Everything After: A Rocker Romance Novel
Melissa Toppen
Published by Daft Empire, 2015.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
EVERYTHING AFTER: A ROCKER ROMANCE NOVEL
First edition. November 17, 2015.
Copyright © 2015 Melissa Toppen.
ISBN: 978-1516355297
Written by Melissa Toppen.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
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
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Acknowledgments
Also By Melissa Toppen
For my husband.
My real life rockstar.
Chapter One
Nora
Everything After
Summer Tour
June 27th – Athens, Georgia
June 30th – Tuscaloosa, Alabama
July 2nd – Jackson, Mississippi
July 11th - Fort Worth, Texas
July 15th - St. Louis, Missouri
July 18th – Knoxville, Tennessee
July 23rd – Chicago, Illinois
July 25th -Fort Wayne, Indiana
July 28th -Ann Arbor, Michigan
July 31st -Bowling Green, Kentucky
August 3rd -Raleigh, North Carolina
August 5th -Richmond, Virginia
August 8th -Charleston, West Virginia
August 11th -Cleveland, Ohio
August 13th -Rochester, New York
August 15th -Portland, Maine
August 18th -Boston, Massachusetts
August 20th -New Haven, Connecticut
August 22nd -Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
“You realize that no matter how hard you look at that paper, the dates are not going to change.” Bridget laughs from behind me, pulling my attention from the list in front of me.
“I know.” I laugh, dropping the paper on the bed next to me as I turn to where she is leaning casually against the door frame. “I just want to make sure I know exactly where we are going to be and when. The last thing I want to do is ruin this article before I even start writing it.”
“As if that would even be possible.” She shakes her head, crossing the small space of my bedroom. She plops down beside me and grabs my list of tour dates, holding the paper inches from her face.
“I am not willing to risk my career before it even has a chance to take off. Not to mention that if I mess this up, Clive is likely to have me fact checking for the rest of my life.”
“That wouldn't be the end of the world.” She smiles, knowing that for me, it would be.
Landing a job at SMASH Magazine is hard enough. Getting a chance to actually write feature pieces, damn near impossible. This is an incredible opportunity. An opportunity many people go their entire careers never seeing.
“This is it B. This is my shot.” I say, meeting her blue eyes when she gazes up from the paper.
“Nora Dawn Brandt. You are the most driven person I know. You are hardwired to succeed at whatever you do because defeat is not an option you will accept. Besides, there is so much more to this than writing an article. Nora, you get to spend the next eight weeks touring with a bunch of Rock Stars. If I were you, I would be more worried about figuring out what to wear rather than trying to memorize the tour stops.” She laughs when I swipe the paper from her hand.
“This is business, not pleasure. My wardrobe is the last thing I am worried about. Besides, it's a Rock band.” I remind her, glancing back down at the paper before dropping it onto my nightstand.
“And?” She stretches out.
“And, they are probably a bunch of drunk a-holes that think every chick wants to sleep with them because they are in a band.” I say, like it should just be that obvious.
“That's because every chick probably does want to sleep with them.” She laughs, rolling her eyes at me as she twists her long blonde hair into a pony tail and secures it with a band.
“Well not this one.” I say, pushing myself off of the bed. I cross the space to my tiny little closet and begin pulling out random articles of clothing, tossing them on the bed behind me. Bridget holds up a pale pink camisole that lands next to her and dangles it from her index finger.
“Okay. Okay. I see where you're going with this.” She gives me a playful smile and swings the material in front of herself.
“Um, it goes under this.” I say, throwing a half sleeve black cardigan at her head. She swipes it out of the air without even batting an eye.
“Lame. If I had your body, I would walk around the entire summer in a damn bikini top, not hiding it under layers of clothing.”
“One, you are smaller than me. Two, my body only looks this good because I cover it in layers.” I say, gesturing down to my size six frame. “And three, I am fairly certain that wearing a bikini top all summer would be interpreted as somewhat unprofessional. But maybe that's just me.” I tack on sarcastically.
“Well, if you are trying to bore the band to death, these clothes are your first step.” She fake yawns.
“I'm there to work B.” I remind her. “I'm not there to impress them with anything other than my incredible dedication to the project.”
“Well it sounds like Clive picked the right girl for the job.” She sighs dramatically, clearly not enthused with my response. “But maybe you will be singing a different tune once you see the band you're touring with.” Her eyes have almost a twinkle in them as she stares at me from across the room.
“Meaning?” I turn to face her, my hands falling to my hips.
“Meaning, when I heard about the article, I took the liberty of looking them up and well, let's just say I wish that I had landed the job.” She raises her eyebrows up and down suggestively.
