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Break The Bed

By:Joanna Blake



“I’d like to thank my fans…”

Nick stared bleary eyed at the golden statue in his hands as the crowd went absolutely wild.

“For this award.”

He leaned toward the busty blond pop star who was presenting.

“What’s the award for, doll?”

She said something and he made a face, unable to hear a word of it over the crowd.

“Well, I can’t hear a fucking word you said. So, thank you for this award for the biggest fucking cock in rock and roll!”

He held it up and the crowd exploded. He grabbed his shaft through his leather pants and tugged on it. The screaming got even louder, if that was possible.

The lights dimmed and he started to wander offstage until he felt someone take his arm. He stumbled offstage and followed the signs to the greenroom.

He needed another drink.

“Here love, would you do something with this for me?”

The girl standing by the velvet rope gave him a dazzling smile and accepted the statue.

He grabbed a shot of tequila from the VIP lounge bar, dropping a fifty for the bartender. Drinks were free, but he always tipped the help. He grinned, throwing the lemon over his shoulder.

Slow clapping from the corner caught his attention. Fucking Bruce. The biggest pain in the ass alive and one of his best friends.

Hell, he was one of his only friends. His band. His mates from school. Kendall and Bruce.

Everyone else was just a walk-on.

“Well done.”

Nick tipped his drink, sloshing most of it down his forearm. He licked his hand and chugged the rest of the shot. He held his hand out and the glass was magically refilled.

“Thanks, mate.”

He swaggered across the room. Bruce watched him, an amused look on his handsome face.

“Congrats on the prize. The speech, not so much.”

“What are you so happy about, you smug bastard?”

Bruce’s expression cleared and Nick kicked himself mentally. Bruce was not happy. They both knew it.

He hadn’t been happy in a long time.

Nick knew he had his reasons, but to be that rich and famous and such a sourpuss… what a fucking waste. Still, Bruce had been famous longer than any of the three friends, and Nick knew it was wearing on him.

Nick had his own way of handling the stress and strain of megastardom. Mostly alchohol and female companionship. He slapped Bruce’s back, determined to cheer his friend up.

He just needed a little… perspective.

“You know what your blood problem is?”


“You need to drink more.”

He downed his shot and waved for another.

“Bring two!”

“I’m not drinking tonight.”

“Right, right. More for me.”

“Drinking isn’t the answer to anything, Nick.”

“You’re such a mother hen.”

Bruce just raised an eyebrow, cool and collected as always.

“If you don’t want to drink, at least pop off with someone. You need to get laid, mate.”

That was the wrong thing to say apparently. Bruce stood to go.

“Hey wait mate, I didn’t tell you about Kendall.”

“Okay, tell me.”

“He’s got this bird, mate. Fit. Not one of us.”

“She’s not in the biz?”

“She’s a civilian, mate.”

“We told him to keep it to the industry. Everyone else is just a fan.”

“He doesn’t think so. He’s moved her in with him.”

Bruce exhaled.

“Is he happy?”

“As a lark.”

Nick made some whistling sound, like a couple of love birds.

“Then leave it alone.”

“Yeah, yeah. I have no one to go out trolling for chicks with now.”

Bruce laughed, shaking his head.

“You always said the women come to you.”

“They do. Course they do.”

Bruce held out his hand and Nick stood to shake it.

“You know, some people actually want more out of life Nick.”

Nick had no idea what to say to that. His friend was getting deep as the years rolled on. They used to get wild together. Now Kendall was settling down and Bruce was turning into a Buddhist Monk or something.

“You’re fucking wise, mate.”

Bruce just shook his head.

“No. I’m not. I’m just tired. Enjoy your night.”

Nick grinned.

“Always, mate.”

Nick partied the rest of the night with a couple of girls he met at one of the after parties. When he woke up at three o’clock the following day, he couldn’t even remember their names.

Chapter 1


Two years later

They were tearing at his clothes, screaming his name. There were too many of them. He flailed, trying to escape. Fans surrounded him, swallowing him up like he was a thing, not a living, breathing person.

