Diary of a Rocker's Kid (D.O.R.K. Book 1) Read online

  Lawrenceburg, Kentucky, U.S.”

  This can’t be real. It has to be some kind of late April Fool’s joke, I think to myself, but Dad goes back to the video again, and the narrator says, “Not long after presenting his little girl to America, Daley made the decision to retire from his music career to raise her. When she was only six months old, he gave his mansion in LA to his lead guitarist, Cassidy Meriwether.” CASS was a guitarist?? “He disbanded Weep With The Willows and left the spotlight, never to be seen again. That brings us to the question: Where is he now? The answer? No one knows for sure, but many suspect he is living a quiet, concealed life in his hometown in Kentucky.” Dad stops the video again, not needing to show me anything else.

  My heart races and my head spins as I sit there in front of the laptop trying to make sense of what I just heard. “Dad… what the hell?” I know it’s a dumb response, but at the moment I can’t fabricate anything better.

  “I know this is a lot to take in,” he says, putting his arm around me. “We left LA because I wanted you to have a normal life. The life of a rocker’s kid can be rough, and I just didn’t want it to ruin my little girl.”

  I hear what he’s saying, but it isn’t really processing. I feel like I’ve had all the breath sucked out of me. My dad, a rock star. I’ve heard his music before and I didn’t even know it. He doesn’t even sing or play the guitar now, so how would I know? “Prove it,” I say suddenly, and his eyes widen in surprise.

  “What?”

  “Prove you’re M.A.D.,” I say. “Sing me one of your songs.”

  “Uh, okay,” he says, swallowing. “It would sound better with a guitar.”

  I stand up and go to my closet to fetch him my black electric guitar off its metal stand. When I hand it to him, Dad takes it from me expertly and puts the strap up and around his neck and shoulder. I hand him a pick from the top of my tall white dresser and plug in the guitar for him, and he takes a deep breath. He’s shaking a little bit, and he closes his eyes. Is Dad actually nervous right now? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him nervous. Holy hell… It’s got to be true. He dives into the intro of one of his best songs, and as I watch him, a tsunami of tears rises in my eyes.

  I can see why he was famous… His voice is as smooth as honey, but it’s powerful and it’s got a bit of a growl in it, too. His guitar skills are honestly even better… it’s not everyone who can pull off the lead guitar part while singing simultaneously, especially when it wasn’t their part to begin with. The lyrics could use a little work—clearly they were not the reason he had a legion of fans in the 90s. It’s just… him. He’s oozing with star quality, and I never even saw it. Dad plays through entire song, just to prove his point, and when he’s done, my tears begin to fall, and I whisper, breathing heavily, “You really are him.”

  He takes off the guitar and lays it down beside him, and hesitantly opens his right arm to me. I sit down again next to him and start crying for real. “I’m so sorry, sugar,” he says as he embraces me tenderly, and I shake my head against him.

  “Oh, my God… don’t be,” I sob, yet I’m smiling. “This is the most amazing thing ever.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  April 17, 2015 3:04 AM

  Intro

  Odd time of day to start a blog, I know, but I’ve been wired all night and I can’t sleep, so I figured this might help me to purge some of these crazy emotions.

  OMFG… I just found out my dad is a ROCK STAR. I’ve been watching Weep With The Willows videos all night long, and I have to say, I can’t believe I haven’t been into this band all this time. Dad and Cass are total badasses up on stage… especially Cass. For a woman to be a guitarist in a major band, especially in the 90s, she just… Let’s just say, my respect for her just shot through the effing roof.

  I felt kind of sad while I was watching these videos, and guilty… I mean, this band split up because of me. Dad cared so much about raising me right that he gave up his entire life in California. I should be flattered, but right now, I really feel like shit about myself.

  Dad played some more music after the big revelation this afternoon, and after he was done, he said something else that broke my heart. He looked down at the guitar and said:

  “Damn… I don’t want to be done with this.”

  He kind of whispered it, and I know he didn’t want me to hear him, but I did, and I realized something as I was watching his videos.

  I don’t want him to be done with this, either.

  He’s still got “it”… Tons of it. That star factor that puts him so high above the rest. I really think he would make it again if he went back to making music. If I know Dad at all, he’s not going to up and decide to go back to music and leave me… not without a lot of convincing. So, with that in mind, I have a new mission.

  I’m getting my dad back to California this summer.

