Jaded (Rock Star Trilogy)

Copyright
© 2013 by Mercy Amare

Cover designed by Regina Wamba at Mae I Designs.

http://www.maeidesign.com/

Cover model: Sara

Edited by Shane White

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, place, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

More information can be found on the author's website:
http://www.mercyamare.com

Monday, September 1

Los Angeles, California

If he weren't my dad, I would fire him.

“That's it,” I scream, putting my foot down. I am so irritated, I don't even care that I am acting like a spoiled three year old. “I'm taking a break!”

My manager, Mason Ryan, who also happens to be my dad, spews out his third non-fat latte of the morning all over the desk in front of him. “Stop being dramatic. You're Scarlett Ryan, the hottest thing on the music scene. If you take a break, when you come back, it will be too late. Your moment will have passed and you will be
nothing
.”

Maybe I don't care anymore. Maybe I don't
want
to come back,
but I don't tell him this. I'm not ready to have that conversation with him. “I am 19 years old, and I still haven't graduated high school. I've been touring nonstop the past four years.
I need a break
.”

“
Who cares about high school?” He half-screams at me, but quickly lowers his voice. “You have more money than you know what to do with. Another year or two won't hurt. And you're 19 years old. You don't
need
a break!”

I roll my eyes. He has absolutely no clue what I want, or need. I really don't care about the money. I care about the music. But Mason seems to
have forgotten this. “This isn't up to
you
. It's up to
me
. And
I
am choosing to take a break so I can finish my senior year of high school. I need to reevaluate my life.”

“
You can finish high school on the road. We'll hire you a tutor. And if you need to reevaluate your life, we'll get you a shrink, or a yoga instructor. You don't take a break during the height of your career! If you do, all that hard work will have been for
nothing
!”

He doesn't get it, though I didn't expect him to. He's 47, but acts like he's 20 most of the time. I swear, if he weren't my dad, I would have fired him a long time ago.

“I need a break.” I use my serious tone of voice with him. I know that he will ignore me, but I need him to know how serious I am. “It's not up for discussion. My mind is made up.”

With that, I walk out of his office slamming the door behind me, and book the first flight I can out of California.

Monday, September 7

Hope, Florida

6:00 am

Whatever you do, don't fall in love.

My alarm clock goes off at an ungodly hour. I start to hit snooze, but then I remember what today is, and sit up. Today is my first day of high school. Which is kind of ironic, considering I am 19 years old, but still, it doesn't make it any less exciting.

I shut off my alarm, get out of bed, and hop in the shower. After my shower, I blow dry my hair and straighten it.

My hair is long, like past my waist long. And it's a shocking platinum blonde. The weird part is that it grows out of my head like this. I have always wanted to dye it, any color besides blonde. I hate the color of my hair. But my record company won't hear of it. Apparently they want a rock star who looks like Malibu Barbie.

Not that I look like a Barbie. Trust me, I'm
not that perfect
. Don't I
wish
...

I'm thin. Almost too thin. I blame it on lack of time to eat. Everything about me is too small, except my
man arms
, so says Perez Hilton. But I like my arms. They're very muscular... Not like bodybuilder muscles... More like, I help my band carry heavy equipment kind of muscles. You see, just because I'm a rock star doesn't mean I'm too good to help. Besides, setting up the stage is
fun
. It helps keep me grounded.

I also have small boobs.

Well, they're not
that
small. I wear a B cup, which works for my small body. But apparently the Hollywood sharks don't think so. Gossip blogs tear me apart. They told me I need to get a boob job.
No thanks
. The day I read that, I cried for an hour straight. The next day my song,
I Won't Change for You
, hit number 1. Very fitting. I kind of like to think of it as my way of giving a middle finger to the Hollywood sharks.

I'm also very short. 5'1”. Which sucks sometimes, but most of the time I like being little. It makes me feel girly. Plus, I wear a lot of heels.

So really, the only thing I have in common with Malibu Barbie is my hair. Oh, and my Barbie dream house. My house in LA is more of a mansion, but I have to admit, I'm not going to miss it. Not even for a second.

Once I fix my hair, I put on my make up. I always wear it dark, but I decide to tone it down for today. I wear black eyeliner, and mascara. The black makes my blue eyes stand out. I put on light foundation and a little blush to highlight my cheekbones. I smile, satisfied at my reflection.

