A Song for Lucy: A Rock Star BBW Romance Short

by Clare Cole

  “Isn’t he gorgeous? Jeez, I can’t wait to give him the biggest hug of his life!”

  I turned to the blond girl waiting next to me – slim, petite and with too much make-up and not enough cleavage – and smiled. “Who are you waiting for?”

  “Danny, silly!” she grinned, flashing the perfect teeth her Daddy had clearly bought her. “Who else?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged, smiling. “Maybe you have a thing for drummers.”

  She sneered and flicked her hair back. “Hell, no! That Lucas dude is cute and all, but he’s not Danny. He’s just riding his coattails. Danny could have any drummer or guitarist or bass player he wants. Plus, that Lucas creeps me out. He always stares at girls’ tits with a shit-eating grin on his face.”

  I chuckled. She wasn’t wrong, to be fair, but he was still my brother. “He’s a good guy, really,” I said. “He’s got the biggest heart.”

  “Well, screw that. A heart isn’t going to make me scream like a banshee. I want the biggest cock, and that’s Danny. Did you see the bulge between his legs tonight?”

  I winced. Of course I noticed. “Uh, I wasn’t really looking…I was listening to the music.”

  “Bullshit!” she spat. “Who wouldn’t look at a hunk like that? That song was nice, though, the one he dedicated.”

  A smile crept across my face. “Yeah, it was pretty special.”

  “When he said who it was for I just died. I mean, to dedicate a song to me? That man is just something else. He knows how to push all the right buttons, if you know what I mean.”

  I was confused. “Wait, what do you mean? What’s your name?”

  She stuck out her hand. “Oh, didn’t I say? I’m Lucy. I’m the girl in the song. Lucky me, right?”

  I felt like I’d just been punched in the stomach, hit with an uppercut, slapped around a few times and crushed in a bearhug. Now I knew how it felt to have every single one of your internal organs head south simultaneously and wind up between your knees and your angles.

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “Lucky you.”

  I’d never wanted to get away from somewhere so fast in my life. Even though my legs felt like jelly and it seemed I would pass out any second, I pushed my way through people to get to the door.

  “Hey, Lucy!” I turned to see Lucas shouting after me. “Where are you going, sis?”

  “Leave me alone,” I said, beginning to sob. “Tell Danny he’s embarrassed me for the last time!”

  The rain poured relentlessly as I ran all the way home, streaming down my face and disguising the tears I’d cried over Danny Farris a thousand times before.

  ***

  I wanted to grab the biggest tub of Ben and Jerry’s I could and just eat the lot. There was just one problem – I didn’t have any. Plus my freezer was broke – it never rains but it pours, people.

  Still, that wasn’t the solution. Stuffing my face full of thousands of calories was both stupid and self-defeating. I needed to take out my anger more constructively, maybe by writing some music. But I sure as hell wasn’t feeling either creative or inspired. The muse hadn’t just taken leave, it had gone on a round-the-world trip at that point. My get up and go had got up and gone.

  Part of me was annoyed at feeling sorry for myself – what had I been thinking, getting my hopes up like that? Besides, there were plenty more guys out there – guys who would appreciate me and not dick me around the way Danny always had. But I was going to have to see him again, if only because he was in a band with my goddamn brother. Jeez, the embarrassment.

  I was about to curl up in front of the TV with half a bag of Doritos and a box set of Homeland when I heard the tap on my apartment window. Being three flights up, I gathered it could only mean one thing – someone with exceptionally long arms had come to wipe my tears away and smack me around the face with a cold, wet fish for being so miserable. I peeked through the curtains and opened the window. The slap of haddock across my cheeks would have been a vast improvement from what I saw.

  “Get lost, asshole.”

  Danny was standing on the street below, holding a puny looking bunch of flowers. “Lucy, don’t be mad. Let me come up.”

  “Over my dead body. And stop throwing stones at my window, Einstein. You’ll break it.”

  “Sorry. I had to get your attention somehow.”

