Battlescars: A Rock & Roll Romance

  Copyright © 2013 by Sophie Monroe

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form

  or by any means electronic or mechanical, including

  photocopying, recording or any information storage and revival systems

  without prior written permission from the author

  except where permitted by law.

  The characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.

  Any similarity to real persons living or dead is coincidental and

  not intended by the author.

  Contact:

  sophiemonroe007@hotmail.com

  www.facebook.com/sophiemonroewrites

  The author acknowledges the use of the following:

  Cover Photo courtesy of:

  Will Ferguson- www.facebook.com/willfergusondrummer

  Taken by:

  Noelle Carina- www.facebook.com/artbynoellecarina

  Adele, Age of Days (Daze), Brian Fallon-The Gaslight Anthem, Cartier, Chevy, Escalade, Faneuil Hall, Google, Granduca Hotels, Hard Rock Café, Hinder, Honda, In-N-Out Burger, Jameson, James Taylor, Juicy Couture, Kings of Leon, Lit, Los Del Rios- Macarena, Lucky Charms, Lucky Strikes, Marlboro, Millennium Hotel, Mini Cooper, New England Aquarium, Poison, Range Rover, Ray-Ban, Rod Stewart, Rock Band, The Golden Girls, The Rolling Stones, Three Days Grace, Van Morrison, Wii, W Hotels

  Battlescars:

  A Rock & Roll

  Romance

  Sophie Monroe

  Thank you to my readers and fans for taking the time to read something that I wrote.

  To my blog friends and friends that took the time to beta read and offer feedback THANK YOU!

  To my husband who dealt with all my insanity while writing this story and for helping me make sure that it was the best it could be. I love you!

  A special thank you to my friend Tara W. for helping me with the medical parts (and your advice and laughs along the way.)

  A very special thank you to my friend Will Ferguson who’s picture you’re seeing on the cover and to his awesome girlfriend Noelle for taking the picture! (and for staying up until 2:30 in the morning helping to perfect it.)

  Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything. ~ Plato

  CHAPTER ONE

  Everywhere I Go

  “Aubrey!” My dad called waking me from a stupor.

  I lifted my head off his desk and yawned loudly.

  “Amen.” I suppressed a giggle.

  Someone once told me if you ever get caught sleeping with your head down to play it off like you were praying and hope for the best. I knew I wouldn’t get in trouble and that my dad would find it amusing. Besides, it was his fault that I was exhausted from being gone so much this week. I had been to LA, NYC, Boston, and San Francisco just to name a few. I didn’t go to visit. No, I spent my time playing stewardess to rich middle-aged men. They would hire my dad’s commercial aircraft company to fly them to their destinations, and I was part of the deal. Yay me!

  “Nice try kiddo.” He beamed his crinkly-eyed smile at me. “Listen, I know you just got back, and you’re exhausted, but I need a favor.”

  Not again… I was looking forward to going home and sleeping for a day, or several.

  “I have a date tonight?”

  “A date?” He choked.

  I didn’t date, and he knew it.

  “Yeah, with my bed. We were totally going to sleep together.” I said sarcastically.

  He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Nice try.”

  “Ugh. What is it this time?” I asked, feeling slightly annoyed.

  I already knew my answer, and it involved packing.

  “We just got a call for a last minute flight and I need you to go. It could turn out to be a valuable client.” He smiled, and I knew I was doomed. I may have been twenty-three, but I was still daddy’s little girl and wanted to make him happy.

  “What are the flight details?” I asked curiously.

  “Well, this one is leaving from LA and heading to Manhattan. If this goes well, there could be several more.”

  “Who are we flying this time? It better not be that creepy Carter guy again. I left him walking funny for a week last time.”

  My dad flinched. “No, he’s no longer a client here.”

