Sing To Me: A Glory Days Production Read online

  Sing To Me

  A Glory Days Production

  Theresa Hissong

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2013 Theresa Hissong

  License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  About the Author

  Dedication

  I would like to thank my dear friend Sera Lockwood for being the one who stayed up into the late hours of the night to read what I'd put on paper. Sera without you, my ego wouldn't be as impressive as it is now. I appreciate everything you have done, every kind word, and your ultimate praise; telling me you needed tourniquets after reading certain things in this book.

  To my family:

  For encouraging me to write and to not be afraid.

  I love you Wayne, Sara, and Nathan

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental. The names of people, places, things, songs, bands are all created from the author's mind and are only used for entertainment.

  Chapter 1

  Mary

  You know those times when you look back on the immediate past and wish to hell you hadn't of answered the phone? Well, I was having a moment and my best friend was the cause of it. Not her personally, but her plan for tonight and this weekend utterly pissed me off.

  "Come on Mary Montclair!" My friend of just over two years, Liana, sighed into the phone. "Gabe is fronting the trip to Vegas. It'll be fun! You have never met him and he's dying to meet you. Plus.....Glory Days is your favorite band." I heard her chuckle at the end and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  It's not that I didn't want to go. I really did. To meet the number one rock band in the last five years was a huge deal. Gabe Miller (Liana's big brother) was the lead guitarist for the band and was successful beyond belief. It was fate that I became BFF's with the guy's sister. It's been an argument between us for a while now. She insists on introducing me; I decline every time.

  "Haven't we been over this and over this Liana?" I pleaded. Even though I was refusing her, I was still looking longingly at my suitcase in the corner of my closet, imagining what I needed to pack. Would it be too cold for a mini skirt (It was April, the weather could go either way) or should I pack my leather pants and low cut white sparkly top? Oh shit, should I do my hair or just leave it in a messy blonde ponytail?

  Could I even gather the nerve to be in the same room as Glory Days? My absolute stupid, stupid crush on the lead singer, Ash Martin, would probably make me a blubbering fangirl. Oh, God! Could I even conjure up the nerve to say hello? He's just too fine for words. Beautiful green eyes and brown hair that looks just kissed by the sun to prove he is a SoCal boy through and through. It also doesn't help that he's tall and muscled like a freaking UFC fighter. Geez, why does the inside of my thighs quiver when I think about him?

  Liana interrupted my train of thought. "Doesn't matter," she laughed. "I'm already on the way. Gabe sent a limo and it's got a stocked bar! I'll be there in thirty. Love you!"

  I was left staring at a phone with no one to argue with on the other end. I tossed the thing on the bed, and then secretly cringed; IPhone's weren't that resilient, I should be more careful. Scooping it off the red comforter that I loved dearly, I reached for the suitcase and started throwing outfit after outfit inside. My best bra and panties got tossed inside as well, just in case. Because you know the saying, "What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas". Plus a swimsuit in hopes they had a heated pool.

  Where were we going to be staying anyway? I hope it was somewhere other than the Motel 6; maybe a luxurious sweet at the Mandalay Bay? I knew that was where they would be playing Saturday and Sunday night, because, well I'm a fan. I know these things.

  Like I know after the two shows in Vegas, they'd be off to their home town of Los Angeles, then to San Diego and then back to Phoenix, where I already have my tickets purchased and in a safe place until next Saturday night. Phoenix was the last show on the tour.

  It took less than thirty minutes for Liana to show up with the limo. The driver was a stiff looking man with salt and pepper gray hair. He was not a personal chauffer because he could've cared less who we were and didn't waste time with pleasantries.

  "Alright," Liana yelled. "Let's go!" With that, we were off.

  .

  The flight to Las Vegas took just under an hour and the sun was setting as we got off the plane. The lights on the strip were already blazing like big blinking arrows to gain the attention of the hordes of people infiltrating this magical place. To my embarrassment, there was another man in a tux waiting for us at baggage claim with a sign that read "Miller/Montclair". We could've just taken a cab.

  "Ladies," he said as he picked up our luggage and hauled it out to the curb next to the black stretch limo. After opening our doors and tucking us safely away inside, the driver put our belongings in the trunk and we were on our way to the infamous Las Vegas strip.

  Our hotel room was amazing! I followed Liana inside, my feet felt comfortable in the plush carpet. A two bedroom suite that was done up in red and gold, and it overlooked everything. Twinkling lights flashed as far as the eye could see. Billboards for various shows were placed at intervals along the street. I silently wondered if we would have time to take in some sightseeing while we were here.

  I grabbed the bedroom to the left of the main living area. Stepping around the overstuffed white couch, I passed a kitchenette with a refrigerator and stove. A small table, that seated four, had a small bouquet of roses as a centerpiece.

  The room was standard issue. A huge king sized bed with a gold comforter and dark wood headboard made it look inviting and after my day I planned on getting up close and personal with it very soon.

