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  Jameson’s Addiction

  A Rockstar Romance

  Glenna Maynard

  Jameson’s Addiction © 2019 all rights reserved Glenna Maynard

  This is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, business, establishments, locals or events is entirely coincidental. Any reference to real events, business, organizations or locals is intended only to give the fiction a sense of realism and authenticity. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Cover design and formatting by Glenna Maynard.

  Dedication

  To my partner in crime, Dawn bitch.

  This is for you.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Blurb

  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

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  About Glenna

  Available Now

  Preview You Rock Me

  Jameson’s Addiction

  Notorious bad boy of Rock n’ Roll Jameson Lewis is returning home to his roots after five years of touring and recording. When offered a chance to judge an upcoming reality talent show, he can’t say no. There’s just one problem—Peyton Mathews. The girl he left behind. His one regret and favorite addiction.

  Peyton has always dreamed of making it big in the music industry but after the boy she loved shattered her heart she gave up that fantasy. When a second chance at stardom lands in her lap she can’t say no. However, fame comes at a price— the boy who broke her heart is now a man sitting in the judge’s chair and this time he’s playing for keeps.

  Chapter 1

  Jameson

  All groupies are the same, they are down on their knees licking their lips before I can even say suck my dick. I’m a groupie magnet— I’m a musician — groupie whores are who I do. There’s always a crowd of them waiting for me after every show. Eager beavers is what I call them. And every week there’s a new beaver looking at my dick like she’s going to be the one to hook me — like she will be my greatest conquest. All I can say is baby keep it moving — the line that is.

  Pleasing a woman comes naturally to me, just like playing the guitar. I know which chords to strum fast and which ones to play slow. Just like music, the female form is a work of art. I can make a woman scream my name in languages she’s never even spoken before. Am I arrogant? Fuck yeah. I’m a cocky bastard. Ladies don’t call me a panty melter for just any reason. I’m the one and only Jameson Lewis. America’s favorite bad boy of rock ‘n roll.

  Have I always been conceited? Damn straight. I’ve been making girls cream their panties since I was fifteen. I don’t do the love and commitment thing. Been there done that, tatted her name on my back. Then I fucked up and lost that girl, the only girl I’ve ever loved.

  And here and now…right now, this very second… I’m getting good head, from... what’s her name? — the latest groupie on her knees sucking my Johnson like it’s the last lollipop she’ll ever taste. How many licks does it take to get me off? She’s about to find out. I’ve always said good head is like a sore dick, you can’t beat it.

  Five minutes later, I’m shooting down her throat. “Hell yeah.” I pull her off my cock by the back of her hair. A moan escapes her coated lips. I toss her a towel from my dressing room closet. She shoves her phone number in the back pocket of my jeans after she’s cleaned her face. I have security escort her back to the show. I can’t even remember her face. Nor do I care to remember anything about her. I can’t even tell you the color of her eyes, or her hair for that matter.

  There’s only been one girl worth remembering, but I can’t allow myself to go there.

  Bedding a new woman every night is like taking out a new car out for a test drive. You gotta know when to slam your foot on the gas full throttle balls to the wall with reckless abandon and when to pump the brakes and let cruise control do the driving.

  “J man, you ready to rock?” Austin my best friend and drummer asks poking his head through the door of my dressing room.

  I take a look at myself in the mirror, I’ve come a long way from the boy I used to be, but no matter how hard I try he’s always in the back of my mind, missing her—Peyton. My one. The one who got away.

  As I stare at my reflection, I no longer recognize myself and I’m not so sure I like what I have become. The bad boy of rock ‘n roll. Tabloid gold or fodder depending on who you ask. My face is always on the cover of some shit story.

  Austin steps into the room. All it takes is one look at me and he knows. This time of year has always sucked for me. Today is my sister’s birthday and I miss the little brat. It’s also the anniversary of the day I met Peyton. I don’t know why I torture myself, but I know what song I have to play tonight.

  I have nothing left to give

  You cut me to the bone

  You’ve bled me dry

  And I didn’t even know

  I was so high on you

  The perfect drug

  My favorite escape

  I watched your shadow dancing in the dark

  Seducing me by the light of the moon

  Consuming all of me

  Just to be with you

  I lost myself

  Nothing was clear in the great big empty

  But now the fog has cleared

  I’m left with nothing but a distant memory

  Way up here in the clouds

  In the great big empty

  I wish I could crawl inside the window of your soul

  I would paint it black

  Your love has tainted me

  I have nothing left to give

  You cut me to the bone

  You’ve bled me dry

  Maybe I’ll just fade away into the great big empty

  After the show, my phone rings with a call from my agent. Seems there is a new show underway. It’s not my usual scene, country music. Pure Country is looking for Nashville’s next big star and they want me to be a judge on the reality show. I avoid Nashville, my birthplace like the damn plague. I avoid anything that involves Peyton Mathews, however I’m interested in this gig and it’d be nice to see my family without having to fly them to me.

