Reckless Rockstar Read online

  Reckless Rock Star is a standalone story inspired by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward’s Cocky Bastard. It's published as part of the Cocky Hero Club world, a series of original works, written by various authors, and inspired by Keeland and Ward's New York Times bestselling series.

  Copyright © 2020 by Victoria Ashley and Cocky Hero Club, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Charisse Spiers

  Photo Credit: Wander Aguiar/Wander Book Club

  Model: Colton Benson

  Formatted by: Nancy Henderson

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  EPILOGUE

  Untitled

  CHAPTER ONE

  Madden

  Taking a moment to catch my breath, I reach for the bottle of water sitting on the stool behind me and pour it over my head to cool off.

  My entire body is drenched in sweat from head to toe, and the crowded room full of people is making it hard to breathe.

  It always seems so fucking hard to breathe when my name is being yelled out by strangers expecting something great from me. Maybe it’s the pressure of living up to everyone’s expectations that puts this heavy weight on my chest, making me feel as if I’m suffocating.

  After tossing the empty bottle into the crowd, I turn back around and drain the glass of whiskey that’s been begging me to drink it since three songs ago. I haven’t had a chance to do anything other than focus on the music and please the crowd. I hate to admit that I need liquor to help me get through the night. Actually, I need it to help me get through most nights. It’s the new norm for me. A bad habit I’m afraid I won’t be able to break or even want to.

  Taking my guitar off, I quickly pull my drenched shirt over my head and shake out my hair with my hand. Whistles fill the room and female fans are going crazy at the sight of my abs and chest on display for them.

  I have no doubt that hundreds of images of me shirtless will end up on social media in ten seconds or less with the hashtag: #takeitoffmadden.

  It’s been trending since the first time I stripped out of my shirt on stage, undid my jeans and poured water down my pants to cool off from the beaming hot lights. There were so many zoomed in shots of my crotch that night I couldn’t go anywhere for over a week without someone glancing down south instead of at my face.

  I take a few seconds to hype up the crowd before replacing my electric guitar and nodding to the other band members that I’m ready.

  The screaming of hundreds of fans surrounds us as we prepare for our last song of the night. It’s a song they’re familiar with and always end up singing along to until the very end. They always do, no matter what state we’re in or how big or small the venue is. This is the song that made RISK known and put us on the radar two years ago.

  I wrote this song after getting my heart stomped on by a girl who I believed would be with me ‘til the end. She made me believe we were perfect together—that nothing or no one could tear us apart. Then one day she decided I wasn’t what she wanted anymore. Suddenly, I wasn’t enough to keep her out of someone else’s bed.

  It fucked me up for the longest time, but in the end, it led me to where I am today. In a way, I guess I should be thankful. But honestly, if I had to choose between love and fame, love would win every fucking time.

  “All right now. We’re going to end the night with a little something you all know well. Sing along and add it to your social media. Hashtag that shit with RISK and I’ll watch them later.”

  The screaming dies down and quickly turns into singing as I get into Without You.

  I’m lost in the song and feeling it, just like every time I have to sing these lyrics, when I look out into the front of the crowd and notice some asshole grab a girl’s wrist and yank her back to the point that she loses her footing and falls over.

  My voice becomes angrier—deep and intimidating as I watch him yell and point in her face after grabbing her arm and yanking her back up.

  But I really lose it when he grabs her face and gets in it, digging his nail into her forehead as he points his finger at it. “Fuck that… hold up a minute. Stop the music.” The room quietens down as I walk to the end of the stage and point directly at the prick less than ten feet from the stage. “Hey, you. Is that your girlfriend there?”

  The big guy nods his head and yells. “Yeah, the dumb bitch is drunk.”

  I clench my jaw over his choice of phrasing, wanting nothing more than to kick this motherfucker’s ass for being so rough with her. “Come here.”

  The dickhead begins walking forward with a cocky grin, as if he thinks I’m taking his side.

  “Not you, asshole. I’ll deal with you later.” I point at the pretty little brunette he left behind in this savage-ass crowd of guys. “Your girl.”

  He looks pissed when our security team guides his girl up to the stage to join us.

  Not giving a shit that I’m holding up the final song, I grab my stool and pull it forward for her. Then I grab her hand and walk her over to it. “What’s your name?”

  “Melody. Oh my god. Oh my god. I can’t breathe right now.” She’s so excited to be near me that she’s shaking and actually having a tough time catching her breath as she anxiously fans herself off. “I can’t believe you touched my hand. Or that I’m up here right now. Holy shit! My friends are never going to believe this. You’re Madden Parker. The Madden Parker.”

