Beautiful Rose (Beautiful Rose 1)

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.