Page 1 of Chronicles of a Rockin' Mess

Chapter 1

Lark

“Lark!” Lincoln yells from somewhere on the second story of the sprawling estate. The sound echoes through the house because it has been yelled into an intercom via an Apple Watch. But I know exactly where he is. Since only three minutes ago, I left him in his bedroom.

I groan. “What?!” I scream from the study by the front door.

“I need you, NOW!” Lincoln barks.

I groan again and stomp up the steps and down the hall until I reach the giant wooden double doors that lead to Lincoln’s lair. Only in the house does he use the intercom. Normally, it’s a text message. I push them open, and there is Lincoln in front of a giant-ass mirror manscaping.

I avert my eyes. “What the fuck?!” I yell and turn around.

“Do I have hair on my ass? I need you to look,” he commands.

“I am not fucking looking for hair on your damn ass, you perv,” I groan.

“Lark, come on. I don’t trust anyone else to look, and I don’t have time to go to a spa before the next show,” he pleads.

“Lincoln, seriously, that is not in my fucking contract. Can’t Harry or Kade take a look at that for you?” I ask as I stand my ground, refusing to turn and look at him. OK, I’m looking at him, but in the mirror on the other side of the room above the dresser. How can I not look? The man is beautiful, likeGreek god, works out four hours a day and lives on lean proteinbeautiful. And his package is…well, I’d unwrap that package any day.

“Please, Lark,” he pleads, and I see him coming toward me.

“Fine, if I look at your hairy ass, my bonus gets doubled, and I get an extra week off next year,” I argue.

“Twenty-five percent more bonus and three extra days off,” he counters.

I hold my hand out in the air, still refusing to look, and he shakes it.

“Bend over,” I groan as I turn to see Lincoln’s fine ass in my grill. I examine it. Yeah, so I take an extra minute because his ass is damn fine.

“Nope, not hairy,” I pronounce and promptly exit the room.

“What the fuck? Greta said it was getting hairy last night,” he whines.

“Well, Greta is a class A bitch, and she’s probably jealous because she has more hair on her upper lip than you have on your whole backside,” I state as I start walking back to the study.

“Thanks, Lark!” he yells. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter as I settle down in front of the laptop again and begin responding to his fan mail.

I have worked for Lincoln Grant for exactly three years, one month, and two days, not that I am counting. Lincoln is the lead singer of Voltage Drop, an indie rock band that had made it big after their third album. In the three years I have worked for him, he has gone from leading a band that opened for major pop artists to leading a band that had major pop artists open for them. Lincoln, Harry, and Kade are all great guys; otherwise, I wouldn’t have stuck around so long. Harry is the clown. Kade is the serious one. And Lincoln, well, Lincoln is their leader, but he is also a narcissistic, egotistical maniac who needed to get his shit together. OK, he isn’t that bad, but he does fuck everything with two legs. He knows he is good looking, and he also is smart as fuck and likes to mess with dumb Hollywood types for fun.

He goes through women like I go through candy on Halloween, and he looks at me like I am another dude, which is majorly problematic because I have the world’s biggest crush on Lincoln. I have had a crush on him since day one, but I have swept that under the rug and buckled down to do my job. Not to mention, I am not exactly Lincoln’s type, so I know I never stand a chance.

My job as Lincoln’s PA consists of putting out Lincoln’s fires, and Lincoln is a class A social arsonist. That man could create shitstorms just by looking in someone’s direction. In the past twelve months, I have had to talk two sound guys out of quitting from the tour, cover up six incidents of cheating on four different girlfriends, and I have had to wrangle the paparazzi every time Lincoln and his friends trash a hotel room or bar. In some ways, they behave like the worst kind of rock band, but in other ways, they are good guys.

Lincoln lost his little sister to leukemia when they were teenagers, and he religiously visits the children’s cancer ward at our local hospital and is always donating money for cancer research. Harry and Kade, who are brothers, lost their mom to breast cancer just a few years ago, and they also donate tons to cancer charities. They are good about stopping and talking with fans and taking pictures. And, when no one is looking, they are actually a fun-loving group who enjoys each other’s company.

We are in the middle of a ninety-seven-day tour. We have just ended the U.S. tour. Next up, we are off to Europe followed by Asia. I am really looking forward to this year being over. They have plans to go back in the studio after this year, and it’d be almost two years before we’d tour again. And I for one, am ready for a break from touring.

Chapter 2

After spending the last twenty-one days playing goalie for women trying to make themselves at home with Lincoln, I want nothing more than a vacation, but here we are gearing up for the next leg of the tour.

“Hey,” Kade says as he walks in the house with a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Dump it there, with the others,” I yell to him from the study.

---