Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Eddie

We managed to find a small bar halfway between bum-fuck and the middle of nowhere. Lucky for us, there's only a handful of patrons—a few ladies in their early to mid-twenties, and a group of old geezers.

The guys find us a table while I go hunt for the bar manager. We come to an arrangement. I will pay him a substantial amount to close the doors for the night, and for this amount of money, he will be happy to accommodate a private party.

Before everyone arrives, I want to make sure Sasha is okay. I know Mickki and the guys would have called their mates to catch up. But I don't have mates, not anymore—well, not anyone I would call a real friend, anyway. I don't really see the point.

Once we became famous, people changed. They either wanted to be famous by association or they didn't want to be seen with us and be caught up with the media. Not that I blame them, really—always having the cameras flashing in our faces is disturbing. I can't even take a dump these days without someone waiting for me. I walk over to Sasha, who is sitting in a corner booth talking with Mickki.

As I approach, he moves over, making room for me to sit down. Leaning close over the table, he whispers in her ear, and she nods her head, giving him a small smile. It must have been hard for her to see me again today. I know she said she doesn't hate me, but that doesn't mean she's forgiven me, and that's a bitter pill to swallow. Talking about pills, I take a container from my pocket and swallow a few.

"You look good," I say, mainly as an icebreaker. As I look her over, I can see she still looks the same, maybe a little older around the eyes, but going through what she did will do that to a person.

"Thanks, you don't look so bad yourself."

"What can I say? I'm still a stud." I flash a grin, raising my hand and motioning for the bartender to bring us some drinks. "How have you been?" God, I'm an idiot, but I'm so nervous. Even though she still looks the same, it's like a stranger is staring back at me.

"Great, actually. I met an amazing man, and we recently got married. We also have a two-year-old daughter."

I can honestly say after all this time, I expected her to move forward with her life. We never had romantic feelings for one another, but the thought of her having another child burns a little. Damn, is she trying to replace Amelia?

"I know what you're thinking, and no one will ever replace my Milly, but I'm finally happy again and can look forward to tomorrow. They actually give me a reason to want to again."

"Deep down I know that—I really do. I just miss her so damn much. Now, when I hear a child laugh, I instinctively turn around, hoping it'll be her waiting for me. That she'll be wanting to jump into my arms the way she always did, to wrap her little arms around my neck and whisper I'm her rock star. It hurts so fucking much. I lost you too—the one person I wanted to lean on. We were supposed to support each other, but I know I was the one responsible for fucking that up. And look at me now... I've got a hole so damn deep in my chest it's swallowing me whole, and I'm sitting at the bottom with all the drugs, women, and booze I could ever imagine. But really, I'm a loser who can't even enjoy the benefits that have come with hitting rock bottom." Great, I've made her cry at my self-pity. "I'm sorry for laying it all on you."

"I'm sorry, Eddie," she says, as she places her hands over mine, "but I can't deal with this. Please don't blame yourself. I was wrong to say I hated you. I was struggling to deal with my own grief, and I still do. She was my daughter and there's no getting over the loss of your child, but I have learnt to manage the pain I feel every day. I can't go back to the place you're at—the darkness will suck me back in and I only have so much strength." She stands to leave.

Grabbing her hands lightly, I hope she'll stay and talk to me longer. I need her. I need her to help me figure out how to deal with myself.

"Please, I need your help. I don't know how to fix this. To fix me." I don't care that the whole bar is watching me virtually on my knees, begging. "Sasha, I really need your help. I promise I can do better... be better."

"I told you once that I'd repay you for everything you ever did?—"

"Shit, I don't want your money. If that's what you're going to do, just fuck off and leave me again. You're no different than anyone else!" I scream.

I should feel guilty for yelling at her, but being the arsehole I am, as I watch her run from the building, I don't feel anything.

Pissed off, I take my phone from my pocket and send a mass text to everyone I know who lives remotely close. I may as well do one of the things I know how to do well—party. And I intend to do it fucking hard.