“You hate traveling.” I object. “You are the last to take a job that requires you to leave the city.”
“Exactly.” She smiles, playfully fanning herself with her hand. “H.O.T.” She draws it out by speaking each letter one at a time.
“I-r-r-e-l-e-v-a-n-t.” I mock her dramatically. “I have one chance to get this right B. No man, no matter how attractive, is going to mess this up for me.”
“Well then let's Google them, for educational purposes of course.” She smiles mischievously.
“Not interested.” I say, having far too much on my plate to indulge her..
“You say that now.” Her mouth pulls up slightly on one side as she stares back at me. “Donna James compared their sound to Thirty Seconds to Mars.” Her smile only grows, knowing they are one of my favorite bands.
“Look, I have less than two hours
to pack if I want to get any kind of sleep tonight.” I refuse to let her distract me. “My flight leaves at seven in the morning which means you need to be up no later than four. Now, are you going to just sit there and give me crap all evening or are you going to help me pack already?” I laugh when her eyes widen in shock.
“Four in the morning?” She mouths.
“And not a minute later.” I warn.
“I swear, I don't know why I'm friends with you some days.” She jokes.
“Because who else could live with you?” I point out, knowing she realizes how hard she is to live with. I mean, unless you don't mind cleaning up after a twenty-four year old woman like she's five. Two years older than me and she acts every bit of ten years younger most days.
“Touché.” She laughs, pushing off of the bed. “But since you are making me get up at four in the morning, I am opting out of the packing. Besides, you will just re-pack what I do anyways.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” I shoo her with my hands. “See you in the morning.” I call after her, just as she steps into the hallway.
“Too early, I'm afraid.” She whines dramatically and then laughs, the sound fading as she enters her room directly across the hall and shuts the door.
I love Bridget, but sometimes I think I would have been smarter to just swallow the expense and get my own place. Had I known what I was signing up for when I agreed to be her roommate nearly a year ago, I'm not sure I would have gone through with it.
When we first moved in together it took me weeks just to get her to rinse the bathroom sink properly after brushing her teeth and to put the toilet paper on the roll holder the right way. In her defense, I am a bit OCD and the smallest things drive me absolutely crazy. I guess I should be grateful that she puts up with me as much as I put up with her. Of course, things are only magnified by the fact that our little cubicles at work sit right next to each other.
Regardless of how much she drives me nuts, I know that I wouldn't change one thing about our friendship. She is one of the closest friends I have ever had, and for a girl that doesn't make friends easily, that means a lot to me. It's not that people don't like me, at least I think they do. My problem has always been that I have been more focused on other things.
School. College. Career. I have a very set plan for my life and as such, have never really had time for friends. Most people are perfectly happy to let me exist in my own little bubble. Those who have ventured into it with me, typically head in the opposite direction when they realize how one sided a friendship with me can be.
While Bridget and I are complete opposites, we have a good understanding of each other. She gets me and I get her and we each know the others boundaries and limits. I think that's why it works. She teases and gives me a hard time but at the end of the day, never gets upset when I do what I have always done, focus on the next task of my to do list.
Tying my long brown hair into a messy bun on top of my head, I continue lining my suitcase with outfits. I separate the casual clothes from nicer ones and then work on finding a couple pairs of practical shoes that I can match to them. While I have been waiting for this break in my career for over a year, I expected to get a little more than twenty-four hours’ notice that I was being sent on a two month long assignment.
For a girl that pre-plans every little detail of every single day, it's a lot to swallow. But I am determined to make the best of it. Besides, if I want to be a real music journalist, and not a paper pusher/fact checker the rest of my career, I am going to have to learn to roll with the punches.
I run through the checklist in my head, making sure I have all of the essentials, before zipping up my large suitcase and then flopping down a smaller one on top of it to fill with my cosmetics and must haves for the road.
The more I pack, the tighter the knot in the pit of my stomach becomes. I would have to be crazy not to be nervous. A two month long tour through the Mid-West and East Coast with an up and coming band is the opportunity of a lifetime. Not to mention that at the end, I will use everything I have compiled over the course of the tour to write the feature piece for the cover of SMASH Magazine's September issue.
This is it. My big break. Now, all I have to do is survive two months of the unknown. Fifty-seven days and then I can return to my calculated, calm, normal existence and my career will be exactly where I need it to be. I will be in a prime position to really showcase what I can do.
Fifty-seven days and the last stop will put me right back home in Philadelphia.
Fifty-seven days... I can do this.
