The Rock Season (31 page)
Authors: R.L. Merrill
“I fucking love hearing you call me Husband, Wife.”
She laughed and sat up, urging me closer. And she made me sing, for sure. She was so damn talented with her mouth. But I needed to claim my wife.
“Lay back, love. I need to be inside you. Let’s do some consummatin’.”
And did we ever. It was nice to be alone in a hotel room where we could let loose and love each other, unlike at home where we’d been sleeping in a room between my parents and my brothers.
I made love to my bride in every position my stupid leg would allow me to, and a few that pushed my limit a little. Thankfully Stevie was able to assist, being so damn flexible. The ways she could bend her body had me losing control. This night we beat our record, three times… I was drenched with sweat and my muscles were shaking, but goddamn it felt so good to be alive right now! Alive and in love with the most incredible woman on the planet. I gave her my all and when I felt she was near one last orgasm, I sang softly in her ear and tried to get an angle that I knew would send us both over the edge. Of course, the song I started singing was “I Was Made For Loving You,” which made her start cracking up just as I came so hard, I collapsed on top of her.
“God, even disco-KISS is so fucking hot when you sing it to me.” She gave a little hip wiggle in time to my whimpering vocals, which caused me to slide out of her and then we were both laughing.
“This is the best wedding night ever in the history of wedding nights.”
I leaned over and pushed her red curls back from her face. “I love you so much, Stevie. I know this was so quick and crazy… We can do it again for real if you want the big wedding. I’ll give you anything you want, love. Anything.”
She laughed and shushed me with a kiss. Then she pulled back and looked at me hesitantly. “There is one thing,” she said with a shy smile.
I frowned and took her hand in mine, bringing it to my chest. “Anything.”
She blew up a curl off her forehead.
“I’m supposed to get my next Depo shot next week. I don’t want to.”
It took me a minute to get what she was trying to say, but when I did, I was so right there with her. “You want a baby. Oh, Stevie, let me give you a baby! Let me make you pregnant, Wife. I want lots of children with you. Little beautiful ginger babies to run around our yard, climb all over Pops, and bug the shit out of my brothers. Oh, please, love. Say I can give you a child.”
She was crying by this point. Happy tears, which I’d learned to discern at this point in our relationship.
“Yes, Aaron, yes. Please. As long as it’s not too-”
I kissed her vigorously, her hands coming around my neck and pulling me closer.
“I wish I was making you pregnant right now. God, Stevie! I can’t wait for you to have that sexy belly you had when I first saw you.” I paused, worried I’d just ruined the moment. “Stevie, I’m sorry.”
She smiled up at me and wiped a lone tear away. “No, it’s ok. I got to spend my precious months with her and now she’s in a better place. As long as we can celebrate her each year, I will keep her close to my heart.”
I kissed her gently, hopefully letting her know that Nancy was just as much a part of my life as she was Stevie’s. I wished things would have been different for her, I hated that she experienced such pain, but I wasn’t going to argue with Fate. Stevie was meant to be mine and I was not going to let her go.
We slept late the next day and then had tickets to see Mötley Crüe in residency at the Joint. It was a crazy show and it felt like a full circle. Once again we were standing together and rocking out. But this time, I saw our lives flash before my eyes. Her carrying my children, us taking those kids to shows with huge noise-cancelling headphones, us travelling together and seeing shows around the world after we retired together, and finally us taking our grandkids to shows. Ok, maybe I was getting ahead of myself there, but damn it felt good.
Stevie
When Mötley Crüe came on for their last encore and sang “Home, Sweet, Home,” I looked up at my husband and realized he had become home for me. I couldn’t wait to get home and celebrate with my new family. I was grateful to his parents, grandparents, and even his brothers for the way they accepted me and made me feel at home with them. I would do my best to be daughter, granddaughter and sister to them all and work every day to let them know just how much I appreciated them and Aaron. My husband. Just saying that again brought the tears on. I knew we had some rough times ahead, but I was ready to face them all with this amazing man.