Within half an hour, the small pub is at capacity. Laying my feelings on the table gave me a migraine, and the best way to fix it was by taking a handful of pills and doing a few lines. Now I feel fucking fantastic. The music is pumping, and a hot little blonde has been eyeing me off from across the room. I point my finger at her and motion for her to come to me. I watch as she walks over, swaying her hips for my enjoyment.

"Hi, I'm Lucy," she says sweetly as she bats her eyelashes and twists her hair around her finger. I pat my lap, a sign for her to sit down. I'm off my head, drunk, and now I have pussy for the night. She straddles my lap and my cock springs to life. The monster has been awakened, and I know she can feel him because she grinds her little pussy against me.

"Want a drink, love?"

"Among other things," she purrs.

I need another drink before I fuck her, so I stand, and she wraps her legs around my waist. Her dress rides up and I slap her bare arse as we walk towards the bar. I don't even need to ask before the bartender slides two drinks my way. With blondie's arse resting on one arm, I reach for the bottles with the other hand. Now I'm hunting for somewhere she can wrap her lips around my dick. Kicking open the women's bathroom, I let go of her and she slides down to her knees. Fuck, I love a woman who doesn't need to be told what to do.

Like a pro, she slips the monster from my pants and her mouth is on me, her tongue making its way around my head as she positions herself. Her lips slide up and down my shaft, while her little hand cups my balls. When she hums and the rest of my length slips down her throat, I almost lose my load.

"Fuck, woman, you can take some cock."

I can't wait any longer—I need to fuck her. I pull myself from her mouth and she looks disappointed. Sweet Jesus, where has she been all my life? I take the handful of condoms from my pocket and throw them on the counter. Blondie grabs one, rips it open with her teeth, then slides it slowly onto my cock. Once she's done, I turn her around and lift her until she lies face down on the very end of the counter. I insert my finger into her sweet little pussy to make sure she is ready for me—fuck, she's extremely ready. She's so tiny I grab her by the hips and pull her straight onto my cock.

"Fuck me, rock star. Show me what you've got," she pleads.

So, she wants to see what I got? I pull back and thrust into her, and the scream that comes from her would have to be heard over the music. My vision blurs and my head spins. I must be more fucked up than I thought. What the fuck is going on? I hear more screaming, then a high-pitched annoying bitch squealing as I hit the floor.

"Someone help him!"

Help who?

"What the fuck is going on?" I say, but everything is in slow motion. I don't know where I am, but I can hear Mickki talking to someone.

"What did he take?" someone asks.

"It's Eddie—he could have taken anything. Fuck, he's probably got a cocktail of shit in his system."

I try to say I only took some pills and a few lines of coke—big deal—but then everything goes black.

"Eddie, come and find me," Amelia giggles.

"Hmm, I wonder where she could be? Under the bed? Nope. Maybe she's in the wardrobe? Nope. Maybe she's under the blanket? Nope."

"Eddie, come and find me! You know where I am."

I follow the giggles.

"Where are you?" I say as I walk downstairs. The giggles get further away. "Where is she? I can't find her."

"You won't find her, Eddie. You're a disappointment and you let her down, just like you let me down. Why aren't you a good boy like your brother?"

"I will find her, you evil bitch. I won't let her down again."

"Now, that's no way to speak to your mother, is it?"

"Amelia, baby girl, where are you?" I call out, but I can't find her.

"Here I am, silly. What are you doing here?"

"I came for you," I say, as I try to reach for her, but I can't make it.

"You won't ever get to see her again. Naughty boys like you don't go to heaven."

"Wake up. Wake up!"

What the hell is going on? "What?" I spit out.

"It's time to get up," a feminine voice says, kicking the bed.

"Who are you?" I say, opening one eye.

"I'm your worst fucking nightmare."

That gets my attention and I laugh so hard my stomach hurts.

