Rockstar Romance: Rock Bottom Love: Hearts On Tour Book 1

by Nora Crystal

  I was almost asleep when Travis shifted on the couch and I nearly took a tumble. “Whoa, what is going on?” I asked as I shook my head and tried to get a handle on the situation. Travis got me back to sitting up.

  “Are you okay?” He asked. I couldn’t even get my eyes to focus. “Here, take the inside,” Travis offered and we switched places on the couch. I was surprised by how awake I felt after almost falling off the couch and then sitting up. “What are you looking at?”

  “I’m looking at you,” I said calmly to Travis as I stared into his eyes. I kissed him, just a little peck, but he kissed my back, and then he did it again. I grabbed the back of his neck and then pulled on his hair a bit as we kissed. Travis started taking his clothes off. He hopped off of the couch to do it. “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t want to fall off the couch.” Travis laughed at me as he threw his clothes onto the floor and then helped me out of mine. He was almost too good at getting women naked. There were no blankets and the air in the basement was chilly. My skin was going crazy as goose bumps popped up all over my skin. I wanted to get warmer, but Travis just ran his fingers gently all over my body. I jumped and writhed as he moved.

  “Ummm!” I moaned as he stuck his tongue between my legs. I grabbed his longish brown hair and tugged him into position. There was one area that seemed to need attention. Travis read my mind and my tugs, I could feel my knees start to shake. I was bucking wildly and it felt like I had lost control of my legs.

  I pulled hard on his hair and ground my pelvis into Travis’ face as the orgasm took hold of my body. I tried to speak. I wanted to say thank you, or something, but words would not come out. I stared up at Travis. His washboard abs were catching the light perfectly. I watched as his finely muscled arms move down toward me, as he helped me up off of the couch. I felt so safe in those arms.

  I took a minute to compose myself and then I got up on all fours at the edge of the couch and I felt Travis slip in from behind. He felt so big in this position. I arched my back trying to make more room for him, and then I started to rock my hips in time with his slow, steady strokes. “Harder,” I whispered, and I felt Travis start to move faster, and hit up against me harder than he had been. I started to flex and pull on him with my muscles. I was squeezing him tightly between my legs. Travis grimaced and pushed harder against my force.

  “Ahhhh!” We moaned together as we writhed on our new couch. I could feel his sweaty body pressing against mine. I screamed and moaned as I felt him pressing further and further inside of me. He was big and I could feel the stretch deeply, and when I felt his hands cup my breasts I lost control. I nearly fell off the couch.

  Travis gave on last long stroke and I felt him erupt with passion and collapse all over the couch. I was under him, but I was still getting cold. The freezing cold basement was starting to get to me. As soon as the passion had been spent I was freezing.

  “I’m so cold,” I whined, as I shivered on the couch. Travis smiled and piled the clothes on top of me before he ran out the door completely naked. I turned and watched him run up the basement steps. He was back in the basement really quickly with the emergency blanket from the car. It was a horrible feeling scratchy blanket, but it was perfect. We snuggled under the itchy blanket and fell asleep.

  Until my exams were over I lived between the new house and the dorms. I didn’t want to go through all my stuff and move it just yet. I needed to focus and I was glad that Travis understood. He helped me study every night, in person or on Skype. It was so cute how much he tried to help me with my studies.

  I passed with flying colors and I started practicing at the only firm in the tiny town of Litchfield. Stern & Hellybich-Morton were excited to have a fresh face working in the office. Although I was barely working, I was spending most of my time with Travis. He said it helped him write to have me close. I was really taking to the role of being a muse, and I was planning a wedding. It didn’t leave a lot of time for work, and having enough money anyway meant that I only took on cases that I really loved.

  “I would just like to take this time to say thanks to everyone,” Travis said as he introduced the band that he had been working with. They were all farmers and they played everything. They also only played local dives. The Tire Kickers had met at an auction that none of them bought a thing at. They had just stayed at the back of the room talking the whole time.

  Travis had made peace with his old band mates, but they had all decided not to ever get back together again. They were planning a reunion picnic down the road, but nobody was looking to get back on the road. They were all happy to let They Might be Rock Hyenas fade out of existence.

  “Alright, this one is called ‘Banging on the Walls,’” Travis said as he started to play the opening riff. I still loved to watch him play. He loved it here, because the people all knew who he was, and no one cared. Our costumes were now strictly for Halloween parties, and other costumed activities.

  “Could you feel that energy?” Travis asked as he got off the stage. He was radiant when he got off the stage. There was no other word for it. These dive bar stages held a magic for Travis that stadiums no longer did.

  “I felt it, you guys rocked!” I yelled as he tried to cool himself down. The band was less than a side project, but it was all the excitement that Travis needed in his life. He loved playing the bars, he even played some of his new songs there. People thought of them as covers, but we knew that they were originals. The townsfolk loved the band, and there was always a big turnout. Even at the end of their 11pm set they had a huge crowd there to listen.

  After the bar we returned to our now fully furnished house and watched the stars as they shone in the sky. Neither one of us had ever seen so many stars in our entire lives. It was just so dark at the house. You could see so many stars, even without a telescope. We would sit on our porch swing and watch the heavens and just enjoy the life that we had built together under the starry night sky.