I go to my walk in closet. It's very huge. Not as big as my closet in LA, but still, it's bigger than the average sized bedroom. I even have a chandelier hanging in there, and I have to admit it's a bit excessive, but I
am
a rock star. I deserve a few indulgences in life. My stylist stocked my closet for me, and I swear, I have enough clothes that I wouldn't have to wear the same thing twice for the whole year. But that's okay with me, because, like I said, I am a girly girl, and I
love
clothes.

Every outfit is labeled for each day. I pick up the outfit that says “
For your first day of school
.” My stylist, Monica, wrote a note for me.

You told me to dress you like a normal teenager, and I did my best. Don't  blame me that you look better than everybody else. You are extraordinary, no matter what you wear. Good luck with high school. Go to lots of parties, get drunk, and kiss lots of boys. But no matter what you do:
DON'T FALL IN LOVE!
(Trust me, high school love sucks, and always ends in heartbreak). Have fun!

<3 Monica

I couldn't help but smile. I love Monica! I quickly put on my outfit. I
do not
look like a normal teenager at all. I'm wearing a pair of five inch, hot pink stilettos, a short green skirt, and a hot pink shirt that hangs off my right shoulder. But I'm not too upset, because I
do
look good.

Of  course I look good! I'm
SCARLETT RYAN
!

7:55 am

People are ALREADY staring.

I pull into my new school at 7:55, and people are already staring. Though, I suspect it's because of my car. I'm driving a special edition Lamborghini Sesto Elemento. It was custom made for me. It's black and has hot pink rims. Mason got it made for my nineteenth birthday 2 months ago. Again, I know it's extreme, but it's my dream car, and I
love
it.
I love fast cars
.

I glance in the rear view mirror at myself one last time. I put on my designer sun glasses and get out of my car. I walk boldly, and confidently to the building labeled “ADMINISTRATION”.

I feel
good
as I walk. I can do this. After all, I am
Scarlett Ryan
. I'm about to open the door when somebody else pushes it open. Me and other person have a head on collision. Well, more like a head/ chest collision. The person towers over me by at least six inches, even in my heels. I start to stumble backwards, but a hand reaches out and grabs my arm to help steady me.

Smooth, Scarlett. Real smooth.

“I'm sorry. Are you ok?” the deep voice asks.

I look up into the bluest eyes I've ever seen. Like seriously, this guy puts
THOR
to shame. And I'm beginning to wonder if he is a god, because I swear, I just lost the ability to talk. My mouth suddenly feels dry.

What is this strange feeling?

Oh god, I'm
NERVOUS
. Seriously?

I take a deep breath and silently scold myself. I've met celebrities, yet I can't handle a teenage boy? I push my sun glasses to the top of my head. “I'm fine, thank you.”

He looks at me like he knows me, but can't quite figure out who I am. I'm hoping I can avoid the awkward '
Oh my god, you're Scarlett Ryan!'
conversation.
As if
I
don't know who I am. “You look very familiar. Are you new here?”

“
Yeah, I'm new,” and then I add, “Sorry, I don't think I recognize you. I'm not from around here.” I know, I'm bad. But I don't want him to know
who
I am. Not yet, anyway. Maybe I can at least make one friend who isn't obsessed with me. Though, let's face it, that might be difficult.

“
Oh my god!” I hear a voice from behind him. “Scarlett Ryan?”

And just like that, I am surrounded by a sea of people. People are screaming my name and pushing through to the front, trying to get a glimpse of me.

I feel somebody grab my hand, and begin to pull me through the growing crowd of people. We go inside the building and quickly step inside the first door on the right.

I look up to see Thor locking the door.

Oh, the things I'd love to do with him in this locked room.

“
Who
are you? And why are they acting like that?” he asks.

I stick out my hand. I know that I can no longer hide my identity, so I decide to introduce myself. “I'm Scarlett Ryan. I have won five Grammy awards, I've had 15 number one hits in the past four years, and I'm currently taking a break from music so I can finish out my senior year in peace, and not from the back of a tour bus.”

He accepts my hand shake. “I hate to break it to you, but I'm pretty sure the back of a tour bus would have been more peaceful.” He eyes me up and down. “And you look different in person.”

“
Good different, or bad different?” I ask, biting my lip. I can't help but flirt with him. Just because I'm not supposed to fall in love doesn't mean I can't make out with him... Or more...

Ok, ok, I know what you're thinking. But I'm
not
a slut. The fact is, I've only had sex with like 10 guys, and I can remember every one of their names. Well, except that one guy, but I was really drunk and he doesn't count. Point is, it could be
a lot
worse.

He laughs. “Good different.”

The bell rings, and he reaches for the door knob.