Love Notes (The Muse Series Book 2)

by S. L. Carpenter

  LOVE NOTES

  The Muse Series – Book Two

  Copyright © 2018 by S.L. Carpenter

  Cover by Scott Carpenter

  (This story was originally released elsewhere as “Love Song”. It has been extensively re-edited for this edition.)

  Dedication

  Music moves us in so many ways.

  It’s the heartbeat of our lives.

  I wrote this story for my love of music

  and a special singer that inspired me.

  Chapter One

  Ami and her band, Haunted, stood center stage.

  The drummer flipped his drumsticks to the rabid fans, and the guitarist flung out some picks. Then, with a final bow they were done—this was the final stop on the tour. When Ami turned to leave the stage, something flew up and hit her in the forehead, knocking her back in a daze. She shook her head to clear it and noticed a Frisbee on the floor by her feet. Kicking it, she staggered off the stage with a ringing headache and a desperate need for a drink.

  The rest of the band pushed people aside so Ami could get into the backstage dressing room. She slammed the door and stumbled to the chair. Sitting in the cramped space Ami caught her breath feeling a trickle of blood falling from her brow to her lip.

  Haunted topped the charts. Being the lead singer in a rock band, especially a female lead singer, meant paparazzi parked outside your home and everywhere else you went. Which, in turn, led to nonstop rumors, a continuous stream of innuendoes if she went out on the town. Anything that looked like a date was followed by questions about her getting married or—God forbid she put on a few pounds—whether she was pregnant. If she ate her favorite dish of jelly and sardines it immediately reported that she’d been hypnotized by aliens.

  Hell, she couldn’t even buy a vibrator to scratch her personal itch.

  The two-hour gig, complete with two encores, had been draining but she still did her best for the fans who had been there from the start. This final show was being filmed for a live CD and DVD to be released later in the year called Haunted Alive.

  For one brief moment she was at peace. No screaming, no crowds—nothing but her and the relative quiet of her dressing room.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  Her momentary sanctuary evaporated.

  “Come on, Ami, we’ve got a radio spot to get to after the show. Hurry the fuck up in there!” Her manager banged again, yelling through the door, “Come on, baby, we have places to go, things to do.”

  The dressing room door swung open and like a gust of wind in walked a well-dressed, extremely hyped-up man.

  “Martin—not now.”

  As the band’s manager, Martin took pride in his musicians and credit for much of the success. He also made it his personal goal to put Ami dead center when it came to attention. This included making sure she was always in the news, at any cost. “Ami, we talked about this. You have commercials to do and the photo spread in that men’s magazine.”

  “I told you, I’m not posing nude for some dumb publicity stunt.”

  “Don’t worry. Just show a little skin. Look, this is a done deal. You sing. I’ll do the rest. Did you look over those other songs I sent?”

  Ami took a drink from her glass and squinted. Her headache was getting worse. “Yeah, those aren’t for us, Martin. We write all our own songs. You know how the guys and I work, we’ve been writing together for eight years. We will cover a few tunes every now and then, but—”

  “You people work too slow. Just listen to them again. I’ll tell the guys what to record. I know music.” He assumed his I-know-everything stance as he stared at her.

  “This is no time to be a diva, Ami. This is the time to strike. Just do what I say, and I’ll make you rich. Now quit fucking around. We have things to do, people to see.” He frowned. “Oh shit, there’s a cut on your forehead. Put some cover-up on it and clean yourself up.”

  Fuck you. I’m already rich, asshole.

  The door slammed shut behind him and Ami flinched from the noise, falling back into her chair.

  “Son of a bitch, I’m bleeding.” She wiped her forehead, smearing the blood. Staring into the mirror she used to put her makeup on before the show, she saw more than just her reflection.

  Dark eyes, shadowed from lack of sleep and restless nights, looked back at her. Her hair was a matted array of extensions and hairspray. Her skin was pale and marked with the fake body art that fit the image everyone expected.

  She twisted the top off the whiskey bottle on her dressing room vanity and it ricocheted across the floor. Without thinking, she took a long gulping then wiped the remaining drops from her lips, smearing her red lipstick across her cheek to match the blood from her cut.

  There was no doubt about it. Her twenty-eight-year-old rock and roll life was a fucking movie-of-the-week mess.

  All the pressure, all the commitments others made of her time—it was all building up to the breaking point. The music fans were her lifeline and she loved the guys in the band, but they all had lives of their own. Being the face of the group meant she had to carry the weight, and a young woman in the spotlight had different pressures.

  Ami had to get away. She looked into the mirror again, seeing black mascara running down from the corners of her eyes. She may have been twenty-eight, but emotionally she felt like she was at least thirty years older. The essence of her existence had become blurred by greed, other people’s illusions and lost dreams. She didn’t like who she saw anymore.

  She was completely exhausted, both mentally and physically. Another long drink followed and some of the whiskey dribbled from the corners of her mouth. Her head weary, her body numb, she took in a deep breath and slumped into her chair. She was becoming what she swore to herself she wouldn’t—a drunk musician.

  It was time to change her life.

