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

by Veronica Moreau

  “Hey, you know what,” I said, “don’t go to any trouble, I don’t mind getting a ticket and getting a seat out front. It’s no biggie.”

  He looked surprised. “What are you talking about? You’re my guest and you can stay back here. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m the rock star and I can make the rules.” He laughed a hearty belly laugh and I liked him for that moment.

  He was not a big guy, not in that way I mean, I don’t really remember that size actually…anyway I mean he was built little and was a nice little package of blonde sunshine even though I never had a thing for blondes. However, back in the day, this blonde had a thing (or two) for me and he was acting like he still did.

  That was cool and all but honestly, I was on a mission. My rock star was holed up in a rehab center out West, fighting an addiction to drugs and trying his damndest to kill that monkey on his back. I was sure as hell not going to cheat on him or make my problems worse. I was however, in the mood to get high but getting low was going to have to wait.

  I was a bitch but I wasn’t a total bitch.

  I did like this guy though, we had already broken the ice many years ago, and he got the blow job extraordinaire back in the day. Ya know, when two people are intimate, other people can see it, at least in my mind, I think they can.

  However, who was I trying to kid? I was a groupie and even though the fans knew my name now too, that didn’t change the fact, the one and only fact at hand right now. I was on drugs, I had a problem, I had been a groupie slut who fell into bed and into love with the man of my dreams. He just happened to have been a famous rock star who played lead guitar in one of the biggest bands in the world. God, how I missed him. I’m coming to you Baby…I’ll find you.

  “Hey,” he said, waving a hand in front of my face, “cat got your tongue?”

  “What?” I must have been really lost in my thoughts.

  “I was talking to you and you just spaced out on me girl,” he said. “I was saying that if you are more comfortable out front, I can arrange a front row seat for you, on the house of course. Does that work for ya?”

  “Great,” I said, “that would be great, thank you!”

  I watched them play and it brought back memories of my band, my rock star’s band, the only band that mattered to me right now.

  I was hoping that once they got their shit together, they would go back on tour and the fans could see them live again.

  The lead singer was a really cool cat and I had a love for him like a little sister but I know he and my rock star butted heads sometime but it was all in the name of music.

  I listened to this 80’s band and got lost in their hits that sadly, I knew every word to and I was embarrassed to admit that.

  After the show, I was invited to the after party that was actually taking place at the lounge in my hotel. Imagine that!

  They were headed back out on the road tomorrow so this was not going to be a big bash but there would be food, drugs and alcohol. Okay, I’ll be there.

  The lead singer was pretty clean when it came to drugs. He smoked pot once in a while but didn’t really drink or do any of the hard stuff.

  He had some serious medical issues that kept his sugar levels running up and down the chart so he kept a close eye on what he put into his mouth and into his body.

  I sometimes wish I had that attitude!

  He also had two little girls and a woman back home, whom he had been in a long term relationship with for many years. She knew who he was and accepted him along with the rock star life and besides, she already snagged him, she was the mother of his children.

  The real druggie in the group was the guitarist who was a real ugly piece of work. Wild bleached blonde hair that made him look like he had stuck his finger into a light socket and loud, talk about loud, he bordered on obnoxious. Even before I had the “pleasure” of meeting him tonight, he was not anyone that I even found remotely attractive.

  I remembered what the other groupies had said about him however he was cool to me, he had drugs and that would make him my new best friend.

  Stay cool Poppy, stay cool!

  I didn’t really know what this band, or should I say, the lead singer had read about me. Hell, I hadn’t read any of the shit that was put out about me so who knew. I had seen some of the rock magazines and saw some photos of me and my rock star and we were usually photographed spaced out at a table in a restaurant, with the lead singer, some blonde next to him and the table was full of empty glasses and wine bottles. No wonder people thought we were a bunch of winos. Hell, I never even touched the stuff.