  Chapter 2

  The next day after breakfast, Dad, Cass, and I take a ride around the farm together. We stop at a rusty old shed on the edge of our property, which, up to this point, I was never allowed in. When he opens the padlock with a key and pulls the door open, we all step inside, and I draw in a gasp. It’s a legit, movie-quality shrine to his glory days, complete with records and other rock star paraphernalia. There are magazine articles and posters lining every wall from each of his albums and tours. In the corner, there are three crazy-expensive guitars that he used to use on stage, still in near-perfect condition.

  “Dad… this is amazing.” I start to feel a little lightheaded, and Cass puts her arm around me to steady me. I smile, and she keeps her arm around me and smiles back.

  “This is us,” Dad says, gesturing around him. Warmth is in his eyes as he glances at Cass and fingers his old posters on the right wall, reminiscing of times past.

  My scheming mind decides that now would be a good time to see if he would consider going to LA. I let go of Cass and start pacing casually around the shed with my hands clasped behind my back and my eyes on Dad’s memorabilia. “Hey, do you have any more of this stuff in Beverly Hills?” I ask with false nonchalance.

  “Yeah, I have a ton of junk stored there… That is, unless you’ve thrown it all out by now.” He’s looking at Cass.

  Cass shakes her head quickly. “No, no, it’s all just as you left it.”

  Dad gives her a tender look. “Really?” She nods, and he comes and gives her a side hug. “I knew I could count on you.”

  “Gosh, it would be fun to see it,” I say wistfully, trying to stay on track with my agenda.

  Cass glances at me, catching on, and says, “Yeah, I sure wish you could see it, too.” Her silver-blue eyes sparkle and she gives me a mischievous grin. I love having her on my team.

  Dad rolls his eyes. “You’re gangin’ up on me, aren’t ya?” Cass and I giggle, and he says, “Mads, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but we’re not going back to LA.”

  “Why not?” I ask. “I mean, people are still making videos about you, Dad. They want you to come back. And I want to see where you got your start, and what kind of life we had before we left it all.”

  He looks to the side at all of his magazine articles, sighs, and says, “Honey, let’s put it this way. The media can be brutal. So can other celebrities.” “Other” celebrities. We’re celebrities. Still not over that. “If we go back, everyone will be talking about us, and not all of them are going to be nice.” He looks into my eyes. “I don’t want anyone to hurt you.”

  “I can handle it,” I say. “I’m not afraid of being in the tabloids.” That’s not entirely true, but… I really want to go to LA.

  “Sweetheart, I have my reasons,” Dad says. “Just trust me on this, okay?”

  Right. Okay. Trust the man who lied about his identity for sixteen years.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Later in the morning, Cass and I sit together on the porch swing out front, watching Dad tend to a stallion about fifty feet away. "Hey Cass?"

  "Yeah
?"

  "I didn't bother to look... What was your stage name?" I ask her.

  “Black Angel,” she tells me, grinning.

  “Badass!!”

  “Yeah, it’s because at the time, I had blonde hair and light skin, but I wore nothing but black all the time.”

  “That is sick,” I say, genuinely impressed and a little jealous. “By the way, how did you and Dad meet?" Now that the treasure chest of past info has been flung open, I'm digging in as much as I can.

  Cass's smile is loaded with memories. "Well, he flew out to LA with some money your Nana gave him when he turned 18, and I was looking for a roommate, so he saw my ad in the paper and gave me a call. When he saw my guitar and amps..." She shrugs. "The rest is history. We were instant friends."

  "So you were roommates first?"

  "Yeah, and occasional fu--" She stops mid-sentence with wide eyes. "Uhh..."

  "What?"

  "Fun... Seekers..."

  Then it dawns on me. "Oh. My. God. You were fuck buddies??"

  "No," she lies.

  "You were fuck buddies!!"

  If Cass didn't have a spray tan, she'd be turning a deep shade of red. "Please don't tell him I blurted that out. He would never forgive me."

  I'm laughing pretty damn hard at this point. "I won’t,” I promise. “So, you and Dad, huh? I always knew there was something between you two."

  "It happened off and on up until he left town with you," Cass says. "Just an FWB thing, nothing more."

  "I see," I say, still grinning at her. "Man, I'm learning a lot about dear old Dad this week." She's still pretty embarrassed, so I change the subject. "Hey, um... There's something else I wanted to ask you." She nods. "If Dad were ever to reunite the band, would you want to go back to music?"

  Cass gives me a smirk. "Why do you think I gave him that giant kick in the ass yesterday?" My God... She really is just as conniving as me. "I mean, of course I care about you, too, but... I'm not getting any younger, and Mike is my other half up on that stage. I want to go back, but I'm not going back without him."

