The Rock Star Next Door, A Modern Fairytale Read online

  The Rock Star Next Door

  By Lily Silver

  The Rock Star Next Door

  *******

  Copyright Lily Silver 2012

  *******

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the written permission of the author, except in brief quotations used in articles or book reviews. This is a work of fiction. All characters are a product of the author’s imagination.

  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  Books by Lily Silver

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  LEX . . .

  The name evokes raw, hard driving music, sensual vocals and erotic lyrics.

  LEX; a seductive enigma, feared by parents and revered by the millions of teens who hold his darkly ambiguous lyrics as sacred verse. Lex ‘Master of Seduction’ is on sale everywhere. Buy it today; take home the bold thief of hearts.

  “Pure hype.” Alexander Coltrane, Lex of music legend, tossed his publicist’s latest promotion blurb about his new CD on the glass patio table. “Where does he come up this crap?” He sipped his coffee and gazed out at the Malibu shoreline.

  “I thought it was clever.” Dave Winters returned with a smile.

  Lex ran a finger about the rim of his mug. His bad boy persona had been the delight of fans and the nightmare of parents for close to a decade. His concerts were banned in the more conservative Southern Baptist communities in the early years, giving his career further notoriety and padding his bank accounts as CD sales skyrocketed. According to the fanatical right, Lex was considered the current purveyor of sensual eroticism in the music world, in the grand tradition of Elvis and Madonna.

  Hell, every wannabe garage band in America hoped their work would be singled out by the religious right for vilification. It was a sure ride to the top with free publicity from preachers denouncing them from the pulpits while kids raced out to buy the forbidden fruit.

  “Rolling Stone wants another interview.” Dave interrupted his thoughts. “I told them you were still on hiatus, exhausted after the last world tour.”

  “Stretching it a bit, aren’t we?” Lex straightened in his chair as a figure on the beach grew nearer. “That was a year ago.”

  Disappointment filled him as he realized the lone figure jogging across his patch of beach was not the anticipated beauty he watched for every morning.

  “I could hardly tell the media you’re holed up in Malibu, nursing your wounds after the lawsuit.” Dave looked at his watch and closed his briefcase. “It would help if you would make a few social appearances.”

  “So I can have microphones shoved in my face, asking me about Crystal and how I feel about the bitch, if I’m still in love with her?”

  “You have to move on, mingle with people. What about Cassie Munro, the one on all the makeup commercials. I could call her, set something up.”

  “Not.” Lex set his mug on the table and stood. “The last thing I need in my life is another fashion model. Oh, don’t do that, you’ll mess my hair. No-no-no, smears the lipstick.” He preened with a falsetto voice. “Crystal was an expert at killing the romance, particularly if there was the slightest chance someone might see her with her hair rumpled, be it a bellboy or a taxi driver.” He opened the sliding glass patio door. Dave stood up, taking his silent implication that this meeting was over.

  “I could call Jean Roundtree. She’s back from location from the Death by Chocolate shoot in Costa Rica. She’s dying to meet you.”

  “Rumor has it she’s gay.” Lex escorted his manager through the living room to the front door as they spoke.

  “Since when?” Dave raised a brow. “She just broke off with Devon Gray, that hot new British actor. And hooked up to him, she was the envy of every woman in America under the age of thirty.”

  “Now she’s living with that gay comedienne, Desiree’ something or other. They plan on getting married soon and are adopting a baby.” He winked, giving his friend a superior grin. “You really should keep up with those gossip rags, old man.”

  “Sensationalism and scandal, that’s all they are. According to them you have a passel of unclaimed bastard children spawned by groupies on every continent, and just look at what a sad sack you’ve become. You’ve not made a single public appearance for over six months and with your final CD release you really need to milk the publicity--”

  “I don’t need to be fixed up with another anorexic model or actress in love with my fame or my money, thank you very much.”

  “You won’t find that ‘soul mate’ you keep pining for hiding out in Malibu.”

  “Who knows? Maybe she lives next door.” Lex deadpanned as he gestured to the luxurious tri-level home next to his own. He hadn’t actually met the elusive beauty residing there, but he had a man on the inside working out that small detail.

  Settling into his Cadillac convertible, Dave gazed speculatively toward the neighboring seaside villa. “It’s rented to a Jack Kelly. Either you’re slumming with his housekeeper or there’s something you’ve neglected to tell me.” He waved to Lex as he backed out of the driveway. “I’ll connect with the Stone and call you with the details.”

  Lex meandered into the kitchen. Blueberry muffins were cooling on a baking rack. His housekeeper had just taken them out of the oven. He grabbed one and allowed her to refill his mug. He returned to the patio overlooking the beach to resume his post watching for the girl next door to emerge for her daily walk.

  He couldn’t recall the name of the band that had recently taken up residence in the house, but twins made up the lead, identical twins who were taking the music industry by storm. The band just completed a national tour and were riding the wave of popularity and success.

  Lex checked his watch with a frown. She was always out by nine, walking her little black dog along the beach, her luscious legs bared, and her feet caressing the low waves. A brilliant flame would be blowing behind her, tantalizing him as his fingers itched to caress those vibrant coppery tresses.