"Love, you're far from my worst nightmare. Hand me some painkillers would you? My head feels like it's been hit by a truck." This chick doesn't realise I just woke from my worst nightmare. My mother and Amelia in one dream, I would never have let the evil bitch near Amelia.

"You can't have any," she says matter-of-factly.

Wow, who the fuck does she think she is?

"Why the fuck not? I'm in pain and they're called painkillers for a reason."

"Why are you in pain, huh? Tell me and maybe then I'll tell you why you can't have any painkillers."

"I'm a fuckin' rock star. Sometimes we party a bit too hard and get these things called a hangover."

"Argh... wrong answer. I say you're an addict, and I won't give you the pills."

"Who are you anyway, my mother?" Fuck her—if she won't give me any pills, then I'll get them myself.

"No, I'm the one standing between you and rehab, because I'm certainly not the one who put their career on the line and almost OD'd last night."

Fuck, did I really almost OD? No fucking way—the bitch is bullshitting me.

"Dickhead," she mutters under her breath.

"I heard that. It's very professional of you," I say.

"So, passing out and lying in your own vomit is professional of you then?" she throws back.

"I'm a rock star, baby. Shit like this comes with the territory. At least get me a scotch." She looks at me with disgust. "Seriously? No grog either? Kill me now, or maybe you should've left me to drown in my own vomit."

"If it were up to me, I would have left you there. But apparently you still have people who give a shit—frankly, I'm not one of them."

I don't need this shit. I drag myself out of bed with the intent to find Mickki. He won't be far away.

"Mickki! Where the fuck are you?!"

"Shit, dude. There's no need to wake the whole neighbourhood," he says as he appears in my doorway.

"Who the fuck is this, and where's all my shit?"

"It's all gone, bro. It's in your best interest, and it's also out of our hands now."

"Out of our hands? Bullshit, I'm Eddie Diamond. I'm a fucking rock star."

"A rock star who'll get us all fired. Seriously... enough. Think about someone, or something other than yourself," he says, before storming off.

"I think about my dick all the time!" I yell out as I stagger after him.

"Fuck you, Eddie, you dug this grave for yourself. Now you need to fucking fix it before we all go down with you." He always has to have the last word.

I hear a noise behind me. Oh fuck, she's followed me downstairs.

"What?" I snap at her.

"Hurry up or we'll be late," she says, crossing her arms.

"For what?"

"We have a meeting to attend. No rehab, but meetings are required."

"I'm not going to any meeting," I snipe and run back upstairs, locking my door. Just watch her try to make me go. Another few hours' sleep should do the trick.

"Knock, knock," she says, tapping on the door.

"Go away."

"I have all day, Eddie."

"Good, you're going to need it."

Talk about bloody persistent. I swear she knocked on my door for half an hour, but now it's eerily quiet and I'm half tempted to see if she's given up. I decide she's more than likely gone for reverse psychology and wants me to go out and look—well, two can play that game. Relaxing, I roll a joint from my hidden stash. Jeez, it's the only thing they didn't take from my room, and I'm surprised they didn't find it.

It's fucking dry as shit in here minus the crusty old weed I found, and as I realise this, I gather she might have an advantage over me right now. Who the fuck does she think she is? I'm a grown fucking man, and she wants to take away my shit like I'm a child. As I take a drag, smoke rolls off the end of the joint and I try not to cough, as it would make them aware I'm awake.

When the munchies get the better of me, I'm determined they can't force me to go anywhere, right? So, I open my door quietly, and when I say quietly, I mean the motherfucker squeaks like there's no tomorrow, and I brace myself for someone sitting on the other side. The coast is clear, and I tiptoe down the hall, but I still don't hear anyone. I reckon they're fucking with my head, so I make my way to the kitchen and there is still no sign of anyone.

