Love of a Rockstar

by Nicole Simone

  By

  Nicole Simone

  * * * *

  Love of a Rock Star

  Copyright © 2013 by Nicole Simone

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  About the Author

  This book wouldn’t have been possible without the support of my parents.

  Thank you for always believing my dream was in reach.

  I PICKED THE toys up off the floor with a small sigh. It always seemed like a never-ending mess in my house and no matter what I did, the chaos stayed that way. It wasn’t my daughter’s fault; I was the one who overindulged her.

  A small part of me hoped the dollies and the pink tea set with the matching saucers would deter her from noticing the lack of a father figure in her life, which was ridiculous. Even at four, she had a keen sense of her surroundings. One morning she asked if the woman sneaking out of Mr. Avery’s house across the street was his wife. To say I didn’t know how to answer her question would be putting it mildly. My words became fumbled; Nil lost interest and walked away. Her father would have stayed calm and collected. He was the yin to my yang, always balancing me out.

  Until he left us.

  I snatched up a sippy cup from the floor. “Stupid asshole,” I muttered to myself. “Leaving me to deal with this mess all alone.”

  “Mommy?”

  My daughter’s voice, thick with sleep, made me glance over. She stood in the doorway, clothed in her pajamas, her big blue eyes studying me. I gave birth to Nil as a scared twenty-year-old, but as soon as the nurse placed her in my arms, a woman emerged from within me. One month before I was to give birth, her father got a life changing opportunity to go on tour, and ran off to pursue his dreams of becoming a rock star. My heart shattered into a million pieces when he left, and I had no idea how I would manage single motherhood. What kept me going was the tiny imprint of a foot beneath my skin on my stomach during my ninth month of pregnancy. That was why I named her Nil, light of the sun.

  “What’s an asshole?” she asked.

  Grimacing, I picked her up onto my hip. “A bad word sweetie, not one you want to use.”

  “But you said it.”

  “True, but only grown-ups can,” I explained.

  She titled her head to the side. “So when I’m Sissy’s age, I can say it?”

  Sissy, Nil’s cousin, was five years older than her. If she thought eight years old was a grown-up, I must be ancient to my daughter.

  “We’ll see,” I said.

  As we crossed the short distance to her bedroom, I prayed she’d forget this conversation. The last thing I needed was for my daughter to start cursing. I plopped Nil down onto her bed and tugged off her shirt. My grandmother would be here soon to babysit so I could go to work.

  “Which outfit?” I asked my daughter.

  I held up a pink sparkly dress and a jumper decorated with unicorns. My heart burst with love as her rosebud lips pursed. When I was her age, fashion was also my one true obsession.

  She pointed her chubby finger to the dress. “That one.”

  Her choice didn’t surprise me. Anything with pink and sparkles always won.

  Nil made a grabbing motion with her hands. “Let me do it.”

  I handed it over and she proudly pulled the dress over her head. She still had her PJ pants on which made the outfit a mishmash.

  “Sweetie, a dress isn’t a dress if you’re wearing pajama bottoms underneath.”

  Nil’s face hardened into a mask of determination. “I like it.”

  For all I cared, she could wear whatever she wanted, but since my grandmother was coming over, I wanted Nil to appear presentable. When the news of my pregnancy broke, my family wasn’t happy. My parents lived on the upper echelon of society with an image to protect. Pregnancy out of wedlock became an embarrassment.

  What really unnerved them, though, was getting knocked up by my rocker boyfriend, the one guy who drank, partied, and fulfilled every stereotypical image out there about musicians. My parents said I was insane to believe he would stick by me. As much as I hated to admit, their words held truth. But when you’re in love, you’re blind.

  The guy I knew chased away my nightmares and told me he loved me every single day. I figured once Nil was born, he’d shed his rock star persona. Instead, he abandoned us to follow his dreams while I put mine on hold to raise our child. My grandmother was the only person who didn’t remind me how naïve I was. She became my lifesaver in the rocky journey during my daughter’s first year. Without her, I wouldn’t have known what kind of baby food to buy or how green poop is a normal occurrence. During those first three years I tried to show my Grandma Doris how capable a mother I was without her, which meant Nil had to dress like a normal human being.

  “How about this? If you take off the pants, I’ll make you pancakes,” I bargained.

  At the mention of her favorite breakfast, her eyes lit up. “With chocolate?”

  The sugar high she would get might send Grandma Doris into a heart attack. “Blueberries, take it or leave it.”

  “OK, but whipped cream.”

  “Fine,” I sighed.

  Once again, Nil won this round. She scrambled out of her pants and ran into the kitchen, chanting the word ‘pancakes’ over and over again. I followed her with a grin on my face. I loved her fierce stubbornness; it reminded me of her father. Fifteen minutes later, I stood over the stove flipping pancakes when the doorbell rang.

  “Come in,” I called out.