  *****

  THE END

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  Rock Candy

  Ch. 1 – Sheila

  “Tear My Face?”

  “Yeah Tear My Face,” I smiled at my friend as Janice tried to wrap her head around the name. “They have kind of a heavier punk sound, but they don’t really consider themselves punk.”

  “I don’t know if this is the kind of music we should be listening to,” Janice said as she looked around at the piercings and tattoos that seemed to cover every inch of the crowd. It felt like home to me. “Oh, he touched me,” Janice said as she almost ran out of the bar. I laughed as I ran to catch up with her. She was moving so fast I couldn’t get a hand on her until we were in the entry way to the club.

  “Janice, what happened, we used to go to shows all the time?” I asked trying to calm Janice down.

  “We’re not kids anymore,” Janice said, “I mean you still look like you belong, but I am too old for this, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Janice kissed me on the cheek. As she turned a burly biker walked into the club. “Eeeee!” Janice said as she ran out of the club.

  I walked back into the club. There was no way I was going to let Janice ruin this for me. I had been staying in far too much lately. I needed to get out and enjoy myself. The band was already starting I moved through the crowd trying to move as close to the front as I could.

  The sound of heavily distorted guitars filled the air. “We are Tear my Face!” The lead singer screamed. He was scrawny, with a big swell of hair that looked like a filthy mane. I looked from the lead singer to the bassist. He had at least combed his hair in the last ten years, but he was not better looking.

  Despite the heavy sounding name and the hype that surrounded them I was no too impressed with the band’s first song. The
bright spot was the guitar solo. As the lead guitarist started to shred, I could feel the strings as they vibrated through the deft touch of his fingers. It was a visceral reaction that I always ad to good guitar solos.

  When he finished the solo and the chorus resumed he looked up and our eyes seemed to meet. I could feel an energy coming through his eyes at me. I smiled and he grinned back at me. The guitarist didn’t seem to fit with the rest of the band. He had long hair, but it was well kept and he was clean shaven. His muscular legs were popping through the holes in his jeans. His muscle shirt revealed bulging biceps. He was the only one on stage who looked like he had eaten in the last week.

  When the song came to an end I saw him talk to one of the roadies, they both looked over at me. We were well into the next song when the scruffy looking roadies made it over to me. “Bobby wanted you to have this,” the man was furiously itching his neck as he spoke.

  “Thanks,” I said holding up my own back stage pass. The man looked confused. “I get passes all the time.” I held up the pass for Bobby to see. He smiled at me. I worked as a song writer, and the record companies I worked with were always trying to get me out to shows to gather information and get to know a band’s sound.

  It was always better to see a band live. Especially when you were trying to get a feel for who they really were as artists. So far I was not impressed with the lyrics that they had written for themselves. This second song was called ‘Tearing the Face’ and the first one had been ‘Tearing at Faces.’ What had seemed like a cool band name had turned into an odd fixation. One of these guys had to be connected to have the record company send me out here like they did.

  “Just help them find their sound,” Joe Bitacola had begged me. It had been on one of my rare trips into New York City. Generally speaking I avoided actually going to see the record execs. They were so focused in on money it was hard to generate any creative energy in their presence.

  Joe’s words echoed in my head as I listened to the terrible lyrics coming out of the lead singer’s mouth. “Trade the powerful power, for gooey goo!” He was screaming and I was scared. I just tried to focus on Bobby. He sounded amazing. I knew that I could build a sound around him.

  When they headed backstage after the first set I followed them. The roadie who had offered me the pass was standing right by the door and he let me through immediately. He gave me a little bow as I walked past him. The halls behind the stage were like a maze, but I was always able to find my way in these situations.

  “Bobby,” he said as I hopped over the arm of the couch and landed right in his lap. I was hoping to surprise him and throw him off guard, but clearly this happened to him a lot. “And you are?”

  “Sheila,” I said. I was a little embarrassed. I hadn’t really thought this through. I wasn’t sure how to move forward now that I was already on his lap.

  “You’re the woman who’s been sent here to find our sound?” The mangy lion of a lead singer snarled at me. I nodded meekly, I wasn’t afraid of him. In fact, I was pretty sure that I outweighed him. I just didn’t want to start my relationship with the band in a fight.

  I looked back to see how Bobby was reacting to the news. His smile hadn’t faded. I moved onto the couch beside him so that I could face the rest of the band. Bobby seemed to be the only one who was happy to have me there. “I just want to let you know that I am really enjoying the show,” I lied, but it was a necessary evil. “I was just sent here to try and help you refine your song writing.”

  “We’re not refined sweet heart,” the windswept alley cat spat at me as he at a cold piece of fried chicken. I was going to say something, but I had no idea what to say. I was thinking, but I guess I thought for too long, and the bucket of chicken paid the price. Drumsticks and breasts flew every which way and a thick greasy mark smeared down the wall.

  “Don’t worry about Liam,” Bobby said as we watched the used brillo pad on the end of a pool cue walked out of the room. “He is just a whiner.” We both laughed as we heard a trash can clang out in the hallway. “He has a hissy fit every time my uncle gives him any criticism.”

