Stricken Resolve (36 page)

You think you get extra attention when your
bodyguard likes you, nope, try being married to one and then you
see how much extra attention you do get. When we are in public, he
always finds a reason to pin me against a wall, or hug me close,
all in the name of safety, of course. Plus, we’ve had some close
calls with him around the past few months. No one can get enough of
Stricken’s divine children. So family outings are crazy as hell.
James has pulled his gun eight or nine times and not once have I
felt scared or threatened, only because he’s with us. I wouldn’t
want another man to protect me. And when he’s not my doting
husband, an amazing and attentive father, or my personal bodyguard,
he’s been tending to the, band’s finances as well as our own. My
job duties are much less than his are. I’m a mother, wife, cook,
and I run the behind the scenes for the band. I can’t be in the
forefront any longer, considering all the stuff that has to go on
here at home. So Johnathan and Stacy have been covering the rest.
Stacy, god love him, is busy all the time.

“Emily! Are you going to listen to me?”

Son of a bitch! Arg! Not again!

“Yeah, sorry, Stacy.”

“Before you get your panties in a bunch. Yes,
Kyle and I have knocked up a redhead.”

Um… Okay? What the hell kind of gibberish is
he trying to pull over on me? I’m no doctor, but I’m fairly certain
it takes one sperm and one egg to conceive. Or in my case, two eggs
and two sperm. But that’s neither here nor there.

“Okay…,”

“What he’s trying to say, Emily, is we
decided to have a child,” Kyle finishes for him, coming into the
kitchen and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. Both of them
are so freakin’ cute.

“You want to have a child? So you both slept
with a woman? Ok, I’m confused.”

Chuckling, Kyle kisses Stacy’s cheek. “You
cover that part, sexy,” he states and leaves the kitchen, with a
piece of toast in hand.

“We hired a redheaded surrogate who willingly
donated her eggs to us. A week ago we had both Kyle and I’s sperm
implanted in her womb for conception. We’ll known in another three
weeks if one of those embryos took.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight, you want
to have a kid so you both donated sperm, she gave her eggs and her
belly to hold the baby, and you didn’t tell me this sooner?
Why?”

He is supposed to be my best friend you’d
think he would have discussed this with
me
, at the very
least.

“Well, for starters you are so busy with the
kids, and well, you aren’t exactly quiet when it comes to your
views on the ignorance of people who don’t accept gay couples. We
had a lot of hoops to jump through to get a woman willing enough to
carry a baby for us. Even in this day and age, there are a lot of
agencies who don’t accept our lifestyle, especially one where we
live with a rock star, his wife, and her child, along with you,
your husband and my niece and nephew. Adding that to the fact that
we’re gay. It doesn’t exactly scream
acceptance
. I knew if I
told you that we’ve spent four months trying to find a woman
locally, after being rejected over a couple dozen times, you’d
probably be on the phone first thing tomorrow talking to every news
crew in the state, bitching up a storm about how unfair it is for
gays to be treated unequally.”

Over a dozen times? Oh hell no!

“You are damn fucking straight I would do
that. I could have helped, if I’d had known, I would have. Don’t
keep me out of the loop. I’m in your corner.” I am pissed at anyone
who wouldn’t accept him. What a crock of shit. He’s right; I would
have been bitching up a storm. Being who I am does have some perks
and the media listening to me happens to be one of them.

“I know babe, you are in my corner. You’re in
every gay man and lesbian’s corner. And I love you deeply for that.
But it isn’t going to change the rules. I didn’t need you worrying
about this for me. It’s Kyle and I’s job to deal, if we want to be
parents.”

“Yes, you are right it is. But I am the best
friend… and I need the names to those agencies who turned you
away.” These fuckers will not be getting away with this. Not if I
have anything to say about it.

“I told you she’d be angry.” Kyle pops his
head in. “You should have left part of it out, just like I told you
to.”

“Calm down, Em. Let’s focus on the fact we
are now waiting to see if we are having a baby. We wanted a redhead
so maybe it could come out looking like you. Now, please stop and
enjoy this. Don't scare the poor woman who agreed to it.”

Alright, alright, I guess I can try to calm
down about it. He’s right, I am excited they get to be parents. I
want nothing more than another baby to be running around our house
with the twins and Dylan.

