A Shit Storm: Runaway Rock Star (Silver Strings Series E Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Acknowledgements

  A Shit Storm

  by

  Lisa Gillis

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ©2015 A Shit Storm by Lisa Gillis

  All rights reserved.

  Published by: Rock Star Reads

  Cover Design: Book Bangs

  Formatting: Book Bangs

  00051515

  No part of this book may be produced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including copying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express permission from the author.

  Dedication

  To rock star offspring; you are your own star.

  To the memory of Sasha David.

  Prologue

  She’s beautiful.

  Ethereal.

  The sun plays on her hair as if it’s liquid fire rays come to life and makes her skin glow like she’s one of heaven’s celestial bodies.

  Sorry. The lyricist in me is genetic. And she inspires beautiful words.

  Over the last couple of days, I’ve watched her a lot. Not in a pervy way. I mean, I do have a raging hard-on. But I watch her for the art of it. The rest—my body’s reaction—is beyond my control.

  The incoming tide is breaking closer than when I first unfolded my lounger an hour or so ago. I stretch my foot, dropping it to the sand, and enjoy the caress of the water as it blankets my toes before washing up to my ankle.

  She turns back, shielding her eyes by cupping the fingers of one hand, and she shoots me one of her special smiles before turning back to splash one of her friends.

  Beautiful. Interested. And I have no real clue what to do with all that.

  I’ve graduated high school a virgin—something I could easily blame on my mom’s spastic ways when it comes to sex. Not all sex. Not hers. She and Dad are disgusting when they think my sisters and I aren’t looking. But she’s the Gestopo when it comes to my love life.

  I can’t blame my current situation all on her though. A mixture of things has contributed.

  Gabbi and I became best friends in the sixth grade. We began going out in the seventh grade and were exclusive until she moved away, right before our senior year.

  You’d think after going out for almost five years we’d have gone all the way. But no. Gabs didn’t need my mom running interference for her. She’d made a purity pact. One she intended to keep. And before I knew it, she’d talked me into it too.

  We didn’t tell anyone. We didn’t want the pressure of peer ridicule. As far as our classmates were concerned, Gabbi and I hooked up in our private time. I never lied about it. I simply refused bragging rights in the field-house locker room where that sort of talk seemed to go down.

  My friends give me a hard time because I don’t kiss and tell. It’s easy to ignore these gibes when the alternative is getting a hard time over an unswiped v-card.

  Gabbi broke up with me in a text not even three months after her move. I was wrecked. Senior prom was coming up—which on Gab’s end is probably why she dumped me. Pathetically, in a midnight call when we’d been feeling sorry for ourselves over being separated during our senior year, I’d told her I would fly to her prom. All along, she’d gone on about how long distance relationships never work, and it was that week when she called it quits. I’m guessing she probably had been asked to prom by someone at her new school. Whatever. She couldn’t have loved me as much as I loved her if she could dump me that easily.

  Enter Claire.

  Claire’s timing couldn’t have been better. I’d met her a few times at music related stuff my parents attended. She’s a Disney kid making the transition to pop vocalist. She happened to be in Dallas on a weekend coinciding with my senior prom.

  Looking back, I feel this coincidence was my dad’s doing. My parents worried too much over me after the breakup, and I figure he put a bug in Claire’s ear I was available. But again, whatever. I was ready to get prom over, and at least I had a date.

  A date, however, didn’t get me laid like almost every other high school male on prom night. I could have, Claire was up for it. I was definitely up for it. If you’ve ever seen Claire, you’d understand—no question about it. A few of my friends and their dates went to her hotel suite and partied awhile. Claire got me off in the bedroom, and that’s as far as it went.

  Why?

  When it comes to sex (and so many other situations), the problem is who I am.

  I’m Tristan Storm.

  Did you catch I said Storm, not Loren?

  Because I am. I’m Tristan Storm as much as Tristan Loren. And the ‘S’ name is a lot to live up to.

  You’d think since the girls in my grade were, at the most, around seven years old when my dad was at the height of his rock stardom, they wouldn’t know his name now. You’d think over the many years of living as Lorens, the Storms would’ve faded away.

  No such luck. Jackal fills streaming playlists and satellite queues to this day. A virtual assistant is still needed to man the very active social media sites.

  The fact that I’m a young Jack Storm doppelganger causes as much havoc in my life as heaven.

  Hell, thanks to time standing still on Pinterest boards and Google images, sometimes I’m mistaken for my dad by women who are too crazed with excitement to remember what decade it is.

  I guess you’re wondering how you got caught up in this pitiful ramble. You’re probably shaking your head in disapproval, pondering why I would complain about anything in my life when I’ve been brought up privileged in so many ways.

