My Rockstar's Secret Baby

by Jamie Knight

He probably did. Seth was older than any of us and had a reputation as a sort of big brother figure to most of the bands the label released. If anyone understood what had happened with Stephanie, he would.

  Except that she was his sister-in-law, and that could get a bit thorny—hence my hesitation to tell him whose apartment I had ended up at last night when he had asked over text.

  Despite the burning urge to tell someone about what had happened, if nothing else to process that it had actually happened, I kept it tamped down. It wasn’t my first one-night stand, but I had this nagging feeling it might be my last.

  There was a round of applause when we showed up at The Sanctuary. It was led by Sven, the main producer, and head engineer, who shot me a glare that could crack glass. Then again, he usually looked that way anyway, so I tried not to take it personally.

  “The returning hero,” Varg said.

  “If not conquering,” Stig added.

  “Both, I would wager,” Sven said, getting in on the action.

  “How much?” Varg asked.

  “Oh, at least twenty.”

  I sat down behind my kit, trying to ignore them, as hard as that could be once they really got going.

  “You talking dollars or age of the girl?” Varg asked.

  “Girl? The person I saw him talking to was definitely a woman,” Stig observed. “With curves for miles.”

  “That she was,” I affirmed.

  “Ah, going for the plus-sized ladies now, are ya?” Varg asked.

  I snorted.

  “Please. Her weight is none of your concern,” I told him. “And she happens to be absolutely gorgeous.”

  “Agreed,” Stig said, which was enough to make me throw him a glance that clearly said, “back off; she’s mine.”

  It wasn’t the hill I planned to die on, but they’d started going after Stephanie. They could break my balls all they wanted, I could take it, but she had nothing to do with it, really.

  “All right, guys, let’s do ‘In the Embrace’ from the top,” Seth said from the booth.

  We all jumped to attention, and then we started to play. I knew there would probably be more teasing to come, but I really didn’t care. My night with Stephanie was beautiful and, while it made no logical sense, I wanted a whole lot more.

  It could have been love, or it could have been greed. All I knew was that I wanted to see her again. Even if she was a bit posh.

  I accepted all sorts of personalities into my life, or at least I tried to. It was how the band had stayed together for so long, that was for damn sure. Stig was okay, but I sometimes thought we were friends with Varg just because no one else would be.

  It had just gone on so long that none of us really noticed anymore. Going through lawsuits together can do that.

  A church had burned down near a venue we’d played, and people had accused us of arson, likening it to some similar incidents back in the 90s where some black metal bands went on a rampage wrecking old churches.

  The century had changed, but most minds hadn’t. Not when it came to subcultures. We weren’t even the same kind of band, and pyrotechnics definitely weren’t our thing, but that mattered little to the prosecutors, intent on getting the blood the public was baying for.

  In the end, it was revealed that the church had burned down because of faulty wiring. We were still said to have gotten off on a technicality.

  I could understand the anger, honestly, and held no ill will against the locals hurting for the loss. My ire was reserved for the slanting media and pragmatist courts. We could have written a song about it.

  Or a series of online articles, as Stig suggested, though that wouldn’t really have done anything. We decided the best way to punish those who would rather we didn’t exist, to the point of nearly locking us up, was to go on doing just that.

  Our continued existence as the band became a monument to their failure. The fact that we were about to have three albums on international release was just the icing on the cake. We planned to send an autographed copy, in both CD and vinyl, to every news editor, station manager and prosecutor who gave us shit during the trial.

  But for now, we were just enjoying making our music. And I was enjoying the sweet memory of being with Stephanie last night— and already hoping to be with her again soon.

  That wasn’t my normal style— I usually moved on after a one-night-stand— but something about her was different.

  I was determined to keep her in my life as long as I could. And my next goal was to see her again, which couldn’t be that hard, considering that Seth had just married her sister

  Chapter Four - Stephanie

  Traffic began to mangle as I pulled off into the parking garage. Happily, everyone at the company had their parking space, well away from the maddening crowd. That was one of the perks to being an overnight success, even if the term had lost some of its meaning after the turn of the millennium.

  It was an interesting bit of meta that the company operated both online and in retail, combining online shops with the brick-and-mortar variety. It helped hit both the youth market and the older set in one go.

  Could be why it grew from an indie operation on Etsy to a billion-dollar empire. Nice work if you can get it.

  “Morning, Pat,” I said, signing in at security.

  “And to you, lady Stephanie,” he said, with a dandy tip of his uniform cap.

  Patrick O’Malley had worked in the building for over thirty years and had seen all manner of business come and go through the marble lobby. Old desks out and new desks in, as the economy ebbed and flowed, bulls becoming bears and back again.

  Not that Seattle was anywhere near Wall Street, shielded by the overlords in the East by the mountains and a strong sense of identity.

  There was a reason there was never a style of music called “The New York Sound” or “The Boston Sound,” while I did have, at least vague memories, of a “Seattle Sound.”

  “What’s on the agenda?” I asked Maddie, as I breezed by her desk.