Aaron frowned down at me and then spoke in my ear. “I’m pretty sure crying isn’t allowed at a Crüe concert.”
I wrapped my arms around him and pushed up on my toes to speak in his ear. “Maybe you should take me back to our suite then. Because I’m pretty sure wrapping my legs around your naked body would be frowned upon, too, and I intend to do that all night, baby.”
His hands cupped my ass, pulled me in close to feel his growing appreciation, and he gave me his killer smile. “As the lady wishes.”
California native R.L. Merrill has lived many lives in her 42 years: Dancer, cheerleader, swimmer, school counselor, advocate for victims of Domestic Violence, daughter, wife, mom... And now author! A lifelong reader, movie fanatic, and music lover, she lives with her two crazy kids and her immensely tolerant husband in Northern California with a constantly growing cast of critters. If she’s not corralling her herd, you can find her at a rock concert, bookstore, or tattoo shop.
I would never have been able to write this novel without the support and patience of my husband and my children. Thanks again to Ellay Branton for always coming in for the save and keeping me sane. This would not be happening without you! To Kimberlie L. Faye, your constant support and cheerleading is always appreciated and will always be reciprocated! You two mean the world to me and I’m grateful we founded the Sex, Gods, and Rock n’ Roll Triumvirate!
To my authory mentors: Cynthia St. Aubin, Tiffinie Helmer, Kerrigan Byrne, and T.E. Ridener… You continue to cheer me on and inspire me. For that I will always be grateful!
Lastly, I owe all of my success and achievements to my mother, Linda Rae. Thanks, Mom, for always being there for me when I needed you.
I want to recognize all the mothers out there who have lost their angels before they had a chance to fly. Your strength inspires me and I pray you all find peace. This novel also deals with surviving cancer and surviving rape, two unfair and unjust facts of life that also bring out tremendous strength and resiliency in the people we know and love. Survivors are heroes, plain and simple. If you are in need of support from any of these tragedies, please seek help.
Grieving a lost child of any age:
http://www.missfoundation.org/about
Cancer Survivor Support:
Sexual Assault Support:
I would love to connect with you! I love sharing my brand of crazy with readers, reviewers and authors!
Facebook at:
https://www.facebook.com/rowritesrocknromance
Email at:
[email protected]
Twitter: @rlmerrillauthor
Spotify: rlmerrillauthor You can find the playlist that inspired me here!
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Teacher by R.L. Merrill
Jesse Martin does not live a glamorous life in Hollywood, California. She is a teacher dodging pink slips due to budget cuts and lives in a rundown, sketchy apartment complex. Her next door neighbor and his fellow aspiring musicians try to keep her smiling while doing more partying than practicing, but their attempts to make her smile aren’t enough to keep her happy, or healthy. Her passion for dancing, an activity that due to her health has become seriously limited, can’t even save her. Supporting her parents, paying off student loans and staying on top of astronomical medical bills means no time for anything but work. It’s only a matter of time before she loses her crappy apartment and has to run home with her tail between her long, shapely legs.
Danny Black is at a crisis point. After having surgery to hopefully save his vocal chords, the lead singer of the chart-topping and award-winning rock band Blackened decides to finally accomplish what he should have done years ago and earn his high school diploma. His preteen daughter is a mess, his ex-wife is as awful as ever, and now he must face the possibility of having to give up his hard-won career if the surgery isn’t successful. Faced with two months of no speaking, he uses his financial clout to hire Jesse to be his Home Instructor and immediately realizes he’s met his match.
Jesse does everything possible to fight her attraction to Danny, but Danny is a man used to getting what he wants, and he wants Jesse with a passion he can’t deny. Can these two lonely artists let love be their teacher? Can they overcome the obstacles that life keeps throwing in their path and finally find love?