And then, just like that he was alone.

The dark emptiness stretched in every direction. He turned in a circle, a new sort of panic starting to overwhelm him. Then he ran.

The nothingness seemed to go on forever. It felt like he was running for years. But when his eyes snapped open, he realized it was just a dream.

Nick sat up and reached for the bottle of champagne by his bed. It was warm and flat, but he drank it anyway. He lay back with a sharp exhale.

The partying had caught up with him, and more than a little. He was tired. And he was having these horrible dreams every night. He still couldn’t decide which was worse.

Being torn apart by his fans.

Or the emptiness that wanted to eat him alive.

He rolled to the side, grabbing his iPhone. Despite everything, he still knew what day it was. The only reason he did was it was nearly his mum’s birthday.

He had not sent nearly enough gifts yet. He sent her things constantly, from all over the world. Anything that he thought she might fancy. Didn’t matter if she didn’t like them. She could share what she didn’t want with her friends. But it wasn’t enough.

What she wanted, of course, was a visit to good old London.

A visit with a girl on his arm.

A visit announcing a baby.

Mum wanted to be a grannie.

He grimaced at the thought and started throwing things into his cart. Crystal vases, cookware, an ornate chandelier, jewelry.

Oh hell, might as well hit Chanel while he was at it.

He had spent more than $100,000 before he was done twenty minutes later. He had it all sent to her townhome, with a note to make sure it was signed for, during business hours while her butler was on duty.

He fell back against the sheets, staring at the sliver of light coming through the window. He knew he should write. Should want to grab the guitar and go nuts like he used to. It used to be like an addiction.

Writing. Playing. Singing. Performing.

But that urge was gone. Now it was too easy. Second nature. And everyone wanted the old songs, anyway.

He grimaced, deciding whether it was worth giving up warm champagne for the promise of eggs and coffee.

He debated for a while.

In the end, he ended up staying in bed.

When he woke up again, it was dark outside.

Chapter 2


Sabrina stared at the neat rows of black heels in her closet. They looked like soldiers. One after the other. They were all nearly identical black Jimmy Choo stilettos.

She frowned. Didn't she have a gray pair in here somewhere? Hmmm… guess not. She pulled out the newest pair and stepped into them. They were still perfectly shiny, just the way she liked them.

Sabrina liked to have everything just so. It wasn’t because she expected perfection from everyone else. It was simply because it made her feel less panicked about everything.

If everything was in it’s place, then she could relax. Go with the flow. A little bit anyway.

She was already dressed in a tight black pencil skirt, sheer black stockings and a white silk blouse. Her uniform, as her coworkers jokingly called it. It didn't bother her though.

Steve Jobs had a uniform. The most successful people in the world did. It didn’t make sense to waste time on things like picking out clothes. It was a distraction from the lessons her parents had drilled into her for as long as she could remember.

Work hard.



Nothing else really mattered.

Besides, the outfit in all its variations looked nice. Classic. It was professional and flattering. And the tailored fit kept her from looking like a cater waiter.

All her clothes were impeccably designed. She only wore the best garments, went to one of the best salons in LA, worked out with the best trainer.


She was the youngest in her department at Metro Records as well. It was the best record label in Los Angeles. No. The world.


And now she'd been given her first high profile client. The biggest money maker at the label. Bigger than all the other artists combined.

Nick Falcon.

She'd grown up on his music, even danced to it at her prom. Well, if you could call awkwardly standing close to someone and swaying dancing. Sabrina didn't date much back then.

She didn't date much now either.

Scratch that.

She didn’t date at all.

She was meeting her new client this afternoon for the first time. Drinks at his place. He didn’t do the whole boardroom thing. She'd been working with his team for weeks now to set everything up.

She was ready.

She wasn't even nervous.

That was a laugh.

She was terrified.

Never mind that this could make or break her career. Never mind that if she lost her job she'd have nowhere to go other than her empty family home. It was much worse than that.

The man himself scared her. Nick was gorgeous and talented but it was more than that. There was something about him. Something… virile. And wild. The man did whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.