  Grinning, I grab her chin and run my thumb over her bottom lip, wanting her asshole boyfriend to see how a man is supposed to handle a woman. “I’ll make sure you get some pictures to show your friends.”

  I release her chin and take a step back. Her eyes roam down my wet chest, checking me out. “What’s your boyfriend’s name?”

  Her lip trembles. “Brad. His name is Brad Jacobs,” she answers.

  I back away and look out toward Brad, who doesn’t seem to have that cocky grin on his face anymore now that his girl is up here with me. He knows he fucked up.

  Crouching down, I keep my gaze right on him as I speak.

  “Now, let’s fucking continue, shall we?”

  Once I jump back into singing the lyrics, the rest of the band begins playing, joining in. Just as expected, the entire room is singing alon
g to the song I wrote. I’ll never get over that feeling. Not ever. No matter how stressed this lifestyle can get sometimes.

  When we get toward the end of the song, I grab Melody’s hand and pull her up to the front of the stage, stepping in close to her. I’m so close that I can feel her heavy breathing hitting my neck.

  “Here’s to Brad Jacobs. Everyone join in. You know the deal.”

  “…fuck Brad. She’s better off without you…”

  As soon as the last lyric leaves my lips, I wrap my hand into the back of Melody’s hair and pull her in for a kiss, while giving Brad the middle finger with my free hand.

  I bite her bottom lip and suck it into my mouth, making sure that Brad gets a good look of his girl’s mouth being devoured by me.

  The crowd continues to repeat the chorus, up until I finally pull away and run my thumb over her lip, wiping the wetness from my mouth away.

  From the veins bulging out of Brad’s neck and forehead, I’d say my little show worked and he’s pissed. The asshole should know not to push females around. That’s how you get your ass kicked or your girl taken; possibly both.

  And since I can’t cause another scene and end up in jail right now, due to commitments and such, kicking his ass is out of the question. The least I can do is make him leave here feeling like a loser.

  “Brad will be kicking his own ass for not treating you with more respect. Maybe he’ll change his ways now,” I whisper against her lips. “If not, then leave his ass behind and find someone else who will.”

  Melody stands there speechless, most likely in a state of shock as she runs her tongue over her lips and nods. She’s in a daze. It’s the effect I seem to have on women these days. Funny the kind of power a little fame will give a person.

  I release her hair and nod behind her. “Wait for us backstage and we’ll get you some pictures before you leave.”

  “Holy shit… thank you!” She backs up slowly, keeping her attention on me, until Landon Beckett, our drummer, grabs her shoulder, causing her to turn around and look at him.

  She must be freaking out over Landon too, because I hear him laughing as he guides her backstage.

  “What the hell was that?” Hendrix Drake, our bassist, walks across the stage and tosses a fresh water to me. “This shouldn’t surprise me. You’re always doing some crazy shit on stage. I’m sure a new hashtag will pop up soon.”

  “Yeah… well, her asshole boyfriend shouldn’t have pushed her around in front of me. He’s lucky I didn’t jump off the stage and kick his ass.” I open the water and take a quick drink, before pouring the remainder of it over my head and face.

  “Dude is pretty pissed. Check him out.”

  When I look out into the crowd, I immediately notice Brad pushing people out of his way and yelling at them. “Fuck it. People talk no matter what. Might as well give them something to talk about, right?” I slap Hendrix’s back and hand him my guitar, before jumping off the stage, making my way through the crowd.

  Female hands go crazy, groping me as I make my way toward Brad and tap him on the shoulder.

  “What—” He turns around and I swing out my elbow, connecting it hard with his jaw, causing him to fall back. This douchebag is really pushing his luck here tonight.

  Brad is quick to jump to his feet and come at me, tackling me down to the ground. He’s bigger than me, but as soon as my head connects hard with his, I’m able to push him off me and get back to my feet.

  I get a few more swings in before security breaks us apart. Aaron drags Brad away as Travis shoves me toward the back of the room and away from everyone. At least, I assume it’s Travis until I hear my cousin Chance’s Australian accent and finally look up to see his copper reddish-brown hair and blue eyes.

  “Are you trying to end up in the back of a squad car again, Mate? You’re being reckless. Maybe wait until you get the wanker alone, yeah?”

  “I’m good.” I shake the grip he has on me and pull out a cigarette, turning to Travis as he approaches and attempts to reach for my shoulder. “I’ll be on the tour bus, chilling the fuck out. I need some space for a bit.”

  He throws his arms up, not wanting to get on my bad side, most likely. “Fine. I’ll let the guys know.”

  Once outside, I take a huge breath of fresh air and run my hands through my wet hair. I really need this right now. It’s not often that I get even five minutes away from the chaos, and I’m hoping I can get at least ten while everyone else is drinking and unwinding a bit.

