A FILTHY Rock Star: a filthy line novel Read online

  A FILTHY Rock Star

  a filthy line novel

  Jaxson Kidman

  Contents

  A FILTHY Rock Star

  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

  Epilogue

  Meet Dex

  More from Jaxson

  A FILTHY Rock Star

  FILTHY LINE - Nash

  The offer of a lifetime.

  Or maybe a nightmare...

  I’ve always wanted to be a writer and here’s my chance.

  My job is to spin every story about Nash into something good.

  If I do my job I’ll get a book deal.

  It should be easy...

  Yeah, Nash is nothing but d*ckhead lust with a pulse.

  Yeah, I may have had a couple dreams of him before I met him.

  But getting too close to me is forbidden.

  If he tries anything crazy, his rock star life is over.

  I’m the daughter of the executive with the deal on the table.

  He touches me and there’s no deal.

  So now I’m nothing but temptation.

  A role I’ve never played before.

  A role I’m not sure of.

  Because the first thing I learn when dealing with rock stars...

  They will do anything to get what they want.

  And right now, Nash wants me.

  1

  NASH

  FAMED BAD BOY ROCKER STEALS CAR, DRIVES IT INTO LAKE, THEN STANDS ON ROOF OF CAR AS IT SINKS, ASKING WHAT A PIRATE’S FAVORITE LETTER IS

  While the Award-Winning vocalist for FILTHY LINE may have been making a joke and crying out ‘argh!’ as the car sank into the water, it was everyone else around him that was making a different sound.

  More like ‘ugh’ or perhaps ‘when will this end?’

  Toby folded the paper in half and gently placed it down in front of me.

  “That’s why I needed a flag.”

  “Excuse me?” Toby asked.

  His shit brown eyes were wide, blood shot, and he was in dire need of a drink. Or maybe something else. But the word excess did not collide well with the word leftovers.

  “If I had a flag, it would have made more sense,” I said. “You know? Going down with the ship?”

  Toby slammed his hand off the table in the hotel room, sending empty beer bottles and empty bottles of whiskey jumping and scattering to the floor. With the exception of one beer bottle. Which was full of piss. The tangy odor hit my nose.

  “Now you made a mess,” I said.

  “Is that piss?” Toby asked.

  “Not mine.”

  “That makes it worse.”

  I turned my head and stuck my fingers in my mouth. I whistled as loud as I could.

  Three women were suddenly brought back from the dead slumber of booze, drugs, and dick. Three topless beauties - blonde, brunette, black hair - all fought with their hair as they tried to sit up without feeling like a hammer was inside their heads. I chose one of each because I was a man of honor and integrity. Blondie was innocent but wild with her mouth. Brunette had a dirty angel tattooed on her lower back - target practice to make that angel look like she was crying milky tears. Black hair had her left nipple pierced. I offered to pierce the other with my teeth - and I even tried - but she was only interested in pretend. I wasn’t. That’s why her ass ended up on the floor.

  I stared at the three sets of tits and licked my lips.

  Breakfast was waiting just a few feet away.

  “Which one of you pissed in a beer bottle?” I called out.

  “You did, Nash,” blondie said.

  “Not a chance,” I said. “You were swallowing my dick all night, babe. No way I could attempt to piss in a bottle like that.”

  Blondie rubbed her jaw.

  I grinned and winked at her.

  She blushed.

  “I held the bottle, Nash,” black hair said.

  “Oh,” I said. “Yeah. Shit.” I turned and looked up at Toby again. “I pissed in the bottle.”

  Toby curled his lip. He reached down and grabbed the piss bottle and threw it toward the massive king-sized bed.

  Blondie had to duck and the bottle hit the wall and shattered.

  There was a piss stain on the wall now, slowly dripping down to the bed.

  I shook my head. “No need for that, Toby. Now we’re going to get charged more for the clean-up.”

  “Have you seen this fucking place?” Toby growled. “It’s fucking trashed, Nash. And it wasn’t even your room!”

  “It wasn’t?” I asked, tilting my head.

  “We didn’t get a hotel room for this stop,” he said. “We were crashing on the bus on our way back to LA.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, then whose room is this?”

  Toby rubbed his forehead. “That doesn’t matter. It’s been taken care of.”

  “How did I get in here then?” I asked as I slowly stood up.

  “Apparently you’re famous, Nash,” Toby said. “So the front desk person gave you a keycard. Because you’re so fucking sexy. Her words, not mine.”

  “Aw, come on, Toby,” I said. “You can admit how fucking sexy I am.”

  “Put a fucking shirt on and meet me in the lobby in five minutes.”

  “Five? That’s not enough time for these beautiful ladies,” I said. “I don’t fuck and leave, Toby. I stick around.”

  Toby laughed. “I’ll lighten the burden.”

