Rocking His Fake World
Love You Forever-Book 3
Alexis Winter
I should be celebrating my band signing a major record deal.
How can I, when it’s costing me the love of my life?
From the very beginning, Daniel and I knew this day was coming.
We made a deal early on that when I left on tour, whatever was between us would end.
After all, I could never ask him to put his life on hold for me.
Still, with what time we had, we reveled in the passion between us night after night.
* * *
It was a fiery love story so intense, it was only a matter of time before it consumed us.
But it wasn’t without consequences.
There’s a lot to risk when you decide to fake it with someone.
Pretending you aren’t falling in love. Pretending your heart won’t be shattered when you walk away.
* * *
Then the time came for that crushing goodbye.
There was no more we have to stop doing this.
No more sneaking around.
* * *
Would I take it all back if it would grant me even a momentary reprieve from the pain?
All the stolen kisses? All the heated moments between the sheets?
Not for an instant.
I’d do it all over again... because he’s worth the heartbreak.
* * *
I pretended I wasn’t going to fall in love.
Now, with only the memory of his kisses to hold on to, I realize how wrong I was.
Copyright 2020 by Alexis Winter - All rights reserved.
* * *
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
* * *
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Breaking up with My Boss SNEAK PEEK
Chapter 1
Read the rest of the Love You Forever Series here!
Also by Alexis Winter
About the Author
One
LUNA
The guitar feels light as air as I hold it in my hands, my fingers gliding across the strings, hitting precise notes as I sing up on this crowded bar’s stage. The room is dark and the dance floor in front of me is packed tightly. It’s like a sea of faces, all of them blending together and moving like waves. The spotlight is hot as it shines down on me, but it’s a heat I love. One I crave. Everything in life could be going wrong, feeling like the world was crumbling down on top of my head, and all I’d have to do is get up on the stage and sing my heart out. Even though the bar is loud, when I step up to the mic, I feel peace.
I belt out the last line of the lyrics and hold it just a tad longer until my voice grows raspy and thick. It only adds to the sharp edge of the song. When the band wraps up, the crowd goes wild—screaming, clapping, and cheering while jumping up and down.
“I love you, Luna!” some guy in the crowd yells.
I laugh into my mic, “Love you too. Good night.” The stage goes dark and I exit off to the right, handing my guitar to the guy we hired to lug our shit around. This is just a small bar, so there isn’t a lot going on backstage. We’re not famous musicians, so there’s no party, no manager to tell us how awesome we did, and no group of people ready to do anything for an autograph or a selfie. But one of these days I know there will be. We’ve just gotta pay our dues.
I go into the small dressing room and grab a towel to wipe the sweat off my face. Of course, it smears my makeup, so I sit at the illuminated mirror and reapply what’s required. I mean, I can’t exactly go out there looking like a mess. Some nights we show up, perform, and take off, but this time I feel like sticking around to have a few drinks. The crowd really came to life tonight and that only amped me up more. There’s no way I’m ready to walk out of here and go back to my normal, boring life. When you’re up on a stage like that, the energy of the crowd seeps into you. I’m like a sponge up there, soaking up every last bit of excitement, love, and appreciation. Mix that with the three Jack and Cokes I’ve had already, and you get a fucked-up ride that won’t spit you out until the very end of the night.
Van, Ridge, and Lane all make their way into the dressing room and they’re all rowdy and ready to party.
“That crowd ate us up tonight!” Van says, tossing his drumsticks into the air and catching them.
“Fuck yeah, they did. Did you see that little vixen in the front row giving me doe eyes?” Ridge asks, dropping down on the couch and running a hand through his sweaty dark hair.
“Yeah, I did, actually. I usually think you make this shit up, but I did see her. I bet she’s waiting for you right now. So what do you think, Luna? You wanna stick around for a few rounds?” Lane asks, stepping up to my side to check himself out in the mirror. Lane is the most vain one in the group. Other than me, he’s the pretty face in the band—the one who gets positioned up front in all of our publicity photos and posters.
“Sure, I’m down,” I reply, pushing a strand of my thick, chocolatey hair behind my ear. I give my reflection one last look. My blue eyes are surrounded with dark liner and accentuated with false lashes. My lips are the perfect shade of crimson, and this top shows just enough of my cleavage and toned stomach. “I’ll be at the bar when you guys are done packing shit up.” I spin around on my heel and leave the dressing room and the boys behind.
I find my way to the bar and sit on the only open barstool. The bartender comes over immediately and pours another Jack and Coke. He offers up a flirty smile and flexes his biceps more than needed. “This one’s on me. You guys did awesome up there tonight.”