  “There’s the meeting with corporate this afternoon, and you have to decide on the final designs for the new line, and you have a lunch meeting with Fawn Birch.”

  “Fawn who?”

  “The designer we’re thinking of contracting. She sent over some samples.”

  “Remind me.”

  “Um, lots and lots of white gold and sapphires, filigree…”

  “Right, right, very good stuff. Okay, book a table at the Cedar Lounge for just after one o’clock and–”

  “It’s already booked. She said so could only meet at twelve, so that’s when it’s booked for.”

  “Right, okay, I can work with that.”

  Maddie lowered the clipboard she’d been holding up like a shield. Apparently, my assistant was under the impression I could throw daggers, as opposed to just stare them.

  There wasn’t much time before lunch, so I postponed choosing the seasonal line and focused on meeting prep instead. I still had three hours, after all, but I liked to go in prepared.

  “Drink?” Maddie asked.

  “Green tea.”

  She scampered off to make it and I took my place at the desk, revisiting the urge to turn around. As powerful as the view made me feel, I also got a bit dizzy from the height. It wouldn’t have been so bad were the entire wall not basically a window, but as it was, I always felt like I was going to plummet to my death. Not the best state of mind for positive productivity.

  Fawn Birch was an odd duck, to be sure. For starters, she had been christened Amanda Collins, but took her ‘chosen name’ in her early 20s.

  Still, it couldn’t be denied the girl knew her jewelry, particularly when it came to stone contrast. Each of her designs had a look that was both ancient and modern at the same time. Unique and beautiful, exactly what Asgard Fine Jewelry was looking for.

  The opportunity to meet the enigmatic artist came even sooner than expected. The Cedar Lounge was on the other side of the town, so I had to leave early
to evade the lunchtime rush.

  This admission might sound strange for a city girl to make, but I really didn’t like massive crowds. It was within reason; I needn’t elect to always be alone. It was just when the dozens became hundreds that I started to get a bit edgy.

  There were twelve diners already at the Cedar Lounge when I was seated. It would be just over a baker’s dozen with me and Fawn, when she arrived, assuming she wasn’t already here.

  There was every possibility she was in the bathroom, a fact which divided my attention between two doors while waiting her arrival.

  The front door was the one to finally deliver my lunching companion.

  “Sorry I’m late, am I late?”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  “Oh, cool.”

  Her scent was strong but not unpleasant. It was some kind of oil, likely rose, mixed with sage incense.

  More of a surprise was her hair, done in what could only be described as ‘battle braids.’ Her raven hair was woven together in a way to evoke a warrior queen, more than a genteel creative type. Maybe she was both.

  “I’d like to get right down to business, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m not usually this blunt, but your designs fit our brand perfectly. Ancient and primal, while also being modern and accessible.”

  “Thanks, they’re a reflection of my soul.”

  I didn’t laugh. Not only would have it been rude, but I also didn’t see anything particularly funny in her statement. Generally, I found the idea of souls silly at best, but there was something that happened when I saw Ragnar in the bandstand.

  Something was touched, something primal, that felt ancient but also a part of me.

  ‘Soul’ was as good a word as any.

  “I want to use your work for our new seasonal line. I need six new designs, with six examples of each design in two months. Can you do that?”

  “Sure! I mean, yes, ma’am, I’ll get right on it.”

  “Are you doing it yourself or do you have help?”

  “I have help, I can get more if needed.”

  “Marvelous, that’s what I like to hear.”

  Part of the prep was drawing up the contract and running it by legal just to be double sure. I was fairly certain she would want to sign with the company, but it was always best not to assume.

  Assumptions were the mothers of all failures. At least in my experience.

  The ink on the contract was barely dry when Fawn said she had to go, leaving at the same speed with which she had arrived.

  My two main jobs done for the day, I decided to enjoy the lunch I’d ordered. Especially since I was charging it to the company anyway, so there was no skin off my nose.

  While I waited for my soup to cool, I decided to look up Ragnar’s band online. This intention was complicated by the fact I couldn’t quite remember what it was called, though.

  I’d only heard it the day before, but a lot had happened since then. According to what I could recall after thinking really hard, it had been called Loki’s Laugh. A name that brought a smile to my lips.

  I’d barely put in ‘Loki’s’ into Google before predictive text took care of the rest. I had the search engine set to ‘all,’ and was hit with a bevy of videos and photo links to various music streaming sites.

  Ragnar sure looked different. Most people had dressed up for the wedding, even me, but the distance between how I’d seen him, even earlier that day, and the version in the promo photos was big.

  By far the most toned down of the three bandmates, Ragnar was still unmistakably a metal head, in his Chuck Taylors, black jeans and sleeveless shirt.

  Interestingly enough, though, not everything was positive. There were several news articles calling the group a menace, and I dove deeper.

  It had something to do with a church burning down. I vaguely remembered hearing something about it, with Jonna getting into a shouting match with my dad about how it was all media bullshit, and it was just music.

  Actually, after hearing some of the apparently “accursed” tunes, I had to side with my baby sister. It certainly didn’t sound evil.