“I know, I’m sorry.” I walk around to the
other side of the counter and pull my bestie into a hug. “I love
you too much. I can’t help it,” I mutter, my nose stuffed against
his chest.

“I know, babe, and we have been friends
forever. I was never lying when I said I couldn’t live without you.
You are my rock and Kyle’s. So let’s grab the casserole from the
oven and the toast so we can go enjoy Christmas.”

Nodding, I pull away from him, but not before
he has a chance to give me a big kiss smack dab in the middle of my
forehead. Awe, he is so cute! And he’s going to be a mom, and Kyle
a dad. James and I are in an amazing place in our lives. The twins
are growing like weeds, Dylan starts school soon. Cammy and
Johnathan are happy doing whatever it is they are doing. The band
is still high in the charts and life is just perfect. Our own
unconventional, sometimes dysfunctional kind of perfection.

If someone would have told me two years ago
that I would have started to work for a band, get knocked up with
twins by their crazy lead singer, have a few fun bisexual
encounters, fall in love with my bodyguard, move to Malibu in a
beach house with all my closest friends and be married to the best
man on the planet, I would have told you that you were fucking
nuts, and need to be locked in a padded cell. But life has a
strange way of surprising you and teaching you how to make lemonade
out of lemons, or some shit like that.

Thanks for reading my story and following me
through my fun filled and rather emotional life. Sorry if it wasn’t
what you typically see. I can’t say my life was meant to be a
fairytale. But it’s turned out to be pretty great.

~ With Love ~

Emily Sue James

***

Finishing this Stricken Rock Novel means that you
have read and completed the Stricken Rock Series.

I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for
sticking through this entire series, with its ups and downs. It has
been a labor of love for me. And in the end, I hope that you agree
with the outcome I have picked for each character.

Please join my Facebook author page to chat with me,
meet many other book lovers and participate in giveaways.

And if you get the time, post a review, telling me
what you thought.

https://www.facebook.com/sklogsdon

My others works are also available on Amazon,
Smashwords and Barnes and Nobel.

Thanks again for walking this journey with Emily,
James and the gang.

Much Love- Author S.K. Logsdon

LEX

(An Unconventional Hearts Novel)

Coming April 2014

“Lex, are you about done?” Roni, or should I
say Veronica my quasi best friend who happens to live on the same
parcel of real-estate I do, calls from our small shared
backyard.

“I’m in here
,
” I yell, walking over to
the window that’s open above the white apron sink. I’m standing in
the kitchen, slaving rather tirelessly over my vintage stove. It’s
exhausting being me sometimes.

Quieter now, Roni reaches my back screen door
and welcomes herself inside.

“Are you attempting to boil water, again?”
she inquires, sarcastically with a juicy all-knowing smile, as she
plops her jean clad country girl butt down at my table seated in
the most perfect breakfast nook. Complete with bay windows, draped
with mint green swags, a booth with a floral print cushion, two
chairs and a rectangular farmhouse table, brown on top, white wash
on bottom.

“I’ll have you know, I’m using the kettle for
some tea, sassy britches. Would you like some?”

Already knowing her answer, I pull two blue
paisley printed mugs from inside my newly renovated white
cupboards. I had my dream kitchen installed six months ago, leaving
me with pale pink walls, a giant silver chandelier, a refurbished
nineteen fifties stove and a sealed wood slab countertop. It’s
almost like having a butcher block as my entire counter, except its
smoother.

“Don’t I always? And you wouldn’t….”

Holding up the biscotti that I ordered
online, shushes her. Well, for the time being. It won’t last long.
Never does.

This is a daily routine for us. I wake up at
six on the nose, do a rather invigorating yoga session alone in my
meditation room—I had one of my five sizeable bedrooms converted to
Zen status two years ago and it’s been money well spent. After
yoga, I shower and primp—it takes a lot of time. Between my hair
and my entire makeup regiment, it’s no quick routine. And by eight
I’m downstairs doing this.

Lifting the annoying whistling tea kettle
from the stove, I serve our tea and biscotti on petite, white
scalloped edged plates and take a seat across from my fussy best
friend. Who just stumbled out of bed less than ten minutes ago and
is ready to get on with her day. The perpetual indigent slob. Or so
you would think, looking at her day in and day out.

