My Rockstar's Secret Baby by Jamie Knight (read me like a book .TXT) 📕

I believed very much in dressing for the occasion, and I seriously doubted that a skirt-suit and heels would cut it at a metal show. I needed something tough, something sexy. The only problem was that I really didn’t know that might be and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have it if I did.

Jeans and a sweater were as close as I could get. Except the jeans were a light blue and the sweater was pink with a floral design embroidered onto it. Not exactly tough-looking.

A knock at my door made me jump. Still in my dork-wear, I went to answer the door, idly wondering who would be coming by so late.

“Hey, sis!”

“Jonna?”

My baby sister enveloped me in an attack hug, despite the bag she was carrying.

“What are you doing here? Not that I mind at all.”

“Seth said you might need some help.”

“Help?”

I furrowed my brow in confusion.

“With the show. You’re still going, right?”

“Yes.”

“Right, and I assume you’re not going like that?”

She scanned me up and down, taking in the full impact of the ensemble. To be fair, it wasn’t a train wreck or anything, it was cute— but still, it wasn’t quite appropriate for where I was going.

“Do you have any better suggestions?” I asked her, feeling sheepish.

“Absolutely! Come with me, we’ll get you sorted out.”

Taking my hand, Jonna led me, bags and all, back to the bedroom where she lay four pre-arranged outfits made out of her own clothes.

“This could work,” she said, picking up a nice, but very short, skirt.

“Maybe, with tights.”

“No tights; I’ll keep looking.”

Picking up a pair of black jeans, Jonna came around behind me, and held them to my hips.

“Definitely,” she concluded, hanging them over my shoulder.

Before I could object, she went back over to the collection and got a baggy band shirt, bearing the name of one of Jonna’s favorite bands that I’d never heard of. The shirt was oversized, went down well past my hips, and would cover my ass.

“Perfect, this way you can decide how much to show off depending on if you tuck in,” she said. “Just a FYI, these jeans will make your ass look great. Now, shoes.”

Zipping back over to the bed, she picked up a pair of black and white Converse sneakers. Taking the offered pieces, I eschewed the cute for the kick-ass.

“Much better,” Jonna said, as we assessed the results in the full-length mirror.

I couldn’t disagree. It felt a bit strange, but I did look fantastic. All dark and sexy, like a vampire on the prowl. It helped that my hair was black. Not naturally of course, but I’d started dyeing it in college, generally finding people took me more seriously that way.

“Here,” Jonna said, gently tying my hair back into a ponytail.

The effect was instant, showing more of my face as well as my neck.

“And now for your make-up,” Jonna announced.

With a light, quick, almost professional touch, Jonna wiped away my professional look, replacing it with dark, vampy lipstick and a seductive smokey eye.

“Wow,” I whispered when she positioned me back in front of the mirror.

“One more thing.”

I could feel the cool weight on my shoulders as the black leather jacket settled into place.

“Perfect,” she said delightedly.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, sis.”

Jonna hugged me from behind, putting her head on my shoulder like she would when we were kids. We were both older now, and each a little taller, and she was a married woman with a family of her own.

But she would always be my little sister.

Chapter Six - Ragnar

The rules were clear. There was to be no smoking or drinking within the Sanctuary.

It was quite like church in that respect, minus the wine. One of many lessons we’d learned the hard way. There were no rules about doing it outside though, in terms of either a church or the recording studio.

Sven, Stig and Varg smoked, drank and were merry, out in the parking lot, amid the picturesque industrial view.  They’d hit it off over their shared love of toxic substances and were sharing quite admirably.

My addictions were of a different nature, the blue light illuminating my face as I scrolled. I hadn’t even gotten up from behind my drums. My other, more recent addiction was also in full swing.

I’d never heard of Asgard Fine Jewelry, which was a surprise, my sponsored results tending to throw up anything even vaguely Scandinavian. From the Iceland Foods supermarket chain in Britain to Viking River Cruises. But when I searched Stephanie’s full name, it was the first thing that came up.

How many Olga Stephanie Morrises could there be in the greater Seattle area?

It was almost a dead certainty that it was her.

The photo on the staff pages only confirmed it. She looked so serious in the snap. Formal clothes, no smile, looking into the distance like she was looking through the camera.

I couldn’t fault her for it. I kind of hated having my picture taken, truthfully, which could be a bit of a bummer when it came to promoting the band, even before we signed with Suspicious Activity.

A lot of the stuff on the site was really nice, which was mostly down to Stephanie, who had been the artistic director for the past six years. On an impulse I bought a bunch of it. Partly through genuine appreciation, but also in a crazy attempt to connect with her.

“Hey, man.”

“Oh, hey,” I said, shoving the phone hastily into my pocket.

Seth probably thought I was watching porn or something, but that would be less embarrassing than my actual secret.

“I think we’re done for the day. Sven’s going to mix the tracks and put them with the others. We’re getting near