****
“B, I swear to God if I miss my flight because you wouldn't get out of bed.” I warn from the passenger seat of Bridget's white Mazda 6 as she whips through the early morning traffic that is slowly starting to filter onto the freeway.
“Would you relax?” She lets out a large yawn and then immediately reaches for her cup of coffee, taking a large gulp before continuing. “Your flight doesn't leave for another hour and our exit is next.”
“I just...”
“I know. I know. You like to be five hours early to anything and everything you do. Trust me, I know.” She laughs lightly, throwing me an annoyed glance out of the corner of her eye. “You nervous?” She tacks on, clearly seeing that I am completely bouncing out of my seat.
“Extremely.” I admit, not trying to hide the real reason behind my anxiousness this morning.
“Nora. You are going to be fine.” She smiles, passing two cars before sliding over into the right lane and following the exit.
“It's just out of my comfort zone.” I say, watching the lights of the grounded planes grow closer with each passing second. Before I know it, Bridget is shoving the car into park in the drop off lane of the airport.
I immediately push open the car door and climb out, taking a deep breath as I do. Bridget quickly joins me at the back of the car and helps me pull my bags from the trunk. Situating them on top of each other, she settles her hand on top of mine, halting my movements.
“You got this.” She says, giving me an encouraging smile. “My girl Rhea works for Rebel Records.” She says, referring to the label that the band is signed to. “She said their manager Sean is a really good guy and you will be in good hands. I made some late night inquiries.” She tacks on, when I give her a questioning look.
“Thank you.” I let out a slow exhale, the information making me feel somewhat calmer. Sean will be my contact, my go to, it's nice to know in advance that he's not a complete and total tool.
“You're welcome.” She smiles, rather proud of herself. “And I will take care of everything while you're gone. Don't worry, I won't burn the place down or anything.”
“Promise?” I joke.
“I promise I'll try.” She laughs. “Call me the moment you get settled. I want to know you made it safely.”
“I will. First I have to figure out where I am staying tonight and how the travel situation is going to work for me. Clive said that Sean is taking care of all the details and will have more information for me when I arrive.”
“So in other words, this is totally killing you.” She laughs. “Not knowing what to expect.”
“Totally.” I agree.
“You're going to be amazing.” She says, throwing her arms around my neck and pulling me in for a quick hug. “Now go. Last I heard you were going to kill me if you missed your flight.” She laughs. Shaking my head playfully at her, I turn, giving her a little wave before pulling my suitcases through the sliding glass door of the airport.
I fly through security with no issue and end up landing at my boarding gate with a few minutes to spare. Plopping down in a chair, I pull my iPod out of my pocket and pop in my ear buds, determined to spend every moment leading up to my arrival in Georgia, learning as much as I can about the band I am going to be spending the next two months with.
While I could waste my time on things like Google, I opt for the truer approach; the music. Music has always been my passion and I can al
most always figure out the bones of an artist by the work they put out there. That's why I got into this business to begin with.
Scrolling through the playlist I created late last night, I click on the song Third Eye. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes as a solitary acoustic guitar fills my ears. The singer doesn't get more than two words out and already I am captivated, enthralled. His voice is flawless, raw.
I let his words wash over me as I sink further into my chair. There's so much emotion in each word he sings, so much pain. I find myself connecting immediately with the lyrics, a sure tell sign that the artists’ work is genuine and not just some cookie cutter tune made to sell singles.
It's easy to see why Rebel Records picked these guys up and why SMASH made such a big deal about this upcoming intro tour. The band gets my attention, that's for sure. Halfway into one song and already I can't wait to dive into this project and learn as much as I can about the men behind the music. Who they are and what makes them tick. What drives them. The inspiration behind their songs. Specifically the inspiration behind this song. A song that in less than two minutes has become one of my new favorites.
Everything After
Third Eye
Staring in the mirror
at the sorrow of my reflection
Insides gripping tightly
trying to cleanse this rejection
Chapter Two
Nora
“Ms. Brandt?” A handsome middle aged man, in a perfectly pressed suit, approaches me just moments after I have exited the terminal in Georgia and collected my bags. Clearly I must have inexperienced journalist written all over me because he is able to pick me out of a group of people with no problem.
“Yes?” I question, taking his hand in a firm shake the moment he extends it to me.
“Sean Persley.” He says, releasing my hand. It takes me a moment to collect my thoughts and before I have a chance to respond, he continues. “Sorry, the file Clive sent me had your employee badge photo. I saw you here and was pretty sure it was you. Thought I'd take a chance.”
“You recognized me from my badge photo?” I smile. “I'm impressed.” I turn, stacking my small suitcase onto the larger one and latching them together on the roller.
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