I pulled up in front of my crappy apartment complex off of Franklin and found parking on the street. Luckily, with my unattractive car, I didn’t worry too much about anyone breaking in. I climbed the steps to my second floor apartment and sighed to find the walkway in front of my door littered with beer bottles, again. My neighbor Cosmo was an aspiring musician and had more parties with his band than actual practices. There was no complaining to the manager for help since he was the manager. His family owned the building and left him completely in charge.
“Hey, Jesse Baby,” he called out from inside his apartment. The door was rarely shut if Cosmo or one of the other guys was around. His band mates crashed more nights than not. I smiled begrudgingly in greeting.
“Hey Cosmo. Any chance I might get some sleep this weekend?” He laughed and stepped outside his door shirtless, and wearing ratty jean shorts. He had long, curly, black-as-night hair. If he bathed regularly he might be totally attractive. As it was, he was the closest thing I had to a friend in the area.
“That I cannot guarantee. The guys are coming over later and we’re going to practice as long as possible before they get wasted and pass out.” I shook my head.
“Well, I’d appreciate it if they’d keep their vomit in the toilet or trash cans rather than on my doormat.” He rubbed at his stubble-covered chin and laughed.
“Yeah, that was probably Jinx. I’ll tell him to stay on this side of the Mason-Dixon line.”
I rolled my eyes. In one of my fits of anger at their hard partying ways, I’d drawn a line between our apartments on the cement walkway and declared my side the ‘free zone’- free meaning puke-free, trash-free, naked chick-free. He then argued that meant he could have slavery on his side of the line and tried to force their groupies to clean, do laundry, and buy beer.
“You do that. You guys have a gig tomorrow?” He nodded.
“Yeah, we’re playing at the Roxy at 10. You going to come watch?” I shrugged.
“I might. I need to do something this weekend that a person my age would do.”
Cosmo often teased me for being such a homebody. He’d say, “Jesse, you are a beautiful, sexy girl with legs any man would kill to get between. You have no business locking them away from mankind.” He meant well, I guess, in his perverted sort of way.
We waved to each other and I unlocked my door and stepped inside. My one bedroom apartment was as clean as I could get it, which wasn’t saying much. The complex I lived in was a relic from the ‘50’s and the linoleum and carpets hadn’t been replaced in probably twenty years. I could spend hours cleaning and it would still look like a pit. I dropped my keys and bag full of papers to grade by the door and plopped down on my couch to finish the dregs of my water bottle. I took out the card again and ran my fingers over the professional lettering. I dialed the number and blew out a breath.
“This is Patricia.” Her tone was all business.
“Hi, Patricia? My name is Jesse Martin. My principal gave me your card and asked me to contact you about a teaching job for the summer?” I heard her speak to someone quietly on the other end and then a door slammed.
“Yes, hello Jesse! I was hoping you could help me with a client of mine. He’s interested in earning his high school diploma and, given his special circumstances, he would prefer to have you come to his home for the lessons. Your district has given us permission to have him work with a credentialed teacher in an independent study format and we need a teacher who can cover all the material with him. Are you credentialed for this kind of a student?”
“Yes, ma’am. I have been teaching high school Independent Study for five years and have been found Highly Qualified according to the standards set by the No Child Left Behind Act to teach all core subjects.” My palms were sweating and I knew it had nothing to do with the temperature. I kicked off my shoes and waited for her response.
“Oh, please hold on, I’ve got another call.” I sighed and walked into my dingy bedroom to change clothes. I unbuttoned my blouse and slid my slacks down my legs, the layer of sweat making them stick. Just then Cosmo’s guitar growled, shaking my walls. I prayed I could get through this conversation before the rest of the band arrived.
Patricia came on a few minutes later. ”Sorry about that Jesse. Can you meet tonight for dinner? My client would like to get started as soon as possible.” I frowned at the phone.
“I’m sorry, I assumed we would be starting this summer. I’m still teaching for the next three weeks.”
She laughed. ”I told him that and he said he’d work around your schedule. Look, he’s not a very patient man and I’m afraid he’s used to getting what he wants. He’s been out of commission lately and is antsy to get to work on this.”
