Chapter 1
Jameson
All groupies are the same, they are down on their knees licking their lips before I can even say suck my dick. I’m a groupie magnet— I’m a musician — groupie whores are who I do. There’s always a crowd of them waiting for me after every show. Eager beavers is what I call them. And every week there’s a new beaver looking at my dick like she’s going to be the one to hook me — like she will be my greatest conquest. All I can say is baby keep it moving — the line that is.
Pleasing a woman comes naturally to me, just like playing the guitar. I know which chords to strum fast and which ones to play slow. Just like music, the female form is a work of art. I can make a woman scream my name in languages she’s never even spoken before. Am I arrogant? Fuck yeah. I’m a cocky bastard. Ladies don’t call me a panty melter for just any reason. I’m the one and only Jameson Lewis. America’s favorite bad boy of rock ‘n roll.
Have I always been conceited? Damn straight. I’ve been making girls cream their panties since I was fifteen. I don’t do the love and commitment thing. Been there done that, tatted her name on my back. Then I fucked up and lost that girl, the only girl I’ve ever loved.
And here and now…right now, this very second… I’m getting good head, from... what’s her name? — the latest groupie on her knees sucking my Johnson like it’s the last lollipop she’ll ever taste. How many licks does it take to get me off? She’s about to find out. I’ve always said good head is like a sore dick, you can’t beat it.
Five minutes later, I’m shooting down her throat. “Hell yeah.” I pull her off my cock by the back of her hair. A moan escapes her coated lips. I toss her a towel from my dressing room closet. She shoves her phone number in the back pocket of my jeans after she’s cleaned her face. I have security escort her back to the show. I can’t even remember her face. Nor do I care to remember anything about her. I can’t even tell you the color of her eyes, or her hair for that matter.
There’s only been one girl worth remembering, but I can’t allow myself to go there.
Bedding a new woman every night is like taking out a new car out for a test drive. You gotta know when to slam your foot on the gas full throttle balls to the wall with reckless abandon and when to pump the brakes and let cruise control do the driving.
“J man, you ready to rock?” Austin my best friend and drummer asks poking his head through the door of my dressing room.
I take a look at myself in the mirror, I’ve come a long way from the boy I used to be, but no matter how hard I try he’s always in the back of my mind, missing her—Peyton. My one. The one who got away.
As I stare at my reflection, I no longer recognize myself and I’m not so sure I like what I have become. The bad boy of rock ‘n roll. Tabloid gold or fodder depending on who you ask. My face is always on the cover of some shit story.
Austin steps into the room. All it takes is one look at me and he knows. This time of year has always sucked for me. Today is my sister’s birthday and I miss the little brat. It’s also the anniversary of the day I met Peyton. I don’t know why I torture myself, but I know what song I have to play tonight.
I have nothing left to give
You cut me to the bone
You’ve bled me dry
And I didn’t even know
I was so high on you
The perfect drug
My favorite escape
I watched your shadow dancing in the dark
Seducing me by the light of the moon
Consuming all of me
Just to be with you
I lost myself
Nothing was clear in the great big empty
But now the fog has cleared
I’m left with nothing but a distant memory
Way up here in the clouds
In the great big empty
I wish I could crawl inside the window of your soul
I would paint it black
Your love has tainted me
I have nothing left to give