A Star For Rob

Status: Draft

A Star For Rob

Status: Draft

A Star For Rob

Book by: k.l.warzala

Details

Genre: Romance

Content Summary


Rob Starre grew up poor in a troubled childhood. He never wanted a life in music, but by the time he was thirteen, his father made sure there wasn't an instrument out there that he couldn't play.
When a horrible chain of events forces him out in the world, the music is what keeps him alive. When a one-night stand and a chance encounter brings Rob face to face with stardom, he has to decide
if it might cost him more than he's willing to give. ***Rated X for language, graphic sex scenes, rape, drugs, and alcohol.*** This is the first draft. I want to thank all who read and review. I
always appreciate the help.

 

 

Content Summary


Rob Starre grew up poor in a troubled childhood. He never wanted a life in music, but by the time he was thirteen, his father made sure there wasn't an instrument out there that he couldn't play.
When a horrible chain of events forces him out in the world, the music is what keeps him alive. When a one-night stand and a chance encounter brings Rob face to face with stardom, he has to decide
if it might cost him more than he's willing to give. ***Rated X for language, graphic sex scenes, rape, drugs, and alcohol.*** This is the first draft. I want to thank all who read and review. I
always appreciate the help.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 24, 2021

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 24, 2021

A A A

A A A

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“So, you like working here?” Rob asked.

DeWayne shrugged. “It’s a job. And I needed a job."

An idea had been forming in Rob’s mind as DeWayne wheeled him around the hospital. So far, they toured the first floor, the second floor, and maternity. The nurses on the maternity floor made them leave since neither could admit to having a baby there. Rob wished they could have stayed longer. He enjoyed looking at the newborn babies in their bassinets. It reminded him that he would become a father next year.

“Where to next, Mr. Starre?” DeWayne asked. He got a kick out of calling Rob by his last name.

“Anywhere you say, Mr. Coffey.” Rob laughed, then sobered. “But there’s something I would like to talk to you about if you can find somewhere to park.”

“Sure thing,” DeWayne said. “Inside or outside?”

It didn’t matter to Rob where they sat. He wanted to discuss something important with Mr. Coffey, and he needed a place where he could concentrate. He wasn’t sure he had a career left, and he should discuss this with Brown first, but the idea was too good to pass up, and he didn’t want to lose touch with DeWayne.

They ended up on the ground floor and decided to sit outside. The weather was holding up, and the sun felt warm on his shoulders. He leaned back in the wheelchair and let it shine on his face.

“Ok, Mr. Starre.” For the first time, DeWayne grew pensive. Rob could hear it in his voice. “This sounds pretty serious. What did you want to talk about?”

“What kind of money do you make working here?” Rob asked suddenly.

DeWayne's eyebrows rose. “You want to talk about my salary?”

“No and yes,” he said. “I want to offer you a job.”

“A job? What kind of job?”

“Being my bodyguard.”

DeWayne laughed so loud that birds flew from the trees, their flapping wings sending colored leaves down on top of his head. “Bodyguard?” he guffawed as he pulled leaves from his frizzy hair. “What the hell do you need a bodyguard for?”

Rob leaned back in the chair. “I need to get home. The sooner, the better. I’m worried about some things, and I need to find out what I fucked up.”

“What do you think you fucked up?”

It was Rob’s turn to laugh. “Oh, possibly just about everything. I need to find out what happened to Lucy. She’s very dependable. It isn’t like her not to come back for me. And there are certain things I need to straighten out with my manager.”

“Manager, huh?” DeWayne rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowing. “What kind of manager are we talking about here?”

Rob sat forward in the chair, his eyes piercing D’s. “I’m going to be a star.”

DeWayne scratched the top of his head, pulling another leaf from his hair. “Man,” he said in a half-whisper. “You’re not shitting me, are you?”

“Not shitting you, my friend. I signed contracts with Capitol Records right before I ended up here. I hope my disappearing act didn’t fuck everything up. No one knows where I am unless Lucy said something to them.”

“Tell me something.” DeWayne rested his elbows on the table in front of him. He leaned in closer to Rob. His eyes narrowed; his expression dulled. “How did you end up here?”

A red flush crept up Rob’s face. He didn’t want to answer that question. Instead, he said, “I made a mistake. I can tell you about it some other time. Right now, I want to know if you’d be interested in being my bodyguard?”

“I don’t know at the moment."