  There were other shots of us together leaving a club or getting into a limo. Most of the photos were not about us in any way shape or form. I was not the star, not the celebrity, he was, they were, not me. I was just happy to be on his arm, under his body and on his rock star cock.

  After the show, we all headed back to the hotel. I was not in the mood to party, although I was always in the mood to get high and get low.

  However, I knew that I was headed out West to get clean, find my rock star and then he could get me dirty again. The good kind of dirty, if ya know what I mean.

  The girls from backstage were snobby whore bitches who wouldn’t give me the time of day and thought I was there to steal their men. Please, these boys couldn’t hold a candle to my rock star and his band.

  This band was a bunch of pretty boys who still wore makeup and thought they were 16. Although the other lead singer was not against throwing on a bit of black eyeliner, they were dirty sexy who dripped little droplets of sex, semen and adrenaline everywhere they went.

  Their clothes were cooler and were more Bohemian than the ripped jeans and spandex this band was known for, although now, they were trying to be more mainstream and look like adults. Yeah right!

  I never went for the pretty boys. I liked a guy who looked like he knew how to fuck, and his idea of a good time was eating food and getting screwed. Plus, I didn’t want a guy who was prettier than me.

  However, this lead singer, although pretty like a girl was a really cool guy who was into motocross and sports. Yuck! However it didn’t matter, I wasn’t going to marry the guy.

  The lounge was full of VIPs and I saw some other famous faces among the crowd. One was a British rocker who happened to be in town with his wife who was also famous in her own right.

  When I saw him, I didn’t realize how short he was and although he seemed like a nice guy, I wished he had taken the marbles out of his mouth so I could have understood what the hell he was trying to say.

  I kinda walked around looking for nothing and just killing time and thinking about what lay ahead for me.

  Suddenly, the lead singer popped up and said, “There you are! Thought you ran off girl!” He smiled that sunshine smile. “Come here,” he took my hand, “there’s some people I want you to meet.”

  I wondered why, since I thought who the hell was I to meet some of his friends?

  I was getting a headache and needed a fix but he was so adorable and friendly that I followed him like a little puppy.

  He introduced me to some record people I had never heard of and although nice, they were just glad handing him and knew that he was just a meal ticket to them.

  Finally alone I said, “Hey man, I’ve had a good time but I really need to get back up to my room.”

  “Oh no,” he made a sad puppy dog face, “you feeling okay?”

  I sighed, “Yeah, just got a bad headache and I have a big day ahead of me tomorrow.”

  “Oh yeah, where ya headed?”

  I smiled and took a deep breath…”Arizona…”

  He knew. “Ah, I see, well good for you girl, I mean it, I’m happy for you, good for you. Give him my best, I wish you luck with everything.”

  I nodded, “Thanks…”

  “Well, on that note,” he continued, “you’re in luck. I am headed back home tomorrow to Shonda and the girls and we live right outside of Phoenix, let me give you a lift.”r />
  I knew that meant a long ride on a tour bus with a crazy rock and roll band and although that was okay with me, I thought about the six weeks. It wouldn’t take that long to get out West but it was another few days gone by that my rock star was in that place and I needed to be in that place.

  “What do you say? Give us a day or so to catch up.”

  I could tell by the way he was talking to me that he was not trying to get into my pants, he just wasn’t, and that was fine by me.

  Yeah, he was a big rock star with a hot ass and a sexy dance move but we had that together many years ago and although it was only one night, I seemed to have made a friend.

  I had the money to fly out to Arizona but I was so fucking afraid. I had been dirty for so long, been dying for so long, hell I was dying now, that I was scared to be clean. What if he didn’t want me then?

  However, the little Poppy voice inside my frazzled brain reminded me that he had met me before I was dirty and he wanted me then. Okay, I told myself, let’s do this.

  The tour bus also scared me since I knew what that meant. However, this band did not have the reputation of being the bad boys of rock and roll. Yeah, there was drugs, sex and alcohol flying around, it wasn’t like there was salads and yogurt on the menu but I told myself that I could be cool.