  His mentor taught that in the beginning every soul was male and female, but in ancient times the soul had become separated, cut into two halves. Lex hadn’t believed the tale at first; it seemed no different than other legends and myths of various cultures.

  And then the dreams started. Strange, alluring visions of a woman so hauntingly beautiful and yet, fragile, lonely, yearning for him to find her, to rescue her from the darkness that followed after her like a deadly pall. When he encountered her spirit in his dreams, he felt an immediate recognition, a sense of coming home, of completion, just as Ravi had said would be the case when he encountered his soul mate.

  Gradually the physical image materialized as the dreams progressed, going from a golden red blur of soft light with a lovely, enthralling voice to become young woman of exotic, fragile beauty. She
had waves of glowing copper hair, ivory skin, and deep, penetrating turquoise eyes. He thought she was a figment of his imagination--until he saw her photograph in a magazine some months ago. It was the very same face, the same sad eyes that beckoned him in his dreams to find her.

  Lex retrieved the latest Rolling Stone from the pile of magazines on the patio table. She was on the cover, beautiful and refreshingly free of that fatal feminine guile so popular among the Hollywood set. To Lex, and millions of other obsessed men she was a shy, lovely girl next door with a young Sandra Bullock appeal.

  Her twin brother was positioned behind her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. Both wore only jeans as off camera fans blew their magnificent manes of identical red hair about them in a swirl of seductiveness. Jessica had her knees drawn up to hide her breasts. She was hugging her knees, facing the camera with a demure smile. Her brother sat behind her with his legs spread out and his arms raised with biceps flexed, his face a snarl of victory. It was a work of art; a visual masterpiece capturing two people who were identical in every way, separated only by their contrasting gender.

  The headline read Sibling Rivalry-not on your life. Wonder Twin powers, Activate!

  Lex smiled at the ditzy quote from the 70's cartoon. Super Friends was still shown on the cartoon channel late at night. The show featured alien teenage twins with supernatural powers who were being trained by the likes of Superman and Wonder Woman to become crime fighters in the Justice League. Yeah, well, retro seemed to be the hot new thing these days. Everything from the 70’s was enjoying a brief renaissance. Even the modern Superman TV series, Smallville, featured the superhero twins in an episode and various adult cartoon shows parodied the cartoon wonder twins.

  The headline was not far off point. The hard rocking red-haired guitar playing twins were causing a sensation. Their image popped up everywhere as the record company launched them into the media spotlight via talk shows and magazine interviews.

  Lex recognized her. He knew Jessica Kelly was his soul mate and their spirits were destined for a reunion.

  Chapter Two

  Success.

  The word hung there, empty and alluring--until one achieved it.

  In the last year, Jessie and her brother were on MTV twice as guest hosts. They appeared as guest judges on American Idol and were featured on Conan. They had been interviewed by every magazine in the music industry and they made this month’s cover of Rolling Stone.

  Jack and Jessie. Two members of a five member rock band. It bothered her that she and Jack were continually being pushed into the spotlight by the execs at their record label at the expensive of the other three members of their rock band.

  Fender Guitar wanted Jack and Jessie Kelly to sign on as poster models. The promise had been that wherever music stores sold Fender Guitars, their smiling faces would grace the walls as they stood back to back, each strumming a Fender model as a promo. Aside from endorsing Fender as their guitar of choice, theoretically selling Fender to the masses of teenage guitarists, it would provide the Kelly twins with added fame and recognition, unlimited free guitars of any model they wished over the next three years, and a tidy income for the modeling. Jessie was still going over the contract with their manager and an attorney before they actually signed the deal.

  Jessie was lying crossways on her bed clad in a Packers’ T-shirt. Her bare legs were propped against the wall. Her ankles were crossed and a bare foot rested against the cool plaster above the headboard. Her hair was loose and free, dangling over the edge of the bed as her head hung over the edge of the mattress and she gazed at her world from upside down. With her guitar resting across her belly, she grimaced and started plunking out a heavy metal riff with the speaker cranked to block the sounds from the next room.

  Her efforts were not appreciated. Loud thumping on the other side of the wall told her the couple heard her nasty rendition of Alice Cooper’s Poison and they weren’t the least bit amused by her impromptu serenade to their lovemaking.

  Jessie sat up, placed her guitar in the stand and stretched.

  “Hungry? Or did they spoil your appetite, too?” She asked the black dust mop beside her bed. A soft groan answered as the black Scottish terrier’s tail wagged. “Come, Duncan.”

  The smell of coffee embraced her as she descended the spiral iron staircase. Curious, she peeked into the kitchen to see which one of guys would actually be up at the ungodly hour of nine in the morning.

  Steve Walker sat at the kitchen table with his bare feet propped on the glass surface, torn and slashed black jeans his only attire. His stark costume blended with the post-modern black and white kitchen. Long brown hair was uncombed as it hung in clumps about his slender shoulders. Multiple earrings lined each ear and skulls resembling the catacombs adorned one bare shoulder. The keyboardist had a cigarette between his teeth as he played air guitar and waited for the magic brew to complete the cycle. “Serenading the happy couple? I heard you down here.” He removed his coffin nail from his lips and blew a wreath of smoke in her direction while giving her an amused smile.