“How much do you make working here? You never answered me.”

The big man closed his eyes in thought, his fingers moving as he counted on them. “Let’s see. I make $12.00 an hour. I get 30 hours a week. I gross about $300 to $360 before taxes.”

“Jesus,” Rob breathed. “How do you survive on that?”

He shrugged. “I manage.”

“I can pay you more,” Rob said. “Tax-free, under the table.”

“What would I be doing on this bodyguard job?”

“You would hang out with me."

“That’s it? It doesn’t sound like much of a job to me.”

Rob stood up and approached DeWayne. “That’s the point. You wouldn’t be emptying bedpans or wiping the shit out of some old man’s ass. No more cleaning up puke. No more lifting heavy bodies until your back gives out.”

“Damn, you make it sound terrible.”

“It is terrible. Have you looked in a mirror lately? Do you realize how big you are? Most people would run the other way when they saw you.”

“Gee, thanks, Rob. I needed that.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. What I mean is, say fans got out of control or someone got into my dressing room. Or a jealous boyfriend wanted to kick my ass. You'd be there for me.”

“So, Mr. Starre, we need to find out if you still have a job before I know if I have one? Does that about sum it all up?”

“Yep,” Rob gave a lopsided grin. “That about sums it all up. How would you like to give me a ride home so that I can get the hell out of this damn hospital and find out?”

***

Rob couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked into his apartment. The paramedics or Lucy must have left the door unlocked, which was a good thing. He was stark naked when the ambulance took him to the hospital. He had no phone, no house keys, no clothes.

He searched in the litter the paramedics left behind for his phone. Number one on his list of priorities was to call Brown. The rock in his stomach started to rumble as he thought of what he would tell him. He would never admit to a suicide attempt, especially since he didn’t understand it himself.

His phone lay on the bed where Lucy had left it, and Rob picked it up. The damn battery was dead. He searched through the rubble on his dresser and finally came up with the charger.

He plugged the phone into the charger and held it in his hand for several minutes before looking at the screen. The rock wasn’t going to settle down until he checked his calls and talked to Brown. And there was no time like the present.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the phone over in his hand and touched the screen. It came to life, and the brightness almost blinded him. He turned down the light, his eyes focusing on the text messages.

There were a few, but not as many as he expected. Of course, he was only in the hospital for two days. He wondered if Lucy told Brown anything. She was still missing in action. He was worried about her. There was nothing from her on his phone.

Rob sat down on the bed, expelled a deep breath, then punched the number to listen to the voicemails. Brown left several.

“Rob, Larry Brown here. We missed you at the studio today. I hope everything is alright. Call me when you get the chance.” Click.

“Rob, Larry Brown again. Please call me when you can.” Click.

“Rob, Larry Brown here. Call me.” Click.

And the last one. This one made the rock rumble in his stomach.

“Rob, you need to call me ASAP.” Click.

Without hesitation, Rob dialed Brown’s private number and waited patiently. There wasn’t anything he could do if Brown were pissed off.

He answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Larry, it’s Rob.” He massaged the back of his neck. It was rock hard with tension. He rolled his head on his shoulders to try to get it to loosen up.

“Where in God’s name have you been?” Brown shouted. “I’ve been calling you.”

“I just got your messages, Larry. I apologize. I’ve been in the hospital.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“Hospital?” Brown lowered his voice. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought you skipped out on me. Ran away and got married or something like that. Are you alright? What put you in the hospital?”

Rob already had his excuse handy in his mind. He used it now and hoped he sounded sincere.

“Food poisoning.”

“Food poisoning?” Brown echoed. “How the hell did you get that? Never mind, I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Yeah, I thought I was dying. But I’m okay now. I would have called, but I was out of it when the ambulance came. I didn’t have my phone or anything. I’m sorry, Larry.”

“We’re good, Rob. Can you get to the studio later today?”

Rob let his eyes roam around the destroyed apartment, thinking he should clean it up before doing anything else. But the apartment could wait. He needed to get his career back on track.

“I’ll be there, Larry,” he said. “And I’m sorry about all of this.”

“We’re good, kiddo. See you around one o’clock.”

The clock over the kitchen sink told him it was only ten o’clock. Finally, Rob’s spirits started to lift. He could get a lot done before he had to be at the studio. He started a pot of coffee, then returned to the bedroom to access the damage.


© Copyright 2022 k.l.warzala. All rights reserved.

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