“So are you going to make me check it myself
or will you give me the goods willingly?” She winks, pulling her
green cup of tea to her mouth and giving me a god-awful smirk over
the rim of her mug.

“Work’s great,” I uppity answer, aimlessly
avoiding eye contact. I can feel her pupils drilling holes in me as
we speak.

“That. Is. Not. What. I. Meant. Lex, and you
know it,” she clips, seething in her chair, biting angrily into her
breakfast. It’s not much of a breakfast. I know this. But I swap
out flavors of tea and biscotti on a weekly and sometimes daily
basis to keep it fresh and interesting. It’s our thing, and has
been for the past six years.

“Mmmm,” she food-gasms.

Yes, I know those chocolate chip with
macadamia nut ones are my new favorite.

“Good?” I sip my tea, following her lead.

“Delicious as ever. One minute I swear you’ve
found the best biscotti and the next you surprise me with an orgasm
on a plate.”

Awe, isn’t she darling? That’s a Roni
compliment sandwich for ya. Ever the proper lady.

“Now…” Quickly rending her happy mood
useless, she moves into starring daggers at me, more intensely this
time.

Alright…alright…I surrender. For now.

“My profile has had sixty two hits and I’ve
received twenty one emails since last night,” I sputter blankly,
and internally I’m wallowing in unhappiness even speaking about
this.

“That’s fantastic!” She claps—literally—like
a two year old girl who’s mom just bought her a sparkly Barbie
doll.

Yes, sooooo…..joyful, Roni—Not!

If only she’d have the mountain of obstacles
I have to overcome to find a date, let alone a boyfriend. She
doesn’t get my dilemma, between my giant secrets and even larger
scars. It’s impossible to force her to recognize I’m not a normal
girl. I may look like one, but parts of me are so hard to admit. I
just choose not to. It’s better for everyone if I pretend to be
okay. Even if I’m not—well, not entirely. Don’t get me wrong, my
life is spectacular. It’s the darkness that looms over me, that’s
not.

“So? Did you pick one?” She is way too
excited and getting a tomboy like her excited is a rarity.

“One what?” I play stupid, I know what she
means.

“To date, silly.”

“No, I did the profile for you. To keep you
happy. I’m not planning on securing any dates.”

Honesty is the best policy, for the most
part. Even if I know it’s going to peeve her off.

Bingo!

Banging her hand on the table, she sneers and
huffs at me in palpable agitation.

Two weeks ago, Roni told me she since she is
now dating Bob, from Auto’s auto shop. Yes, that’s what I said.
Don’t even get me started on the name. It’s a Heartfair thing. A
Patty’s Pancake House, Jimbo’s Gym, Larry’s Lawn Service and those
are just the tip of the small town of Heartfair iceberg.

Any-who, like I was saying. Since my less
than feminine best friend started dating, Bob the thirty-five year
old sweet heart auto mechanic, she’s decided I need to get over
my…. How long has it really been? Five years, yes, five year dating
dry spell. Okay, it’s more like the Sahara desert without water, of
any kind sort of dry spell. I don’t date for a thousand and one
reasons and yes, I’m lonely sometimes, but I love my life and I’m
always busy. I don’t have much time to be bored or lonely. At least
not for extended periods of time.

“Are you paying attention to a word I said?”
she snaps, her tanned freckle speckled cheeks flaring fire hydrant
red.

“No, I tune you out when you start spouting
this dating nonsense. Get over it. I did the profile. That’s all
you’re going to get, Roni. I’m too old to date anyhow.”

Standing, I take my mug and rinse it out,
leaving it for the housekeeper to clean in the sink when she drops
by around noon. It’s nearly nine already and I have an important
meeting at ten. I don’t have time to waste.

“Bullshit, Lex! You’re twenty eight, the same
age as me!”

Yes, I am. But I’m different than her. She’s
sassy and forward and well—I’m just me, Lex Keagan, millionaire,
entrepreneur, philanthropist, who lives in a tiny town of eight
thousand residents. Which is also the main city within forty miles
of anything larger, so we cater to those small villages and towns
around us. Providing them with schools, an inventive teaching
hospital and twenty-four-hour fast food joints. Among other things,
of course.