GraceRyan
Rock n' Roll Doggie FOB
This is a short one. I hadn't planned on this chapter, but I kind of like it.
The story is fiction and I do not know these people. Also, some chapters or scenes remind me of a song. I shall post the lyrics to help you get a feel for the mood. Maybe you'll find a new favorite song. So, enjoy.
The The - Bluer than Midnight
Save me, Save me, Save me
Save me, Save me, Save me.
The candles are lit. The curtains are drawn.
There's still no sign of rain nor dawn.
Our lips touch. Our limbs entwine.
But the ghosts that haunt me won't leave my mind.
Save me, Save me, Save me
Save me, Save me, from myself.
One sin leads to another one.
Oh, the harder I try
I can never, never, never find peace in this life.
I ask myself where does lust come from
Is it something to yield to or be overcome.
I ask myself
Why love can never touch my heart like fear does.
Why can't love ever touch my heart like fear does?
Bono stared blankly at the football match on the pub’s television. He already read the scores in the newspaper. He knew the outcome. Taking another sip of his whiskey, he looked around his New York local. On the other side of the bar, a woman stared at him. Perhaps she recognized him or thought she knew him. He turned his eyes back to the television. Night was always the toughest. He was tired and weary. His home only offered emptiness and a cold bed. He missed Ali and his life. Divorce was never his idea. He tried everything to change her mind. In a moment of desperation, he offered to leave the band. Nothing worked. Ali, ever headstrong, had made her decision. Bono was cold and alone. He still ached at night for her - or for someone.
Once Bono uncurled himself from the ball of misery on Adam’s bed, he attempted to start over. He spent time with old acquaintances - women who always wished they were Ali. They never compared. And to them, Bono the man was not as exciting as Bono the rock-star. Would anyone love the man again?
He glanced over at the woman again. She was pretty enough. He considered sending her a drink and a smile. Tonight, he couldn’t be bothered. He motioned for the bartender to give him another. Most of his time in New York was spent in a recording studio from dawn until the early morning hours. Not this evening. Morleigh was in town to spend time with Edge. Adam had Jocelyn to go home to these days.
Bono looked forward to the tour. He could lose himself on stage and in the grand madness. On ZooTV, he flirted and sometimes got a little too close to a woman. Ali and their promises pulled him back the brink of temptation. This time, nothing was there to stop him from indulging in the interest of another woman. His heart was dead, but that didn’t mean the rest of him was.
“Hey,” Larry hopped on the stool beside him. He nodded to the bartender. “Pint for me and grumpy here.”
Bono rolled his eyes. “Lardence. How are you?”
“Thirsty,” Larry smiled. “How long have you been here?”
He shrugged. “An hour or so.”
Larry looked around the pub. “Quiet night. Edge with Morleigh?”
“Yep, and Adam’s with Jocelyn,” his tone was acidic.
Larry nudged him. “Just the bachelor’s out tonight.”
“You are hardly a bachelor,” Bono scoffed. “Maybe in New York you are.”
He ran his fingers across his spiky blonde hair. “Yeah well...”
Larry didn’t want to think about Ann. They would be returning to Dublin in a matter of weeks. It didn’t comfort him much. In New York, he was anonymous and free of his history. He knew Bono didn’t look forward to going home either. Every mile of Ireland was a reminder of Ali. His new house was sparse with furniture or decor. He didn’t have the heart to hire anyone to make it a home. He knew eventually he would for the girls.
“Hey B, you have an admirer there,” Larry nodded in the woman’s direction.
He rolled his eyes. “I know.”
“She’s pretty,” though Larry did notice her resemblance to Bono’s ex.
Bono watched the television. His thoughts wandered back to the singer of Strict Machine. She was interesting. Amazing pipes in a cute little spunky package. Several months on tour with her could be some fun.
“That Faith is....intriguing,” he swished his whiskey around in his glass.
Larry’s shoulders tensed. Yeah, she’s alright.”
Bono smirked. “Are you sweet on her?”
His cheeks pinked. “She’s an amazing voice.”
“So your interest in purely professional?” Bono teased.
Fuck off,” Larry grumbled. He knew that he had no right to have any interest in Faith or any woman. But he couldn’t help feel the hairs on the back of his neck creep when Bono talked about her. Sure, Bono had every right to see whoever he wanted, but Larry wanted him to stay away from Faith.
The woman walked up beside Bono. “Hi, I’m sorry....but you look like someone I know.”
“Do I, love?” he smiled.
She blushed fiercely and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You are, um, who I think you are, right?”
“And who do you think I am?” he asked.
“You know, the singer of U2,” she whispered close.
Bono wished he was interested. It would be easy. She licked her lips and batted her eyes. He knew with one word, he could have her. For a moment, he considered it. His lonely bed was a better choice.
“I get that a lot,” Bono nodded. He downed the rest of his drink. He slapped his hand on the bar. “I’m off.”
“You’re done?” Larry asked. “I just got here.”
“I’m knackered,” he slid off the stool. His head felt heavy. “See ya tomorrow.” He clapped his hand on his friend’s back.