  I watched from the kitchen as Grandma Doris squeaked open the door only to be knocked backwards by a thirty pound little girl.

  “You’re here!” Nil exclaimed. She wrapped her arms around Grandma Doris’ thick middle, clinging on for life. Grandma Doris kissed the top of her head and smiled. “Can we read the bear story again?” Nil asked.

  “Of course,” Grandma Doris said.

  I shook my head. I must’ve read Nil the bear story a hundred times in the past three months.

  “Nil, let go of nana so she can come in and close the door,” I said.

  My daughter reluctantly peeled herself off her great-grandmother and stepped back.

  “Thanks child,” Grandma Doris said sweetl
y. At seventy-five, she personified classy, knowing how to dress for her shape in slim cardigans, khaki pants, and the always-present string of pearls around her neck.

  “Do you want pancakes?” Nil asked.

  Grandma Doris ambled into the kitchen, eyeing the fluffy stack of carbs. “Better not.”

  I gave her a quick peck on the cheek as I rushed past her toward my bedroom. I needed to get ready for work. Frantic, I threw on a pair of black pants and a white button down shirt. “Shit, shit.” My boss would kill me if I arrived late for the third time this week.

  “Mommy, there’s no whipped cream,” Nil whined from the other room.

  Ignoring her pleas, I tossed my purse over my shoulder and skidded into the living room. My high heels were not in their normal place by the door. Nil had a tendency to steal my shoes for dress up and not return them where she found them.

  My eyes shot over to my daughter. “Nil Lacy Parker, where did you put mommy’s shoes?”

  She swallowed a mouthful of pancake with a guilty look on her face. “In my bedroom….”

  I didn’t wait for the remaining sentence. I knew exactly where she hid objects she wasn’t supposed to play with. I rushed into her room and scooted underneath the bed, squinting through the dust bunnies for my red pumps. When I had a free moment, I needed to give my apartment a thorough clean down. It was disgusting. A flash of red caught my eye and I reached my hand to the wall where I grabbed ahold of my pumps. Slipping them onto my feet, I hobbled back into the kitchen to kiss my daughter goodbye. I probably wouldn’t get home until after her bedtime. The hospitality industry worked brutal hours, but the money was good and I needed to save for Nil’s college fund.

  “Bye sweetie. Have a nice day and be good to nana,” I said.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck in a tight squeeze. “Do you have to go?”

  Her question brought tears to my eyes. Times like these were the moments I hated her father so much, it threatened to bury me. With the back of my hand, I wiped my tears away. I couldn’t look back in life, only forward.

  “Yes, love, but I’ll try to be home for bath time.”

  Nil crossed her arms over her chest, her lips in a pout. “You always say that”

  I looked over at Grandma Doris, happily eating the rest of the pancakes. She caught my look and pointed a fork down at her meal. “I couldn’t resist. You make the best food.”

  “Thanks,” I laughed.

  Back before my whole life changed with a broken condom, I attended Pastry School for two years. The last nine months of my training, I was pregnant with Nil. Luckily, she arrived into the world two days after I graduated. I dreamed of lofty goals with my degree, which included living in Paris and owning my own bakery. Those plans now sat on a back burner until Nil graduated from college. In the meantime, I put my skills to use and made some extra money with my side wedding cake business. Twenty minutes later, I screeched into a parking space at work, sprinted up the stairs, and slipped behind the front desk at the hotel, two minutes before noon. My co-worker Josie, the resident gossip, was in an animated conversation with a guest.

  “He’s so hot. I can’t believe he’s staying here,” she gushed.

  To Josie, everybody was attractive, even George the Mole, aka, the accountant. Ignoring the mindless chatter next to me, I glanced over the day’s agenda. Suddenly, the front page of InFeature blocked my line of vision. Luke Anderson’s baby blue eyes stared back at me from the cover.

  I gritted my teeth and swatted the newspaper away. “Stop,” I said to Josie.

  “He’s a VIP guest, Marlene. It’s your job to know his likes and dislikes.” She gazed at his washboard abs. “You’d have to be a nun to not want to jump on his bandwagon.” Her eyes lit up mischievously. “…if you know what I mean.”

  Josie’s gaze returned to the magazine and I rolled my eyes, turning a deaf ear to her remark until I did a mental rewind. Wait. Luke Anderson was here at the hotel? No, that can’t be right. Luke never came to Seattle, because he understood I’d cut off his balls if he showed up.

  “Wait, what did you say?”

  “I said you would have to be a nun—”

  My hand stopped her before she could continue, “No, the first thing you said.”

  “Oh, he’s a VIP guest at the hotel.” Josie glanced out the window. “Didn’t you notice the paparazzi?”

  I followed her gaze to the mob outside which included a horde of teenagers and some grown women acting half their age, anxiously awaiting their rock star prince. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the edge of the counter. “This can’t be happening,” I muttered to myself.

  Josie squealed. “Oh my god, are you a fan, too?”