  Stumbling out of the small dressing room, Ami looked around, seeing people scattering like roaches in different directions. She reached back inside, grabbed her purse, then headed away from as many of them as she could.

  Shadows in the hallway came toward her. In no mood to chat, she saw a door and opened it to hide inside, grateful for the quiet.

  She leaned against the door and listened as people passed. Closing her eyes, she calmed down and the alcohol soothed her throbbing headache.

  “Oh yeah, baby, oh yes.” A man’s voice echoed behind her.

  A light gasp and moan whispered through the air.

  “Oh shit, oh shit, your ass is so…”

  The voice trailed off, and Ami turned around to see a bleach blonde mop of hair dangling over a large speaker and the sweating face of one of her roadies in sexual bliss.

  She banged her elbow against the door and the girl looked up.

  “Oh…my…God…” the girl yelled. Her speech was broken because the roadie kept screwing her as she spoke.

  “You’re…Ami…can I …get an…auto…graph?”

  Ami wasn’t sure whether to laugh or scream. Here was a young woman being fucked and all she could think about was an autograph.

  Reaching into her purse, Ami dug out her cell phone and held it up. “Say cheese.”

  Some things in life are priceless.

  Ami walked out into the now quiet corridor and followed the long hallway to a large green metal door with an exit sign above it.

  When she swung it open, a cold rush of wind blew into her face, refreshing and clearing her drunken mind. Outside were the large trucks that carried the concert gear, but the other roadies must have been taking a break because there was nobody around. Maybe they were having the same kind of fun the one in the dressing room.

  She walked down the stairs, holding the rail
for balance. The street rolled like an ocean in front her eyes as the booze caught up with her, and the frigid air felt like ice against her hot skin.

  Everything began to spin, and she felt herself topple as if a wave pushed her. Her body was floating—and then something caught her.

  “Hey…careful…are you all right?”

  Ami blinked and saw a man’s face looking at her, his face rugged but handsome nevertheless. His brown hair was a bit scruffy, and he wasn’t tall – in fact he reminded her of a cowboy without the hat. He had stopped her from falling and she was now clasped tightly against his body. She put her hands on his broad shoulders and leaned against his chest.

  “Can I get someone for you? Let me take you back inside.”

  “No…I don’t want to go back.” She was confused and disoriented but knew she needed to leave. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Yes, I was at the show. I left late to avoid the traffic.”

  Ami’s mind wavered. “What’s your name?”

  “Edward.”

  “Edward, please get me out of here. I’ll pay you whatever you want. Just get me the fuck away from here.” Her eyes stung with tears, and she began to cry. “Please, just take me away…” As the heaviness of her life crushed down on her and the alcohol hit hard, she passed out.

  Edward quickly grabbed her limp body and picked her up in his arms. She nuzzled close and curled into him. He felt like he was in a scene from a movie as he held his damsel in distress. Now if he had a bed handy, he could lay her down to sleep…or something.

  Driving down the highway, Edward had a hard time believing what had happened. The woman of his dreams was asleep in the passenger seat next to him. If he didn’t need both hands for driving, he’d have pinched himself just to make sure this was all real.

  He was with the woman he’d had sex with so many times before. Each time it had been amazing too.

  Of course when masturbating with a washcloth and shampoo, all sex was great. He’d memorized every song lyric she had written after hearing her sing something that touched his heart and etched itself on his soul.

  Her voice soothed him and fantasizing about that body gave him images to satisfy his “happy time”. She had helped him without ever knowing him and now she was…

  The blast of a horn and a gust of wind woke Ami from her deep sleep. Her head wobbled as she looked around. “Where are we?”

  “We’re about two hours away from the show.” Edward looked over at her. “You passed out.”

  He smiled and tried to think of things to say so she wouldn’t be scared or freaked out to be in his car, but she actually appeared calm.

  Ami put her hand to her face and closed her eyes. “Fuck, my head hurts and I’m starving. Do you have anything I can eat?”

  “Nothing really good,” Edward replied.

  “Well my head is throbbing, but at least there’s no flashing lights or that damn ringing in my ears from the amplifiers. My brain must be repaying me for abusing it. All I know is that I have an empty stomach and I need to pee.”

  “Well, I’ve got some fast food I picked up before the show. I ate the hamburger, but the fries are in the bag there by your feet. We can stop in a little bit. There are some food places further on up the highway.” He motioned forward then got a sniff of the food in the bag and his own stomach rumbled. “I’ll take a couple fries. I’m a little hungry too.”

  Ami leaned over and picked up the bag. She opened it and took a whiff of the contents. “I’ll pass,” she said while crumpling up the bag of stale-smelling food.

  “There’s a truck stop a few miles ahead. It’s quiet, and they have really good food. Do you want me to stop there?”

  “Yes, please. Fuck, I need something to eat and drink.” She tugged at her stockings, which were rumpled and twisted from sitting in the car. “Don’t suppose you have any extra clothes, do you? I need to get out of this gear. This fucking thong is riding up my ass, and my shirt is wet and itches. Damn, I must smell and look like shit.”

  “I think I have a couple of things in a little travel bag behind my seat. I usually keep a few extra clothes for beach trips or long drives.”

