Wasted: A Single Daddy Rockstar Romance Read online

  Wasted

  A Single Daddy Rock Star Romance

  by

  Andrea Smith & Gina A. Jones

  Wasted

  A Single Daddy Rock Star Romance

  By Andrea Smith & Gina A. Jones

  Meatball Taster Publishing, LLC.

  Copyright © 2020. All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) or stored in a database or retrieval system without the written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only licensed authorized electronic editions, and please do not encourage electronic piracy of sites such as ebook bike (ebook bike is a web site where author’s books are illegally offered for free. This is known as pirating. This is illegal. And there is currently federal litigation pending against the owner of this pirate site, Travis McCrae for which he could potentially face prison time and those who were involved in downloading this stolen copyright material may also face prosecution.) Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Titlepage

  Copyright

  About the Book

  Part One

  Prologue

  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

  Part Two

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue 1

  Epilogue 2

  About Andrea Smith

  About Gina A. Jones

  About the Book

  Emmett Jackson is a high school drop-out and a rock star wannabe at twenty.

  He has the looks, he has the sex appeal, and he also has enough groupies to totally notch-out his bedpost. That’s his current problem. Poor choices and toxic decisions have splintered his dreams for the future just as the band is gaining momentum.

  Stacie Coulter is from the wrong side of the tracks, but that doesn’t stop her from fan-girling Emmett’s band: Wasted. She is infatuated with Emmett, and mistakes a one-night stand as a declaration of love, and is determined to prove that to Emmett.

  She continues to pursue, too immature to realize that things with a wannabe rock star often fizzle long before they sizzle. Right before Emmett is due to leave on tour with the band, Stacie drops a bombshell that will forever change his life. Everything he’s dreamed of, and everything he’s worked for is Wasted.

  ADULT CONTENT

  Part One

  Prologue

  Eighteen months earlier…

  Emmett sat at the desk, his legs sprawled in front of him, waiting for the proctor to give out the test instructions he should’ve known by heart now. This was the third time he was taking the S.A.T. test. Why he was putting himself through it yet again was the obvious question.

  Parental pressure. No, that wasn’t altogether true. It was actually ‘stepmother’ pressure. And he wasn’t at all convinced she really had his best interest at heart.

  These tests were a bitch. He knew that from experience. But if you thought about it too much? Well, you just had to move on is all. Move on to the next question.

  The ticking of the classroom clock seemed to increase in volume with each passing second. It was almost a distraction. A means of keeping the gears in his brain from churning out an answer. Whoever thought multiple-choice exams were the easiest types of tests? Nobody, that’s fucking who!

  The muted sounds of a pencil dropping in the background, papers shuffling, erasers hard at work, fingers tapping, and knuckles cracking overwhelmed his mind. He ran a hand through his tousled mass of hair and willed himself to focus. The current question had him stumped. He’d been pondering it long enough to know he would simply have to guess, so he picked a circle and filled it in with his #2 regulation pencil.

  He moved on to the next question in the test booklet. Jesus Christ, he could tell this one would be even worse if that were even possible. Some sort of algebraic formula with equations tossed in, and he was supposed to compare and decide which of the choices provided were correct.

  Compare the quantities and fill in:

  A) If the quantity is less than

  B) If the quantity is greater than

  C) If the quantities are equal to

  D) The relationship cannot be determined

  Fuck. Who cares?

  His pencil filled in the circle in front of “D” on the answer sheet.

  Move on. Got to keep movin’ on. The next question would be a killer; he just knew it.

  Martina is traveling from New Preston to Washington depot and back. How many different ways can she make the round trip, going through Kent exactly once, Pauling exactly once, never traveling any section of the road more than once per trip?

  (Note: This map is not drawn to scale.)

  Are they fucking serious? Why the hell doesn’t Martina just stay the fuck at home and not worry about it?

  Emmett dropped his pencil down on his desk and rubbed his fingers furiously over his closed eyes. He should get up and walk out. He wasn’t even sure he was going to finish high school. That being the case, why in the hell was he wasting a perfectly good Saturday afternoon sitting inside a cramped, stuffy classroom taking a test which would only prove he was NOT college material?

  His stepmother had been coaching him, prodding him, hell she’d been nagging him. His only conclusion was that her motivation came from:

  A) Having no children of her own to nag.

  B) Hoping college would push him out of the crowded trailer next fall.

  C) All of the above.

  He chose “C.”

  He realized he didn’t necessarily have to wait until graduation to leave home. He’d be happy to go now as long as he had the funds to support himself elsewhere. More paying gigs for the band might just do it. It very well could be his ticket out of Fort Wayne eventually. In fact, he was due to head over to Cooper’s once the test was over to practice in his garage.

