Authors: Honey Palomino
Jett
Copyright ©
2014 HONEY PALOMINO
All Rights Reserved Worldwide
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission from the author. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events, locations and incidences are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This book is for entertainment purposes only.
This book contains mature content and is intended for adults only.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
EVERY STORM RUNS OUT OF RAIN,
AND EVERY DARK NIGHT TURNS INTO DAY
I sank my fingers into Gigi’s copper hair, pulling her to me as I kissed her deeply. Sonny thrust into me, his hard cock delightfully massive. He had been a little shy at first, but after a little coaxing, and a fair of amount of alcohol and a few joints, what man wouldn’t be down for a little roll in the hay with me and two other beautiful women?
I pulled my mouth from Gigi’s plump lips and turned my head to kiss Anna. She met my intensity, passionately kissing me as her hands roved over my naked skin, her fingers tangling with Gigi’s as they caressed my breasts. Gigi begin to trail kisses along my neck and down my chest until she enclosed my nipple in her hot lips. I arched my back, waves of pleasure running through my body as I pushed my hips up to meet Sonny’s relentless thrusting.
Gigi’s lips kept traveling down, until she pushed on Sonny’s chest slightly. He raised up, his cock never missing a beat as he fucked into me rhythmically. Gigi’s head descended further, her tongue licking at my clit skillfully while Sonny pounded into me. The sensation sent me over the edge, and I sank my fingers into Gigi’s soft curls as I moaned and bucked beneath their assault. Anna’s mouth once again found mine, muffling my screams with her kiss as my body exploded in waves of ecstasy. Sonny grunted above me, his cock swelling inside of me as he found his own release.
The four of us fell back, sinking into the bed, spent, exhausted, and collapsing into a pile of tangled, sweaty limbs.
The room began spinning slightly, and just before I passed out, I cursed myself for once again drinking just a little more than I should have.
****
The next morning, it was struggle to remember anything. My head was pounding as sunlight streamed through the windows of my hotel room. When I opened my eyes, I saw that mercifully, I was all alone. The events of the night before ran through my head as I closed my eyes and tried to will the rumbling in my stomach to subside, and the memories to stream in.
The audience roared as beads of sweat shimmered on my forehead. I bowed once, waved, and bowed again as the chanting began.
“Jett! Jett! Jett!”
Thunderous clapping and stomping quaked through the arena as I smiled, flanked by my loyal band members, and turned away from the crowd’s relentless adoration. I handed my guitar to my tech, and stumbled down the steps at the side of the stage.
Sam was waiting for me, as always, an anxious smile smeared tightly across her face. My loyal assistant held a towel in one hand and a bottle of ice cold water in the other. I took them from her, and without meeting her eyes, walked over and spoke to Rex, my bodyguard.
“The blonde in the purple dress on stage left. The guy with the long, dark hair in the black shirt. And just to mix things up a little, the woman with the red curls in the black mini-skirt and thigh-high boots at center stage.”
“Yes, ma’am. You got it,” Rex replied, nodding and walking away from me and into the crowd.
Sam bounced at my side like a loyal, excited puppy. Her usual steady stream of compliments annoyed me like they always did. I paid her to say this stuff; didn’t she know I didn’t believe a word that passed through her pretty little lips?
“The encore was just magical tonight! Did you see the way the crowd fell completely silent during the last verse? They love you so much, Jett. And I just received word that your single, Break Your Heart, reached number one on Billboard…” she dragged on mercilessly.
I wiped the sweat from my brow with the towel, staining it with thick, orange makeup. I couldn’t wait to wash my face, hell, wash all of me. It was always my favorite part of the day.
Which might be surprising, I know. You’d think it might be the roar of the crowd when I first walked onstage, or the look in thousands of people’s eyes as they trailed my every move for an hour and forty-five grueling minutes, or even waking up in the morning and remembering who I was.
But no, it was none of that. It was the moment when I got to finally take it all off, and just be me. When I could peel away the claustrophobic, suffocating costume. When I could stand under the beating heat of the hot shower, the remnants of the scrubbed off makeup twirling down the drain, tinting the clean water a dirty brown, until every last trace of foundation, concealer, mascara, eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick, hairspray - all of it - had been dissolved. Gone. Disappeared.
Quickly, I strode down the long maze of hallways until I reached my dressing room. This one wasn’t too bad. I’d seen worse. Much worse.
“I want to be alone right now, Sam. See you in the morning,” I said, slamming the door in the face of the still talking Sam. She was a great P.A., but an annoying person. I needed lots of time away from her. I had long ago stopped trying to be polite when dealing with her, having realized she had no sense of social intuition.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief as sweet silence fell over the room. I kicked off my tall boots, peeled my leather pants over my hips and began the tedious process of unlacing the black lace corset I was wearing. As soon as I was naked, I grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the counter, cracked open the seal, and took it with me to the shower.
As I waited for the water to heat up, I poured the fiery amber liquid down my throat as fast as I could. Most days I tried to wait until after the show to start drinking, and on days like today, when I had succeeded at that, I couldn’t drink fast enough when I finally had the bottle in my hand at the end of the night.
Or, was it the beginning of the night?
There were days when I wasn’t entirely sure when the day turned to night, and vice versa. My life was a big blur of the same days happening over and over. Same shit, different city.
God, it had all become so boring and repetitive. No wonder I drank so much. I kept looking for something exciting and new at the bottom of each bottle. Unfortunately, I never seemed to find exciting and new in the same place at the same time.
By the time I finished showering, I had downed a third of the bottle and I was feeling much better. I threw on my favorite pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. I ran my hands through my straight black hair, and took another drink as I stared at myself in the mirror.
The reflection didn’t lie. Time was catching up with me, as much as I didn’t want to admit it. Dark circles were beginning to form under my eyes, and deep creases were sinking into my forehead. The mirror showed me everything I didn’t want to see. Age. Weariness. Exhaustion.
And, yeah, boredom. Woe is me, right? The sad, tortured rock star who was everything she could ever want, but nothing makes her happy, so she drowns her sorrows in the bottle.
Yeah, I know. I’m a cliche. I’m pathetic. I get it. But this is my life, and no matter how many hours I spend staring out the windows of tour buses and airplanes wishing I had taken a different turn somewhere along the way, I was stuck.
At this point, I was an institution. A corporation, not a person. I didn’t have a family to support, I had a whole fucking army of musicians, managers, agents, roadies, techs, assistants, crew hands and countless others to support.
If I stopped? If I gave it up? If I walked off stage, threw up my hands and retreated to a remote cave on a secluded island somewhere? Well, let’s just say that the impact on thousands of people’s lives would trickle down like an avalanche and I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent Sam to track me down, tie me up, and force me right back up on that stage.
So, I kept going. I just drank a bit in the process.
Three loud knocks at my door shook me from my thoughts.
“Come in!” I yelled.
The door opened, and Rex poked his head in.
“Got ‘em, Jett. Where you want ‘em?”
I sighed. I wasn’t quite ready.
“Have them wait for me in the limo, Rex. And, hey, will you get my jacket out of my tour bus for me? The black leather fringed one? You can leave it in the limo. I’ll be right there.”
“Sure, Jett, no problem,” he said, closing the door behind him as he left.
I sat there a few more minutes, enjoying the silence, enjoying being alone, enjoying the warmth spreading through my belly as the whiskey hit my system. After a while, I stood up and looked in the mirror one last time.