At last, sweet peace and quiet. I make myself a mad feast. It's a huge sandwich with everything I can find on it, a handful of chips on the side, and even some Tim Tams. Realising my mouth is dry, I open the fridge with one hand while I balance the plate with the other. Maybe if I want to change careers, I could be a clown at the circus. Just as I finish that thought, the plate jiggles, so I'd better scratch that idea.

Pushing the fridge door shut with my elbow, I'm scared by another body. The plate of food goes flying and I drop the bottle of Coke, which explodes all over the floor.

"Fuck me! Don't sneak up on a man like that." I look up and the annoying woman is standing there with her arms crossed. Her white blouse is now saturated in Coke, and I lose my shit. I laugh so hard I have to lean against the counter for balance.

"This would be funny to someone like you," she says condescendingly.

"What's that supposed to mean? Someone like me?"

"You're stoned, someone who's wasted."

"Oh yeah! Well, since you ruined my munchies, I'm going out for food."

"You're not going anywhere," she says.

"I'm sorry, love, but how do you plan to stop me?" She really must be trying to be funny.

"Him, he'll stop you," she says, pointing to Damien, my personal security. Unlucky for her, he's privately paid for by me as an extra precaution when I'm home.

"Him?" I question. "It's very unlikely that he'll stop me."

"He's right. You might want to find Marcus. He's one scary mofo, and no one messes with him," the traitor says.

"You can drive, I'm baked," I say to Damien as we walk out the door with her following behind us. "Help yourself to whatever you need while I'm gone—I won't be too long," I shout out through the car window. I must have been locked in my room for longer than I thought, as the sun is just going down.

Right, time to get organised. I send out a quick text to my dealer. Today has been stressful, and I need to get fucking high. It feels like an MDMA kind of night, and I'm in the mood to party hard. I get Damien to park at the back entrance of a small pub.

I'm hoping the man bun and beard that I'm rocking right now are enough to make me unrecognisable to anyone. My dealer is already waiting for me inside—he's a sketchy motherfucker, but he's very discrete. Our man hug conceals an exchange of cash and drugs.

I make a quick trip to the toilet because I need to get high stat. Once I've done a few lines, I decide to leave the party drugs until later. Walking out, I bump into a group of ladies. With their fits of giggles, I'm worried I've been busted, but luckily, they don't seem to know who I am. Damien isn't far behind, and I give him the sign to blend in.

The group of girls pulls us over to their table, and after some quick introductions, I ask Damien to get us drinks as the girls drag me onto the dance floor. One of them is grinding her arse right into my crotch, and I'm glad she is wearing a miniskirt instead of jeans.

I slide my hand into her panties as she continues to rub her arse against me. When my finger slides down over her clit, she stops grinding on me as hard and leans her body back against mine. My finger rubs her up and down as she dances to the music, and she's so wet I could finger fuck her right here. My cock's hard and demanding I fuck her right now to relieve some pressure.

She removes my hand and pulls me off the dance floor, and when I see a man standing by what looks to be an office, I steer her in that direction.

"Five hundred bucks to let me in there, no questions asked."

The man nods, and I hand over the cash. The office is small, but big enough for a quick fuck, and as soon as the door closes, the girl is standing before me in just her heels and a condom between her teeth. She looks young, so I'm sure this is morally wrong on some level. But she doesn't wait for an invitation and is sucking on my neck while she makes quick work of removing my belt, causing my pants to fall to the floor. I don't want to take my time with her; I just need to blow my load.

As I pick her up, she wraps her legs around my waist, and I hold her with my right arm while I swipe everything off the desk with the other. I plop her arse on it, take the condom from her, and move her legs up onto my shoulders.

After rolling the condom on the monster, I circle it around her hole and moisten the tip—I learnt my lesson about a dry vag and ended up with a sore cock to show for it. As I slam my cock inside her, she lets out a high-pitched moan, then I pump in and out of her, watching as her tits bounce. This position allows me to watch her pussy milk my cock as it slides in and out.

