Page 4 of Forever and Ever

Then she turns and walks away, closing the dressing room door behind her. Leaving nothing but the smell of fucking cherries in my nose and in my head. She might as well have carved it into my skin. Because the scent is like her, unforgettable.

Candace walks over, unaffected by the whole scene that just played out in front of her.

Got to love that about groupies, they don’t really give a fuck about where you screw them, or what’s going on, or who’s joining in. As long as you give them a piece then they’re happy. Candace isn’t here to fall in love. She just wants to play with my dick long enough to go home and tell her friends about it.

And that’s fine—for now.

Candace reaches behind her back and unzips her dress, letting it pool on the floor by her feet. She kneels between my legs and grabs my dick, but my eyes are on the closed door behind her.

There was a time this used to make me feel less empty. A time when playing for tens of thousands of people was a dream come true. There was a time when all this was a blessing. But now, it’s my curse. Because fame has given me everything I’ve ever wanted, while also taking away everything that meant anything to me.

Not that it should matter much right now with a naked woman between my legs and a pile of coke on the table next to me.

I take a deep breath and feel the white powder starting to coat my thoughts like snow in my brain. A blanket that hides my secrets. I let it settle over the spots that hurt and float in the white space of emptiness.

My dick disappears into the groupie’s mouth, but it’s not her lips I’m picturing as I hit the back of her throat and stare off at nothingness.

I’m seeing darkness, mystery. It smells like cherries. And it’s almost good enough to bring me back to life inside. That is, if I wasn’t already halfway dead.

1

Merry

ThelasttimeIwas face to face with Noah Hayes, he was naked and five seconds away from getting his dick sucked by a groupie. It’s only fitting that time number two is no more glamorous.

I wish I could say he looks worse than I remember, but that would be a lie. He’s a mix of surfer casual and rock star glam with his shoulder-length blond hair, ripped jeans, necklaces, and bracelets. He pulls off looking like the boy you sit beside at church, while also being a rock star playboy who wears a dirty smirk like a damn statement.

Noah Hayes is a bad decision, wrapped in a deceptive pretty boy package.

“Five-star rehab, how very rock star of you,” I say, as he stops in front of me, smelling like fresh laundry and mint.

“What can I say.” Noah shrugs, the biggest smile climbing up his cheeks. “I like what I like.”

The sparkle in his eyes makes the comment feel more like an innuendo than a statement about his accommodations, so I avoid it.

The last time I saw Noah, he wasn’t exactly subtle about his interest in me. He might have been high as a kite and horny, but I recognized the look in his eyes.

Genuine curiosity.

But whether he’s interested in me or not is irrelevant. I'm not dumb enough to fall for his pretty-boy drummer routine. I work for the band now. Those guys are officially in theno-fucking-waycolumn.

Besides, the last thing I need is any man thinking I’m a good idea. Rock stars might come with a lot of baggage, but I come with more.

Noah shifts in front of me, raking his hair off his face. I realize he’s taller than I remember. Even in my lifted boots, he still towers over me by at least half a foot.

“So, Mercedes Lopez, you got the job, I see.”

I’m surprised he remembers who I am, considering the amount of powder he stuck up his nose when we met. But standing here now, his pale blue eyes are clearer, and I actually believe he might be sober.

We’ll see if he stays that way.

“Lucky me, got the job and now I’m picking your sober ass up.” I narrow my eyes at him, but he smirks in return. “And the name’s still just Merry.”

I turn and head for the rental car.

Adrian didn’t want to draw attention to Noah’s rehab stay, so he sent me to pick him up. He figured correctly that no one knows who I am or that I work for the band, so I could easily slip in and out of a world-class rehab facility with one of the world’s biggest celebrities unnoticed.

Not that it should matter. Rehab and fame go hand in hand, especially for rock stars.

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