  The “Carter Incident,” as my dad referred to it happened three weeks ago. Carter Murphy is a pompous ass whose dad owns Murphy Enterprises, a Texas based textile-company. He thinks that he’s entitled to everything he wants, including women. He learned the lesson the hard way with me that you can’t always have what you want. We were flying from Houston to Dallas, a complete waste of fossil fuel, when Carter decided he wanted to cop a feel. Boy, was he surprised when I copped a feel of my own and twisted, hard. I wish I had a Polaroid of his face so that I could hang it as a warning to anyone else that wanted a try. No one touched me without my permission. Especially after what happened…

  I knew that I was decent looking, and I’ve had my fair share of suitors. I didn’t think it was a job hazard since most of our clients wouldn’t be interested in someone that looked like me. I never liked to blend with the crowd, so I tended to stand out. Basically, I have black hair with hot pink highlights, a couple piercings and a bunch of tattoos. I’m a size six, because unlike most skinny bitches I want to eat things other than salads. I have a mouth that would make a sailor proud. I also never hold back what I want to say in order to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. However, I am fiercely loyal and compassionate, just don’t cross me.

  “That’s too bad.” I said, not feeling guilty at all.

  “Listen Aubrey, things have been slower than normal lately… with the cost of fuel going up along with everything else, we really need this client.”

  I recently noticed that things were slower than normal, but the edge in his voice told me he was worried. It was especially unsettling for me because this business was his whole life. It was built up from literally nothing by my Gramps with blood, sweat and tears. I would do whatever I had to, even if it meant making myself suffer to keep it afloat.

  “Is it Channing Tatum? Please tell me it is…” I pleaded playfully.

  “No, it’s um,” He put his glasses on to look at the post-it in his hand. “It’s a Jake Parker.”

  I rolled my eyes. Jake Parker, joy. His name had been screamed and damned to hell by lots of women according to the gossip rags. Everyone under fifty, except my dad, knew who Jake Parker was. He was the uber-sexy lead singer of the band Battlescars. He was tall, handsome and covered in tattoos. He also had a reputation, one that I wasn’t interested in knowing. You just said you would do anything. I told myself.

  “Fine, I’ll do it. But you owe me big time, and I mean BIG. I need to go home and grab some clean clothes. When do we need to leave?”

  “Be back by two at the absolute latest. Can you tell mom that I’ll be a little late for dinner tonight?”

  I nodded and did a couple spins in the swivel chair before heading to my car, a beat up Honda Civic with a serious muffler problem. I put it in to first gear and headed home. I drove down Main Street and admired all of the families walking up and down window-shopping on the crisp fall day. That sort of thing would never be in the cards for me. I was almost at the point that I accepted it, almost. I was destined to be alone because of him. I pushed that thought aside and continued my journey home. Ten minutes later I pulled up to my parent’s small ranch. It was white with gray shutters and a red door. The walkway was lined with red, orange and yellow mums. There were two pumpkins on either side of the stairs and a scarecrow planted in the bush o
ff to the side. It was where I grew up, and I loved it.

  I turned the key and pushed the door open.

  “Mom, I’m home.” I yelled.

  “In here honey.” She yelled back from the kitchen, which was a whole ten feet away.

  The house smelled delicious. She was making beef stew. My stomach growled obnoxiously. I headed into my mom’s charming little kitchen. It boasted original cabinets and appliances from the 50’s, except the fridge. It was retro chic. I kissed her cheek and made myself a bowl. I crumbled up some crackers and dug in.

  “That’s very un-ladylike Aubrey Jean.” My mom scolded.

  My mom, Caroline was incredible. She was your typical all-American housewife, minus the Botox. She was the best cook and could easily give Paula Deen a run for her money. She was strong and witty. I admired her immensely. We were about the same height at five foot five and had the same honey brown eyes. Her hair was a light shade of brown, where mine was naturally a dark brown like my dad. I dye mine black because I think it compliments my skin better. I stuck my tongue out at her and grinned. I hated when she called me by my full name. My middle name was Jean after my Granny Jean who lived across the street. She’s awesome. A total spitfire. I would make a point to stop by and see her before I took off again. I finished eating and rinsed my bowl. I headed to my room to pack.