  Jessie grinned back at him. “Yeah, Alice Cooper’s Poison.”

  “I know.” Steve’s eyes took an evil gleam. “The question is this; which one is truly the lethal one-- Kyra or her lover?” He raised a chestnut brow.

  “You are such a Goth.” Jessie teased. “It was just the first song that popped into my head upon waking to the headboard slamming the wall adjacent to mine.”

  “On one hand,” He lifted a long, slender finger, “Kyra could be the proverbial black widow, killing her lover and eating him after they mate--” Steve mused, “On the other, we could consider our blonde bombshell a willing sacrifice to a long line of adoring fans who seem captivated by her 36-B charms.”

  “Save it for the next writing session.” Jessie returned. “You’re poetic, in a morbid sense.”

  “Love you, too, Babe.” Steve winked, knowing she hated being called ‘Babe’ by anyone. “That reminds me, I’ve managed to scratch a few lines down last night. Not much, but I’m open to collaboration. We’re due to turn in prelims to the studio for the next CD in two weeks.”

  “Like I could forget.” Jessie replied. Since their celebrated success this past year, Jessie and Steve were the only members of Heartless who took their obligations to the record company seriously. The three other members of the band followed after their own vices, be it drugs, sex or the ever-present cameras that stalked them about tinsel town.

  After filling Duncan’s dish, Jessie poured them each a generous cup of coffee. She swirled sugar in Steve’s cup, handed it to him and then jumped up on the smooth black granite counter, allowing her bare legs to dangle comfortably.

  Steve tossed his cigarette butt into the sink with a flick of his wrist and waited for Jessie to scold him. When she didn’t he looked disappointed. “Think its love this time?”

  “It’s always love as far Kyra is concerned. I just hope she doesn’t get hurt again. This one has that aura about him. He’s too much like Darrell.”

  Darrell Brookes was their drummer. With bleached blonde hair closely cropped and styled into short, sharp points, a dimpled smile and the ever present Ray-Bans, their drummer cultivated a Billy Idol image. And, Darrell was a bit of a man whore, often coming home from his conquests to flirt with Jessie as if she should find him attractive after listening to him brag about his conquests with other women.

  “Kyra likes this newest victim.” Steve said. He gave Jessie a significant look before taking a long swig of his coffee. “They came home about dawn, claiming they were getting hitched.” His look said it all, he didn’t approve of Kyra’s latest lover anymore then Jessie did. “The drummer for Lex dating our back up guitarist? Conflict of interest, Big Time.” He placed his feet firmly on the floor and leaned forward to give Jessie a level look. “One of them will always be on tour. It’ll never work.”

  “Kyra has never been serious about the music. It was always just another chance to party down and me
et guys.”

  “That’s what worries me.” Steve stood and moved to the counter to pour himself a second cup of coffee. “We’ve just arrived, come into our own. And if you and I are right, we’ll be searching for another back up guitarist before the next tour.” He grabbed his pack of Camels. “Let’s sit on the patio near the beach, so they won’t overhear us.”

  Jessie snatched up her mug and followed him outside and down the long staircase that led to the sun deck near the shore. The Malibu shoreline was glorious; sunshine, salty air and the smell of wet sand. It was pristine and refreshing. It was another world, situated just a few miles outside of LA. Majestic and serene, a celebrity haven from the pressures of the paparazzi.

  “Want to take a spin down to Santa Monica later?”

  Jessie shrugged. Steve was her best friend, her soul mate, the one guy aside from her brother she knew she could truly count on. Lately, Steve was proving more reliable than her twin.

  “We can cruise the pier.” Steve cajoled. “That way you can have those disgusting black bean and sweet potato burritos while I eat corn dogs and fries.”

  “Sure. Let’s just swim in a vat of lard. Yuck.”

  “You could stand to gain a few pounds, I won’t have you looking like those walking corpses they call models.”

  “And you could quit smoking.”

  “Back off, Babe.” Steve held up a hand to deflect her well-honed strike. “Hey, get a load of that, lover boy’s going to confer with his boss.” Steve mused as he watched Kyra’s boyfriend walk through the iron gate separating their lawn from that of the infamous Lex. The rock star just happened to be out on his deck adjacent to theirs and not more than twenty feet away, reading the paper and soaking up the sunshine.

  Jessie leaned forward to get a better view of the legendary Lex through the quasi-privacy of latticework and creeping vines. He couldn’t see them but she could see him through the small diagonal opening. He was gorgeous. Tall, muscular, with long dark hair, and oh so sexy with his California tan. She had a devastating crush on him in middle school. When the other girls were swooning over the tame pop singers of adolescence, she discovered Lex. Decked out in tight black leather pants and looking like a member the Hell’s Angels biker gang with his six pack abs, long, wild hair, sporting tats and body piercings, he was the bad boy personified. His sexually explicit lyrics made parents scream for an R rating on his music covers and ban him from their homes.