Beautiful Rose Read online

  Copyright © 2013 Missy Johnson

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Redbird Designs

  Edited by Lauren McKellar

  Interior Design by PJ Beldon

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 9780987534378

  First Printing: October 2013

  BJJ Publishing

  Beautiful Rose

  By Missy Johnson

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Previews to other works

  Prologue - July 2010

  The lights dimmed down onto me and my guitar in the middle of the stage. The crowd grew silent as I began to play Angel’s Song. Four months on, and I still could barely get through it without tearing up. Every performance made me think of her. I closed my eyes and imagined she was there with me. I’d imagine her smile, and the way her face would light up when we were together. If I focused enough, I could see her. Those stunning green eyes, and that long dark hair. I was lucky to have had her in my life at all.

  “Everything that is beautiful is caught up in you,

  I’m so in to you baby, that this is what I wanna do,

  These feelings make me nervous, it’s something so new,

  But I’m into you darlin’ and I’m gonna see this through

  Everything that is beautiful is caught up in you,

  I was drawn to your eyes, so confident and sure,

  Your warmth touched me deeply, down to my core,

  When I saw your smile so beautiful, it was then that I knew,

  Your love left me wanting, everything that was you.

  I wish I’d have told you how much you meant to me,

  You’re forever in my heart, but now I need to set you free.

  I don’t want to live without you, I need you by my side,

  But now you’ve got you wings, Angel, I want you to fly.

  Everything that is beautiful is caught up in you,

  I’m so into you baby, that this is what I wanna do,

  These feelings make me nervous, something so new,

  But I’m into you darlin’ and I’m gonna see this through

  Everything that is beautiful is caught up in you,

  Oh Angel, everything that is beautiful is only you.”

  The crowd clapped enthusiastically as the song came to an end. I forced myself to smile, then waved before walking off the stage. There was only about forty people here tonight, but every time I sang I felt like I was alone, and singing to her.

  Nights were the hardest. Something about lying there in the complete darkness, alone, waiting…she was all I could think about. She consumed my dreams when I did manage to sleep, and my thoughts when I was awake. Every moment I spent thinking about her.

  Alex would tell me it had only been a few months, and that these things take time, and for the tiniest moment I’d feel better. Then I’d remember our last moments together. It was those memories that drove me to the edge. If only I’d gone after her, things would’ve turned out differently. If only I could change my last words to her. If only she hadn’t died hating me. But nothing was going to bring her back, and nothing in this world was going to change the way I felt. I was a shell. I walked around, a lifeless shell of my former self, my only outlet being my guitar.

  I worked, I slept and I drank. I’d never be the same again.

  Chapter One - 2013

  Jack

  "So, is this place open, or what?"

  I turned around to see Alex approaching the bar. "What, you're drinking at three in the afternoon? They must be working you hard," I joked.

  He sank onto one of the twenty stools that lined the length of the counter and shook his head. Alex glanced around, taking in the interior of the bar. His eyes grew wide as his jaw dropped open. I hid a smile, enjoying his reaction. The black stonewash countertop ran from the front of the venue right down to the back. Behind the bar in front of the mirrored backsplash that was mounted to the wall were glass shelves housing every spirit you could possibly think of. Oversized gray suede sofas complete with throw cushions and low-lit booths created intimate little nooks for people to socialize in, while the large modern tables in the middle of the room provided the perfect space for larger groups. Everything about this place, right down to the dance floor in front of the stage, screamed modern and classy. Exactly the look I was going for.

  "Hey, this place has scrubbed up pretty well," he said, running a hand through his short dark hair. We shared the same dark, unruly hair and dark brown eyes. It wasn’t hard to see we were brothers. Though we shared some physical attributes, we were so different in personality that it was hard to imagine us being as close as we were. Alex was quiet and very focused, whereas I was outspoken and loud. My personality had toned down somewhat over the past few years. But I was still very much “me.” There were some things you just couldn’t change, and my warped sense of humor was definitely one of them.

  He stifled a yawn as he stretched out his arms. He pointed to the Corona tap and made a drinking motion with his wrist. Well, it was either that or jerking off, and I chose the former, because the image of him jerking off was one I didn’t want in my head.

  "You sound surprised. Besides, it’s not like you haven't seen the place finished," I chuckled, pouring him a beer and one for myself.

  "I know, but it looks different all cleaned up, without your shit everywhere. I mean, it was starting to look as bad as your apartment down here," he joked.

  “Funny.” I made a face at him. Like he could talk. The only reason his place was so clean was because of the cleaning service he employed. “The place does look good though, right?”