  “Duh, the doorbell? Where did you get those flowers? Did you steal them from someone’s garden, just like when you were a little kid?”

  “Um, yeah. But it’s the thought that counts, right?”

  I started to close the window. “You’re a pig. Have fun on tour, hotshot.”

  “Lucy, wait! Please! You’ve got it all wrong, I swear. Please let me explain.”

  I leaned forward. “Do you have any idea how much you’ve embarrassed me? Do you have any clue? I really liked you, Danny. I know that may seem like a surprise to you considering how you used to treat me as a kid, but I really thought we might have had something.”

  “We do have something, Lucy. That song was for you tonight.”

  “Bullshit! Who was that blonde girl obsessed with your trouser snake, then? Huh?”

  Danny laughed, making me hate him even more. “She’s just an over-enthusiastic fan, that’s all. She’s harmless enough but she’s a bit stalker-y for my liking. We usually make security stop her coming backstage but she slipped through tonight.”

  “She said the song was for her. And you know what? I believe her because she had no reason to lie to me and you’re a big fat asshole.”

  “God, stop it! She’s not even called Lucy, for crying out loud!”

  I crossed my arms. “What’s she called, then?”

  “Rebecca.”

  “Oh, come on! That’s not even close!”

  “Exactly! She’s just deluded, that’s all. What are you doing?”

  I tapped away at my iPhone and looked down at Danny’s big, puppy-dog eyes. “I’m texting my brother to find out if this is all a crock of crap or not.” His text came back immediately.

  HE’S TELLING THE TRUTH, SIS.

  “Well? What does he say?”

  “That you’re being honest.”

  “I am, Lucy, I swear. She thinks I’m going to fall in love with her and we’re going to run off around the world together, which is ridiculous.”

  I leaned further out of the window. “Really? And why’s that?”

  He looked at the ground for a second then straight into my eyes. “Because I love you, Lucy. I’ve loved you for years.”

  We stared at each other in silence for what seemed like forever. “I don’t believe you.” I felt tears welling up in my eyes again. “Why would you want me when you can have anyone?”

  Danny’s smile lit up the street, almost turning darkness into light. “Because you’re the one, Lucy. You’ve always been the one. That song was supposed to be my grand declaration of love for you tonight and that dopey girl screwed it all up.”

  I bit my shaking lip then jolted back to life. “Shit! You’re supposed to be going on tour! The plane leaves in about an hour!”

  “Don’t care,” Danny shrugged. “A plane can wait. You can’t.”

  I felt a broad grin creep across my face. “How long can it wait? Can it wait the night?”

  Danny threw the flowers aside. “It can wait as long as it needs to. When you’re ready, I want you to come with me. Come and see the world with me.”

  “Anywhere in particular?”

  “We’ll start by watching the sun go down over the Grand Canal in Venice, watch it rise above Times Square. I’ll take you to the tallest building in Cairo, the top of the Eiffel Tower, the peak of the Great Wall of China. Wherever the road takes me, I want you there by my side. We’ll make the ground shake for 50,000 people at Glastonbury and take a hot air balloon over the Sydney Opera House while no-one else is around. Come with me, Lucy. Take my hand and jump off that cliff with me.”

  “What if I fall too hard, too fast?”

  “I’ll
catch you, I promise. I’ll take you in my arms, kiss your fears away and promise to never let you fall again. Make my dreams come true, Lucy.”

  I hit the buzzer to unlock the door below.

  “Is that a yes?”

  I wiped the tears from my eyes, happiness practically bursting from my body. “It’s a very emphatic maybe,” I grinned.

  When Danny burst through the door, we fell straight into each other’s arms and kissed like two people who had been separated forever, only reuniting again against all odds. In some ways, that was true. We had found each other finally, when both of us had been hiding in plain sight all along. His lips were full and warm, his touch gentle where needed but strong around me. For two people whose lives were defined by music and words, we were eerily silent, our kisses and bodies doing all the catching up we needed to do in silence.

