Samhain Publishing Ltd, Ebooks and Books in Print

Chapter One

Ami and her band, Haunted, stood center stage. The drummer flipped his drumsticks to the rabid fans and the guitarist flung out some picks. With a final bow they were done—this was the final stop on the tour. When Ami turned to leave the stage, something flew up and hit her in the forehead, knocking her back in a daze. She shook her head to clear it and noticed a Frisbee on the floor by her feet. Kicking it, she staggered off the stage with a ringing headache and a desperate need for a drink.

The rest of the band pushed people aside so Ami could get into the backstage dressing room. She slammed the door and stumbled to the chair. Sitting in the cramped space Ami caught her breath feeling a trickle of blood falling from her brow to her lip.

Haunted was at the top of the charts. Being the lead singer in a rock band, especially a female lead singer, meant the paparazzi parked outside your home and everywhere you went. That meant nonstop rumors, continuous nasty things said if she went out with a man. Any first date was followed with questions about her getting married or having a baby if she gained any weight. If she ate her favorite dish of jelly and sardines it was seen as her being hypnotized by alien beings.

Hell, she couldn’t even buy a vibrator to scratch her little itch.

The two hour gig complete with two encores was draining but she still did her best for the crowds and her fans that had been there from the start. This final show was being filmed for a live CD and DVD to be released later in the year called Haunted Alive.

For one brief moment she was at peace. No screaming, no crowds—nothing but her and the quiet.

Bang, bang, bang.

So much for her momentary sanctuary.

“Come on, Ami, we’ve got a radio spot to get to after the show. Hurry up in there!” Her manager banged again and yelled through the door, “Come on, baby, we have places to go, things to do.” The dressing room door swung open and like a gust of wind in walked a well-dressed extremely hyped-up man.

“Martin, not now.”

As the band’s manager, Martin took pride and credit for much of the success. He also made it his personal goal to make Ami the center of attention. This included making sure she was always in the news, good or bad, at any cost. “Ami, we talked about this. You have commercials to do and the photo spread in that men’s magazine.”

“I told you, I’m not posing nude for some dumb publicity stunt.”

“Don’t worry. just show a little skin. Look, this is a done deal. You just sing. I’ll do the rest. Did you look over those other songs I sent?”

Ami took a drink from her glass and squinted. Her headache was getting worse. “Yeah, those aren’t for us, Martin. We write all our own songs. You know how the guys and I work, we’ve been writing together for eight years. We will cover a few tunes every now and then but—”

“You people work too slow. Just listen to them again. I’ll tell the guys what to record. I know music. This is no time to be a diva, Ami. This is the time to strike. Just do what I say and I’ll make you rich. Now quit screwing around. We have things to do, people to see. Damn, there’s a cut on your forehead. Put some cover-up on it and clean yourself up.”

Screw you, I already am rich.

With a loud slam the door closed, and Ami flinched from the noise and fell back into her chair.

“Son of a bitch, I’m bleeding.” She wiped her forehead, smearing the blood. She stared into the mirror she used to put her makeup on before the show. It revealed more than just her reflection.

Dark eyes, heavy from lack of sleep and restless nights, looked back at her. Her hair was a matted array of extensions and hairspray. Her skin was pale and marked with the fake body art that fit the image so many expected. She twisted the top off the whiskey bottle on her dressing room vanity and it ricocheted across the floor. Without thinking, she took a long gulping drink from the fifth of alcohol then wiped the remaining drops from her lips, smearing her red lipstick across her cheek. Her twenty-eight-year-old rock and roll life was a movie-of-the-week mess.

All the pressure, all the commitments others made of her time—it was all building up to the breaking point. The music fans were her lifeline and she loved the guys in the band, but they all had lives of their own. Being the front person meant she had to carry the weight. A young woman in the spotlight had different pressures.

Ami had to get away. She looked into the mirror again, seeing black mascara running down from the corners of her eyes like blood. She was twenty-eight and emotionally felt like she was fifty-nine. The essence of her existence had become blurred by greed, other people’s illusions and lost dreams. She didn’t like who she saw anymore.

She was completely exhausted, both mentally and physically. Another long drink followed and some of the whiskey dripped from the corners of her mouth. Her head weary, her body numb, she took in a deep breath and slumped into her chair. She was becoming what she swore to herself she wouldn’t—a drunk musician.

It was time to change her life.

Stumbling out of the small dressing room, she looked around, seeing people scattering in different directions like roaches. She reached back inside, grabbed her black purse, then headed in the opposite direction.

Ami saw shadows in the hallway coming toward her. In no mood to chat, she saw a door and opened it to hide inside, grateful for the quiet.

She leaned against the door to listen for the people to pass. Closing her eyes she calmed down and the alcohol soothed her throbbing headache.

“Oh yeah baby, oh yes.” A man’s voice echoed behind her.

A light gasp and moan whispered through the air.

Ami turned around to see a bleach blonde mop of hair dangling over a large speaker and the sweating face of one of her roadies in sexual bliss.

She banged her elbow against the door and the girl looked.

“Oh…my…God…” the girl yelled. Her speech was broken because the roadie kept screwing her as she spoke.

“You’re…Ami…can I …get an…auto…graph?”

Ami wasn’t sure if she should laugh or scream. Here was a young woman having sex and all she could think about was an autograph.