  The tour bus had a “backstage” rider too and the band needed a bag of tortilla chips, two pounds of grated sharp cheddar cheese put into a re-sealable bag of course, a case of premium beer, and a dozen bottles (or cans) of chocolate Yoo-hoo drink.

  So not only did you have to worry about getting stoned, you had to worry about getting fat as well.

  Aside from all that, the long ride would give me a chance to chill out and collect my thoughts. How bad could it be?

  The Clowns Are in Charge of the Circus

  The band got a late start, having slept till 3:00, and we finally got on the road and headed West.

  It would take us about 41 hours for the 3,000 mile trip.

  They had some small stops in between to perform however this wasn’t a tour. Oh great, I thought, more days added to the trip. I should have just flown. I thought, I could always get off and buy a plane ticket along the way.

  However, in some weird Poppy way, I was thinking that this would be my last hoorah on a tour bus. I liked the party atmosphere and the kinship of the band, the impromptu jam sessions and just being cool.

  It was kinda like going on a diet on Monday and you wanted to eat all the junk food in the house to get rid of it before you started to eat clean.

  Well, I wanted to party, get wasted, get high and let it be before I got clean.

  The lead singer didn’t like to fly so he took the tour bus everywhere much to the dislike of the other band members. Their manager, Dave, said if they were going to be driving cross country, they might as well be making some money.

  I was happy to see that the girls from backstage were not on the bus or anywhere for that matter. They must have been some groupies I thought but I found out later that two of them were wives who flew back to their respective homes. They hated the tour bus and wanted no part of it.

  I found a seat, settled in, and was feeling pretty sick. My head was pounding and I knew what I needed and apparently so did the guitarist, the obnoxious one.

  He had been staring at me for the better part of an hour. His look was one of hunger but not for sex. He knew another junkie when he saw one, one knows another, and seeing my plight, he decided to help me out a little bit.

  The bus was pretty big and quite comfortable. There were beds in the back, seats up front and a wide space for the driver who was pushing 250.

  There were five band members and about six or seven road crew, the rest having flown to their next stop. Oh yeah, Doogie was there too.

  The only girls on the bus were two groupies, and me. Well, I guess that made three groupies but I wasn’t there for that, not anymore.

  They were young, amateur groupies who, like most of them, tried too hard to get attention. I never wanted to be like that, to be thought of like that. I wanted to be remembered and it seemed like I was.

  I laid my head up against the window and tried to rest. My head beating time with a snare drum, my stomach feeling like a roller coaster of pain and upcoming withdrawal.

  I sighed a heavy sigh and let myself drift.

  My mind wandered back to the day I ran away with Peggy. Yeah, I’ve talked to my parents since then and they have no control over me, not anymore. I love them but I just got tired of hearing them fight, and dealing with the kids at school, just shit, ya know.

  I thought I knew it all, hell man, I know nothing.

  I smiled thinking about the backstage boogie and bullshit I had to pull to hook up with a band. Ah yes, there is much I have not written here, believe me, it would blow your mind, the shit I haven’t told anyone. I’ll save that juice for another time.

  Believe it or not, I turned a bunch of guys down, yep I sure did. Some were pretty famous too but it wasn’t all about greeting the meat. I might have wanted the rock cock but I wanted the rock star heart to go with it. It wasn’t all about getting laid. It was a lot about getting high though and I was feeling pretty rough right then and decided to nod off and dream away.

  In the back of the bus somewhere, someone had taken out a guitar and I think they were playing “Simple Man” by Skynard. It was nice.

  I was in my first level of sleep and the pain in my head had finally slowed to a steady and constant hum. Tolerable. I was almost at peace thinking of my rock star and the old West of Arizona.

  It was time for me to level with God and get in tune with the Universe.