  Maybe Peyton will still be there, doubt she’ll want anything to do with me, but even catching a glimpse of her would satisfy this pain in my chest I currently have just thinking about it. Why the fuck did I screw that up so badly? Oh right. I remember. Fuck. The past creeps up on me.
A constant reminder of who and what I gave up when I chose this path.

  “Book it, I’ll be there.” Ending the call, I take a deep breath. “Nashville. Home sweet home,” I whisper to myself.

  Chapter 2

  Nashville Gawker

  (Gossip Blogger)

  Hello Music City! It’s me again. Your favorite gossip columnist and source for all things hot, and my friends on the DL tell me that the bad boy of rock ‘n roll is on his way home to star in an upcoming reality show that will take place in the heart of Nashville. As you know, Jameson Lewis has never graced our city with his presence since he hit it big after winning battle of the bands. I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to see what havoc he brings with him.

  Chapter 3

  Peyton

  I’ve never been one for getting all girly and glammed up, well at least not like this. My eyes stare at the girl, no, the woman, reflected in the mirror before me. I don’t recognize this version of myself. Underneath the makeup and fancy gown, the real me stirs—the one who loves worn out, faded t-shirts, holey jeans and Chuck Taylors. I am doing all this for Wesley, my soon to be husband. He complains that I never sex it up for him. So for our wedding day I want to give him this…me all dressed up in a revealing, form fitting, satin A-line dress, with a plunging neckline.

  “Wow! Peyton, you look like a princess,” Ruby Jane compliments as I stare at the stranger in the mirror.

  “You think Wes will like it? Are you sure I don’t look like a slut,” I whisper the last word. I don’t even recognize my red stained lips, but I have to admit the longer I see myself, the pop of color is growing on me. I bat my lashes and instantly feel stupid. I don’t know how to be seductive.

  Ruby Jane is rubbing off on me. A few weeks ago, I allowed her to convince me to send in an audition tape for some music reality show that is getting ready to film here in Nashville. I probably don’t have a shot in hell, but it was fun to pretend. I know Wes would never go for me being on TV or getting back into the music scene.

  “I think any man would be lucky to have you meeting him at the altar, even if you were wearing a paper sack,” she gushes.

  “If you say so,” I murmur getting ready to change. I still have another month until the big day, the day we say I do.

  My phone buzzes with a text from my step-monster, Barb.

  Mega Bitch: Peyton darling the florist called, they need you to decide if you want the peach or the pale pink in your arrangement.

  Petty: Peach.

  I answer with my short response, you would think we would be on better terms by now, but I never fully forgave her for what she did to me. It’s been nearly five years. I am no longer the naïve child I used to be, but Barb, well, she is the same old bitch she has always been. Barb by name, barbwire by nature. Despite how much I despise her existence, she does know how to plan a wedding; even if it isn’t exactly what I had in mind.

  If the wedding were left to me, the ceremony would be lowkey, with a few friends, but Wes wants this. His family expects the best. He comes from a long line of high-powered attorney’s. We met at the firm’s Christmas party last winter. My dad thinks we are rushing into this. He had the audacity to ask if I were pregnant when Wesley asked him for my hand. Our age gap doesn’t help either. Wes is ten years older than me. My father wasn’t happy about me dating a junior partner from his firm, but Barb was ecstatic. I guess she thinks once I am married that I am no longer my father’s problem, or hers for that matter.

  How my dad ever got caught up in Barb is a mystery. Every chance the man gets he tells me to live my life, not Barb’s. I’ve overheard so much yelling the last few months between those two also. It makes me wonder if Barb is blackmailing dad in some way. At least that’s the only thing I can think of as to why he’s with her at all. They never have struck me as two people deeply in love, but what do I know about love?

  A knock sounds gently against my bedroom door. It’s probably Ruby Jane’s Aunt Thea coming to drag her home. Ruby Jane is still in high school, but she is one of my bestest friends. We’ve been friends since she first moved in down the street from me when she was four years old.

  “It’s open,” I yell, as I begin taking my jewelry off.

  “Hey, is Ruby Jane here,” the last voice I expected to hear, ever, calls as the door swings open. His voice cuts me like a knife through butter. My stomach blanches as the knots begin to form.

  Jameson ‘motherfuckin’ Lewis.

  Ruby Jane pops up from my bed, throwing herself into her brother’s arms. “Jameson!” She shrieks as he hugs her, looking over her shoulder at my shocked expression in the mirror.