  Eventually, we looked into each other’s eyes.

  “Now what?” Danny asked.

  I was still catching my breath, my mind a thousand paces behind. “Want to watch some Homeland?”

  “Nothing like a bit of terrorist drama to get you in the mood, huh?” Danny laughed. “Perfect.”

  ***

  “I told you I’d show you St Mark’s Square at dusk.”

  “I thought it was the Grand Canal?” I smiled, walking arm-in-arm with Danny over the ancient floors of the world’s greatest drawing room.

  “Ah, that’s around the corner. We have to get to the edge.”

  I rested my head on his shoulder and he kissed me gently. “I think I could fall in love with Venice,” I said. “I think I could live here.”

  “We could,” he replied. “We could get a little hideaway. I am in that equation, right?”

  “Of course,” I giggled. “How can a rock star can walk around a city like this unnoticed? How is that even possible?”

  “Because the city is the star,” he replied. “It’s bigger than all of us. We’re just supporting acts to the main event.”

  I turned to him and kissed his lips. “You’re very good with words.”

  “I know. I should do this for a living.”

  We rounded a corner and the water appeared, the orange glow of the sky shimmering off the gently lapping waves as the last embers of the day burned out. “This is too beautiful,” I said, struggling to hold back my tears. “I’ve got to stop crying all the time. Just look at this. Being here with you, I…”

  “What?”

  “I love you, Danny. You big, stupid oaf. I wish I’d swallowed my pride and told you before now. Maybe we would have avoided all the stupid maneuvering we did. We wasted too much time, didn’t we?”

  Danny kissed my forehead. “We got there eventually. Some people never do. Sometimes the most obvious thing to do is right in front of you, you just can’t see it.”

  “You have a tour to finish.”

  Danny sighed. “Tomorrow. Not tonight. We’re going to find a tiny little restaurant where all the locals go, eat freshly caught seafood and drink local wine and forget about being rock stars. Tonight, you’re my girlfriend and I’m your boyfriend, nothing more. I want to look into the eyes of the most beautiful girl in the world in the most beautiful city on Earth.”

  I pulled his body tightly against me, so close I felt we could melt into one. “Keep talking, Danny Farris. You might just get a glimpse of that sexy Italian lingerie I bought earlier.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  We headed away from the square, down the narrow streets and tiny alleyways to wherever life would take us. In the distance, we heard a Venetian street performer, singing opera that echoed around the old stone walls, a performance that seemed to be just for us.

  Danny’s song had led us here, one way or another. Our duet, on the other hand, was only just beginning.

  THE END

  NEW SENSATION – Sample Chapters

  We hope you enjoyed this free short story.

  Please also enjoy these two sample chapters of the first part of Clare Cole's hit rock star romance, “New Sensation – Curves for the Rock Star”.

  The full story is available to download FREE from Amazon.

  Parts 2, 3 and 4 plus the complete box set are also out now!

  NEW SENSATION

  Chapter One

  “Hugo Boss. You smell good.”

  I flashed a cheeky smile at the six-foot-two slice of pure hunk standing in front of me as I nervously attached the 50mm portrait lens to my camera.

  “Dahlia Noir, right?” he grinned back. “Givenchy. You smell gorgeous, too.”

  I felt my cheeks flush at the compliment and giggled a little before looking up and extending my hand. “I’m Amy.”

  "Amy Reid," he smiled, shaking it. His grip was firm but not too tight – respectful, almost. He placed his other palm on the back of my hand as he shook it and I felt a little tingle run up my arm, all the way to the back of my neck where the hairs stood up on end. "You're a great photographer. I love your work, especially the black and white stuff. I'm Rick."

  "Don't worry, I know who you are," I laughed. "No introduction required. And thanks for the compliment."

  He released my hand and stood back, hands on hips. "You're welcome."

  "How did you know which perfume I was wearing?"

