me to some little dive not far from the venue. I don’t remember the name, but it was full of locals that barely glanced up when we entered.
After that, it was elbows on the bar, drinking until showtime.
Everything else is hazy. I remember the show. It was in this little bar called Moustache, way too small for us, but Karl wanted some kind of special intimate thing. We recorded the show and I think it went pretty well, but who knows.
Then the after party, with a big group of people. Joss disappeared early, probably to call Grace again. Landon and Nathan were hanging, groupies were everywhere.
Then there’s Ashley. She’s a blur too, but I do remember some things.
Pretty. Big blue eyes. Very excited smile. Huge, gorgeous tits.
She’s an American girl that came across the border just to see us play, and as soon as she approached us I just knew she was going to let me fuck her.
I’m pretty sure we did something, but it couldn’t have been much. There was another party in the tour bus, and Joss complained we were being too loud, and I remember taking her back toward my bed but everything after that is a blur.
She was gone early the next morning. Karl kicked everyone out, and I was left with a throbbing hangover as the bus sped off toward our next gig in Arizona.
It’s a story as old as time, and it should’ve ended there. I’m normally nice to the girls I sleep with, I’m up front about what I want from them, that nothing’s going to happen past that one single night, that I won’t ever call.
It’s maybe mean, I don’t know. But I prefer honesty.
Of course, nothing’s ever that simple.
“Did you see it?”
We’re on the road somewhere between California and Phoenix, Arizona.
“See what?” It’s nearly noon and I’ve been awake for a couple hours, nursing an epic hangover. I groan and sit up. “I’m getting too old for this shi—”
“Dude, you gotta get online.” Joss stares at me, a mixture of horror and pity.
I frown. That’s not a look I’m used to getting from him. Landon, yeah, he sees that shit all the time. Joss is basically always trying to keep Landon in line.
But I’ve never had to feel his wrath before. I keep my shit together. Sure, maybe I got a little too loose yesterday in Mexico, but it was Mexico.
When it’s in another country, it doesn’t count.
I pull out my phone and as soon as I turn on the screen, I’m greeted by a million messages and emails, even more than usual.
“What the hell?” I say, starting to scroll through them.
“Dude, what was that girl’s name from last night?”
“Uh,” I grunt, wracking my brain. “Ashley something.”
“Blonde, right? Kinda young?”
“Young?” I say, scrunching up my face. “She was in her twenties, at least. I think I asked for her ID at one point.”
Joss shakes his head at that, but whatever. It’s a good practice. Better safe than sorry.
“Well, she’s been writing some shit on social media,” Joss continues. “Some really… fuck, man, some really heinous shit.”
I start to feel my panic rising. “What kind of shit?”
He takes a breath and gives me that look again. “You’d better read it yourself.”
It’s all over TMI. I don’t know how this happened so fast, since she was kicked off our bus barely a few hours ago, but they already have an interview with her.
And it’s not good. It’s very, very not good.
Chase Lewis, bass player for super band Slide, allegedly had some very interesting sexual desires according, to a young fan who met him after the Slide show in Tijuana, Mexico.
TMI broke the story . . . Ashley Kelty, twenty-two, contacted TMZ with the story.
Ashley claims she met Chase after their show, and he was kind, at first. However, allegedly he brought her to a nearby hotel and proceeded to take her through a series of lewd and unusual sexual scenarios.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Ashley told TMZ. “I didn’t say no, it’s not like he assaulted or raped me or something. I actually kind of liked it.”
When pressed for more details, Ashley continues. “It started with feet. He was into my feet . . . smelling, licking, you know . . . Then he asked me to spank him, told me to call him my ‘big baby boy’ or something weird. I don’t know, it was kind of fun, just really bizarre.”
Chase Lewis, twenty-five, is a founding member of the rock band Slide. They are currently touring in support of their critically acclaimed third album, Love Is Real, a new sonic direction for the band.
Now, however, Chase Lewis may be taking the band down a much darker path, according to Ashley.
“He said he wanted to watch me urinate,” she claimed “We did normal stuff too, and that was pretty fun. But mostly he wanted to kiss my feet, get spanked, and watch me pee. I was like, gross, but okay.”
I stare down at the article. It continues on like that, with Ashley making more detailed and more suggestive accusations. I have to put my phone down and stare at the floor to keep myself from puking.
“I’m sorry,” Joss says quietly. “I know it’s not true.”
I look up at him, shame and horror in my eyes. “We came back here,” I say. “We were never alone. I mean, I think she blew me back in my bed, or maybe we had sex, I don’t know. But Jesus fucking… a hotel? Those things?”
