Rock me so wrong its rig.., p.1
Rock Me (So Wrong It's Right), page 1
Rock Me
Casey Hagen
Copyright © 2021 by Casey Hagen
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including: photocopying, recording, or by any storage and retrieval methods without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the address below.
Hagen Novels, LLC
Casey@CaseyHagenBooks.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Edited By: Editing by Kimberly Dawn
Cover Design: Wildheart Graphics
ROCK ME / Casey Hagen. — 1st ed.
Contents
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
Epilogue
Casey in the wild…
1
“Wait! Dr. Powell…something just came for you by courier,” Denise called to Aiden as he tried to sail by the front desk unscathed.
He should have known she’d catch him trying to sneak past her. She always had. It didn’t matter if Denise had ten patients waiting in line instead of the three actually standing there, she would always manage to do her job with startling efficiency.
With one hand on the door leading to the exam rooms and doctors’ offices, he reached across the tall counter and took the envelope. “What is it?”
“Not sure,” she said as she seemed to take a keen interest in whatever she spotted on her computer screen as though it were akin to the second coming.
“Yeah, I’m not buying that story,” he said.
“Fine, yes. I snuck a peek. Turns out the house calls you made to adjust Trevor’s fiancé Piper were much appreciated. He dumped a treasure trove of tickets in there for you. Sporting events, concerts, Broadway productions…most of them date worthy.”
Which meant she either had laser vision, a crystal ball, or pawed her way through the stack. “Don’t start that again,” he muttered.
She’d been on him for years about his total lack of a love life, and being a surrogate mother of sort, she wasn’t likely to let up anytime soon.
“You are entirely too much of a catch to be wasting away here in this office. You need to get out there. You should have a new pretty girl on your arm each week.”
“Wouldn’t that make me a man-whore?”
“I said each week, not every night like someone else we know,” she said, her lips pinching together. “And I said on your arm, not in your bed.”
Bed.
Good talk. But this was where the conversation needed to die. He’d even dig a hole and bury it himself, never to be resurrected again.
“Nope. Can’t go there with you. You’re too much like a mother to me,” he said as the heat of embarrassment crept up his neck before finally scorching the tips of his ears.
She leaned over the counter and craned her neck to reach him. Apparently, this was her attempt at modesty. “Yes, well, it’s not so pleasant for me either, young man,” she whispered. With a quick peek around her, she turned back to him. “But, if you do find one that’s worth it, there’s no reason you can’t have a little fun. Just make sure you have protection,” she said as she patted my hand.
“Not going there.” Because if it didn’t, he had serious concerns about his ability to rise to the occasion when the time came without Denise’s face popping into his head.
“Did Trevor happen to send a message along with the tickets?” Aiden asked, tapping the thick envelope on his palm.
“I’m sure it’s all in the letter in there,” Denise said.
Ah, so she had peeked. At least enough to know he’d put a letter inside. He raised a brow. “You didn’t read it?”
She winked. “Didn’t have time. Now scoot, I’ve got patients to check in,” she whispered behind her hand as though Anna and Stacy weren’t sitting right next to her that moment, doing that very thing.
He knew he shouldn’t laugh, it would only encourage her, but he couldn’t help himself. She’d won him decades ago when he was just a kid and she’d taken the job with his father. He’d been helpless to resist her antics since. From her very first day, she’d made sure to sneak him and Anthony lollipops behind his father’s back buying Aiden’s undying devotion.
Bribery all the way and he’d fallen for it hook, line, and sugary sinker.
And he still fell for it after all these years. In other words, there better be a lollipop in his future today.
With the rest of his afternoon free from appointments and dedicated to the misery of accumulating paperwork while the additional doctors they’d hired on took the new patient consultations, he ducked into his office, closed the door, and dumped the envelope out on his desk.
A thick stack of tickets scattered across the surface along with a note scrawled on Williams, Stensky, and Myers Ad Agency letterhead.
And a watermelon Dum-Dum bounced out and rolled off the pile.
He smiled, a chuckle on his huff of breath. Yeah, even at thirty-four, he could still be won over with watermelon. What it said about him that here he was on a Friday afternoon getting his kicks from something so basic as he settled in to tackle the mountain of work, he didn’t want to know. He could evaluate that crisis later. Once he put out a few fires.
He unwrapped the candy, popped it in his mouth, and propped his feet on his desk before before picking up the note.