  He narrowed his eyebrows and leaned forward, talking quietly. "I'm very interested in cosmetics. You might not know this to look at me, but don't be deceived. If the music thing goes to shit, I can always get a job on one of the counters in Macy's."

  I started giggling. "Or Harrods. You're in London now, you know."

  He held up his hands. "Excuse me. Forgot about that. As long as the pay is decent, I'll be there."

  Everybody I'd spoken to had been right. Rick Borrell, international megastar and lead singer of Beautiful Losers, was every inch the charmer I had been led to believe. He was also absolutely gorgeous – better looking in the flesh than in his photographs, not that I thought that would have been possible. He was on perfect form today, his dark hair slightly ruffled and with a little stubble enhancing that already handsome face. I was going to have to be careful, maintain a modicum of professionalism. But it wasn't going to be easy. As he positioned himself against the white photographic backdrop and flashed another sexy smile my way, I knew I was putty in his hands.

  Keep it together, Amy, I thought. He wouldn't be interested in you anyway.

  "So who's interviewing me? I hope it's you."

  I looked through my viewfinder and focused before firing off a test shot. "Why do you say that?" I asked. "Think I'll go easy on you?"

  "No, not at all. Like I said, I love your photos. You took some recently of The Vaccines, right?"

  I nodded. "Yup."

  "They were cool. Very raw. They looked like they were taken by someone who actually gives a shit about music."

  "I do," I replied, moving closer. "It's my life. It's everything."

  His beautiful blue eyes sparkled and widened as I spoke. He paused, then a warm smile washed over his face. "I thought so. So, are you doing the interview or not? Because if it's not you, I'm going to demand that it is."

  "Oh dear. You're not going to throw a rock star tantrum, are you?" I teased.

  "Absolutely. I'll stomp my foot and everything. And if my demands aren't met, I'm going to pick you up, throw you over my shoulder, march us to my hotel and make you watch as I trash the room, like all good rock stars do."

  I couldn't stop giggling now, my attempts at cool rebuttals and smart responses beginning to wane. I kept snapping away as he spoke, snatching intimate moments of him smiling and laughing. "Throw me over your shoulder, eh? I'm a little too big for that. I might give you a slipped disc. You wouldn't be able to stand or do anything for six months and you'd hate me forever."

  "Well, now, just stop there for a moment."

  I lowered my camera and looked at him, his expression changing to one of curiosity.

  "Firstly, I don't want to be responsible for doing anything that could
make me hate you forever. Not when our obvious love affair has only just begun."

  I smiled nervously and pushed a loose strand of my long red hair behind my ear.

  "Secondly, don't you make any of those silly comments about yourself. If you don't know how gorgeous you are, then I'm going to have to be the one to tell you. Corny, I know, but I like a woman to look like one, not like a matchstick."

  I was floored, but also slightly suspicious. Was he just being kind? "Thanks," I replied. "But you don't need to flatter me. You must have gorgeous women throwing themselves at you day in and day out."

  He crossed his legs, put his hands in his pockets and looked straight at me. God, those eyes were beautiful. "I was reading a magazine on the plane over here – Esquire, I think it was. They had one of those polls they do every year, 'Sexiest Woman in the World' or something. You know who won?"

  I shook my head.

  "Christina Hendricks. You know, the actress with loads of cleavage and a figure that Hollywood likes to describe as 'curvy'? And I agree. In fact, the results weren't even close. She annihilated the rest of the competition. If it wasn't for her, Mad Men would have no sexiness in it whatsoever."

  I started taking photographs again, partly because I needed more and partly so I could hide once again behind the lens, taking the focus off me. "That's kind, but I'm no Christina Hendricks."

  "Whoa there," he said, walking forward and grabbing the front of my camera. He gently lowered it and spoke to me softly, the smell of that Hugo Boss aftershave now just inches from my nostrils, causing a million tiny butterflies to dance around my stomach. "What would make you think that? You have an amazing body, gorgeous red hair and you're absolutely beautiful. It's taken everything in my power not to plant a kiss on those full, soft red lips of yours."