  The truth was, I was surprised, myself, at just how nice this little place had turned out to be. What had started as a few casual shifts after escaping from the UK had turned into me owning the place less than three years later.

  In the early days, this place was a dive that housed the same intoxicated old men, night after night. I'd work my shifts, and a few days a week I'd play to the small, and by small I mean small, crowd. At the time, it had suited me perfectly. Having somewhere I could play my music without judgment or expectation had played a huge role in overcoming what had been a really bad stage in my life.

  And slowly, as I began to settle into my new life here in sunny Brooklyn—a far cry from
gloomy London—the crowd who came to see me play grew to a good number of regulars. The idea that people came to hear my music was a strange feeling, but it wasn't that hard to get used to. I’d never been one to shy away from attention, and I was getting accustomed to turning back on the charm for women. The only difference was nowadays I did it more through my guitar than I did with my cock.

  The night I’d found out Max was selling this place I'd lost a game of poker and drunk way too many beers. My memories of that night are hazy at best, but apparently I was standing on the bar, singing to Max, begging him to sell me the place. In the end, he had agreed, just to shut me up.

  The next morning I woke up with a huge hangover, a bar in my name and a much lighter bank account. There were a few “What the hell have I done” moments, but they quickly passed as I got more excited about the place and what I could do with it. This was it, my dream. This was my chance to do what I loved doing.

  I'd closed the doors for a month and done some serious renovating. The end result was what I hoped would become one of the hottest upscale nightspots in the area, while still keeping the laid-back, live-music feel of the place.

  This had all seemed like such a great idea weeks ago. Now? Well, now I was scared as fuck that this would turn out to be one of the Top Ten Jack Falcon Disastrous Mistakes.

  Trust me, making that list was no easy feat.

  "You're still coming past tonight?" I asked Alex, already knowing the answer. My brother was the one constant of my life. He was my best friend and the person I looked up to most, so making time for him was something I'd always put first. Our weekly poker game with a few friends was something we always tried to uphold, but the fact that he was here now meant he probably had to work.

  "I'm sorry man, I hate to do this to you, but someone called in sick and now I have to work," he grumbled, slumping over the bar. He looked like shit.

  I glanced at his beer. "And that's allowed? Shit, you weren't kidding when you said you guys were laid-back." Alex scowled and pushed the beer back over to me, which only made me laugh harder. If his boss heard he had even looked at a beer before work he would be out the door. "Man, I think you just know I'll win. You have the worst poker face I've ever seen."

  "Don't mess with me, Jack," he grumbled, reaching behind the bar for a bottle of water. "Today was an ass of a day. I swear, sometimes group therapy is enough to drive me to suicide." He unscrewed the top of the bottle and drank.

  “Sitting around listening to other people’s sob stories? How could that not be uplifting?” I asked dryly. “There is no better therapy than knowing someone’s got it worse than you.”

  Alex narrowed his eyes at me.

  “What? I was kidding!” I chuckled, holding my hands up. Geez, he was so sensitive! Sometimes my humor was so underappreciated.

  "Okay. If you say so," he replied, rolling his eyes. He stood up and grabbed his keys. "I gotta run, but I'll try and drop past after my shift." He glanced out the window and winked at me. "Looks like you have company anyway."

  I followed his gaze.

  Harmony.

  Blonde hair, blue eyes, huge tits and a mouth that could suck the brass off a doorknob, Harmony was the closest thing I'd had to a girlfriend since moving over here. When you're only fucking the one girl and you've met her parents, then she kinda-sorta is your girlfriend, whether you like it or not. I prefer the term “friend with benefits,” though I go loosely on the term “friend.” Harmony wasn't a nice girl, which suited me perfectly. The last thing I needed in my life was a nice girl.

  I'd been lucky to experience love once, and I'd fucked it up. Nothing made me want to go through that pain again. Everything about Harmony was easy—excuse the pun. So long as I fucked her and took her out occasionally, she was happy.

  Well, that's not exactly true. Harmony was never really happy, but she was the kind of girl I knew I was safe with, someone I knew I could never fall in love with, and being with her kept me out of trouble.

  I rested my hands on the edge of the bar as she sashayed toward me. Literally. If she put any more wiggle in her hips, she'd topple over.

  Alex waved at her, then turned around and rolled his eyes at me before leaving. He wasn't a fan of Harmony. But then again, not many people were. She had more attitude than a drunk socialite, and about as much modesty.

  "Hey baby," she crooned, leaning over the bar to kiss me, her breasts practically rolling out of her low-cut red top. My eyes lingered on them. What? I’m a red blooded male, and they were more on display than Miley Cyrus’s tongue.