  I was ready…I am ready to do this, ready to get clean and have a life with the man of my dreams. “Find me,” he had said.

  Baby, hold on I’m coming.

  Suddenly, there was a plop in the seat next to me. Opening my eyes, I noticed the guitar player smiling wild eyed at me like an idiot.

  Suddenly awake, I mumbled, “Hey, what’s up?”

  He leaned in closer, his breath like a two day old pastrami on rye, “I noticed, uh, you ain’t looking too good. Here…” in his hand was a syringe.

  I sat up a little more in my seat and I looked around. “It’s all cool,” he said, “they do it too, well most of them do anyway. Go ahead, it will help you sleep. This is some good shit Poppy.”

  I was asleep you fucktard.

  As fast as he was there, he was gone.

  He had just met me but he knew me, knew my kind. I was a drunk let loose in a liquor store, I was a teenage boy in a whorehouse, I was a junkie looking for my next hit…he was the wizard and he just handed me the keys to Oz.

  I held the needle in my hand and I looked around the bus again. No one was paying attention to what I was doing. The groupies were hanging on to two of the band members, the lead singer was in the back somewhere and the rest of the crew was doing who knows what.

  I had my never know bag in my hand and I pulled out a scarf and tied it around my left arm. I covered the area with my bag so no one could see, not that it mattered anyway, then I stuck the needle into my waiting vein. I veined it this time knowing I needed an immediate high.

  I had 40 some hours to go, I wanted to be sedated.

  I felt the warmth slither its poison into my arm and into my chest. My head bopped up and down like I was fighting sleep or an imaginary opponent in a boxing ring. I guess I was fighting something, an enemy…and my worst enemy was myself.

  This shit didn’t feel the same as what I was used to and it gave me an instant buzz. However, this buzz wasn’t like a speeding car, it was like a rocket ship on a one way trip to Mars.

  I felt funny, weird, my chest hurt and as I looked around at the others on the bus, I felt sick and I vomited a little in my mouth and it ran out and down onto my peasant blouse.

  I drifted off to la la land and that was all I remembered.

  “Poppy wake up!!! My God Dee Dee what the fuck did you gi
ve her?!?!? Poppy…get her on the floor…” the lead singer screamed.

  “Someone call an ambulance…Poppy…can you hear me…wake up…fuck man!!!”

  The guitarist stood off by himself, shaking in his boots at the thought of killing this junkie…this junkie who was on her way to rehab and to be with her rock star.

  Two guys from the road crew put me on the floor of the bus as the driver pulled over somewhere along the New York State Thruway.

  “Get her bag,” the singer called out.

  “What for?” someone panicked.

  “Just give me the fucking bag,” he ordered.

  Rifling through my never know bag he found the cash, the plane ticket and the rehab brochure…he also found the note from my rock star. “Oh shit, no, no, no!!! Poppy hang on baby, hang on…” he cried out.

  “Where is that fucking ambulance?!?!”

  Beep…beep…beep…went the machine in the hospital room. It was the sound of my faint little heartbeat, still kicking but barely.

  My whole body hurt and felt like I had been run over by a Mack truck. There wasn’t an inch of my skin that didn’t scream out in pain.

  When a body overdoses and comes back to life, the pain is unbearable. The body, now an animated corpse is trying to be alive again, to breathe again and every cell, every bit of your core is trying to function again.

  I started to mumble but had a tube up my nose and a needle in my arm. No, not that kind of needle.

  I could barely hear other people in the room, they were faint but they were there. “Poppy,” someone quietly said, “hey you okay?”

  It was the lead singer of the 80’s band.

  Opening my eyes a little wider, I could make out that sunshine smile and his blonde hair extensions.

  “I think she’s coming around…”

  A nurse approached the bed and checked my pulse. “Gave us quite a scare there Miss Bishop…” she said in a heavy New York accent.

  I felt someone else hold my hand but I didn’t know who it was.