  I guess this is an appeal for understanding. For what I’m about to do.

  See, I know you’re vested in the story of Jack and Marissa Storm.

  I know you love Jack and Marissa Loren, or you wouldn’t be reading this now.

  Other than a few mistakes, I’ve acted responsibly my whole li
fe.

  But this one irresponsible decision will rip their hearts out.

  If I don’t explain what led up to it, I’m afraid you might hate on Tristan Jack Loren Storm—aka to my parents as Jack Junior or J.J.—enough to close my story before it begins.

  Chapter 1

  No Fury Like a Mom

  “What do you mean he didn’t fly back with you?”

  Marissa felt her ‘scary parental face’ scrunch into a scowl, and her hands rose to rest on her hips as she demanded answers. Two of the four boys who had just descended the steps of the aircraft had been J.J.’s friends for almost ten years, and it was they who ducked their heads and slowed their steps to a stop within her immediate radius while the other two filed on by.

  “He said he needed some down time so he was staying.” Dusty shifted the strap of his canvas bag so that the luggage piece rested on his shoulder. His hazel eyes brimmed with sympathy, and he curved a reassuring smile. “He’s fine Mrs. L. He seems to have a lot on his mind. And I guess it’s like he said. He just needs chill time.”

  “There was a girl there. She and Tristan really hit it off.” Todd volunteered, and Dusty twisted enough to bump his bag deliberately against his friend.

  Marissa trained her focus on Todd’s face, digesting this new information. Behind her, in the shade of the hangar, the SUV door sounded as the other two boys loaded into the vehicle.

  Really? A girl was the reason her son had delayed returning from his trip? It had been hard enough for her to agree to let him go with a bunch of his friends to the Loren family house on the coast as a high school graduation-slash-pre-university getaway without sending someone from the security team along with him. And because of a girl, he was going to repay her with this heart attack moment?

  The pilot lingered just off to the side, shuffling through a sheaf of papers, and at last, she looked to him. With a friendly wave and greeting, she closed the distance between them, leaving Dusty and Todd to load into the SUV with the rest of the boys. His smile was immediate as they’d met on several occasions, but his eyes narrowed in concern as he inquired if all was okay. Possibly, he was worried the ‘Loren socialite’ was about to send him right back to Destin to pick up her errant son.

  Summoning her own smile, she stretched it across her face and nodded in response to his inquiry as she thanked him for transporting J.J.’s friends safely home.

  After tucking herself into the car, she twisted the key but let the motor idle while she snatched her phone from the dock in the dash. The boys talked around her while she scrolled on her phone to the most recent text messages from J.J.

  Dusty was quiet in the front passenger seat, and she saw his fingers tighten on his own phone. Probably he’d been texting J.J. while she spoke with the pilot.

  Her last text from her son had been a confirming “OK” in answer to her text of his flight departure time.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she quelled the urge to phone J.J., deciding to wait until she’d carried his friends home. Likewise, she released the phone from fingers itchy to call Jack. As she merged into I-20 traffic, she noticed Dusty’s fingers tapping out a text and knew he was likely giving J.J. a play by play of what was going on.

  Good. Let J.J. stew on the fact that she hadn’t immediately gone ballistic on his ass. Because she planned to go full-on freaked-out ballistic the moment she didn’t have an audience of his peers.

  Chapter 2

  Beachfront Serenade

  Dusty

  Dude. Your mom is super pissed.

  4:44 PM

  Dropping my phone to the deck table, I ignore the message and reposition my fingers on the fretboard. An impromptu tune screams into the wind. The surf below rolls in, frothing on the sand before retreating. Unable to keep still, I pace as I play.

  The cord connecting my axe to the amp runs out and I stop. With a pivot, I change directions until my leash is overextended again. With the ocean breeze flipping my hair around and the music soaking into my senses I feel alive—born with a purpose even if I don’t know my destiny.

  At times like this, I experience a clarity so distinct it’s almost a high.

  Sometimes in the mornings, I drag out of bed to watch the morning fog burn away as the sun rises over the horizon. That’s what I feel like. Like my fog is burning away. And I may not see the end of my road, but I see far enough to know what I’ve planned is right for me.

  Chapter 3

  Storms and Shit Storms

  The pool shimmered and sparkled one minute, and the surface grayed the next. Tiny feet balanced on his shoulder, and automatically, in a routine performed a hundred times, Jack waded a little deeper. He held on to tiny hands as his daughter stood, counted to three, and jumped. The splash as she jumped from him into the water incited a shriek from their youngest daughter, Zoë. With the pads of his thumb, he made a show of wiping the water from her eyes as his gaze went to the cloudy sky.