With a wink at the woman, Bono pushed through the door to winter air on the other side. He pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket. The damn things were killing his voice. He had every intention of quitting after Zoo. With Ali’s love and support, he knew he could conquer anything. The last two years, they were his solace. They were a constant. The smoke burned his lungs. He trudged up a few blocks before deciding his legs were not up for the long walk home. He hailed a taxi and collapsed inside. His head was swimming in whiskey. He wondered if he should have just taken the woman home. It would be a warm body to bury his loneliness. That feeling was just as bad as waking up alone. He had only done it a few times right after he was asked to leave his home. Angry and hurt, he spent the night with a nameless woman. He wrapped his arms around the body hoping to bury his pain in her skin. In the morning, he was still lonely and sick to his stomach. The smell of booze, smoke and sin choked him. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to go home. But there was no home left.
Bono handed the driver a hundred dollar bill for a ten dollar ride. “I don’t got change for this.”
“It’s fine. Have a good night,” Bono poured himself on to the sidewalk. Nodding to the doorman, he moved numbly into the elevator. Leaning in the corner, he closed his eyes. Faces flashed before him. The woman, Ali, models, Faith, Ali. He hated Ali. He hated the hole she left in him. He felt an urge and pressure building inside him. Angrily, he unlocked the door to his penthouse. It was a waste of space. He bought at the end of the tour. There were rooms for girls. Those rooms were filled with boxes not toys. Black leather furniture spoke bachelor pad. His dining room table was somewhere under boxes, dirty clothes and books. It wasn’t until he had to care for himself that he realized how dependent he was. He moved through his dark house as a light snow fell outside. Somehow, the reflection of the streetlights illuminated his path to his bedroom. He shed all his clothes in a pile beside his bed. The sheets were cold against his hot skin. How he longed for some warm flesh to press himself against. He squeezed his eyes tight and tried to think of a faceless beauty to aid him. Her dark hair and darker eyes mocked him. She used to know every inch of him. She knew the way to touch him, how to make him respond. In the darkness, he scowled. The woman from the bar pushed to the front of his mind. He couldn’t remember anything amazing about her. Her hair reminded him of someone he didn’t want to think of anymore. Faith danced on a stage in his mind. Her hips swayed as her hands slid along the microphone. Her smile blazed into his closed eyelids. As she moved about the stage, he caught a glimpse of a lacy black bra beneath her shirt. She smiled and those large pools of blue stared at him. Music flowed out of her and surrounded him in a velvety blanket. Those lips. He sighed deeply. The mischief in her laugh. She was worlds apart from the woman who sliced his heart. She was freedom. He imagined her hands on him, carrying him to a better future. For a moment, he felt better and at peace.
The story is fiction and I do not know these people. Also, some chapters or scenes remind me of a song. I shall post the lyrics to help you get a feel for the mood. Maybe you'll find a new favorite song. So, enjoy.
The The - Bluer than Midnight
Save me, Save me, Save me
Save me, Save me, Save me.
The candles are lit. The curtains are drawn.
There's still no sign of rain nor dawn.
Our lips touch. Our limbs entwine.
But the ghosts that haunt me won't leave my mind.
Save me, Save me, Save me
Save me, Save me, from myself.
One sin leads to another one.
Oh, the harder I try
I can never, never, never find peace in this life.
I ask myself where does lust come from
Is it something to yield to or be overcome.
I ask myself
Why love can never touch my heart like fear does.
Why can't love ever touch my heart like fear does?
Bono stared blankly at the football match on the pub’s television. He already read the scores in the newspaper. He knew the outcome. Taking another sip of his whiskey, he looked around his New York local. On the other side of the bar, a woman stared at him. Perhaps she recognized him or thought she knew him. He turned his eyes back to the television. Night was always the toughest. He was tired and weary. His home only offered emptiness and a cold bed. He missed Ali and his life. Divorce was never his idea. He tried everything to change her mind. In a moment of desperation, he offered to leave the band. Nothing worked. Ali, ever headstrong, had made her decision. Bono was cold and alone. He still ached at night for her - or for someone.
Once Bono uncurled himself from the ball of misery on Adam’s bed, he attempted to start over. He spent time with old acquaintances - women who always wished they were Ali. They never compared. And to them, Bono the man was not as exciting as Bono the rock-star. Would anyone love the man again?
He glanced over at the woman again. She was pretty enough. He considered sending her a drink and a smile. Tonight, he couldn’t be bothered. He motioned for the bartender to give him another. Most of his time in New York was spent in a recording studio from dawn until the early morning hours. Not this evening. Morleigh was in town to spend time with Edge. Adam had Jocelyn to go home to these days.
Bono looked forward to the tour. He could lose himself on stage and in the grand madness. On ZooTV, he flirted and sometimes got a little too close to a woman. Ali and their promises pulled him back the brink of temptation. This time, nothing was there to stop him from indulging in the interest of another woman. His heart was dead, but that didn’t mean the rest of him was.
“Hey,” Larry hopped on the stool beside him. He nodded to the bartender. “Pint for me and grumpy here.”
Bono rolled his eyes. “Lardence. How are you?”
“Thirsty,” Larry smiled. “How long have you been here?”