It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. ”Sure, I can meet tonight. Where did-”
She cut me off. ”Give me your address, Jesse. I’ll send a car.” Ok, so we were on that level.
“Um, I’d prefer it if I met you somewhere.”
She tried to reassure me that it was no problem but I insisted. There was no way in hell I wanted them to see where I lived. Not to mention my fear of what Cosmo and the gang could do to ruin this. They were good-hearted guys but they had not an ounce of common sense between them.
“Can you meet us at the Formosa Cafe at 7:00?” I agreed and we hung up. I gave a forlorn glance at the shorts and t-shirt I was about to put on. I would need to wear my professional attire for this since it was basically an interview.
I took a shower and got made up once again. I wore a sleeveless cream blouse and a navy pencil skirt with strappy sandals. I wanted to look professional and the clothes helped but I had quite a baby face. I wore my thick, blonde hair up in a bun. My reading glasses helped to conceal my youth. At 5’10” I towered over many of my students, even when I wasn’t in heels, and that, plus my austere appearance, meant none of the kids messed with me. I had a reputation for being firm but fair and my caseload was always full. I bordered on being too thin, but then again being a former professional dancer would do that to you. Once you adopted those eating habits they were hard to break, even if they were no longer necessary.
I gave myself an hour to get there, even though it should have only taken 20 minutes. Traffic in Hollywood on a Friday night was nightmarish at best. I parked three blocks away with ten minutes to spare, that’s the closest I could get, and I jogged to the restaurant. Not an easy feat in heels. There was a line outside so I checked with the bouncer.
“My name is Jesse Martin. I have a dinner meeting with Patricia Gordon?” He leered at me, gave an appraising look at my attire and let me in.
“They’re in the back, gorgeous.” I smiled thinly at him and walked through the door. The Formosa Cafe was a great place with amazing food. I didn’t often splurge to come here, but when I did, I always left feeling stuffed and satisfied.
I wandered through the crowded bar and saw the tables in the streetcar section of the restaurant were empty with the exception of one at the very back. A voluptuous woman with dyed red hair was sitting facing me in a grey business suit. Her client, I assumed, was sitting with his back to me and all I could make out was a San Francisco Giants baseball cap on backwards with a black hooded sweatshirt. He had his arms slung over the back of the booth and I could see tattoos on his hands.
“Jesse! Come join us.” I stepped over and shook hands with the woman.
“Patricia, I presume?” She nodded, taking my hand between hers.
“Thanks so much for meeting with us. Jesse Martin, please meet my client, Danny Black.”
I froze where I stood. It was probably only a millisecond, but my heart was jumping out of my chest and I had to fight to not wobble on the heels of my strappy sandals. I turned and looked down to see a very red-haired, very annoyed, very virile rock god.
“Pleased to meet you,” he whispered in a raspy voice.
“Likewise,” was all I could get out. I took a deep breath to get myself under control, offered a thin-lipped smile, and slid into the booth next to Patricia. Patricia was smiling broadly. She seemed more apprehensive than I was! She was shaking her leg under the table, her pump sliding on and off her heel. She was even tapping her acrylic nails on the table.
“Great. So. Danny, Jesse has all the qualifications needed to be your teacher so you can finish your credits and earn your diploma.” He glared first at me and then back at Patricia, probably not appreciating her tone. There had to be a reason she was talking to him like an angry two year-old.
“Does she know that I want to get this done as soon as possible?”
I was curious as to what the whispering was about. We were the only ones in this part of the restaurant. I smoothed my palms over my skirt hoping to control my nerves.
I had no clue that I would be meeting the lead singer of Blackened when I agreed to this dinner. Danny Black’s career was huge! Blackened was a Grammy-winning, Billboard Chart Topping, rock n’ roll force of nature with five gold and platinum albums under their belt. Danny had his fingers in producing up-and-coming rock acts and was frequently asked to do guest vocals on other artists’ work. I was a huge fan but there was no way in hell I was going to let on that I was totally geeking out.