* * *
Aiden,
* * *
You saved my ass, man. I can’t thank you enough. Piper has officially outlawed new positions until further notice. The woman doesn’t realize she’s hell on hells in all the standard ones too. Not that I’m complaining. I’m so not complaining. But I’ll shut up because to go any farther would be rubbing it in. Which begs the question…when are you going to do something about that monk life you’re living anyway? Tell you what, if you do, let us know. I’ll hook us up on a hell of a double date. Our new PR division is killer and I’m up to my eyeballs in tickets.
* * *
Anyway, to thank you, I’ve sending you my current ass load of tickets to a variety of shows and events coming up. I’m not really sure what you’re into at the moment, but I figured you’d find something. Feel free to pass on anything you don’t want.
* * *
Just whatever you do, get out of that office, would you? And ditch the lollipops. You’re a grown man for God’s sake.
* * *
You’re eating one right now aren’t you?
* * *
-Trevor
* * *
Oh, hey, the tickets for Nikki Lane are for tonight’s show. Probably too short notice, but it’s her last show of the tour so I figured why not. They’re front row meet and greets. Maybe you know someone with kids who’s into her.
Thanks again. I’ve got you on speed dial for when we’re out of the kinky sex moratorium.
Aiden’s feet hit the floor as he launched himself upright in his chair, the leather groaning under the force.
He shuffled through the tickets, his heartbeat slamming in his chest, scanning one after another until he found them.
Nikki Lane.
The Nikki Lane.
Pop rock sensation on the outside, but something else entirely on the inside. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he’d gotten a glimpse and she’d hooked into him ever since.
Why she got under his skin the way she did, he had no idea. There was just something about her. Ever since that day he’d caught her on an episode of Crossroads with The Zac Brown Band, he’d been captivated.
Before that moment, she’d been a pretty face and nice voice on the radio, but not exactly noteworthy for a guy who tended to prefer southern rock and country. And young. He’d bet the average age of her fans to be somewhere around sixteen, the same age she’d been when her first album hit the charts eight years or so ago.
And that still meant he had a decade on her and wildly different lives.
But that day, on that show, none of that mattered when she’d transformed from larger than life with her bold outfits, thigh-high boots, and electric guitar—someone he never really noticed on the radio—to this down-home country girl with faded blue jeans, her sleek cinnamon hair smoothed back into a high ponytail, and those thigh-high stilts traded in for a lovingly worn pair of cowboy boots.
And it knocked him right in the solar plexus with such swift accuracy, he couldn’t breathe.
With an acoustic
Her tone—shy, sweet, and impossible to dismiss.
It flowed from her lips as natural as breathing, with a hint of sadness and longing.
Like she missed something.
Or someone.
The episode propelled her up the charts even more than before. She’d tapped into the country crossover fans as they fell under her spell.
Just as he did.
He’d tuned into every interview from that point on to soak in her poise, grace, and vibrant enthusiasm, then reveled in her performances where she unleashed raw energy that swept her audience away on a wave of the electrically charged excitement.
He listened to her pop hits, studying the nuances of her voice and lyrics, searching for that woman scrubbed clean of the pop packaging, her heart exposed for everyone to see—but had yet to see her like that since.
And now he had a chance to see it all in person.
In the front row.
His gaze shot to the clock. Ten to four.
Meet and greet started at six thirty.
South Stamford to Madison Square Garden in just over two hours on a Friday?
His mind raced as he played out the possibilities, discarding one after another, looking for something, anything he could settle on that would give him a chance to pull this off.
He needed wings.
Unless he took the train. But then depending upon how late the concert ran, he’d be traveling back in the wee hours after fighting crowds pouring out of the show.
But… he could stay overnight.
Why not? He hadn’t taken a decent break from work in—well, who the hell knew how long since taking over the practice for his father. The mountain of work before him would still be there Monday. Or he could work on a bunch of it over the weekend if he gave up a few hours of sleep. He’d done it before. It might have helped if his playboy brother had stuck around to work on occasion, beyond his appointments that is, and helped him get things back on track.
Instead it all landed in Aiden’s lap.
His father had only managed to finish half of the remodeling projects to the office before the signs of dementia became too prominent to ignore. So the first thing Aiden had to do was make sure they were all finished which meant pouring over contracts and chasing the contractors who’d taken his father’s money and conveniently run.