  “Does he write the music too?” I asked. I could hear the lead singer yelling at some roadies out in the hallway.

  “No, he and Seth, the drummer,” Bobby pointed to Seth, “They write the lyrics together. I actually think Seth does most of the writing.”

  “So your Uncle is trying to turn you guys into rock stars?” I asked as I watched Bobby finish his beer. He had full lips and a firm jaw line. I had to remind myself to pay attention.

  “He put us together,” Bobby laughed. “He used a focus group, and asked everyone in the 18-34 demographic what they wanted in a rock band, and then he slapped us all together.” I think my face had to be doing something awful. I was a bit of a purist when it came to rock, but that really surprised me. “I know, rock ‘n’ roll! I get the outrage.”

  “No,” I tried to pretend that I was fine with this situation.

  “Liam is the moody lead singer, and I am the sexy lead guitarist, Seth is the bad boy drummer, and Ralph, the bass player, is quietly brooding.” Bobby explained. “We all met the criteria, and we should’ve been stars already according to the data. You hate it right?”

  “No, I,” I had to stop myself. “Yes, I am outraged. I am. Especially at that dirty cue tip of a lead singer that just screamed at me about coming in from the record label and trying to fix his shitty lyrics!” We were both smiling and laughing as I railed on about Liam and his crap.

  “You want to know something even worse,” Bobby could barely get the words out when he started trying to tell me the awful secret, “He, he, h, his name is Simon.” We were rolling back and forth on the couch as we laughed hysterically about the singer and his secret shame.

  We were face to face. It took us both by surprise. We were laughing and rolling and then we were looking into each other’s eyes we stopped laughing. I couldn’t breathe as he moved his full lips closer to mine. I could feel the anxious butterflies swirling around in my gut.

  “Bobby, it’s time to go, the second set is starting with or without you,” Simon yelled from the door of the dressing room. I let out a loud sigh at the sound of Liam/Simon’s voice.

  “You’re going to wait for me right?” Bobby said as he grabbed my hand and helped me to my feet. “I want to talk more, about our sound…the band’s sound, I mean,” Bobby smiled and then turned and headed out of the room.

  I was still caught up in the tingles that came right before a first kiss. I was trying to just play it cool, but I was in trouble. A near kiss had taken this kind of hold over me, what was going to happen when I got the real thing?

  The crowd was smaller when the second set started. I had noticed a few people leaving during the first set, but the place seemed almost empty now. Liam/Simon was still giving his performance everything he had. He was filled with some sort of violent rage and as I stood close to the stage I noticed that most of the anger was directed toward me. He was staring right at me as he yelled and screamed.

  They left the stage after five songs and called it a night. There were still five people in the club that were actually there to listen to them. One was even clapping as they left the stage. I didn’t want to have to talk to Liam again, but I needed to see Bobby. Even that angry toilet brush couldn’t keep me away. I flashed my pass and headed backstage.

  I could hear the arguing as I walked down the hall. Liam was screaming at all of them, and the others seemed to be just as mad. They were all screaming about leaving and how awful the show was tonight. Liam stormed past me in a fit of rage. “You don’t have to help the band, because there is no band!” Liam ran past me.

  I ran the rest of the way to the dressing room to try make sure that I got there before Bobby got pissed and took off without me. I didn’t want to miss this opportunity to get to know him. Everything had gone so well already tonight, and I didn’t want a creep like Liam messing everything up for me.

  “Bobby, a
re you in there?” I yelled as I ran toward the door. I wanted nothing more than to see him sitting there waiting for me to show up. I knew that he would be feeling down, but I knew I could take his mind off of that.

  Ch. 2 –Bobby

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Liam shouted. "We lost the crowd because of those nine minute guitar solos. I hadn't even made it to the dressing room and Liam had lost his mind. It wasn't like we were going to nail it down to just one reason that any entire room full of people disappeared between the first and second acts.

  "Maybe they all thought we were done," Ralph shrugged. He sounded angry and moody, but he looked like a temperamental kitty cat. It didn't make any sense when I looked around at us. We didn't work together as a band.

  I had been in a great band when I was in high school. My uncle gave us a shot as soon as we got out of school. We made a record, everybody hated it, and we were over. I had been working as a sessional musician at the studio ever since.

  I couldn't wait to go tell Uncle Joe that I had crashed and burned in yet another band. I could already hear him working up to his, "You should be an agent," speech. It always ended with, "You have a good ear for music, you just can't make good music."

  I watched Liam storm off down the hallway and I sat in a funk for about a minute until I heard her, and saw her run into the door of the dressing room. I followed her into the room.

  I watched her shoulders drop when she saw I wasn't there. "Looking for someone?" I asked.

  "No one in particular," she smiled as I reached out and took her hand. I was getting drunk on the energy that was passing between us.

  "Should we get out of here?" I asked. I knew that some of the others were still hanging around and I didn't want to talk to any of them right now. It was always bad after shows, but Liam had really stirred the crap up. Seth was going to whine about the amount of work he had put in. Ralph was going to try and get my help in choosing a new name. We just needed to leave.