  The proctor’s voice broke into his distracted thoughts.

  “Okay, pencils down. Close your test booklets, and turn your answer sheets over. You’ll now have a fifteen-minute break,” she announced.

  Emmett followed her instructions, going out into the hall, opening his locker and pulling out his backpack. He
had no intention of putting himself through any more S.A.T. torture. Emmett wasn’t going back into that classroom in fifteen minutes. Hell, he was nineteen now, he didn’t even have to step foot back into this school if he didn’t want to. And Emmett did not want to. At that moment, Emmett knew his plans had been made. The burden had been lifted, and the weight of indecision was gone.

  He was going to devote his activities to Wasted, the garage band he’d formed with some of his buddies. They were on the upswing now, playing a mix of emo-tinged and pop chaos cover tunes, and creating some of their own. It was a unique sound, and they had just started getting paid gigs. Not bad money at all for a group of twenty-year-old dudes. And the fringes were even better.

  The guys were setting up when he drove his motorcycle through the alley leading up to the back of Cooper’s garage. The neighborhood was in an older part of Fort Wayne that was still kept up despite the fact the city had shrunk considerably over the past decade. Loss of industry like most shrinking cities in the rust belt.

  His old man worked as a mechanic at half the hourly wage he’d had ten years ago. Emmett didn’t want to end up like that; feeling stuck when there were so many other choices his dad could have made. He had no plans to stay in Fort Wayne.

  “Hey man,” Coop called out as Emmett walked into the garage and picked up his guitar. “You’re earlier than expected. Did you ace the exam this time, brother?” he asked, tuning his bass.

  “Left at break. Done with that shit. College ain’t for me.”

  “Never thought it was,” Slade the drummer for Wasted said with a smirk, tapping his sticks together for emphasis. “Music is the real deal, man.”

  Wayne was going over the music for the song he and Emmett had been composing. Wayne played rhythm guitar and wrote a lot of the music with Cooper. Emmett was good at playing lead guitar and had a knack for coming up with dark lyrics to put with the music. Together they had dreams of being rock stars.

  ` “Hey Emmett,” Wayne greeted as he looked up from the music sheet, “I changed some of the chords on the new one. Think it needs a slower beat starting out. Why don’t we give it a try and see how it flows?”

  “I’m down with that,” Emmett answered, pulling the strap of his guitar over his shoulder and plucking at a couple of the strings. Everyone else took their places, and finally, Emmett nodded, “Let’s do it.”

  Slade tapped his sticks together, and the first few chords of the intro started in unison. Emmett stopped playing after the first few bars, calling out, “Whoa, hold up.” He turned to face Slade behind him on drums. “Who’s supposed to come in?” he asked.

  Slade shrugged, “I’m waiting for Coop,” he said, nodding toward the bass player.

  “Naw, no, you’re not waiting for me,” Coop interjected, “Look, we’re doing two measures of “D” you’re only doing one okay? You got to do two.” He turned to Wayne, “Look, I’m following you anyways,” he finished.

  “Wait a minute, you’re the one playing bass here,” Wayne replied, giving Coop a frown.

  “Yeah,” Coop responded, “Exactly, I am playing bass, Wayne.”

  “Hey, you want the sticks, dude?” Slade interjected, holding them out to Coop.

  “No, I don’t want the sticks. If you would just get it right once! I want you to do it one fucking---”

  “Guys, guys, stop it! Stop it, okay? Coop, Wayne?” Emmett interrupted, waving his free arm out to quiet the other three band members’ argument, “Let’s just try it again, okay?”

  Once again, Slade tapped the sticks to a 4-beat, and the music started, picking up momentum and keeping to the beat. After the introduction, Emmett waited until Coop played the short riff on base, stepped closer to the mic, and spilled out the lyrics they’d written so far for Vagabond.

  Put your ear close to the ground;

  Do you hear the fading sound?

  If it’s lost or being found,

  Turning off and spinning round.

  A vagabond with no address

  A fire in the wilderness;

  The patient loses consciousness

  The blackened sky hides emptiness.

  Emmett stopped because that’s where the lyrics ended at this point. They weren’t finished yet but, even so, something was lacking. He felt it.

  “Keyboard,” he blurted. “This song needs some keyboards at the refrain.”

  “Oh fuck,” Coop growled. “And you decide this all by yourself, man? And just where the hell are we gonna come up with a keyboardist?” he continued, glaring at Emmett.

  “Not to worry,” Emmett replied with a smirk. “I know just the person.”

  “Care to fill us in, dude?” Slade remarked, tapping one of his cymbals for effect.

  “Ace Coulter,” Emmett replied with a broad smile, “He’d be perfect, and he’s looking to make some more money.”