It took almost ten months to get it sorted out and get the work finalized navigating a stunning supply of crooks out there just waiting to take advantage, their existence and resilience making him question humanity. He’d worked seven days a week for the better part of that time while his brother, who always seemed to have one commitment or another, often to some leggy blonde or brunette, worked office hours four days a week and a half day on Fridays before taking off to who the hell knew where with his latest piece of arm candy.
One of these days they were going to have a serious talk about that. There was no way in hell Aiden would let the imbalance of work become a habit while splitting profits with his brother fifty-fifty.
But not today because he had a concert to catch.
With the seed of discontent sowed enough it loomed over the knot of guilt he always carried, he made up his mind. Not only would he spend the night, he’d do so in luxury. Hell, maybe he’d even get a massage.
He picked up his phone and buzzed Denise.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Powell?” she answered.
“If you were going to stay somewhere posh in New York City, where would you go?”
“Oooh, I like the sound of this. There are actually several places, but I’ve always wanted to go to the Mandarin Oriental. Not a bad view from any room. Luxurious and pricey,” she said with a laugh.
“That’s the one. Can you do me a favor since I’m crunched for time?” he asked.
“Sure”.
“Book me a room for tonight. Surprise me. Just do me a favor and keep it under a grand.”
“Oh yeah! I like spending other people’s money. Anything else?” she asked.
He slid the tickets into his pocket. “Yeah. If possible, book me in the morning for a massage before check out.”
“Well, it’s about damn time. I’ll get right on it.”
“Oh, and if my brother asks, don’t tell him where I am,” Aiden said. Not that he was hiding, but the last thing he needed was his brother crashing his good time. And he would somehow manage to do that. No doubt about it. Especially if he caught wind that Aiden was splurging for a night in a swanky room.
“Not a chance. Get some you time. You’ve been connected at the hip to that boy for thirty-four years. It’s about time you branched out for yourself.”
With a quick “thank you” and a mental note to bring the woman flowers, he hung up the phone and opened the door to his office closet. Catching a glimpse in the full-length mirror, he studied himself since he didn’t have time to go home, and there was no way in hell he’d go to a meet and greet in his workout clothes even knowing they were freshly washed.
The outfit actually worked. Ditch the charcoal tie, loosen the collar of his burgundy shirt with the black crew neck showing underneath and his black slacks barely held a wrinkle. Roll up his sleeves to just under the elbow and boom. He’d pass.
He grabbed his cologne and refreshed what he already wore. Nothing he could do about the five o’clock shadow, but it helped play down the outfit, so he’d go with it.
With a dab of gel to his palm, he slid his hands through his hair. Shit, he really needed a cut. The waves were almost to the point that they had a chance to do battle with the gel and win.
Slapping his pockets to double check the tickets were there, he grabbed his leather tote, his gym bag packed with clean workout clothes for the morning, and walked out the door with a quick wave to Denise.
After sitting on the edge of his seat and drumming his fingers non-stop, like the energy radiating through him had the power to move them along faster, he rolled into Penn Station an hour before meet and greets were expected to start.
Flagging down a cab, he headed to the Mandarin Oriental to drop off his stuff first.
This was really happening. Nothing could stop him now.
His cab driver muttered and threw up hand gestures amidst the chorus of honks filling the air as commuters fought their way out of the city and those heading for a night of entertainment flooded their way in.
New York City, charming despite the scent of exhaust and garbage filling the air, bustled with Friday night vitality. Lights flashed, electronic signs, billboards, the city aglow with the hustle of activity, never really becoming completely dark at night. Ordinarily he enjoyed the flash and the buzz of excitement, but tonight, the mile and a half, twenty-four-minute start—stop—start—skid to a stop ride had him grinding his teeth by the time he reached the hotel.
“You want me to wait?” the driver asked, pulling in front of the hotel.
“Nope. Thanks,” Aiden said as he swiped his card to pay the fare.
He had thirty-five minutes until the meet and greet started, only leaving him a fraction of time to check in, dump his stuff, and head for the subway.
No time for the panic attack he so wanted to have right about now.
With no time to spare, he kept his gaze locked on the desk and pasted a smile on his face like he wasn’t running around with his ass on fire to get to a pop show full of screaming high school girls.
Because let’s face it, that’s what he was about to do. He was going to stand out like the creepy single uncle none of the nieces and nephews wanted to hug at the holidays. He didn’t know if that made him funny or pathetic. Luckily, he didn’t have time to really examine it.