  I avert my eyes from his and that stupid dimple in his right cheek I always thought was so stinking cute, giving them a moment. Ruby Jane thinks that Jameson hung the moon. Once upon a time I believed it were true.

  But in real life, there aren’t any real happily ever afters. You know why? Because all great love stories end in tragedy. Life isn’t a love song. Even if you find your person and you grow old together, one of you dies leaving the other with half of their soul missing. That’s why I am marrying Wes…he’s safe. My heart is protected with him. Jameson promised me he would love me forever. It was a lie, all of it was lies. I should of known he was the type of guy who would only break my heart.

  I got a foolish heart

  The more it hurts

  The harder I love

  I got a foolish heart

  The brighter the flame

  The bigger the burn

  I got a foolish heart

  The more I fight

  The deeper the cut

  I got a foolish heart

  I’ll never forget the day I met Jameson. I was ten years old.

  Flashback

  “You always sit here with your nose in a book?”

  “No.” I look up to see a boy I don’t know staring at me. The sun is in my eyes I have to squint to see him. I don’t recognize him from school or the neighborhood either. I wiggle in my seat on the wooden park bench feeling uncomfortable and sweaty. I’ve been sitting here for a good hour reading.

  “You got a dollar?”

  “No. You always ask so many questions?”

  “Nope.” He pops the P. “So…no dollar?” He scratches the back of his head ruffling his hair.

  “Nope.” I pop the P too.

  “Aww that’s too bad, I was really hoping you could help me out, my little sister is going to be upset with me.”

  “Why?” I ask getting curious.

  “Today is her birthday and I promised her a firecracker popsicle.”

  Looking over to the left, I see her. She looks to be no more than four, maybe five, dressed in tattered overalls with dirt on her chin, crooked pigtails too. Looking over at that rude boy, he's older than me but only by a couple of years. He has messy dark hair that curls around his ears in a shag cut under the rim of his hat. He has that skater boy look. Ratty T-shirt, holey jeans, scuffed chucks.

  I’d prefer to be in my overalls too. I have a denim pair that is cut off into shorts. They are so comfortable. I look at my own clothes; school uniform neatly pressed, pearls around my neck, pristine white Chuck Taylors on my feet. I normally only dress this way for school and when my daddy is coming to visit. He’s coming today. He likes me to look all pretty and girly like a little lady. I am a bit of a Tomboy and my daddy hates that. My mom, she was girly, wore expensive perfume. At least that is what my Nana says.

  I look over to the ice cream truck, chewing on the inside of my jaw. “Yeah, I got a dollar, but I’ll only have enough for two, so you're going to have to share.”

  “Alright. So…you’re a liar.” He shuffles his feet not looking me in the eye when he insults me.

  My cheeks flush. I just know my ears are red too. They turn bright red when I get upset or embarrassed. The kids at school are always teasing me about it among other things.

  “What?” I ask not understanding his comment.

  “
I see you sitting here with your nose in this very book every day and you have a dollar.”

  “You spying on me or something?” Who is this boy?

  “No, just noticed you is all. We just moved down the street from you.”

  He noticed me? Weird. The kids at school never notice me, and they all think that I am strange. I don’t like the normal stuff girls my age are into. All the girls at school like making friendship bracelets and playing with tablets or cellphones. I have what some would call a morbid obsession with dying. Not my death particularly but just the strange ways some experience death.

  “Cool,” I mutter, sounding so lame.

  Moments later, the three of us are sitting on the park bench. I am enjoying my popsicle when this rude boy reaches over holding my hand in place and takes a lick from my popsicle.

  “Rude!” I jerk my hand from his tight grasp.

  “You said we had to share.” He shrugs as if it is no big deal. “What's your name, Fancy?”

  “Fancy!” I shriek annoyed.

  “Yeah, you look all fancy like. Figured we’re sharing spit, might as well know your name.”

  I start to say something smart, but he is grinning at me, and he has a smile that makes me want to give him anything he wants. “My name is Peyton.”

  “Jameson.” He grins at me again and I give him another lick of the melting sugar.

  We share the rest of my popsicle; his little sister whom I learn is named Ruby Jane gets her treat all to herself, but it is her birthday. She is really shy. The little girl won’t hardly look at me, and when I speak to her, she looks away.

  “Wanna go swing or something?” Jameson asks his sister and she smiles wide showing her tiny red stained teeth. They get up and get halfway across the grass before he calls back to me. “You coming or not, Fancy?”

  I smile, shoving my book in my backpack. If anyone else called me that, I would probably get super mad, but I like the way it sounds when he says it. He gives me shooting stars bursting in my tummy. Feels like I swallowed Pop Rocks candy before it has popped.