  Ami climbed awkwardly into the backseat and mooned Edward on the way over. He got a nice look at her ass and the small tattoo of a heart on the right cheek.

  Edward tried to be a gentleman, but having a sexy woman changing in the back of his car was a hard temptation to resist.

  Wow, she has nice tits.

  She peeled off the layers of clothing and he watched her in the rearview mirror, feeling a sudden urge to pull over and help her out of her clothes. It was the least he could do, right? He quickly shook off the thoughts and forced his concentration back to driving since he was swerving wildly in his lane. A pair of oncoming headlights on the opposite side of the road really helped him get his focus back.

  His jeans threatened to rip at the crotch when he glanced back again and stifled a groan as she slid her black thong off her feet and flung it into the front seat. Edward was torn between grabbing it and taking a healthy sniff of her feminine scent or ignoring it. Would it be gross if he stuffed the crotch in his mouth and sucked on the fabric? Yes, that actually would be disgusting. What if he had them backward? His thoughts were now freaking him out.

  A blaring horn jerked him back into the real world, and Ami flopped around in the back seat. He almost cut off the car in the lane next to him when he swerved back into his lane. The other driver flipped him off as he passed.

  Didn’t the asshole know he had a seminude rock singer in the backseat? Edward thought for a second, What the hell am I doing in the front if I have a sexy babe in the backseat unclothed?

  Ami plopped back next to him. “Well I found this T-shirt and a pair of camouflage shorts. It’s ironic that I’m wearing camouflage since I’ve got to go commando on the underwear.”

  The thought made Edward bite his lip. A little voice from between his legs whispered, “Commando? I think we need to do a special reconnaissance mission over the area.”

  Chapter Two

  “Why did you want to leave like that?” Edward asked the question as he sipped from a cup of hot coffee.

  “I just had to get out of there,” Ami muttered, shoveling large forkfuls of apple pie into her mouth.

  Edward smiled when she looked up at him and reached out to wipe a small spot of whipped cream from the corner of her lips. “I guess we all have our reasons for doing crazy things. Life catches up to all of us at some point.”

  “Why didn’t you turn me over to someone at the show?”

  “Because of the way you asked me to just take you away. You seemed so desperate. I just—well I felt like this was the right thing to do. I’m not the type of person to leave someone who needs a helping hand.”

  “You married?”

  Edward paused a second. “Nope. I was, but single right now.”

  “I probably look like shit, but I’m feeling a million times better than earlier.” Ami let out a deep breath and looked at Edward. “Can I ask you a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you know anyplace that’s quiet and away from everything? Somewhere I can hang out for a while, privately? Kind of like a hiding place?”

  “Well, most of this area is spread out, rural. Believe me I know since I grew up out here. I live on a small farm owned by my parents. They’ve got a little detached home on the property, and that’s where I live. It’s up to you, but you can come stay at my house if you want,” he offered.

  “Hmm.” Going to a fan’s house isn’t the best idea in the world—in fact most times it’s a nightmare.

  “I’m harmless. I’m just happy to help.” Edward tried to sound reassuring, and not like some sort of crazed serial killer.

  “Okay.” She nodded. “I accept. Take me to your place. I really don’t want to go back just yet. I don’t have any more shows to do for a while, but the fucking radio promos, magazine shoots, not to mention the constant bitchi
ng with lawyers about money and investments and endorsement crap is driving me insane.” She shuddered. “Everywhere I go people are taking pictures and writing shit about me. I need something to make me feel normal again.”

  “Well…um…I’m honored. I haven’t taken a woman to my home in a long time.”

  “I’ll pay your parents to let me stay for a few days or a week. They just can’t tell anyone who I am. I’ll make a few phone calls so people won’t go on some wild missing person’s hunt.” She took another bite of her pie and leaned back against the padded booth chair. “Edward, thanks for this offer. I really appreciate it.”

  Edward felt suddenly shy. Here was the fantasy woman he dreamed about asking him to take her home. To his home.

  Maybe they would go to his place, and she’d want more from him. Maybe some tender loving care.

  Maybe a night of passion with all the trimmings, like whips and handcuffs and hand puppets. Or perhaps she’d want him to fuck her like a rabid fan, but then she’d call the cops and say he raped her. He’d end up on trial as a stalker-rapist and go to prison where the guys in the cells would see him as fresh meat and a celebrity and rape him as an example.

  Or, he could take her home and she could spend a few days relaxing and regrouping like a normal person. “Can I ask why you’re willing to trust me like this?”

  “Because you didn’t turn your back on me, you didn’t try to fuck me when I passed out and there’s… I don’t know…there’s something about you, Edward, that I trust.”

  “Good thing you couldn’t read my mind about the carnal adventure I wanted to have with you when you were sleeping next to me in the car”, the little voice between his legs spoke out again.

  As they drove up the winding road to Edward’s house, Ami rolled down the window and took a deep breath. “Ahhh, fresh air.”

  “Welcome to my humble abode.” They drove across a small gravel area, and Edward parked the car. “My parents are probably asleep now. It’s late.”