Rock Star (Dream Weaver #2) Read Free

throbbed. What a bizarre dream. I’d never had a dream like that before; like I was this guy from the 1700’s or something.  His passion for the girl still thrummed in my chest, the bitterness of fear still singed my throat with bile. With shambling steps, I dragged my dream-sore body to the bathroom to prepare for our flight to Seattle.  My muscles protested as though all my labors from the dream manifested in my wakeful world. I raked polished black fingernails through my hair and tossed on a satin newsboy cap with tiny white skulls all over it. After scrubbing my teeth, I tossed everything in my carry-on and headed for the guy’s room.
                  “Effing bangover, dude,” I whined to the room in general. All of them had experienced the repercussions of over-exuberant head banging during a concert. My complaint was met by knowing nods and shrugs of ‘whatever.’ Jack bolstered my mood by comparing me to something nasty in the toilet, so I snarled and flipped him off. I didn’t even have the energy for a smartass retort. Not today. Not after the nightmare from last night.
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 3 Stand Up (Let me see your hands up)
     
                  Mid-day found us winging away toward the Emerald City for a quick gig before the short hop over the mountains to home. Seattle was tolerable, if it wasn’t raining, which it was most of the time. I was grateful to have a driver, as the city always left me feeling upside down, with all its ‘slight rights’, this-highway-North and that-highway-South, and this street North not to be confused with the same street Northwest. I nodded off as we flew toward the Cascade Mountains.
     
                  The wind blew the world sideways. Overhead, trees swayed precariously, branches heaved and popped. Leaves skittered like small animals across the path. My horse, a young stallion procured from an injured farmer as payment for services rendered, snorted and tossed his head; his body vibrated beneath me. His steps were tentative, his muscles rigid. Something small and grey scuttled across the path. The tight-wound steed stopped, danced nervously from foot to foot, and blew jets of breath from his nostrils into the cold night air like an Arthurian dragon. 
                  “Just a leaf,” I told him, and patted his neck in reassurance.
                  I found shelter for the night in an overhang of rock, and loosely tethered the stallion to a tree. Sleep came hard. I was agitated and restless. Every flash of lightning lit the woods daytime bright. Agitation crawled over me like a nest of ants, and my muscles spasmed with restlessness.
                  I must have finally dozed off because I was suddenly awakened by the blinding light of morning and the snap of a nearby branch. Probably just the horse, I told myself. But the telltale sound of the hammer of a gun being cocked, destroyed all hope. Then, a familiar face stepped from behind the trees and he aimed a shotgun at my chest. I raised my hands in surrender.
                  “William. I can explain. Please. I didn’t kill her,” I pleaded with the man with a weary scowl and dark circles under his eyes.
     
                  My ears popped and my nose stopped up, as we descended toward SeaTac. The pain extracted me from the dream, but all of the dread remained. I thrashed in my seat.
                  “Whoa! Whoa! Get a grip chica!” Kylen grabbed my arms to calm me.
                  “He’s gonna kill me!” I rasped.
                  “Who? The guy from the show? No sweat, Sweets. He’s long gone.”
                  “No…” Realization of where and who I was flooded my mind. “Oh, it was just a dream.”
                  Kylen released me. “Yeah. Some helladream.”
                  “Yeah. Some helladream,” I