I take the glass and stir the ice with the straw. “Thank you.”
He nods. “How long you been playing and singing like that?”
I shrug one shoulder as I take a sip. “My whole life, basically, but we didn’t form the band until two years ago.”
“Well, you looked sexy up there. I get off at 2 a.m. if you wanna hang around.”
I give him a flirty smile. “I would, but I actually have to work in the morning.”
“You work?” He arches one of his pierced eyebrows.
“Doesn’t everybody? I mean, being in a band is great, but you don’t make much when you have to split the $500 you make at a gig with five people.”
“Five?”
I nod and give him a duh look. “We have a roadie. The guys decided they wanted to party more than lug equipment around.”
“And get to hang out with you in the process? Hell, I’d do that for free.” He places his forearms on the bar and leans in just a bit.
“Oh, well, then you’re hired. Be ready to rock at 9 p.m. tomorrow. We’re playing at The Ol’ Pub across town
.”
He laughs. “Well, unfortunately, I’ll be here slinging drinks.”
I snap my fingers. “Damn, and I thought this was destiny.”
He laughs at my joke and pushes himself off the bar. “Another time, perhaps.”
“I’ll see ya around.” I take my drink and walk through the bar, trying to find a table that’s open and big enough to seat the entire band. In the far back corner, there’s one booth left. I squeeze through the crowd and take a seat, scooting to the center to wait for the guys, but before they can find me to claim their seats, the whole booth fills up with random guys who saw me on stage and want to try their luck.
I’m fielding questions left and right while trying to be as polite as possible, but the drunk assholes don’t seem to take the hint. Van appears and sees that I’m trapped. He walks over to the table and looks down at the four guys who have managed to cram themselves into our booth.
“Oh, hey,” he says, looking carefree, “I didn’t realize you’d all joined the band.”
One dumbass looks up. “Oh, no. We just wanted to get to know Luna here a little better. I mean, can you blame us? She’s sexy as fuck, and those lips . . . they’d look great wrapped around a cock, don’t you think?”
Van smirks. “Yeah, they really do. Mine.” He grabs the guy by the front of his shirt and yanks him up out of the booth. He spins him around and threatens to whip his ass before pushing him back into the crowd of people. The rest of the guys take the hint and book it out of there. When Van turns back around to face me, he sees all the guys have vacated and smiles as he plops down.
“You’re welcome.”
I shake my head as a smile plays on my lips. “I didn’t say thank you.” I take a sip. “What if I actually wanted one of them?”
He frowns. “Did you?”
“No,” I laugh out.
Van and I are the best of friends and always have been. We bonded over our love of music and formed this band together. Nothing has ever happened between us, but that doesn’t stop people from thinking that we are doing something. And on rare occasions like tonight, he claims we’re together to get other assholes to leave me alone. Other than our pretend relationship in times of need, we’re just bandmates and best friends.
“Where are dumb and dumber?”
Van lifts his hand, motioning toward the bar. “Looking for their next conquest.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “If those dumbasses aren’t careful, they’re going to catch a nasty STI before we even have a shot at fame.”
He laughs and leans in to say, “That or they’ll fuck up and knock up one of these women. Can you imagine the child support a rock star has to pay?” His eyes double as he pictures the number.
I smile. “Better make sure you’re wrapping it up tight.”
He scoffs. “Why the hell do you think I’m over here with you? It’s not for my health.” He shrugs. “Or I guess in a way, it kind of is,” he laughs out.
I finish off my drink and push the glass away. “I think I’m going to call it a night, big shot.” I start to slide my way out of the booth.
“I guess I’ve got the van and the equipment?”
“You think I would trust that big of a job to those two jackoffs?” I point in their direction, but he just laughs and waves me off.
It’s going on 10 a.m. when I pull myself out of bed the next day. I practically sleepwalk to the shower, but I manage to pull myself together as the hot water wakes me up. I blow-dry my hair and curl the ends before applying some makeup. I have to sort through my clothes by picking them up off the floor and sniffing them. I find something acceptable and grab my things to head to work.