  He looked at black hair and nodded.

  “Ah,” I said with a laugh. “Black hair, nipple ring… wait until you see where she has a butterfly tattooed.”

  “You don’t owe them any money, do you?” Toby asked me.

  “I don’t pay,” I said. I looked back at black hair. “Hey, babe. Toby’s going to show you the way out. Take good care of him. If it wasn’t for him, there wouldn’t be a Filthy Line. He’s our manager. Treat him the same as you’d do for me.”

  “I’m going to rot in hell for this shit, Nash,” Toby said.

  “At least it’ll be warm,” I said. I grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “And I’ll be right there with you.”

  Toby groaned. He blessed himself and looked up. “Forgive me.”

  “Quit looking up,” I said. “Because black hair will be on her knees. Always look down.”

  “Christ, Nash, you don’t even know their names, do you?” Toby asked.

  I winked.

  “Five fucking minutes,” Toby warned.

  Toby and black hair left the hotel room.

  I opened the paper and read the headline again.

  You know, it sort of pissed me off. Because I didn’t steal the car. It was a rental. Paid for through Toby. And, yeah, it was at the bottom of a lake, but so what? It wasn’t like it was the last car in existence.

  I shook my head.

  Some writers just couldn’t help themselves. Making a story out of nothing.

  “Nash, we’re down to four minutes,” brunette said as she ran her long, pointed, bright pink nails up my back.

  I smiled, remembering the way those deadly points dug into my back last night.

  I spotted a bottle of whiskey that was on the floor and I reached for it.

  I smelled it first t
o make sure it wasn’t piss.

  Then I took a drink.

  Fuck coffee.

  I had whiskey.

  And I had blondie and brunette.

  For four more minutes.

  I took another big gulp of the whiskey and let out a long sigh.

  Then I leaned in and kissed brunette on the cheek.

  And I had some romantic words for her.

  “Babe, it’s not going to suck itself.”

  * * *

  My sunglasses made it so the sun didn’t dig her vicious fingers into my eyes.

  A few fans screamed my name as I walked toward the tour bus. I gave a wave and flicked my cigarette in their direction. They scrambled to go get it. A half-smoked cigarette from me. And they were ready to kill each other to pick it up off the ground.

  Music, huh?

  I never thought it would matter that much to the fans.

  But it did.

  Whether we were writing fast, partying hard or writing slow, sad love songs, the Line Whores were everywhere. They brought their boyfriends and husbands too. Guys who sang our lyrics back to us, dreaming of a time in their life when they thought for a second they could take the stage and command the hearts of twenty thousand a night. And the real die-hard guys had no problem with their girlfriends and wives showing off their tits or having us sign their tits or taking the risk of letting their ladies backstage.

  But it was all in fun.

  We weren’t out to fucking fall in love.

  Another night, another city, another show, and that was that.

  I climbed up on the tour bus and Bill sat there with his boulder sized fist sticking out at me.

  “Morning, brother,” he said in his gruff voice.

  I laughed. “Bill. Do you ever sleep?”

  “Nah,” he said. “I just drive you assholes around.”

  “Don’t crash and kill us today,” I said.

  “Never,” Bill said. “My record is perfect.”

  I turned and was faced with the rest of the band, all with makeshift eye patches.

  “Argh!” they all shouted at the same time.

  Sab held a bottle of vodka up, covering his right eye.

  Reed used his right hand to his right eye.

  Dex had a shirt tied around his head and pulled up to uncover his left eye.

  And then there was Jay. With a fucking thong wrapped around his head, the little cloth part covering his eye.

  “You can catch something that way,” I said, pointing.

  “Catch what?” he asked, ripping it off his face.

  “Eye infection,” Dex said.

  Jay put the thong to his nose. He took a deep breath. “Oh, not her. She’s clean. Fuck, she’s clean.”

  “Nothing you’ve ever touched is clean, man,” Reed said.

  “Did Toby rip you apart?” Sab asked. He put the vodka bottle down and traded it for his drumsticks. He started to warm up his wrists, playing right there on the table.

  “He tried to,” I said. “I don’t remember much of it. I really don’t give a shit either.”

  “Hate to say it, but we probably should,” Reed said.

  “Why?” Dex asked.

  “You know why,” Jay said. He rubbed his thumb to his pointer and middle fingers on his left hand.

  I stretched my neck and ran a hand through my hair. “Yeah, yeah. It’s always about money.”

  “Money and pussy,” Sab said. “That’s why we’re doing this.”

  “Fuck that,” I said. “I’m doing it for the music.”

  Jay lifted an eyebrow at me.

  I grinned. “And the money… and the pussy…”

  “I don’t get why these execs have their assholes puckering so much,” Dex said.

  “Just the way it is now,” I said. “But any news is good news.”

