A Rock & Roll Romance

Copyright © 2013
by Sophie Monroe

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form

or by any means electronic or mechanical, including

photocopying
, recording or any information storage and revival systems

w
ithout prior written permission from the author

except
where permitted by law.

The characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.

Any
similarity to real persons living or dead is coincidental and

not
intended by the author.

Contact:

[email protected]

www.facebook.com/sophiemonroewrites

The author acknowledges the use of the following:

Cover Photo courtesy of:

Will Ferguson-
www.facebook.com/willfergusondrummer

Taken by:

Noelle Carina-
www.facebook.com/artbynoellecarina

Adele, Age of Days (Daze), Brian Fallon-The Gaslight Anthem, Cartier, Chevy, Escalade, Faneuil Hall, Google, Granduca Hotels, Hard Rock Café, Hinder, Honda, In-N-Out Burger, Jameson, James Taylor, Juicy Couture, Kings of Leon, Lit, Los Del Rios- Macarena, Lucky Charms, Lucky Strikes, Marlboro, Millennium Hotel, Mini Cooper, New England Aquarium, Poison, Range Rover, Ray-Ban, Rod Stewart, Rock Band, The Golden Girls, The Rolling Stones, Three Days Grace, Van Morrison, Wii, W Hotels

Battlescars:

A Rock & Roll

Romance

Sophie Monroe

Thank you to my readers and fans for taking the time to read something that I wrote.

To my blog friends and friends that took the time to beta read and offer feedback THANK YOU!

To my husband who dealt with all my insanity while writing this story and for helping me make sure that it was the best it could be. I love you!

A
special thank you to my friend Tara W. for helping me with the medical parts (and your advice and laughs along the way.)

A very special thank you to my friend Will Ferguson who’s picture you’re seeing on the cover and to his awesome girlfriend Noelle for taking the picture! (and for staying up until 2:30 in the morning helping to perfect it.)

Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything. ~ Plato

CHAPTER ONE

Everywhere I Go

“Aubrey!” My dad called waking me from a stupor.

I lifted my head
off his desk and yawned loudly.

“Amen.” I suppressed
a giggle.

Someone
once told me if you ever get caught sleeping with your head down to play it off like you were praying and hope for the best. I knew I wouldn’t get in trouble and that my dad would find it amusing. Besides, it was his fault that I was exhausted from being gone so much this week. I had been to LA, NYC, Boston, and San Francisco just to name a few. I didn’t go to visit. No, I spent my time playing stewardess to rich middle-aged men. They would hire my dad’s commercial aircraft company to fly them to their destinations, and I was part of the deal.
Yay me!

“Nice try kiddo.” He beamed his crinkly-eyed smile at me. “Listen
, I know you just got back,
and
you’re exhausted, but I need a favor.”

Not again…
I was looking forward to going home and sleeping for a day, or several.

“I have a date tonight?”

“A date?”
He choked.

I didn’t date
, and he knew it.

“Yeah, with my bed.
We were totally going to sleep together.” I said sarcastically.

He
rolled his eyes and laughed. “Nice try.”

“
Ugh. What is it this time?” I asked, feeling slightly annoyed.

I already knew my answer
, and it involved packing.

“We just got a
call for a last minute flight and I need you to go. It could turn out to be a valuable client.” He smiled, and I knew I was doomed. I may have been twenty-three, but I was still daddy’s little girl and wanted to make him happy.

“What are the flight details?” I asked curiously.

“Well, this one is leaving from LA and heading to Manhattan. If this goes well, there could be several more.”

“Who are we flying this time? It better not be that
creepy Carter guy again. I left him walking funny for a week last time.”

My dad flinched.
“No, he’s no longer a client here.”

The “Carter Incident
,” as my dad referred to it happened three weeks ago. Carter Murphy is a pompous ass whose dad owns Murphy Enterprises, a Texas based textile-company. He thinks that he’s entitled to everything he wants, including women. He learned the lesson the hard way with me that you can’t always have what you want. We were flying from Houston to Dallas, a complete waste of fossil fuel, when Carter decided he wanted to cop a feel. Boy, was he surprised when I copped a feel of my own and twisted,
hard
. I wish I had a Polaroid of his face so that I could hang it as a warning to anyone else that wanted a try. No one touched me without my permission. Especially after what happened…

I knew
that I was decent looking, and I’ve had my fair share of suitors. I didn’t think it was a job hazard since most of our clients wouldn’t be interested in someone that looked like me. I never liked to
blend
with the crowd, so I tended to stand out. Basically, I have black hair with hot pink highlights, a couple piercings and a bunch of tattoos. I’m a size six, because unlike most skinny bitches I want to eat things other than salads. I have a mouth that would make a sailor proud. I also never hold back what I want to say in order to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. However, I am fiercely loyal and compassionate, just don’t cross me.