  As soon as I started down the hallway my cat, Mitsy, spotted me. She started going nuts and kept trying to climb in my suitcase. She followed me around as I went from room to room collecting miscellaneous crap. Most likely I wouldn’t need any of it, but I liked to keep it handy just in case. I stopped dead in my tracks when I walked past the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and wanted to scream. I couldn’t believe that I actually went out in public looking like this. My hair looked like the bride of Frankenstein, and my eyeliner looked like a scene from hooker meets pimp. I grabbed a washcloth and wiped my face. I reapplied my make-up and took a brush to my hair. I went back into my room and changed into a pair of black skinny jeans and a lightweight gray hoodie. I tossed the rest of my belongings into the suitcase and zippered it. I scratched Mitzy for a couple minutes before it was time to go. I hugged my mom goodbye and headed over to see Granny Jean. I walked across the street to her blue bi-level. I didn’t bother knocking because she’d whack me with a wooden spoon if I did. She always insisted that her house was my house.

  “Well, if isn’t my favorite bran muffin.” She was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and smoking a Lucky Strike.

  “If it isn’t my favorite dinosaur.” I teased back.

  She stuck her tongue out at me like an errant child. “Roar!”

  I sat at the table and stole one of her cigarettes. How she smoked those things I would never know.

  “Looks like I’m off on another adventure. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone this time.” I said somewhat sulking.

  “Where to this time?” She raised a brow.

  “We’re off to New York carting around some rock star.”

  I waited for her reaction. Granny loved rock stars.

  “Who is it?” She prodded.

  “Jake Parker.” I said with disgust.

  “Oh, I’d like him to come clean out my cobwebs.” She beamed.

  I did not need the mental picture that followed.

  “Granny, that’s disgusting!” I shrieked.

  “Whatever, it’s true. That boy is a tall drink of water if I’ve ever seen one.”

  “Alright, I’m outta here. Thanks for the nightmares.”

  I snubbed out my cigarette and stood. I walked across the table and kissed her white fluff of hair before heading out the door. To an outsider she looked like a grandma that made apple pies and listened to gospel records. That was the farthest thing from the truth when it came to Granny Jean. She was spry and would much rather listen to The Rolling Stone’s over gospel any day. I loaded my suitcase in the trunk and clambered into my car. I groaned as soon as I turned the key and the muffler sound radiated loudly throughout the car. I seriously needed to start saving up for a new car because this was getting embarrassing. I backed out of the driveway and started back to the airfield. When I arrived I popped the trunk and grabbed my suitcases. I leaned them against the passenger side and went to the office to get the flight details. I also wanted to say goodbye to my dad. I walked down the hallway and opened his office door.

  “Hey kiddo, they’re just finishing the last of the pre-flight checklist. Mark is going to be the pilot since I know the two of you won’t kill each other. Especially, if you end up being gone for a long time.” He sounded hopeful.

  He handed me an envelope with some cash and the company credit card.

  “How long is a long time, Dad?” I pouted.

  “Three months… but before you go all drama queen on me we really need this Aubrey. Please be on your best behavior.” He begged.

  Three months!

  “Fine.” I relented.

  He stood up and walked around to where I was standing and kissed my hair.

  “Thanks honey, I love you. Any problems just call.”

  I stuffed the envelope in my back pocket and stalked out of the office cringing. I pulled a Marlboro Red out of my pack and headed outside to light up. I needed to mentally prepare myself for the long flight from Shitsville, I mean, Smithville, Ohio to LA. Then all the way back to New York.

  Dave, who was one of the crew guys, was ogling my ass. “Hey Aubrey, looking good.”

  “If you’d like to keep your eyes I suggest you keep walking, monkey boy.” I blew a plume of smoke in his face.

  “Always the lady.” He laughed and shook his head as he went inside.