“I know man, I know,” Joss says. “Listen, we’re going to get through this. Nathan and Landon and a bunch of other people were at the party. You guys were never alone. There are plenty of witnesses.”
“But this sort of shit,” I say softly, shaking my head. “I don’t understand.”
Joss sighs. “Look, it’s not hard to see how it happened. TMI probably approaches all our groupies, offers them big money for a scoop… and that poor girl took them up on it.”
“She lied,” I say stupidly.
“Yep, she did. Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter. TMI prints whatever bullshit they want to print.” He sighs and stretches. “Nobody’s going to believe it.”
“Can’t we sue them all for defamation?” I ask, starting to feel my anger rise.
“Probably,” he says, “but do you really want to go down that route?”
I clench my jaw. Of course, I don’t want to get involved in
that. Legal proceedings would be expensive, lengthy, and could even pull some private shit out into the light of day.
I’m not into feet or peeing. I don’t have anything against people that are, it’s just not my thing. Still, I don’t want all my exes contacted, my whole sexual history laid bare…
“Fuck,” I say, standing up. “I gotta lie down.”
I stumble into the back of the bus, leaving Joss there alone. I climb into my bed, and just as I manage to crawl onto my pillow, I hear Landon stir.
“Hey, piss boy.”
I groan. “Fuck you.”
“No thanks, my big baby boy.”
“I’m going to hit you, I fucking swear.”
His head pops up. We sleep on bunk beds, and Landon has the bottom one on this trip. “Come on, dude,” he says. “You gotta see how funny this is.”
“Hard for me to find the humor in it right now,” I grumble. “She claimed some pretty ugly shit.”
“Sure,” he agrees. “Nobody’s gonna believe it. I mean, TMI? It’s a rag.”
“I’m gonna sue.” I roll onto my back, trying to stop myself from getting sick.
“No, you’re not,” another voice says from across the aisle. Nathan pokes his head out. “That’ll be such a pain in the ass.”
I glare at him. “You’re not accused of being into piss and feet, man. Easy for you to say.”
He stares at me, face impassive. That’s actually an improvement on the old Nathan. Ever since he reconciled with Joss, the tension in the band really evaporated. I think the success of our third album is directly related to those two getting their shit together.
Hard to think too much about that, though. Nathan sighs and rolls over again, disappearing into his bunk. “It’s not worth the struggle,” he says, his voice floating up over the sounds of the bus. “Just let it go.”
Landon rolls his eyes, but smiles. “Nathan’s got a point.”
“Fuck you both,” I say, pulling a sheet over me. “I’m going to sue the shit outta TMI and Ashley. Or something. I don’t know. I’m not taking this lying down.”
“What, like she did?” Landon says.
I swat at him but he’s already ducking back down to his bed.
Fucking hell. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. Normally I’m good about picking the girls that I’m going to sleep with, but last night I was just so fucking wasted.
And I doubt I would’ve seen the signs. I mean, how could I have known she’d go make up some bullshit story about me being into weird sex stuff just to make a couple bucks?
There’s nothing I can do about it from this bus. Maybe I should respond to some of the messages I’ve gotten denying it all, but I’m sure our manager, Karl, is already handling it.
I groan a little. Fucking Karl. He’s going to rip me a new asshole when we get to Phoenix. I’m suddenly grateful that he doesn’t travel on the bus with us, so at least I can try and catch a nap before he rips into me.
I close my eyes but sleep never comes. I just keep seeing that article floating in the air, and imagining the whole fucking country thinking I’m some asshole.
“How could you be so fucking careless?” Karl glares at me, his mostly-bald head reflecting the heavy Arizona sunlight.
He’s shorter than me, around five foot ten to my six foot four, but he’s also older and heavier and he’s been in the business forever.
We listen to Karl. As much as he annoys the hell out of us, he’s gotten the band this far, and we trust his opinion. I hate the thought that I fucked something up and made his life harder.
Or, worse, that I fucked up things for the band.
“Lay off him,” Joss says, glancing at me. “He’s been beating himself up all day.”
“Good,” Karl snarls. “Do you guys have any idea how many emails and calls I’ve gotten in the last few hours?”
“Probably less than I have,” I grumble.
“Probably double,” he says. “And I’ve fucking taken them all, unlike you.”
“I’m not up for it.”
“Good,” he says, taking a breath to calm himself. “You not taking any calls was actually smart. I don’t want you saying something fucking stupid and making this satiation worse.”
“How is this even a situation?” Landon asks him.
We’re all sitting in the living area of the tour bus. Landon’s crouched in the back, tapping with his sticks, practicing for the show in a few hours. Nathan and Joss are both at the table and I’m sitting next to Karl on the main couch.