“That’s too bad.” I said
, not feeling guilty at all.

“Listen Aubrey, things have been slower than normal
lately… with the cost of fuel going up along with everything else, we really need this client.”

I
recently noticed that things were slower than normal, but the edge in his voice told me he was worried. It was especially unsettling for me because this business was his whole life. It was built up from literally nothing by my Gramps with blood, sweat and tears. I would do whatever I had to, even if it meant making myself suffer to keep it afloat.

“Is it Channing Tatum? Please tell me it is…”
I pleaded playfully.

“No, it’s um,
” He put his glasses on to look at the post-it in his hand. “It’s a Jake Parker.”

I rolled my eyes.
Jake Parker, joy.
His name had been screamed and damned to hell by lots of women according to the gossip rags. Everyone under fifty, except my dad, knew who Jake Parker was. He was the uber-sexy lead singer of the band Battlescars. He was tall, handsome and covered in tattoos. He also had a reputation,
one that I wasn’t interested in knowing.
You just said you would do anything.
I told myself.

“Fine,
I’ll do it. But you owe me big time, and I mean BIG. I need to go home and grab some clean clothes. When do we need to leave?”

“Be
back by two at the absolute latest. Can you tell mom that I’ll be a little late for dinner tonight?”

I nodded and
did a couple spins in the swivel chair before heading to my car, a beat up Honda Civic with a serious muffler problem. I put it in to first gear and headed home. I drove down Main Street and admired all of the families walking up and down window-shopping on the crisp fall day. That sort of thing would never be in the cards for me. I was almost at the point that I accepted it, almost. I was destined to be alone because of
him.
I pushed that thought aside and continued my journey home. Ten minutes later I pulled up to my parent’s small ranch. It was white with gray shutters and a red door. The walkway was lined with red, orange and yellow mums. There were two pumpkins on either side of the stairs and a scarecrow planted in the bush off to the side. It was where I grew up, and I loved it.

I turned the key
and pushed the door open.

“Mom, I’m home.” I yelled.

“In here honey.” She yelled back from the kitchen, which was a whole ten feet away.

The house smelled delicious. She was making
beef stew. My stomach growled obnoxiously. I headed into my mom’s charming little kitchen. It boasted original cabinets and appliances from the 50’s, except the fridge. It was retro chic. I kissed her cheek and made myself a bowl. I crumbled up some crackers and dug in.

“That’s very un-ladylike Aubrey Jean.” My mom scolded.

My mom, Caroline was incredible. She was your typical all-American housewife, minus the Botox. She was the best cook and could easily give Paula Deen a run for her money. She was strong and witty. I admired her immensely. We were about the same height at five foot five and had the same honey brown eyes. Her hair was a light shade of brown, where mine was naturally a dark brown like my dad. I dye mine black because I think it compliments my skin better. I stuck my tongue out at her and grinned. I hated when she called me by my full name. My middle name was Jean after my Granny Jean who lived across the street. She’s awesome. A total spitfire. I would make a point to stop by and see her before I took off again. I finished eating and rinsed my bowl. I headed to my room to pack.

As soon as I started down the hallway m
y cat, Mitsy, spotted me. She started going nuts and kept trying to climb in my suitcase. She followed me around as I went from room to room collecting miscellaneous crap. Most likely I wouldn’t need any of it, but I liked to keep it handy just in case. I stopped dead in my tracks when I walked past the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and wanted to scream. I couldn’t believe that I actually went out in public looking like this. My hair looked like the bride of Frankenstein, and my eyeliner looked like a scene from hooker meets pimp. I grabbed a washcloth and wiped my face. I reapplied my make-up and took a brush to my hair. I went back into my room and changed into a pair of black skinny jeans and a lightweight gray hoodie. I tossed the rest of my belongings into the suitcase and zippered it. I scratched Mitzy for a couple minutes before it was time to go. I hugged my mom goodbye and headed over to see Granny Jean. I walked across the street to her blue bi-level. I didn’t bother knocking because she’d whack me with a wooden spoon if I did. She always insisted that her house was my house.

“Well
, if isn’t my favorite bran muffin.” She was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and smoking a Lucky Strike.

“If it isn’t my favorite dinosaur.”
I teased back.