  Hopefully, Mariss would make it home before the bottom fell out. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be caught driving in what looked to be a vicious incoming storm.

  A gust of wind ruffled the umbrella table. Floating to the edge, he hopped from the pool and draped a towel over his neck. Casting another look to the gray heavens, he moved his phone and assorted odds and ends to a table beneath the covered patio.

  “Is it going to rain?” June’s question dripped with disappointment as she astutely took in his actions.

  “Looks like it might.” When he dropped to a lounger as he replied, instead of herding them from the pool, she relaxed, going on about her business of pretending the splashes she landed on her younger sister were accidental. After two more yelps from Zoë, he decided June wasn’t going to stop on her own, and drew his reprimand out on a long breath. “Cut it out, June.”

  Those two kept him more exhausted than any tour ever had back in the day. He flipped his shades to the top of his head, allowing unobstructed daylight to stimulate his retinas. Maybe he could grab a nap when Mariss got back. But until then, he had to keep his weary eyes open.

  The beat of the music pounding through the poolside speakers was just loud enough to mask the purr of her car coming up the drive on the other side of the house. It was his daughters who alerted him to her presence.

  “Momma!” Both girls scrambled for the side of the pool.

  Twisting his head, he found her storming the patio in full, beautiful fury. Her eyes sparkled, and her glossy hair whipped about her shoulders with every angry stride. He hoped it was road rage and not something he’d done. A split second fantasy of channeling that wrath into a good hard fuck flashed his senses before she spoke, and those imaginings dissolved.

  Uncharacteristically ignoring the excited welcomes of their daughters, she came to a stop beside his chair and whipped her shades off. “J.J. Didn’t. Come home.”

  June slowed her gait across the patio and stood dripping, her expression as dumbfounded as he felt.

  Unlike her sister, Zoë didn’t pick up on the negative vibes and flung her wet body onto Mariss.

  His legs straddled the chair, his feet hitting the bricks as his body unconsciously righted from its relaxed slouch. “What do you mean, ‘he didn’t come home?’”

  “He didn’t come home, Jack! That’s what I mean!” Automatically, she knelt, scooping Zoë up before straightening again. In the second she was eye to eye with him, he saw panic simmering alongside the fury in her face. “When I picked those boys up, J.J. wasn’t with them. Dusty and Todd said he stayed at the beach house with some girl!”

  The tickling he felt inside his chest was strangely akin to laughter. Maybe because he was furious enough to be hysterical. Maybe because he’d been expecting a stunt like this for years from a too perfect son. Reaching a hand out, he motioned to June, who immediately curved securely into the bend of his arm.

  J.J. had turned eighteen a few months ago. If he wanted to hole up in the beach house with some hot little number he’d met, that was something Mariss was going
to have to get used to. Still, the horny teen should have cleared with them beforehand, instead of afterward, his plans of staying down there. That part of it riled him—that Mariss was in freak-out mode because of J.J.’s inconsideration.

  “So, did you talk to him? Or—”

  “No, I didn’t talk to him.” She bit the words out. “I’m going down there to get his ass. Can you set my flight up? Or do you want to call Kim to babysit, and go with me?”

  “We want Kim to babysit!” June’s excitement got the better of her, and despite the tension, she voted eagerly for their favored freshman-in-college babysitter, who lived a few blocks away.

  The fraction of humor in the situation struck again, but Jack didn’t dare smile at the image of Mariss flying across three states to carry out her cock blocking.

  He settled June on the chair and crossed to his phone. After a jab at the screen, he held the device to his ear and gently held Mariss’ gaze. When his son didn’t answer, he promptly redialed and waited again.

  “Hey, it’s Tristan. You know the drill… BEEEEP’”

  “Call me. Now!” Jack growled into the recorder, and instead of waiting, he dialed again.

  When J.J. didn’t answer the third call, he saw panic begin to outweigh the anger in his wife’s eyes. His teeth clenched angrily. Only one time had J.J. ignored his calls, and after a severe talking to and a threat of grounding, they’d reached an agreement that it wouldn’t happen again. And it hadn’t. There had been a couple of times when the battery had died without J.J. realizing it, and he’d been apologetic and Jack had been understanding.

  This wasn’t a case of a dead cell though. Instinctively, he knew that much. J.J. was no dummy. He would have expected his parents’ call within minutes of the plane touching down with his friends and without him. And if he didn’t get that furious call, he’d be looking to his phone as to why.

  Anger gave way to alarm, and he turned away from Mariss as he typed out a text.

  CALL ME NOW

  Sent 4:45 PM