I’ve been officially working at Mick’s Music since I was 15. Because of that, we have a good relationship. I get any day off I need in exchange for managing the rest of the employees and the store. I slide my key into the lock and let myself inside. I disable the alarm and go to put my things away and open the register. At noon on the dot, I flick on the OPEN sign. It’s sad that not many kids are interested in learning how to play musical instruments anymore. When I was a kid, you couldn’t get me out of this place. Lucky for me, Mick is good friends with my dad, so I spent most of my free time here as a kid, playing instruments I knew we couldn’t afford to buy. My first guitar actually came from this store. It was a Fender Stratocaster. It was sea-foam green with a cream-colored pickguard. I had my eye on her the day she arrived. Mick knew how much I loved her and he made me a deal. I volunteered at the store after school and every weekend until I put in enough hours to earn the guitar, which at the time cost nearly a grand. That’s a lot of money for a 13-year-old kid. But I managed to get it worked off in one year. She was my pride and joy and I still have her to this day. She’s not as beautiful as she once was. Now, she’s got chipped paint, stickers, and scuffs all over her body, neck, and head, but the sentiment is still there and I’ll never get rid of her. I even named her “Journey” because I believed she was going to take me everywhere.
The store stays pretty busy throughout the first part of the day. I normally don’t make any big sales—mostly just people coming in to buy picks, new strings, and cables. Doesn’t matter much to me. I still get paid hourly, but I get commission on bigger sales, though they’re few and far between. It’s going on 4 p.m. when a man walks in wearing a finely-pressed suit. He screams money. I can tell by looking at him that he isn’t here to buy strings. He’s probably here because his busy corporate life is getting boring and he’s looking for a journey of his own—something to bring some meaning back into his life. Guitar or drums? I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out.
I walk up to the man. “Can I help you find anything?”
He turns and looks at me and I feel my heart skip a beat. He’s tall and lean and has neatly combed dark hair. His jaw is sharp and has a bit of scruff growing on it. His eyes find mine and I see they’re a delicious shade of green—something that reminds me of wet summer grass in the morning.
I see those green eyes of his start at the top of my head and work their way slowly down my body before making their way back up. He clears his throat. “Yes, actually. I was looking for a guitar for my niece’s birthday.”
“How old is your niece?” I ask.
“She’s turning 14,” he replies, and it seems he can’t keep his eyes to himself. He stares at everything from the waves in my hair to the deep, dark red of my lips.
“And are you thinking about something electric or acoustic?”
“Electric, I think . . .” His face twists up in confusion. “She likes rock and punk rock.”
I nod. “Then electric is the way to go. Right this way.” I lead him over to the far corner that holds all our electric guitars. “Does she have a favorite color?”
He looks at the selection on the wall. “I really don’t know her all that well. Pink is a girl color, right?”
I scoff. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?” I ask because he hasn’t told me and I want to know.
“Oh, sorry.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Daniel. Daniel Smith, attorney at law.”
I shake his hand. “I’m Luna. Listen, Daniel, when you’re picking out a guitar, you need to pick one that speaks to your soul. This guitar will be an extension of you . . . or rather, your niece. Do you know anything about her?”
He purses his lips together. “I have a picture.” He pulls his cell out of his jacket pocket and scrolls around until he has a picture to show me. He flips the phone around so I can see a picture of his niece. She has bright red hair—the unnatural kind—with black roots. Her blue eyes are lined darkly and her face is overdone with makeup. She’s wearing a Pink Floyd T-shirt with the Dark Side of the Moon prism on the front, but it’s been ripped and pinned back together in a very cool way. In the background, in what I assume is her bedroom, there are posters on the wall of all the greats, including Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, and The Rolling Stones. I’m actually impressed that a kid her age would even k
now these bands, let alone have their posters on the wall.
I smile. “She’s very cool,” I tell him. “She must have cool parents.”
He smiles as he puts the phone away. “Yeah, my brother is more of a free spirit than I am. So, did you find any clues about color?”
I shrug. “The pink guitar is a baby pink, so I don’t think she’d love it. I’d suggest going for the electric purple or green. Black is always cool, too, because then she could decorate it with stickers and stuff.”
He nods as he takes everything in. “I like the purple.” He points at it.
I grab it off the wall and take it down, handing it over.
He looks it over to make sure the body isn’t chipped.
“Do you want to give it a go?” I ask, grabbing a cable off the stand.
He shakes his head. “I really wouldn’t know what to do.” He hands it back.
I plug it in and turn on the amp. “I can play you something if you want to listen.” I hold out the headphones that are hooked up to the amp.
He nods and pulls them on.
I quickly think about a song and pick one that belongs to my band. My fingers glide across the strings like they have a mind of their own. At this point, they probably do. I play the first verse of one of our songs and lead into the chorus. He listens with wide eyes, causing his forehead to wrinkle. He’s surprised I know how to play. It surprises most people—they assume I just work here for the money. I want to snort thinking about my usual $450 paycheck.
Rocking His FAKE World: A Fake Boyfriend, Opposites Attract Romance (Love You Forever Book 3) Page 1