  Lighting up my smoke, I hop onto the bus, Chance following behind me.

  My cousin had a short-lived career as a soccer player in Australia until he tore his ACL his first professional game. I grew up not really knowing who he was, since he moved away when he was five—before I was born—but have recently become close to him after learning he was back in the U.S.

  Whenever RISK has a concert in California, Chance and his wife come from Hermosa Beach to watch it. “Where’s Aubrey? Is she here? How are the kids?”

  He shakes his head and searches through the mini-fridge as if he owns it. “Nah, she had a girls’ night with Adele. Said to say hello for you. They’re great, Mate. Finally got Bree to say Dada.” Without asking, he opens a sandwich he finds and tears into it. “Hope you weren’t planning on eating this sandwich with your name on it.”

  “I saw. Pixy too.” The thought of little Chance, Bree and that damn goat of theirs, eases my mood just a bit. With a half-smirk, I shake my head. “Nah, you’re good. I can’t stomach shit right now anyway.” I run a hand through my hair again and exhale. “I didn’t see you before the show. Was wondering where your ass would pop up. Thought maybe you changed your mind about coming.”

  “Nah.” He stands and slaps my shoulder, popping the last bite into his mouth. “You never know when I’ll pop up. That’s part of my charm, Cousin.” He eyes me over, slipping out of his brown leather jacket and getting comfortable while he eats It’s a few minutes before he asks, “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything.” I take a long drag off my smoke and exhale, my mood quickly going back to shit. “The camping trip coming up is fucking with me.”

  “Maybe’s she’s moved on by now.”

  “Nope. She hasn’t. Her many texts on my phone proves she hasn’t.” I flex my jaw. “And I’m pretty sure she’s going to be there again.”

  “And I’m sure you’ll be fine. You can handle her.” He stands and grips my shoulder, before shrugging his jacket back on. “You’re stronger than you think.”

  “Appreciate it, man. But I don’t know. It’s easy for a guy like you with a happy family to say. I envy you, dude. What you have—that greatness—inspires me to work for the same. I’d be home right now instead of this concert if I had what you do.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m heading out. As eventful as it was to watch you give that wanker a good beating, I’m ready to get back to my family. Just don’t worry and things will work out.” He pats his pockets, probably in search of his keys, before making a face as if he just remembered something. “I almost forgot. I plan on framing this.” He grins and pulls a rolled-up paper out of his pocket, before tossing me a marker and unrolling what appears to be a poster of me getting arrested. “Sign it right there across the top, Cousin. Make it pretty for my junk art room.”

  “You had a picture of me being shoved into a police car made into a poster?” Can’t say I’m surprised. It is Chance Bateman, after all. If anyone knows about posters, it’s him. He’s only had thousands of him purchased.

  He nods as I laugh and sign it for him. “Not just a poster. About a couple hundred of them. One is included in the landscaping package I offer my customers. They appreciate the extra gift. Most get a good laugh out of your facial expression as you’re struggling against the police.”

  I can’t tell if he’s joking or not about giving them away to his customers, but I wouldn’t put it past him. “Of all the pictures out there of me on the internet, you just had to find the worst
one.”

  “What can I say… it’s a gift.” He rolls the poster back up and shoves it into his pocket. “I told Aubrey I’d try to make it back before it gets too late, so I’m out.”

  I nod. “No worries, man. I’m glad you came.” I offer him a half-smile. “Thanks for the laugh. I needed it.”

  “I knew you would from those tense-ass texts you’ve been sending the last few days.” He winks, before hopping off the bus, singing “Fuck Brad” under his breath. And just like that, he’s gone.

  Once I’m alone, I wait a few seconds before grabbing my phone and powering it up as I head back outside and lean against the bus.

  I have a shit-ton of notifications, from Instagram and Facebook tags to tweets on Twitter, but I ignore them all and go straight to Jake’s missed call, returning it.

  He picks up. “Hey, man. What the hell is all this shit on Facebook and Twitter about you kissing some girl on stage? There’s this new hashtag: #fuckbradshesbetteroffwithoutyou.” He stops for a second to laugh. “Good concert, I’m guessing?”

  I laugh and blow out smoke. “The same as usual. Some asshole pissed me off and I had to act on it. You know me…”

  “Thank fuck you didn’t end up in jail this time. You have an important trip to make soon. You’re still making our annual trip next week to my dad’s cabin, right?”

  “Yeah.” I take another quick drag before tossing the cigarette. “I’ll be there. I haven’t missed one yet and I don’t plan to start now. The band will be fine without me for a bit, and I suppose jail will be too,” I add as a joke.