I cleared my throat. ”Mr. Black? Do you know how many credits are on your transcript?”
His glare grew more severe and I figured I’d just touched a nerve. He whispered, “I have some, I’m sure. I’m not a total idiot, Ms. Martin.” I could see the muscles moving in his cheek as if he we
re clenching his jaw.
“I didn’t mean to infer that you were anything other than short a diploma. If I can take a look at your transcript, I can tell you about how long it will take us to get you finished. You’ll also have to pass the Language Arts and Math Exit Exams. They are required by the state now for anyone trying to earn a diploma.” He ground his teeth some more and glared at Patricia. She looked very nervous. I could imagine that it took delicacy to work with a client like Danny Black.
“I have copies of his transcript in a file here,” she reached in her briefcase, glancing anxiously at Danny, and brought out a manilla folder. ”We’ll also need you to sign a nondisclosure agreement. Danny would like for this to be a private matter.”
He was peering out the window now, his deep brown eyes ringed with dark circles. His cheeks were covered with red stubble and his shaggy, wavy red hair was sticking out all over the place from under his hat.
“The district approved all of the paperwork, Jesse, so if you’ll just sign here,” she said as she handed me a blue pen, “then the two of you can get started.”
I looked up at Danny, but he was still looking out the window. I cleared my throat.
“I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
He turned his glare back at me and I felt my face flush. He had such a powerful presence. I knew on stage he was a passionate performer, moving fluidly from raging growls to tender melodies. But sitting across from him, I felt like his eyes were burning holes in me. I worried I might not hold up under the pressure. It was one thing to work with angry young boys who just needed someone to believe in them. I had no experience with angry, thirty-something men.
Patricia looked worriedly between us and gave me an uneasy smile. ”What is it that you’d like to ask?” I looked over at Danny and raised an eyebrow.
“I just want to be sure that Mr. Black understands what is involved with this kind of work. Typically I meet with my students once or twice a week and they work about twenty hours at home to complete their credits. The curriculum I use covers the standards and allows for the student to move at his or her own pace.”
Instead of glaring, he now had his game face on. I thought maybe this was the right approach, to challenge him.
“I’m ready to do what I need to do. I will work more than twenty hours a week if it means getting done with this quickly. But I’m going to need more than two meetings a week. I’m going to expect you to be at my place whenever I need you.” He dropped that gauntlet and then leaned forward with his elbows on the table, lacing his long fingers together. Tattooed across his fingers were the words “Wise” and “Fool.” Interesting.
I crossed my legs and leaned forward to mimic his position. ”The district will likely not allow me to work more than a set amount of hours per week.” He leaned a few millimeters more towards me.
“I don’t give a fuck what the district says. If you take this job I expect you to be there when I need you,” he whispered angrily. There was a faint trace of a challenging smile on his lips and I really didn’t know what to do with that.
He leaned forward again, his voice such a quiet whisper, and said, “Ms. Martin have you ever worked with adults before?” I shook my head.
“No, but I work with kids who haven’t been in school for two or three years, who have been in jail, who have been pregnant and given birth while finishing, and kids who are doing the Hollywood gig, trying to make it big. All of them want it bad enough to work hard and do what is required.” I leaned forward again. ”Are you prepared to work hard and do what is required?”
He nodded and his lips spread into a devilish grin. ”You bet your ass I am.” We sat there, leaning towards each other, staring each other down and waiting for the other to blink first. I sat back, never taking my eyes off his, and picked up the blue pen again.
“I’ll sign your agreement. When do you want to start?”
His smile was gone. ”Tomorrow. Noon. My place. Patricia will send a car.”
I shook my head. ”That’s not necessary. If you give me an address I will get there myself.” Now he really looked pissed.
“Fine. Patricia?” She jotted down his address and handed it to me in exchange for the agreement.
“Thank you, I will see you tomorrow.” I stood up and Patricia touched my arm.