Lick and a Promise-Diary of a Rock Star Groupie (Rock Star Series Book 1)

by Veronica Moreau

  So, I did what I thought was best to do, I told him I would think about it. I lied.

  No More, No More, No Way

  Things got weird between us after that. I could tell he was trying to get clean and I wasn’t trying to do anything but score another high.

  I wanted this man more than I wanted life but the drugs wanted me too.

  I felt like a wicked mother with two children, one good and one evil, both wanting my attention, and I knew down deep inside that although mothers can’t play favorites, that one of them would win out and get it all and drag me down in the process.

  He still wanted me, I know, but after Phil came on the scene, I could feel him pulling away. As his drug use was slowing down, mine was increasing.

  He wanted me clean like he was going to be soon. I wanted that too but I didn’t want it. I was afraid of what we would be like when we were clean and sober.

  The backstage shenanigans really hadn’t slowed down all that much. The lead singer was still in love with his drugs, the attention, the applause and the sound of his legendary voice.

  His drug use rivaled mine and I could smell trouble a brewin’.

  I didn’t have any love for this singer, except for his clothes and now his drugs. If someone could get me high, they were now my new best friend.

  He was really hot in a womanly kind of way and carried himself with the ease and prowess of a lean, black panther.

  You could feel him enter the room a mile away. His charisma was intoxicating and you couldn’t help but want to be around him.

  I didn’t want him, not like that, he was cool to me though and I considered him a friend, a brother.

  However, like the other rock star, I wanted a drug buddy, not a fuck buddy and if he had the goods, I was going along for the ride and believe me, he could afford the good kind of goods. The very good kind.

  My head was so clouded with a diseased haze that I couldn’t see straight, couldn’t think straight. I wasn’t getting low too much anymore so why not get high.

  After leaving Salt Lake (no I didn’t call my aunt), we traveled into Denver to play McNicols Arena then on to Reunion Arena in Dallas, Lloyd Noble Center in Norman, Oklahoma, Market Square Arena in Indianapolis, then Roberts Municipal Stadium in Evansville, Indiana.

  I don’t think we fucked more than three times that whole time. The only person I was fucking now was myself. I was messing this up big time.

  I didn’t see much of that other rock star and his band of punks and their whore girlfriends although I ran into Roxy one night back stage. She and Cash had gotten married along the way and I couldn’t have cared less.

  She saw me and I staggered toward her and she slowed down, looked at me then laughed. “Slut junkie,” she murmured, “ya gonna mess this one up too,” and kept on walking.

  Why fight it, she was right.

  We were still in the Midwest and after the shows there was nothing much to do so we would all get together, play cards, those who still drank would drink and those of us who got high would get high.

  After, Iowa, Wisconsin, and Virginia, we headed into Landover, Maryland to play the Capital Center.

  This was where I first saw my rock star when I was just 14 and Peggy and I were experiencing our first concert together. The parking lot was where I got my cherry popped and the guy threw up afterwards.

  How surreal to be backstage watching them play in the same arena. As they played, I looked out from the back to see the thousands of screaming fans and for a moment, I got a rush that must be only a tiny amount of the high they get onstage.

  The crowd was a sea of smoke and haze, little flickerings of twilight from cigarette lighters held high in the air, a beach ball bopping through the crowd and that smell…that deliciously sick smell of marijuana, sex and adrenaline.

  It was intoxicating.

  I watched as my rock star played on that stage, swaggering back and forth, lost in the music that he and the singer had created. The words of each song echoing in my head for I had known every word before we even met. I was his biggest fan.

  Now, I was in his bed, for real, and instead of him looking down on me every night from a still, lifeless poster, he was looking down on me as he made love to me, fucked me…wanted me. Now, I feared he was looking down on me because I was beneath him. I was a groupie junkie, this monkey was clawing my back for real, and no amount of hot sex and rock star love could get it to fall off, die or go away.

  I stood there and watched the band play. The drummer was high on the applause and he beat the drums almost to death in his frenzy to appease the roaring crowd. His soft brown curls matted with sweat and his nervous eye twitching to every beat.

  The long, lean blonde bassist played it cool and let the singer and my rock star have their day in the sun. He wasn’t worried about the attention, he just wanted to play.

  The guitar player was kinda the same way. A quiet and gentle man who seemed to laugh at the absurdity of it all. A few years older than the rest of the guys, he just played and pretty much kept to himself.

  The stars of this band were the singer and my rock star. Twins almost in their unity. Playing off one another, making love to the crowd and to each other as they played hit after hit and revived some old classics. Their old stuff was always my favorite.

  Backstage after the show, everyone came back into the dressing room but I didn’t see my rock star.

  The singer came up to me, put his goofy face in mine and said, “Hey girl why the long face?”

  I asked where my rock star was and the singer looked around, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Don’t know.”

  Everyone was milling around, going nuts from the onstage high, and trying to bring themselves down to the backstage low.

  He approached me again with a wadded up fist and whispered, “Got a little sumpting, sumpting on the down low…and they will turn that frown upside down…” he opened up his fist and in his hands were a rainbow of colored pills.