  Yes, it was very gloomy and extremely intense, but hardly music to summon the devil by. Something our parents were positively certain most metal heads were doing in their free time. Apparently, they’d long forgotten what the adults of their day had to say about their own music choices.

  Going back to the original search, I chose a video at random to try and see what Loki’s Laugh was really all about. I’d heard them at the wedding but, going by the wardrobe change, had the sneaking suspicion that it might have been a defanged version of their normal stuff that I was hearing.

  I wanted the real deal.

  Pressing the play icon, I closed my eyes, and awaited enlightenment. It was quick in coming, the sound that filled my earbuds unlike anything I’d ever heard.

  It wasn’t the deep, heavy black metal I was expecting, at least based on my limited experience, and it also bore a slight resemblance to the stripped-down version in the bandstand. Louder for sure, there was also an increased energy and spirit.

  And Ragnar sounded even better with a full kit. The guitar soared with surprising melody over the rock-solid foundation laid down by the bass. Everything that Jonna had ever told me about music came flooding back, and I found myself understanding more than I ever thought I would.

  I didn’t listen to music much. I liked it as much as the next girl, but mostly in the background while driving, or while trying to go to sleep. For Jonna it was a major part of her existence, like she would cry for days if ever deprived of the thing she loved most.

  I honestly envied her, as I’d never had anything that I was so passionate about, most things feeling like they were happening to me and I was along for the ride. There were plenty of things I liked, and was even good at, but I wouldn’t call any of them a ‘passion.’

  My phone pinged, bringing me back to reality. It was a text from Seth.

  Seth: Loki’s Laugh gig tonight, coming?

  Me: Yes. See you there.

  I didn’t even need to think about it. The chance to see them again, only really being themselves, was not something I was going to give up. My heart raced and my panties dripped at the thought of it.

  Chapter Five - Stephanie

  When I got home and threw open my closet, I was met with an instant flood of frustration. It was like a line of soldiers. All of my outfits nearly identical, none at all right for the evening.

  I believed very much in dressing for the occasion, and I seriously doubted that a skirt-suit and heels would cut it at a metal show. I needed something tough, something sexy. The only problem was that I really didn’t know that might be and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have it if I did.

  Jeans and a sweater were as close as I could get. Except the jeans were a light blue and the sweater was pink with a floral design embroidered onto it. Not exactly tough-looking.

  A knock at my door made me jump. Still in my dork-wear, I went to answer the door, idly wondering who would be coming by so late.

  “Hey, sis!”

  “Jonna?”

  My baby sister enveloped me in an attack hug, despite the bag she was carrying.

  “What are you doing here? Not that I mind at all.”

  “Seth said you might need some help.”

  “Help?”

  I furrowed my brow in confusion.

  “With the show. You’re still going, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right, and I assume you’re not going like that?”

  She scanned me up and down, taking in the full impact of the ensemble. To be fair, it wasn’t a train wreck or anything, it was cute— but still, it wasn’t quite appropriate for where I was going.

  “Do you have any better suggestions?” I asked her, feeling sheepish.

  “Absolutely! Come with me, we’ll get you sorted out.”

  Taking my hand, Jonna led me, bags and all, ba
ck to the bedroom where she lay four pre-arranged outfits made out of her own clothes.

  “This could work,” she said, picking up a nice, but very short, skirt.

  “Maybe, with tights.”

  “No tights; I’ll keep looking.”

  Picking up a pair of black jeans, Jonna came around behind me, and held them to my hips.

  “Definitely,” she concluded, hanging them over my shoulder.

  Before I could object, she went back over to the collection and got a baggy band shirt, bearing the name of one of Jonna’s favorite bands that I’d never heard of. The shirt was oversized, went down well past my hips, and would cover my ass.

  “Perfect, this way you can decide how much to show off depending on if you tuck in,” she said. “Just a FYI, these jeans will make your ass look great. Now, shoes.”

  Zipping back over to the bed, she picked up a pair of black and white Converse sneakers. Taking the offered pieces, I eschewed the cute for the kick-ass.

  “Much better,” Jonna said, as we assessed the results in the full-length mirror.

  I couldn’t disagree. It felt a bit strange, but I did look fantastic. All dark and sexy, like a vampire on the prowl. It helped that my hair was black. Not naturally of course, but I’d started dyeing it in college, generally finding people took me more seriously that way.

  “Here,” Jonna said, gently tying my hair back into a ponytail.

  The effect was instant, showing more of my face as well as my neck.

  “And now for your make-up,” Jonna announced.

  With a light, quick, almost professional touch, Jonna wiped away my professional look, replacing it with dark, vampy lipstick and a seductive smokey eye.

  “Wow,” I whispered when she positioned me back in front of the mirror.

  “One more thing.”

  I could feel the cool weight on my shoulders as the black leather jacket settled into place.

  “Perfect,” she said delightedly.

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem, sis.”

  Jonna hugged me from behind, putting her head on my shoulder like she would when we were kids. We were both older now, and each a little taller, and she was a married woman with a family of her own.