The rising shrill of her building orgasm must be able to be heard by people out in the pub—shit, she's a screamer. After she lets out a loud mix of "Oh God," "Fuck me harder," and "Yes, right there," she drops her legs and sits up enough that I know she wants me to pick her up. Still inside her, I do just that, and she wraps her legs around my waist and rides me where we're standing.

I walk us over to the nearest wall, and she is so far gone that I can feel her juices running down my balls as I press her back up against it. I might be a fucking rock star, but I'll become a cowboy if she wants to ride me like this.

"I'm close," she whispers into my neck. I take over, grabbing her hips, and help pull them down with a bit more force. The tingling in the base of my dick starts and I feel the build-up in my groin. She screams as her orgasm hits, my balls tighten, and my dick throbs as I blow my load.

"That was great, thanks," I say, pulling out and unhooking her from around my waist. I dispose of the used condom and pull up my pants. I'm still fastening my belt as I exit the room.

When I walk back out, I'm greeted by a bunch of blokes standing around the table closest to the office door. One guy gets up and shakes my hand. "That, my man, was fucking hot," he says. "You're totally someone I should be friends with."

"Thanks, man. I think I need some shots," I say.

Damien is standing not too far from the office doors and has his arms crossed. He must be pissed that I ditched him.

"Damien!" I shout. "Get some shots for me and my friend, would you?"

"Jash," the guy says.

"Ed," I say in a mutual introduction

"I know who you are, but your secret's safe with me, man." He smiles and claps me on the shoulder.

"SHOTS!" someone yells as Damien walks back over with a tray of tequila shots.

I've never seen so many girls grab for the salt and lemons before the alcohol. A busty blonde hands me a sachet of salt and pokes her breasts in my face. She lets out a giggle as I lick her breasts, which makes my cock twitch and her big tits jiggle in my face. I might have to fuck this one, too, before I leave. Three shots later, from another two blondes with equally big tits, I've decided I'll do them all. However, it's a bigger mission than this pub can offer, and I need to enjoy it.

"Nothing good ever comes from tequila shots," says a voice from behind me.

"Ain't that the truth," comes the reply, and I know that voice—it's Marcus.

I turn to see Marcus, Mickki, and the woman from earlier. It looks like she's changed her clothes.

"Shit, guys, the fun police have arrived," I say, and the three girls fighting for my attention all laugh. "How'd you find me?" I watch as Marcus looks at Damien. "Dude, you sold me out, you traitor."

"Better to sell you out than have to answer to the big man," Damien says, pointing to Marcus. The man's a tank—I wouldn't want to cross him in a dark alley either.

"Good call, I'd sell myself out too," I say.

"Can we get out of here before someone recognises us?" Mickki says.

I catch a good look at the woman from earlier, and she is wearing my T-shirt. My damn cock has a mind of its own, and it's clearly visible. There's no hiding him when he comes out to play. The pub has decent enough lighting for her to see it, and I watch as she realises I have a boner.

"Nice shirt, love," I say with a wink.

"Eddie, can we get the fuck out of here?" Mickki complains again.

Now, if he thinks I'm not pissed at him over the stunt he's pulled by hiring that woman to get me sober, then the idiot is in for a surprise.

"Sure," I say, before yelling in my best girly voice. "Oh my God, it's Mickki Rose from Black Diamond!"

A mob of people turn to look in our direction, and Marcus and Damien are soon busy warding off rabid fans, allowing me to duck and weave my way outside. Let them find me now, I think as I wave down a cab and ask him to take me to the closest place that sells alcohol.

As I pull the door closed, it's wrenched from my grasp, and a sweet arse launches itself in by my side. "Jesus Christ, woman, just take a fucking hint and leave me the hell alone."

"Not gonna happen, Eddie," she says and gives the driver my home address.

"Wait, I'm so not going home right now. I have a life to live, unlike some stuck-up princesses. Now get out—I need to be on my way."