  Today had been a very, very long day. You see, I am a freelance photographer. So, I'm recruited by certain media outlets to photograph special events, high end weddings (yes even celebrities), and a huge array of other assignments I can get my hands on. I make damn good money at what I do.

  Plus the money in savings that I acquired from a settlement when I was just a teenager ensured I'd be comfortable for the rest of my life. I lived off of my photography money, because the other was guilt money and I refused to touch it. But the interest I lived off of as well was fair game in my mind.

  My parents died in a car accident when I was very young and I had no other family to take me in, so I was thrust into the foster care system in my home state of Tennessee. My first foster family, Carrie and Edward Jones, realized my potential singing voice and got me into singing. I was well on my way to stardom as a young pop singer when they too were taken away in a house fire set accidentally by my foster brother, Jonathan.

  My second set of step parents were only in it for the money and my foster dad, Steve Parnel
l, refused to get involved with my singing, because as he put it, "Why would I let you sing, when I get nothing out of it?" It didn't take long before he got drunk one night and snapped.

  One year, two months, and twelve days from my eighteenth birthday, Steve decided that I was of no use to him. He snuck into my room and proceeded to strangle me. The damage had been irreversible to the tissue in my voice box. So after a yearlong trail, I was awarded ten million in a settlement with the state of Tennessee and emancipation from the foster system.

  Here I am now, Mary Montclair, washed up pop singer has been, with a ton of money and a voice that sounds like a Brillo pad lives in it. With ten mil in the bank and no need to call Memphis my home anymore, I packed my shit and moved west to Phoenix.

  A crappy apartment and a fifty dollar camera were my only belongings in the beginning, because I refused to use anymore of the guilt money than I had too. I loved the dry air and the cacti on the mountains. This was to be my new home.

  After answering a want ad for a photographer, I found my calling. The money I made from that first Phoenix calendar of 2006 at the ripe young age of eighteen was enough to pay a month's rent.

  After that, I made business cards and met with the editor of the Arizona Republic newspaper and acquired a freelance job, shooting pictures of basketball games and their players to political events and things beyond. Sometimes I travel to other places when I am contracted to do so. It makes life interesting.

  A knock sounded on my door and I turned to see Liana and her long black hair peek around the corner. Big blue eyes and pouty lips grew into a cheesy ass smile, "They're on the way. Get ready my BFF, you're about to meet ALL of them!"

  I walked up and grabbed her scrawny ass shoulders and shook her a little and screamed, "OH. MY. GOD!"

  I think I might just faint.

  Ash

  I absolutely love Vegas; the place where people don't hound you because you're famous. Well, mostly don't hound you. The fucking paparazzi still stalk your every move.

  I tossed the empty beer can into the trash and grabbed my baseball hat and made my way out of my room in the Presidential Suite in search of my band mates. It was about time to go see Gabe's little sprite of a sister. That little shit was the one person in this world that tamed the beast that was my guitarist, Gabe Miller.

  Gabe was all excited that she was here for the weekend and had brought her best friend, Mary Montclair. We've all seen pictures of this new arrival many times over the last few years. Gabe was always shoving damn pictures of those two in our faces like the overprotective big brother he was. Hell, he'd never even officially met Mary in person and he thought of her as family.

  Not that I don't want to meet her, but boy I don't know if my male hormones can actually see this beauty in person. From the photos I've seen, this is the one female on the planet that could be my downfall. If God had made a more visually perfect person for me, it'd be Mary Montclair.

  Long blonde hair that fell to her waist in ringlets framed a perfect face. She has big blue eyes and a model's cheekbones. Believe me when I say that I have been around many of those anorexic sluts to know when I see beauty. By no means is Mary anorexic, not with those curves. The pictures Liana sent from last summer when they went to Cancun left me sporting a week long erection that no amount of jacking off would cure.

  Damn.

  Fucking polka dotted swimsuits!!

  "Hey," Gabe called from the couch. "We need to get going!"

  Everyone lazily made their way to the front door. Gabe was the first one out hitting the button for the elevator like a kid on crack. He was excited to see his sister and so was everyone else, but damn he was annoying.

  One floor down and directly across from the elevator was their suite. Gabe knocked loudly and we all heard Liana scream. The door flung open and a miniature female version of Gabe come flying out the door and wrapped herself around her brother.

  "Gabe!" She squeezed him and kissed his forehead before sliding down and pulling him inside the room. I followed behind along with Kane and Reed.

  Kane Maddox, our superstar drummer and tattoo enthusiast pushed around me and went straight for Mary. My God she was even more beautiful in person. At least the small glimpse I got of her was before she was crowded by the guys.

  "It's about time you came to meet us girly," exclaimed Reed Sullivan, Glory Days bassist. He was tall as fuck and looked like the Jolly Green Giant next to the girls. His long black hair hung loose and Liana reached up to run her hands through it giggling a little. Gabe glared at her and she stepped away.