Reaching into her purse Ami dug out her cell phone and held it up. “Say cheese.”

Some things in life are priceless.

Ami walked out the door and followed the long hallway to a large green metal door with an exit sign above it.

When she swung the exit door open, a cold rush of wind blew against her. It quickly refreshed and cleared her drunken mind for a brief moment. Outside were the large trucks that loaded the concert gear but the other roadies must have been taking a break because there was nobody around. Though, maybe they were having the same kind of fun the one in the dressing room was.

She walked down the stairs, holding the rail for balance. The street rolled like an ocean in front her eyes. The booze was catching up with her, and the frigid air felt like ice against her hot skin.

Everything began to spin and she toppled as if a wave pushed her. She felt her body floating—and then something caught her.

“Hey. Are you all right?”

Ami blinked and saw a man’s face. He had a rugged look to him, but was handsome with scruffy brown hair and average height. He reminded her of a cowboy without the hat. He had stopped her fall and held her tightly against his body. She put her hands on his broad shoulders and leaned against his chest.

“Can I get someone for you? Let me take you back inside.”

“No…I don’t want to go back.” She was confused and disoriented but knew she needed to leave. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, I was at the show. I left late to avoid the traffic.”

Ami’s mind wavered. “What’s your name?”

“Edward.”

“Edward, please get me out of here. I’ll pay you whatever you want.” Her eyes stung with tears and she began to cry. “Please, just take me away…” As the heaviness of her life crushed down on her and the alcohol hit hard, she passed out.

Edward quickly grabbed her limp body and picked her up in his arms. She nuzzled close and curled up. Like a scene from a movie he held his damsel in distress. Now if he had a bed handy, he could lay her down to sleep…or something else.

Driving down the highway Edward couldn’t believe what had happened. The woman of his dreams was asleep in the passenger seat next to him.

He was with the woman he’d had sex with so many times before. Each time it had been amazing, too. Of course when masturbating with a washcloth and shampoo, all sex was great.

He’d memorized every song lyric she had written after hearing her sing something that touched his heart and etched itself on his soul.

Her voice soothed his heart and fantasizing about that body gave him images to satisfy his “happy time” with. She had helped him without ever knowing him and now she was…

The blast of a horn and gust of wind woke Ami from her deep sleep. Her head wobbled as she looked around. “Where are we?”

“We’re about two hours away from the show.” Edward looked over at her. “You passed out.”

He smiled and tried to think of things to say so she wouldn’t be scared or freaked out to be in his car, but she actually appeared calm.

Ami put her hand to her face and closed her eyes. “Oh crap, my head hurts and I’m starving. Do you have anything I can eat?”
“Nothing really good,” Edward replied.

“Well my head is throbbing but at least there’s no flashing lights or that damn ringing in my ears from the amplifiers. My brain must be repaying me for abusing it. All I know is that I have an empty stomach and need to go to the bathroom.”

“Well, I’ve got some fast food I picked up before the show. I ate the hamburger but the fries are in the bag there by your feet. We can stop in a little bit. There are some food places further on up the highway.” He motioned forward then got a sniff of the food in the bag and his own stomach rumbled. “I’ll take a couple fries. I’m a little hungry too.”

Ami leaned over and picked up the bag. She opened it and took a whiff of the contents. “I’ll pass,” she said while crumpling up the bag of stale-smelling food.

“There’s a truck stop about ten miles ahead. It’s quiet and they have really good food. Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes please. I need something to eat and drink.” She tugged at her stockings, which were rumpled and twisted from sitting in the car. “Don’t suppose you have any extra clothes, do you? I need to get out of this gear. This thong is riding up my butt and my shirt is wet and itches. Damn, I must smell and look terrible.”

“I think I have a couple of things in a little travel bag behind my seat. I usually keep a few extra clothes for beach trips or long drives.”

Ami climbed awkwardly into the backseat and mooned Edward on the way over. He got a nice look at her rear and the small tattoo of a heart on the right cheek.

Edward was a gentleman, but having a sexy woman changing in the back of his car was a hard temptation to resist.

Wow, she has a nice body. She peeled off the layers of clothing and he watched her in the rearview mirror, feeling a sudden urge to pull over and help her out of her clothes. It was the least he could do, right? He quickly shook off the thoughts and forced his concentration back to driving since he was swerving wildly in his lane. A pair of oncoming headlights on the two-lane road really helped the focus.

His jeans threatened to rip at the crotch when he glanced back again and stifled a groan as she slid her black thong off her feet and flung it into the front seat. His thoughts were now freaking him out.

A blaring horn and oncoming headlights jerked him back into the real world and Ami flopped around in the back seat. He almost cut off the car in the lane next to him when he swerved back into his lane. The other driver flipped him off as he passed.

Didn’t the asshole know he had a seminude rock singer in the backseat? Edward thought for a second, What the hell am I doing in the front if I have a sexy babe in the backseat unclothed?

Ami plopped back into the front seat. “Well I found this T-shirt and a pair of camouflage shorts. It’s ironic that I’m wearing camouflage since I’ve got to go commando on the underwear.”

The thought made Edward bite his lip. A little voice from between his legs whispered, “Commando? I think we need to do a special reconnaissance mission over the area.”