  I was not a pill taker and I didn’t want to start now. I had enough on my plate, drug wise, that I didn’t want to add another addiction to my already growing woes.

  I sighed, “Gimme a break man, will ya?”

  He giggled like a little boy, which although was a part of his charm, was not welcomed at that moment. “It’s all good baby, he’s out there talking to Phil…he’ll be in in a minute…”

  Annoyed, I said, “Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

  He laughed, “Don’t cop a tude baby,” he leaned in closer, “…my little friends here will set you free…ya gotta feed that fucking monkey on your back don’t ya…he’s gettin’ awful hungry…come on!”

  He motioned for me to go with him to the other side of the room but I didn’t want to. I wanted to wait for my rock star to come backstage.

  What was he talking to Phil about that was taking so long?

  Unknown to me then, he was trying to get me help as well.

  Here I was backstage with the evil leader of the pack contemplating whether or not to pop a black one, a red one or a white one and on the other side of the door, he was trying to help me. I was a piece of shit at that moment.

  Everyone had left the dressing room but me, the singer, another guy, a security guard and a groupie.

  He lit up a joint then passed it around and we all took a toke. Then he opened up his fist to reveal the rainbow, took one, then passed them around the small circle of losers.

  I was not, was not, going to take a pill…there was no way in hell.

  The group passed around the pills, opening up their hands, taking one, popping it then passing the pile to the next person. When it came to me, I took the pills in my hand with no intention of taking one, and I didn’t, then as I began to pass them on to the other guy, my rock star opened the door.

  “What’s this shit?” he said. I looked guilty as hell.

  “There you are!” I said, “I was wondering…”

  “Yeah, you looked reall
y worried,” he said sarcastically. He was hurt and felt betrayed although I hadn’t done anything.

  He looked at the singer who was already flying high. “What are you doin’ man, I leave her alone for five minutes and you’re already trying to put your filthy drug hooks into her?”

  The singer, with a mouth full of pot smoke, laughed, coughed and puffed it out at the same time. He looked like a dragon.

  He began to giggle and at that moment, he reminded me of Cindy. Everything was a joke.

  “Ain’t gonna change it, can’t rearrange it,” he laughed.

  My rock star took my arm and gently led me to the door. He shot a look back at the singer, “You fucking disgust me, you know that. It’s the same ol song and dance with you, isn’t it? You have it all man and you’re gonna blow it. Keep away from her! Come on Poppy.”

  As the door shut behind us, I could hear him say, “Well, excuuuuuseee me.”

  My rock star led me back to the limo and we headed toward the hotel. He was quiet and although I had done nothing wrong, I felt guilty of something.

  We got back to the hotel, made it up to our room, and he shut the door behind him.

  He walked into the bathroom and I sat down on the bed. My head was spinning and I felt sick but I was keeping it together.

  After a few minutes, he came back over to me, grabbed me and planted a passionate kiss on my lips.

  Taken aback, I wasn’t sure what was happening, however I kissed him back.

  He gently pulled away, “Please tell me that you did not take any those pills he was passing around. Please God tell me you didn’t!”

  “I didn’t, I swear…I was just passing them over when you came in. I don’t pop pills you know that…you believe me don’t you?” I cried.

  By now he was standing in the doorway. He sighed.

  “Poppy, we got a problem here.”

  My body braced and prepared for the worst. I began to slowly cry and die inside.

  “I was talking to Phil earlier…”

  I sighed, I thought, here it comes.

  “Listen, I am asking you, no, I am begging you to come to Arizona with me. He can get you in your own room, your own shit, everything! In a few weeks time, we can both come out clean and live the life that we were meant to live…together. Don’t you want that too?”

  I did but I was afraid.

  “Is that what you were talking to him about tonight?” I foolishly asked as I made my way back to the side of the bed.

  He nodded. “What do you say? Are you in this with me?”

  I got quiet.

  He walked over to me, knelt down and took my hand. He wasn’t proposing marriage but he was trying to save my life, our life.

  “Babe,” he said, “I need you on board with me…” He was practically pleading as he continued.

  “Man, it’s so fucking hard to try and find peace of mind in this crazy business, ya know. I’m getting the strangest feeling that I can’t even remember my name half the time, let alone every song in our set list even though I’ve been playing em since 1970. I want to be with you Honey but there’s not even any breathin’ room between pleasure and pain anymore and it’s not because of you, baby it’s the drugs, the poison. We went from friends to lovers to partners in crime…let’s go to Arizona and get our shit together…for us.”

  He said us.

  All I wanted in life was someone that I couldn’t resist, someone who felt the same way about me and I knew all I needed to know by the way that I got kissed just a few moments ago. This was real.

  This was finally happening but how did my sunshine get so damn shady?

  What It Takes

  We had 18 more cities to go before the end of the tour.

  After our talk the other night, he told me to think about his offer and I had until the Civic Center in Pittsburgh, the last stop on the tour, to decide.

  I was too foolish to see that this man cared about me and was trying to save my wretched life, maybe I didn’t think I was worth saving, I don’t know.