  In fact, those bastards had finally finished with the introductions and I was able to slide in for mine.

  "Hello, Mary," I drawled. I used the voice I used on all the ladies. That tone had dropped many panties over the last five years and I'm hoping I'll get Mary's off sometime tonight.

  To my utter astonishment, she scowled. She fucking scowled!

  "Hello, Ash," she said politely, but in a sexy raspy voice. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." She shyly pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and I stuck out my hand. I just had to touch her. Even if she did scowl, I had to have her. Now that I've laid eyes on this female perfection, I had to own her.

  When we touched it was like electricity, hot and shocking to the system. I believe she felt it too, because her tiny hands flinched and her blue eyes seemed to darken. Fuck, I'm so going to enjoy tasting her sweetness.

  Her voice touched me deep. Liana had mentioned Mary's attack as a teen and that she too had been a singer until she was brutally mauled by her foster father. I'm glad the son of a bitch is rotting away in jail, hopefully being some dudes bitch.

  "Are you ladies ready to grab a bite to eat?" I announced. Dinner reservations were already made at Aureole downstairs at Mandalay Bay. We just needed to call our security up to escort us down.

  "Ready when you are." Mary announced. She looked amazing in some tight shiny black hotpants and a deep red sleeveless blouse that swooped down in the front showing off tons of cleavage. She had enough breasts to just overfill my palms and my hands were awfully big. And those fuck-me high heels in matching red made me want to strip her down and have my way with her in nothing but those shoes.

  My junk was getting very uncomfortable in my jeans and I had to threaten it with harm to get it to calm the hell down. So, I did the next best thing and turned toward Liana, who was like my annoying little sister. Yes, that helped a lot.

  "Are you going to give me any of that love?" I asked with a pronounced pout on my lips, knowing she couldn't resist my charm. She launched herself at me and I laughed hard. She and Gabe both were like little fucking jumping beans.

  "Ash Martin, you just get more handsome every time I see you," she grinned widely. I poked her sides and reached for my phone. She giggled and jumped off me to return to her brothers side.

  "Let me get security up here and we'll head on down." I dialed Eric, our head of security and told him to meet us at Liana and Mary's suite. Hopefully they would take one of the guys with them if they went out.

  After being seen or even photographed with us, I'm sure they will attract unwanted attention. I'm sure Gabe will force that issue with her, but as for Mary, I'll make sure to tell Eric to keep a man on her for the duration of their trip. Mary alone on the strip couldn't be safe. She'd have all those drunk, horny men attached to her coattail.

  Reed was currently chatting up Mary by the couch and I noticed she'd glance at me occasionally, a slight blush on her cheeks when I would catch her staring. Before I made it to them two sharp raps at the door had us turning to meet Eric and his crew in the hallway.

  "Eric," I announced. "This is Mary Montclair and you already know Gabe's sister, Liana." He nodded toward the ladies and started walking to the elevator where Mark and David were waiting for us to arrive.

  Once we hit the casino floor the three men made a pyramid around us as we walked toward the restaurant. Mary was quiet and didn't speak much and see
med to take in more of her surroundings than Liana did. Like she was trying to absorb every little detail and catalogue it for future analysis.

  A slot machine lit up and starting singing the bells of victory as some lady hit a jackpot. Mary jumped slightly and I found myself slipping closer to her, almost protectively. She startled me with a laugh and shook her head. "That's so exciting," she exclaimed.

  I just nodded and was a little fascinated in her joy over someone else's victory. I never took in the little things like she seemed to be doing. It was rather refreshing, and inspiring.

  I could feel the beginning of a song somewhere rattling in my brain. But I don't know if I could ever write a song about the beauty that is Mary Montclair.

  There were no words.

  We arrived at Aureole and were greeted by the manager, Claude. We were seated in a private area in the back that was reserved for celebrities and high rollers. The place boasted a huge four story wine tower and magnificent food. We ate here every time we were in town. The tall windows at our back faced the courtyard by the pool and Mary slid into the booth, I followed falling into her side. She smiled and blushed slightly.

  By the time dinner was served, we'd put down a few bottles of wine and have pretty much pissed off all the people around us. We're rock stars, so we can get a little rowdy. Of course, we were allowed to break rank of the dress code. While others wore dress clothes, our mixed bag of leather and worn t-shirts were okay anywhere we went.

  "Mary," Reed grinned. "Are you ready to see the show?" He dropped his napkin on the table and leaned back in his seat apparently full from his feast.

  "Yes, even though it won't be my first show." She giggled when I looked at her.

  "You've seen our show," I asked, surprised. I didn't know she was a fan.

  "Well, yes. I've been to every show you've done in Phoenix over the last five years. I even saw you at a club the year before you made it big." She shrugged and we all stared at her with our mouths agape.