  I blocked out her voice and focused on my irregular heartbeat. Was it possible to die from a heart attack at twenty-four? “How long is he staying at the hotel?” I choked out.

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  My head whipped toward the outside entrance where a black stretch limo pulled to the curb. Light bulbs flashed as Luke stepped out onto the sidewalk. A chorus of screams arose from the crowd as the women threw themselves at him. Luke’s bodyguard pushed them out of the way with a meaty hand. Was this what his life had become? One giant ego boost? At seventeen, I thought Luke was the cockiest son of a bitch I had ever met. I couldn’t imagine what he was like now.

  When he strolled into the lobby, my breath hitched in my throat. The young man of twenty-two was long gone and replaced by a walking sex god. His strong jawline complemented his pale blue eyes, the same eyes that seduced me into bed for the very first time. His perfectly sculpted body was attired in all black. His dark hair hung long, brushing past his shoulders. He played the part of a rocker through and through. Old emotions I hadn’t felt in four years stirred in my stomach, equal parts lust and hate.

  “Are you OK? You seem a little flushed,” Josie said.

  I felt panic creeping up my throat. Luke Anderson was in my hotel. Otherwise known as Nil’s father. I swore up and down this side of the Mississippi that when I saw Luke again, I’d give him a piece of my mind. But as he glanced over at me, I felt the air leave my body. His absence from my life didn’t change the fact that he was my Kryptonite.

  LUKE’S PENETRATING STARE made me feel naked. The last time he saw me, I was thirty-five pounds heavier with a basketball for a stomach. Now, four years later, I hardly looked any different than I did at seventeen. The only notable difference was my hair; which was now chin length instead of flowing down my back.

  “M?” his husky voice asked, disbelief in his eyes.

  I winced at the personal term of endearment he had given me on our second date. Luke said M fit me better because it stood for all my best qualities. Motivated, mesmerizing, and mysterious. Surprisingly, the nickname stuck. Out of habit, my teeth snagged my bottom lip as I shifted uncomfortably.

  Luke’s face lit up like a jack-o’-lantern. “It is you.”

  As he sauntered over to the hotel desk, my fight or flight instinct kicked in. I couldn’t plaster a fake smile on my face and pretend as if we didn’t have a child together. That we didn’t once share a love story worthy of the big screen. From the corner of my eye, I spotted the door to the ladies’ restroom. My legs overruled my brain as I took off running.

  “Wait!” Luke called out after me.

  I stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door behind me, leaning against it to catch my breath. A lady washing her hands at the sink gave me a suspicious sideways glance.

  “Is there a problem?” I snapped.

  She quickly dried off her hands and hustled past me, out the door. Shutting myself in a bathroom stall, I hung my head, embarrassed. Not only did I snap at a hotel guest, I also ran away from Luke like a scared little girl. What happened to the confidant 24 year old I had become? Luke obviously was what happened. He had a way of getting under my skin with one look. I pulled my knees to my chest as the bathroom door clattered open.

  “Marlene, are you in h
ere?” Josie called out.

  I let out a sigh of relief that it wasn’t Luke. I wouldn’t put it past him to walk into a ladies restroom. Unlocking the stall door, I peeked my head out from my safety zone. “I’m here.”

  She stuck her hand on her hip. “Hiding, are we?”

  “I just need a moment.” Or however long it took for Luke to leave my life again.

  “Look, I’m not stupid,” Josie said. “There’s obviously a story between you and Mr. Rock Star.”

  I sensed Josie wanted more than friendly co-worker talk. She smelled a story and wanted inside Intel so she could divulge it to the rag sheets where I’d be portrayed as a desolate single mother.

  I peeked through the crack in the stall door and mumbled, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  She held up her hand “You’re right, it’s none of my business, and to be honest, I don’t need to know.”

  “You don’t?”

  Josie laughed at my stunned reaction. “No, everybody has secrets. If you need to take the day off, I’ll cover for you.”

  I couldn’t allow Luke’s presence to drive me away from my place of work. Besides, he was a guest. I had to get used to seeing him around.

  “No, it’s fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Josie nodded and was halfway out the door when she turned around. “Just to give you a head’s up, Luke is in the lobby waiting for you. He doesn’t seem like a guy who gives up easily.”

  “He isn’t, except when it comes to his own family,” I muttered underneath my breath.

  Once the door swung shut, silence enveloped me like a heavy blanket. With shaking hands, I whipped out my cell phone. If anybody knew how to talk down the crazy in me, it would be my best friend, Camille. We met in second grade when we both grabbed the same Barbie. We took turns with it each weekend until her head popped off. To this day, there is a makeshift gravestone with the name Barbie on it in Camille’s parents’ backyard.

  My best friend picked up on the second ring. “Hey you.”

  At the sound of her voice, the knot in my stomach unknotted itself. There was a way about her that could calm down the craziest of the craziest, which explained her quest for a PhD in psychology.