  Back to the tour, I don’t think Gooch had scheduled it right, but what did I know. The band was playing non-stop and we had no breaks in between. He said that if we all got back to New England, the band would fall back into old habits, be around drug pushers, low life friends and that type of rot and he wanted to keep them on the road to keep an evil eye on them.

  He was a fucking dumb ass if he thought there were no pushers on the road. There was a dick around every corner who wanted to peddle his free wares to a rock star so he could say he “partied” with the big league.

  Hell, people even approached me all the time backstage with coke for my “ol man” or pills for the lead singer, “You’ll make sure and tell him they’re from me won’t ya sweetie?”…it was a never ending smorgasbord of drugs, sex and women. It was like a mad and wicked carnival and the lead singer was the ringmaster of it all.

  If the drugs weren’t intoxicating enough, the whores were everywhere. Big boobs, little boobs, no boobs…black, white, yellow…old, young, fat, skinny…if they had a pussy, they wanted a rock star cock inside it.

  I was pushed, tousled, almost punched by groupies. I’ve been threatened, spit on, had my hair pulled…once an old whore told me that she was really my rock star’s wife and they had three kids together! She must have been 60 years old!

  The lead singer was a horse of a different color. He would love em and he’d hate em but to him they were all the same. Pussy! Beside heroin, that sweet tasting juice between a woman’s legs got him higher than anything he could ram into his withered veins.

  He did not discriminate either. If she wanted it, she got it. He was the only man I have ever seen who had a perpetual hard on. If the wind blew, he was ready to go.

  He had been married once before I came on the scene. I think her name was Valerie or something like that. I never knew her but she was a junkie who stole his heart. She ended up stealing his money too in a nasty divorce and he vowed to keep the marriage vows at bay.

  He told me once, “Poppy, let me tell a little bout love…”

  “Oh man, here we go!” I would laugh.

  “I can have any woman I want…”

  “Ya can’t have me,” I smiled which made my rock star laugh.

  The singer laughed too, “Who said I wanted ya?” he winked.

  “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted…I can have any woman that I want, wouldn’t ya say…you two young lovers here…” he pointed to us… “Now I’ve known you forever and I would have to say that you are, my good man, a relationship man, am I right or wrong?”

  My rock star laughed and nodded.

  “So,” the showman continued, “you two are good together, I see it, the band sees it, but the question is, do you see it? “

  My rock star smiled and looked at me.

  The singer continued, “Yeah, you see it but I don’t want to see it…it ain’t good for me…so you take what’s good for you and I’ll take my freedom.”

  I laughed, “How is that a lecture about love? That was so stupid and as usual all about you!”

  We had some good times on the road.

  But now…

  After Maryland, the band played the War Memorial in Utica, New York, the Pocono Downs Race Track in Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania (that was fun), Nassau Coliseium, Long Island, Broome Country Memorial Arena in Binghamton, New York then on to Madison Square Garden in New York City.

  During the tour, I tried to keep my drug use down and my rock star was staying on a pretty even keel. However, no matter what the season, it was always snowing 8-balls.

  Our lovemaking was getting back to normal too and I was glad since we had a few weeks of bullshit talks about drugs and decisions and well, drama…drama about bullshit talks, drugs and decisions.

  Madison Square Garden was a blast! It’s in the New York City borough of Manhattan and it’s located at 8th Avenue, between 31st and 33rd Streets. I had never been to New York City before and since
I was afraid of heights, the tall buildings scared me.

  When I first entered the arena, it took my breath away. It had these six levels of seats and could hold like 20,000 people or some crazy number. Hell it’s a freaking land mark! The guys said they loved playing there and I overheard someone say that Led Zeppelin had played there 15 times.

  The lead singer was getting bad and my rock star was getting fed up. I remembered when he told me about his drug problem when we were in the black Jeep back in Boston. The singer’s drug use was off the chain and how he was not only pissing people off, be he was literally falling off…the stage and the wagon.

  At the Civic Center in Hartford, Connecticut, he was bouncing around on stage and in the middle of one of their biggest hits…plop! Off the stage he went and to the delight of the barely clothed floozies in the front row, he landed not on their laps but on the floor!

  A broken arm and a broken collarbone later, the remaining leg of the tour was cancelled.

  Although we still had several cities to go, Gooch had had enough and told the boys that was it…it was rehab or back to the streets. He was done, through, kaput! They had five seconds to make a decision or he was going to make it for them.

  The plane fueled up for Arizona.

  Back at the hotel room, my rock star was angry, sad and sick about the whole situation. “I’ve told him a million times you can’t treat the fans this way, you just can’t. People can’t afford to pay these outrageous ticket prices and when they do, he fucks up and falls off the fucking stage.” I had never seen him so angry.

  He was packing his shit, talking to himself, and basically arguing with the air about “the fucked up lead singer”…I just sat there listening.

  Since we had been together, I had accumulated a lot of cool rock star rags. I had coats of sable, leather jeans, cool gypsy bags and of course, I still kept my never know bag cause ya just never know.