  I wasn’t a man-hater. I just didn’t think that I was put on this earth to be objectified as their piece of meat. A couple minutes later Ian came and told me we were ready to go. I walked into the cabin and stowed my luggage. At least my dad was right about being stuck with Mark, we wouldn’t kill each other. I’ve known him since I was a kid, and he treated me as was one of his own. He also understood my twisted sense of humor and wasn’t easily offended. Mark Wilson was in his early-forties, unmarried by choice and suffered from male-pattern baldness. He was an all around great guy, and it made me dread this adventure a little less. Unfortunately, we would have a different co-pilot for each flight. We would get “rogues” which was whoever was coming or going from other private airlines like ours. Today we got Scott, who was drooling after me like a total weirdo. I said a quick hello and went about my business. I was not interested in making another friend. Mark started hitting switches to prepare for takeoff. I plopped in one of the comfortable chairs and pulled out my e-reader. I started reading and hoped that the time would pass quickly. Once we were airborne I started to prepare the in-flight meal so that it would be ready for our guests. I sat back down and closed my eyes for a much needed nap. Unfortunately, Jake Parker was part of my very sex filled dream. Ugh!

  I wasn’t able to get any more sleep for the rest of the flight.

  Four and a half hours later we touched down in LA. Mark lowered the stairs onto the tarmac. A blacked out Escalade was there waiting. A hulk of a guy that I could only assume was Jake’s bodyguard stepped out. I groaned internally and went to make sure everything was in order. I was stocking up the bathroom when I felt someone breathing near my neck. Acting on instinct I quickly turned and kneed the guy right in the balls. He cupped his crown jewels. Fuck! I knew that I should apologize, but hasn’t he ever heard of personal space?

  “I’m Brett Barnes,” He was unaltered by my attack, but spoke in an off-pitched voice. He proffered his hand. “Head of Mr. Parker’s security. I need to make sure the plane is secure before takeoff.”

  I glanced up at the twenty-something beefcake with a buzz cut. He looked ex-military. If I had to guess, I would say he was six-foot-four and two hundred and forty pounds. He was broad shouldered and burly but looked clean cut in his black suit. I offered my hand in return.

  “Au
brey Thompson. Sorry, by the way.” I waved my hand in front of his package. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” I scolded.

  I gestured my hand for him to have at it and walked out. It was going to be a long night. He looked through every nook and cranny of the plane before giving the go ahead for Captain Celebrity, I mean Jake, to board. Jake stopped at the top step and slid his Ray-Ban aviators to the top of his head. That’s when I got my first real look at him. He was tall, at least six-two, tan and toned with a black Mohawk and intense, penetrating blue eyes. He had two piercings in his left eyebrow and a pair of spider bites on his lip. His face could make the Greek Gods weep with his square jaw and high cheekbones. Even his fucking nose was sexy. Then he smirked at me. I hate rockstars!

  Dammit! He probably thinks I’m admiring him. I kind of was, but still.

  “I’m Jake Parker.” He winked and offered his hand.

  “I know who you are.” I replied bitchily.

  Then I quickly remembered I was supposed to be nice. I offered my hand in return and noticed that I didn’t start to feel clammy like I normally would by this time. He had giant hands. They completely enveloped my small one.

  “So you’re the flight attendant? You don’t look like the normal flight attendants that I get.” He was gawking at my chest. “Is that a tattoo?” He pointed.

  I looked down and noticed that my hoodie had slid down, and my chest plate was peeking out. Just fucking fabulous!

  “That would be none of your business, kind sir. Now, if you would please take your seat we can prepare for takeoff.”

  I adjusted my hoodie and smiled devilishly effectively giving him the brush-off. He sat in the cream-colored leather seat and stretched his long legs out in front of him.

  “Hey.” He called out, and I grudgingly walked back over to his seat.

  “Yes.” I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. He was already wearing down my almost non-existent patience.