He shrugged. “An hour or so.”
Larry looked around the pub. “Quiet night. Edge with Morleigh?”
“Yep, and Adam’s with Jocelyn,” his tone was acidic.
Larry nudged him. “Just the bachelor’s out tonight.”
“You are hardly a bachelor,” Bono scoffed. “Maybe in New York you are.”
He ran his fingers across his spiky blonde hair. “Yeah well...”
Larry didn’t want to think about Ann. They would be returning to Dublin in a matter of weeks. It didn’t comfort him much. In New York, he was anonymous and free of his history. He knew Bono didn’t look forward to going home either. Every mile of Ireland was a reminder of Ali. His new house was sparse with furniture or decor. He didn’t have the heart to hire anyone to make it a home. He knew eventually he would for the girls.
“Hey B, you have an admirer there,” Larry nodded in the woman’s direction.
He rolled his eyes. “I know.”
“She’s pretty,” though Larry did notice her resemblance to Bono’s ex.
Bono watched the television. His thoughts wandered back to the singer of Strict Machine. She was interesting. Amazing pipes in a cute little spunky package. Several months on tour with her could be some fun.
“That Faith is....intriguing,” he swished his whiskey around in his glass.
Larry’s shoulders tensed. Yeah, she’s alright.”
Bono smirked. “Are you sweet on her?”
His cheeks pinked. “She’s an amazing voice.”
“So your interest in purely professional?” Bono teased.
Fuck off,” Larry grumbled. He knew that he had no right to have any interest in Faith or any woman. But he couldn’t help feel the hairs on the back of his neck creep when Bono talked about her. Sure, Bono had every right to see whoever he wanted, but Larry wanted him to stay away from Faith.
The woman walked up beside Bono. “Hi, I’m sorry....but you look like someone I know.”
“Do I, love?” he smiled.
She blushed fiercely and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You are, um, who I think you are, right?”
“And who do you think I am?” he asked.
“You know, the singer of U2,” she whispered close.
Bono wished he was interested. It would be easy. She licked her lips and batted her eyes. He knew with one word, he could have her. For a moment, he considered it. His lonely bed was a better choice.
“I get that a lot,” Bono nodded. He downed the rest of his drink. He slapped his hand on the bar. “I’m off.”
“You’re done?” Larry asked. “I just got here.”
“I’m knackered,” he slid off the stool. His head felt heavy. “See ya tomorrow.” He clapped his hand on his friend’s back.
With a wink at the woman, Bono pushed through the door to winter air on the other side. He pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket. The damn things were killing his voice. He had every intention of quitting after Zoo. With Ali’s love and support, he knew he could conquer anything. The last two years, they were his solace. They were a constant. The smoke burned his lungs. He trudged up a few blocks before deciding his legs were not up for the long walk home. He hailed a taxi and collapsed inside. His head was swimming in whiskey. He wondered if he should have just taken the woman home. It would be a warm body to bury his loneliness. That feeling was just as bad as waking up alone. He had only done it a few times right after he was asked to leave his home. Angry and hurt, he spent the night with a nameless woman. He wrapped his arms around the body hoping to bury his pain in her skin. In the morning, he was still lonely and sick to his stomach. The smell of booze, smoke and sin choked him. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to go home. But there was no home left.
Bono handed the driver a hundred dollar bill for a ten dollar ride. “I don’t got change for this.”
“It’s fine. Have a good night,” Bono poured himself on to the sidewalk. Nodding to the doorman, he moved numbly into the elevator. Leaning in the corner, he closed his eyes. Faces flashed before him. The woman, Ali, models, Faith, Ali. He hated Ali. He hated the hole she left in him. He felt an urge and pressure building inside him. Angrily, he unlocked the door to his penthouse. It was a waste of space. He bought at the end of the tour. There were rooms for girls. Those rooms were filled with boxes not toys. Black leather furniture spoke bachelor pad. His dining room table was somewhere under boxes, dirty clothes and books. It wasn’t until he had to care for himself that he realized how dependent he was. He moved through his dark house as a light snow fell outside. Somehow, the reflection of the streetlights illuminated his path to his bedroom. He shed all his clothes in a pile beside his bed. The sheets were cold against his hot skin. How he longed for some warm flesh to press himself against. He squeezed his eyes tight and tried to think of a faceless beauty to aid him. Her dark hair and darker eyes mocked him. She used to know every inch of him. She knew the way to touch him, how to make him respond. In the darkness, he scowled. The woman from the bar pushed to the front of his mind. He couldn’t remember anything amazing about her. Her hair reminded him of someone he didn’t want to think of anymore. Faith danced on a stage in his mind. Her hips swayed as her hands slid along the microphone. Her smile blazed into his closed eyelids. As she moved about the stage, he caught a glimpse of a lacy black bra beneath her shirt. She smiled and those large pools of blue stared at him. Music flowed out of her and surrounded him in a velvety blanket. Those lips. He sighed deeply. The mischief in her laugh. She was worlds apart from the woman who sliced his heart. She was freedom. He imagined her hands on him, carrying him to a better future. For a moment, he felt better and at peace.