“Boys, I don’t know if you all know this, but people love sex,” Karl says.
“We know,” Landon answers. “Right, Chase?”
I glare at him. “Fuck off.”
“Fact is,” Karl goes on, speaking louder, “people believe shit like this because they think it’s funny. Even though TMI is a fucking shit-stained rag, people are talking anyway.”
“What can I do about it?” I ask him. “I didn’t do any of that shit with that girl, I was never even alone with her, I mean, except for when she blew me or maybe we fucked, I don’t—”
“Stop,” Karl says, wincing. “I get it. I know you’re not into pissing and spanking and baby roleplaying or whatever she claimed. You just need to lie low, let this blow over. We’ll finish the tour like nothing bad happened.”
I glance at Nathan and he’s frowning. Clearly, he doesn’t like this strategy.
“We can’t just sit back and let the fucking shit fly,” Landon says, probably taking the words right from Nathan’s mouth.
“That’s exactly what you’ll fucking do,” Karl growls.
“I agree with Landon,” Nathan says. “I don’t like this silence stuff. We should stand up for him as a band.”
I nod at Nathan, actually a little touched.
“If Karl says we stay silent, we stay silent.” Joss looks around at the group. “What good can come from fighting this girl?”
“It’ll show she’s a fucking liar at least,” Landon pushes.
“And if we do that,” Karl cuts in, “we make people start to take her seriously.”
Everyone goes a little quiet. I look around at the guys, not sure what I even want.
Part of me wants to fight. A big fucking part. I’m so angry I can barely breathe and I want to tear that bullshit website to pieces.
I don’t even fully blame Ashley. To a lot of people, rock stars and movie stars are basically not really people anymore. I’ve given up my privacy, so I’m fair game.
I can understand that viewpoint, but it fucking sucks anyway.
Still, TMI should know better. Ashley’s just some girl trying to get a payday and a little time in the sun. TMI should know better than to print bullshit claims.
On the other hand, I think Karl’s right about one thing. If we answer her publicly, it might make more people start to take her seriously.
“Nobody really believes that shit,” Nathan says. “I mean, come on.”
“You’d be surprised,” Joss says. “I’ve been reading the comments all day and following it on Twitter.”
I perk up. “And? Our fans know it’s bullshit… right?”
He looks away from me. “We should listen to Karl.”
We’re all silent for a second. I stare at him, not sure what to believe.
If my own fans think what that girl said is true, anyone could believe her. Anyone could believe that I like to dress up as a big baby and get spanked. That I like to watch her pee. Even if that stuff were true, it’s nobody’s goddamn business what I’m into.
I’m a person. I deserve some fucking privacy.
“We stay silent,” Karl says.
“Fuck that,” Landon pushes back. “People are stupid. If we just tell the truth, find people to back us up, we can squash this.”
“No,” Joss says. “We can’t.”
“We can’t just sit in silence, it’s fucking—”
They start arguing like that, Karl trying to talk over them b
ut Landon getting more and more pissed. I sit there silently, letting them bicker, before finally standing up.
“Fuck this,” I say loudly. “I can’t take this bullshit right now. You guys fight and figure it out. I’m getting out of here.”
I head to the door. “Hold up, Chase, wait.” Joss stands, ready to come after me.
I give him a look. “Fuck off, man.”
He stands there for a second but withers under my gaze. I turn away and leave the bus, stepping out into the absurdly hot Arizona evening.
I just start walking. I don’t know where I’m going, but it doesn’t matter. I have to get away from that bus.
This is so fucked. I can’t believe our own fans are buying into that bullshit gossip. I always thought they cared about us, but obviously not.
We’re just rock stars. We’re not actual people.
I pull out my phone, almost desperate. I don’t know what for, though. It’s full of calls, texts, emails, all about that article. I scroll through it, dismissing notification after notification, until one catches my eye.
It’s an email from a name I haven’t seen in a long time, sent to my personal account.
Hey, Chase, I saw you guys were playing a show tonight in Phoenix. It’s been a while, if you have some extra time, we should meet up. It’d be cool to hang out, talk about old times, whatever, lol. Anyway. Here’s my number, text me if you want. Delia.
I stop in my tracks. I haven’t seen Delia in a long time, although I’ve thought about her a lot. We were friends when we were kids, really close actually… we always had this weird tension, but I don’t know, we were kids, so we never acted on it.
Then we both went to different schools, and she moved to Phoenix full-time, and Slide started taking off, and we just drifted apart. I’ve always felt bad about it, always wanted to reach out, I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to seem like a dick.