  “Hold up, hold up, one damn minute,” Wayne interjected. “Are you talking about that dude who dropped out of school a couple of years back to work part-time at the junkyard? Doesn’t he have a wife now… and a kid?”

  “So?” Emmett countered, “What does that have to do with his ability to play keyboards for the group? He knocked up his girlfriend. The guy took responsibility for it. Doesn’t mean he can’t use his musical talent to earn some extra cash, does it? He used to play with Toxic Plume, and they were badass as hell.”

  Cooper was the first to respond, “I’m okay with it if the rest of you have no issue with him. Don’t know him all that well, but hey, at least we can invite him to jam with us and see if he’s a fit.”

  “Good,” Emmett replied. “I’ll see if he can make it here tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, let’s try this tune again and, this time, let’s get it right.”

  Ace Coulter had proven to be a valuable asset to Wasted. As far as Emmett was concerned, he gave the group an edge over the competition with his mad skills on keyboards. And his wife, Katie, was pretty cool about his music gigs. She was always right there in the crowd when the band took center stage at a local gig.

  Wasted was coming into their own in the Fort Wayne and beyond club scene. They were booked every weekend through the summer and early fall, but Emmett wanted more.

  He wanted some Indianapolis gigs, and as the band’s manager, he was determined to make that happen. It would be a bigger venue, provide more visibility for the group with musical talent scouts who could put them on the tour map.

  That was Emmett’s dream, and he was going to do everything possible to make it all happen. Wasted now did more of their own music versus cover songs, and their signature music and vocal style were unique in the club venues.

  But Emmett would find out that dreams of stardom can fade when clouds get in the way.

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  Emmett

  As soon as my feet hit the carpeted floor, I pulled on my boxers. I headed out of my bedroom towards my kitchen to make coffee. I glanced at the clock on my stove and saw that it was past eleven. I had practice at one, and my head was still foggy from all the partying we did after the gig last night. It came with the territory and, as much as I got into the after-hour festivities, last night was over the top as partying goes.

  As soon as my coffee maker filled the mug, I spooned some sugar into it and stirred it. Just as I took a sip of the hot, highly-caffeinated brew, I saw what could only have been an overnight guest come into the living area of my trailer, wearing only her panties and the shirt I’d played in last night. She had a bad case of bedhead going on and, as she closed in on me from where I stood behind the breakfast bar, she greeted me with a smile and a timid, “Mind if I grab a mug of coffee, Emmett?”

  I raked a hand through my hair, trying like hell to remember the chick’s name. “Uh, sure, help yourself, babe.” I always addressed the one-nighter chicks as “babe” if their names eluded me. This was one of those t
imes. Damn if I hadn’t gotten totally wasted last night.

  Her eyes flickered over me almost possessively as she brushed past me and reached up to grab a clean mug from the open cupboard. She filled it to the brim.

  “Uh, do you need cream for your coffee? I think I might have some milk left in the fridge. Can’t guarantee it hasn’t expired though,” I told her. “I make my java pretty damn strong, so you’ve been warned.”

  “No,” she purred, leaning back against the counter and holding the coffee mug in both hands as she took a tentative sip, her eyes never leaving mine. “You’re right about that, but I like it strong. I love all strong things,” she said, tossing out some sort of a provocative look that was wasted on me.

  “Okay then. Well, hey, enjoy it. I’m gonna grab a shower and try to get rid of this hangover before I leave for practice. Unless… do you need a lift back to--?” I couldn’t finish the sentence because I didn’t recall where I latched onto her last night. In fact, I didn’t even remember hitting the sheets with her last night or early this morning, whatever the situation might’ve been.

  She gave a soft giggle. “We Ubered it back here, remember?”

  Actually, no, I didn’t remember. But I was relieved neither of us had gotten behind the wheel, nonetheless. “Shit,” I said, “Okay, so I’ll call Coop to see if he can give me a ride to get my truck.”

  “My sister in law is on her way to pick me up,” she replied, taking another sip of her coffee. “Thankfully, she’s not the type to lecture me, unlike my brother.”

  I wasn’t sure why she shared this information with me. I only hoped her sister-in-law lived close by so I could get babe out of my place and get on with my Saturday afternoon plans. We had another gig tonight at the V.F.W. for a private party. It wasn’t that she was unattractive or anything. She was a pretty cute chick. She had long brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. I couldn’t help but notice her tanned and toned legs since my shirt only covered her bare necessities. She caught me glancing over at her and she suddenly looked like she was ready to devour me. Hell, I must’ve totally rocked her world last night, because it was pretty damn obvious now that I’d fucked that smile onto her face.