  “Yeah,” Jay said, running a hand through his famous long, blond hair. “I mean, the lead singer of the baddest band in the world with his dick flopping all over the place, standing on the roof of a car, drunk as fuck, pretending to be a pirate… how is that a bad thing?”

  We all started to laugh.

  I leaned forward and buried my face into my hands for a second.

  “Radio show today, boys,” Toby’s voice announced as he got onto the bus. “And Christ does this bus smell like sweat, socks, and pussy.”

  “Keeps the heart pumping,” Sab said as he patted his chest.

  I looked at Toby. “Your fly is down, man.”

  Toby grabbed at his dick and jumped back.

  We all laughed harder.

  “Asshole,” Toby said.

  He always wore nice clothes. Borderline fancy. Because he was the last line of defense to those who wore suits for a living, and those who made the big decisions about the life and fate of Filthy Line.

  But the truth was simple.

  The fans loved us.

  They loved the music.

  The wilder the better.

  And as Bill started to drive and I looked out the window to see the fans holding up shirts, posters, signs… and a few holding up their shirts… I slowly nodded.

  And for the record, a pirate’s favorite letter is R…

  … but he also has a thing for the C.

  2

  OLIVIA

  “How did the meeting go?”

  Eve had the prettiest brown eyes ever. I hated her for it. Which was funny because she hated me for my blue eyes. That was actually our first fight. Way back in second grade. The first time we both realized that maybe a boy could be cute and not booger-picking-licking freaks. We said we would grow up and find a way to switch eyes.

  That never happened.

  Eve dropped out of nursing school when she got pregnant with Jerry. And I insisted on chasing the dream of becoming a famous writer.

  I had another rejection slip in my bag, and the so-called meeting didn’t make it out of the lobby.

  I promised myself I would do this the right way.

  Use a different last name.

  And never ask my father to use his connections.

  There was one small slip of judgement that came after a night of drinking and a one-night stand that was so horrible that I waited for the director of the stupid romcom I must have been living in to call CUT. I called my father while drunk and told him I wanted a book deal. And I wanted it now.

  He laughed me off, reminding me that his expertise was in music, but if I wanted to do something with my writing, he would help. But it wouldn’t be in writing fiction novels. He wanted me to get involved in the business of it all. Contract writing. Marketing. What he called spinning some good press.

  None of that really interested me though.

  “You’re not answering me,” Eve said.

  I looked down at my phone and saw her blinking fast at me.

  “Don’t do the fast blinking thing,” I said.

  “Then tell me what happened.”

  “It went fine. It was fine. It’s all fine.”

  “Damn,” Eve said. “I’m sorry.”

  “No. There’s no sorry.”

  “Liv… I know-”

  “Ma,” a little voice said. “Bidding?”

  “Hey, Jerry,” I said in a squeaky voice.

  Which I didn’t get why my voice did that when it came to talking to Jerry.

  He was a little over two.

  He was obsessed with trains and buildings. And each time I was talking to Eve, he was right there demanding I show him some buildings.

  Jerry’s face filled the screen. His pudgy cheeks, leftover grape jelly on the corners of his mouth, and his mother’s bright blue eyes.

  It brought a smile to my face instantly.

  “Bidding?” he asked again.

  That was Jerry talk for building.

  “Here, look,” I said.

  I turned my phone around and tilted it so Jerry could see the tall building.

  Somewhere up there was where my father worked.

  Boardrooms galore.
Deals made. Lawyers ready to sue. Nothing about that made me scream happy. Neither did the fact that everyone assumed I was just going to live off of his money and his life. I wasn’t my mother. I wasn’t going to be face down in thousand-dollar sheets, waiting for an overpaid personal chef to make breakfast, so an overpaid personal trainer could pretend to get me into shape, just to wait for the really overpaid pool guy to show up and skim the water… among other things…

  It made me cringe.

  That’s why I lived in my own apartment.

  I did my own thing and wanted to keep it that way.

  Even still, I promised my father I would meet up with him for lunch.

  Which was fine because nine out of ten times he would cancel at the last second.

  “Wow!” Jerry yelled.

  I turned the phone around. “Cool, huh?”

  “Jerry, go play with your trains,” Eve said. “Let me finish talking to Auntie Liv.”

  Auntie Liv.

  That made me feel old.

  But it made me feel mushy.

  “Hey,” Eve said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not.”

  “Eve…”

  “Take a break from the city,” she said. “ Just come my way for a night or two. Brian has the weekend off. I can ship him and the baby to his mother’s. She always offers to help but never actually shows up. He can crash there.”

  “And we’ll trash your house?” I asked.

  “Party animals,” she said.

  “Two sips of wine and you’ll be asleep by seven,” I said.

  Eve stuck her middle finger up to the screen.