Page 105 of Rock Out Together
blurb
Rock star Harry Carluke knew he was sick, but his manager refused to believe him.
That was until he collapsed on stage and spent a night in the hospital.
The minute Harry met Chastity Cummin they made an unexpected connection, sparks flew, even when he was sick to his stomach.
On the surface, Chastity appeared to be a pretty, young Scottish nurse. However, the minute she got home, a secret ‘other life’ emerged.
Armed with the knowledge about his “no-fly” order, Chastity orchestrated a fake meet up with a not so hidden agenda just as Harry left the hospital.
Will this second chance meeting give them the opportunity for their sparks to ignite?
one
. . .
From the waydifferent members of my band and entourage kept checking on me, I figured I must have been dragging my ass these past few days. Something didn’t feel right with me, but as Klarissa, my manager, insisted, “The show must go on no matter what, Harry.” The stern look in her eyes and pursed mouth warned me not to contradict her.
Thing was that her comment of ‘no matter what’ confirmed what I’d suspected for quite some time—she couldn’t care less about me. For the past two years, I’d been turned out like a well-oiled machine in a multi-million-dollar brand, a brand that had grown from the mid-listing rock star type that I’d been when she’d first come on board to that of the stratospheric, world-famous kind I’d become.
As a teenaged boy, I’d often wondered how it would feel to be as famous as artists like Freddie Mercury, Bon Jovi,Meatloaf or Bruce Springsteen. Nowadays, with the fame I have, I understood how much they’d sacrificed for their art.
My life was a constant weary treadmill of radio interviews, podcasts, and TV appearances to promote my latest album, as well as live performances. And sometimes there were those last-minute appearances, whereby someone or other called a favor in.
“You’ll be fine, it’s not like we haven’t been here before, and every time you’ve had one of these episodes you’ve gone on stage and knocked it out of the park. But I’ve heard what you’ve said and the doc’s coming to give you something to perk you up. This is the last show, then you’ll have a whole week off. Focus on that as your goal and the gig will be over in no time.”
Klarissa didn’t give me an opportunity to argue my position and swiftly made her exit from my dressing room. I’d been sitting in my dressing room for over an hour since the sound check before she’d come in. Turning in the swivel chair I was sitting on, I stared at myself in the mirror surrounded by a dozen bright lightbulbs and huffed out a frustrated and exhausted breath.
I barely recognized the guy in the mirror from the good-looking, healthy guy I’d been when I’d first found fame. My face looked pale and gaunt—my hair styled to suit the certain image they’d wanted me to portray, and I fucking hated it. Dyed jet black and spiked, I looked like a fucking porcupine. I’d never intended to continue to look that stupid, but after I’d made a vampire-themed music video for one of my greatest hits, it had become like a trademark.
“Here we are,” Klarissa announced with a flourish as she swept into the room with a nervous-looking older guy. He was carrying a medicine bag that could easily have been a prop from a nineteenth century western movie. “This is Dr. Beak and he’s here to make you feel all better,” she advised with a patronizing whine that made her sound like she was talking to a child. She placed her precious custom-made Hermes Birkin purse on the dressing table, folded her arms over her flat chest and stood back.
“Fuck off, Klarry,” I muttered, making the doctor visibly wince and clutch his bag tighter in his fist. The whole scene would have been laughable if I’d been feeling better. But I wasn’t, so I let the good doctor do his thing and give me a cocktail of drugs through an IV line, and the infusion was effective within minutes.
Once the doc had ensured I was feeling better, he hurriedly packed up his gear. As he got ready to leave, Klarissa passed him a thick envelope, which he stuffed in his inside, suit jacket pocket. Once it was secured, he patted it down, then couldn’t clear out fast enough.
“There, see, you feel much better, right?” she asked, holding her arms out, like what was that fuss about.
“This is the last time I’m doing this. It’s alright for you, you’re not the one having your veins pumped full of shit to perform.”
“Oh, thank goodness it’s women who have babies,” Klarissa remarked as she swiped her precious purse off the dressing table.
“One more unhelpful remark like that and I’m not goingout there tonight. I’m not fucking joking. If I’m sick, I’m sick.”
“Okay, I saw you felt like shit and did something about it. Don’t I get points for that at least?”
“Points for bribing some sleazy old man with a medical license to pump my body full of God knows what?”
“Oh, let’s not get dramatic, it’s mostly vitamins and a bit of sugar you were given.”
“Don’t think I didn’t feel that stimulant hit, and I notice it wasn’t one of the usual IV nurses that come with vitamin and hydration solutions.”
“Whatever, you’re obviously feeling much better since you have that cantankerous growly vibe going on. Save it for the fans because you’ll be on stage in less than twenty minutes.”
two
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