Book 1
Adam Reynolds wants to make music. It’s his only chance to escape London’s most dangerous borough.
Naïve Ellie Palmer moves from a posh flat to the rough side of town. She only has to hear Adam sing once and she knows he’s destined for greatness.
When Adam prevents Ellie from becoming the victim of a horrific sexual assault, they discover something that two teenagers never thought they would find in such a depressing place. Each other.
***This is a standalone novel in the Rockstar Series***
***This book contains graphic abuse, loads of British slang, and a drama that plays out from London to Los Angeles.***
Quotes
quotes
Music has healing power. It has the ability to take people out of themselves for a few hours.
-Elton John
One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.
-Bob Marley
Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.
-Maya Angelou
You didn’t know that I’d never let go. Memories replay in slow motion. Hidden thoughts tapping on the door. Of my unconscious devotion.
-Adam Reynolds, Unconscious Devotion
To Drew and Sydney. Where it all began.
disclaimer
I would just like to clarify what you will be reading in Adam Reynolds’ story, Incite. Adam is British. I am not. I have done my best to keep the language true to his heritage, however, keep in mind that I will not be using British spellings or always use the British vernacular for certain words.
I will be using friends from the U.K., for reference now and then, but I can’t ask people to repeatedly edit my book and fix every single Briticism. Yes I know ten years ago, kids finished school at 16 not 18 unless further education was the plan, but really, who wants to read about 16 year olds having sex and making life decisions? Let’s not nitpick the small stuff.
Happy reading! Cheers!
1
Adam
The screams from the flat next door start up like clockwork at ten p.m., just like they do every night. After six months of listening to the couple argue, I know that there’s nothing I can do to shut out their voices, not a pillow over my head, not cotton wool stuffed in my ears, not even turning up the ancient radio on the filthy floor next to my crappy mattress will stop me from hearing them.
Instead, I do what I always do when the neighbors get loud. I pull out my well worn, second-hand guitar and create. As the music flows from my calloused fingers and through the strings beneath them, I swear to myself for the millionth time that I will get the fuck out of this hellhole someday.
As usual, my crackhead mum is out for the night, probably on a piss up or selling herself for drugs. If I’m lucky, I’ll see her once a week, maybe twice. My dad, well… who the hell knows where that tosser is? Whenever he graces us with his presence, all he does is beat the shite out of me and my mum. Not that she gives a crap if he does. She sits there with her drugged-up eyes and lets him pound on her or me until he’s bored.
Unable to block out the neighbors, I add words to the strumming. Softly singing as the yelling escalates next door.
“I’m not going to die in this pit of despair…”
Something or someone slams against the wall behind me. The sketches I have plastered all over it flutter outward from the shaking. I’ve learned not to cringe anymore, so the trembling wall doesn’t cause me to react, not even a blink.
“I’ll pull myself out…. Get the fuck out of here….”
One more term until I’m done with school and can leave this shitty town, this shitty flat, and this shitty life.
I play until it’s quiet on the other side of my bedroom wall and my fingers are numb, then collapse under the covers passing out instantly.
* * *
“Reynolds!”
I don’t even need to look back to know that my best mate Dax Davies is rushing to catch up to me in the hallway. A dozen or so girls leaning on lockers turn their heads to watch him walk by. Yeah, he’s popular with them, we both are.
“Dax.” I remain unaffected, pretending not to notice the sighs and giggles that are thrown our way.
His heavy hand slaps my back, making me stumble a bit before regaining my footing. “Tosser.” I sound angry but I’m unable to keep the smile off of my face. Dax is a huge guy, all muscles and intimidating scowl, but he’s been my best mate for so long I don’t even notice how terrifying he can be anymore.
“First day of our last term, right?” Dax speaks as we dodge other students who are making their way to their respective classes. We make sure to avoid eye contact with hopeful girls, saving that for after school not during. It’s too distracting if you let them get close during school hours.
“R
ight,” I nod in agreement. Dax knows how it is. He grew up here in the blighted suburbs of London’s East End right alongside me. His family is just as fucked up as mine. We know we’re not going to university, which means we’re done after this year. Off to become adults when we’re hardly out of puberty.
“We still heading to town Saturday to see if we can get that gig?”
“Fuckin’ hell! Of course we’re going!” I point at his swollen eye. “Nice shiner by the way.” It’s hard to miss Dax’s various bruises since he usually has at least a few. Then, I’m not one to talk, since I show up with plenty of my own from time to time, for totally different reasons of course.