  "How are you?" She plopped herself down as though it had taken all of her energy to do so, and then she sighed loudly.

  I cocked my eyebrow, knowing she was hinting for me to ask her how she was. "Yeah, good. You? How's work?" I asked with a smirk, pretending I actually gave a shit. This was why I was so suited to bar work. I could fake interest in any conversation.

  "Okay," she sighed. "I can't wait till this place picks up so I can work here."

  My eyes widened. What? Her working here?

  No. Fucking. Way.

  I'd seen her waitress long enough to leave me wondering how in hell she held down a job. Seriously, this girl gave blondes a bad name when it came to using her head. Now, giving head, that was another story. That was a job she could handle quite well. Hell, I'd rather pay her to suck my cock than work my bar. Then again, sucking my cock was kind of working my bar, right?

  "What about the club?" I asked her, trying to hide my shock. She worked as a waitress in a strip—sorry, a ‘gentleman’s club…which also kind of explains how we met.

  She shrugged. "Well you'll need me here, so of course I'm going to leave, silly." God, I hated it when she did that. I'm twenty-eight, not five. What was next, airplane feeding me my dinner?

  "Shit, I'm sorry baby, I hired another waitress today," I said, lying through my teeth. There was no way I could handle her around me 24/7. She almost drove me insane as it was. Besides, I was pretty sure my entire staff would quit with her working here.

  "Well un-hire her," she said, her eyes narrowing.

  Oh, shit, here we go. Tantrum time. You think it's beyond a twenty-five year old woman to throw a tantrum? Trust me, it's not.

  "Harms, she's someone Alex knows," I fibbed, taking her hand. "I can't just un-hire her." I walked around the bar toward her. I nudged her knees apart and slid myself between her legs, wrapping my arms around her waist. She was softening. I tilted her head up and kissed her neck. She sighed, her lips finding mine. She moaned softly and I knew I had her.

  Whew, that was close. Now I had to find a waitress.

  "Can I come over later? I got you something for your birthday." She smiled mischievously.

  "Harm . . .” I began, feeling uneasy. My birthday was a week ago. I don't even know how she knew about it. I sure as hell didn't tell her and none of the guys knew, besides Alex, and I couldn't imagine him going out of his way to tell her anything.

  Most of my uneasiness came from the fact that we weren't in that kind of relationship. I'd made that clear from the start, so there would be no crossed signals. If she was starting to see us as something more, then we had a big problem.

  "Oh relax," she chided, shaking her head. "It's nothing big, just a little something I think we will both enjoy." Her mouth curved upward in a grin. I relaxed, now more intrigued than scared by what she had planned.

  "Sure. Come over later." I pulled away from her, glancing around the place apologetically. "I gotta get back to work," I said. She nodded, leaning in for another kiss. "I'll see you later," she said, smiling at me over her shoulder as she headed toward the door.

  #

  I did a very quick tidy up of my apartment, which basically meant throwing the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and everything else in the spare bedroom including my cat, Mr. Jefferies. He growled, letting me know that he didn't like being shoved aside for a chick, because I'm sure he knew that's what was happening and I didn't doubt that he'd find s
ome way to pay me back later.

  "You're complaining? I treat you better than some people treat their children," I chuckled, placing a mountain of minced eye fillet steak in front of him. He sniffed it and glanced up at me, as if to say “You're forgiven, but only this time.”

  The truth was—and this is going to sound awful—I didn't want to put Mr Jefferies through the pain of knowing Harmony. God that made me sound like an asshole but seriously, even I knew this girl was a bitch. She was the type of girl who I wouldn't put past getting revenge, should what we had ever end on less than mutual terms. The less she knew about me the better, and that included my cat. What does that say about me, being with a girl I think is capable of something like that?

  I shut the door and brushed the cat hair off my pants. Glancing around the room, I was finally satisfied enough to sit down and relax. It wasn't spotless, but I was a guy in my twenties who lived on my own. If the place got any cleaner, it would be creepy.

  Living above the bar was practical and cheap. Money had never been an issue in the past, but when I left England and my father I also left my trust fund, my cars, and anything else that belonged to him. I didn't want to owe him anything.

  Everything I had here I'd earned myself and that felt fucking amazing. There was nobody breathing down my neck or telling me what I could and couldn't do. No pressure on me, apart from the pressure I put on myself, and no fucking pretending. For the first time in my life, what I had felt real.

  Well, most of it, anyway. Sure, I still had some issues I needed to work out, but who doesn't? If you don't have things in your life you need to work on, then you're not living it right.