  "Well, consider me an ally," I say, and Cass smiles. "Dad needs to get back on that stage before it's too late."

  "I thought you might see things my way."

  "You know, we're a lot more similar than I once thought.”

  "Soul sisters, girl," Cass says, giving me a fist bump.

  "Soul sisters."

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  In the evening, before dinner, I sit down at my laptop again and start fangirling a little over Dad and Cass’s band. Turns out there is still a host of fan clubs out there that obsess over W3 (an abbreviated version of Weep With The Willows). There’s one on Facebook that catches my eye that has over 10,000 members, and after much deliberation, I request to join. A few minutes after I’m accepted, one of the admins, a 30-something redheaded guy named Tanner O’Malley, messages me, saying:

  “Dumb question, but… any chance you’re the real Madison Daley? I took a peek on your profile and it kinda adds up.”

  I ponder my options for a moment. Dad clearly doesn’t want the truth out there. If I tell this dedicated fan that creeped on me who I am, he’s likely to tell the whole group… Unless, of course, I swear him to secrecy. But how can I be sure he won’t tell anyone? Then again… maybe that’s what I want.

  I say: Can you keep a secret? ;)

  Tanner: OMG OMG OMG OMG!!!!!!!!!! Thank you so much for joining our group!!!!!! We are so honored!!!!!!

  Somebody is honored by me joining their group. This is a new, slightly-intoxicating feeling.

  Me: Lol you’re welcome!

  Tanner: Omg… I can’t believe it! So you guys really are in KY!

  Me: Yep. Dad just told me everything.

  Tanner: Wait, so… you didn’t know? This whole time?

  Me: Nope. Not a thing.

  Tanner: WOW! I hope we’re not the last to meet you…

  Me: Actually, you’re the first.

  Tanner: ……..*faints*

  I laugh out loud. This guy seems pretty awesome.

  Tanner: Sorry for being annoying, but what are you guys doing now?

  Me: You’re not annoying. We’re living on a farm in KY with my Nana. I’m trying to get Dad to go back to CA and I’m looking for ideas.

  Tanner: Do you think he would start making music again??

  Me: It seems like he wants to, but he’s set on not returning to LA for some reason.

  Tanner pauses for a minute.

  Tanner: Hmm… You need an incentive. An offer he can’t refuse.

  Ah… I just met another schemer. Excellent.

  Me: Interesting… go on.

  Tanner: Does he have any favorite talk shows or magazines or anything?

  Me: Late at Night with Johnny McIntyre. We watch it together every night.

  Tanner: BINGO. There’s your incentive. Get Johnny to invite him in for an interview.

  Me: I don’t know how to do that…

  Tanner: Have your people call his people… Or just call his people. As soon as you say “M.A.D.” they’re going to jump on it, trust me. I live in LA and I know how this shit works (excuse my French).

  Me: Are you sure that will work? I mean, on Dad? He’s probably been on dozens of talk shows.

  Tanner: He has. But once Johnny knows where he is, there’s no turning back. Information in the media is like a virus. It spreads… QUICK.

  Me: You are a genius, my friend.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Cass loves the idea, and the next morning she is able to pull some strings and get the number for Johnny’s people. She talks to them first, telling them a little bit about our plan. They like it so much that they get us talking to Johnny himself. Cass gets him on the phone, and she’s about to hand it to me, but I’m shaking too damn hard to take it.

  “Come on, Mads,” Cass whispers, strained and irritated.

  “I… I can’t…”

  “Take the phone.”

  I let out a breath and try to channel some Zen. “Alright.” I clear my throat, and then I accept the phone with a trembling hand. “H-hi, Johnny.” OMG OMG I’M TALKING TO JOHNNY OMG…

  “Hi, Madison!” His voice is deep, pleasant, and middle-aged.

  “H-hi.”

  “Listen, I just have to say, I’m honored that you chose my show to help reveal your father’s tentative return to LA. However, I do have some questions about the specifics of your plan.”

  “Um… okay,” I say.

  “Is your father currently working on a new album?”

  “Well… not yet. But I know he wants to.”

  “Ah,” Johnny says. “I see. And if you don’t mind my asking, what’s holding him back?”

  “Um… well… me, I guess.”

  “Well,” Johnny chuckles, “I don’t understand. If you’re the one keeping him from coming to LA, why did you call me?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. He’s… he’s afraid of coming back to LA because of me. He doesn’t want me in the media.”

  “I see.”

  He’s waiting for an explanation… after all, he is part of the media. “I guess… the reason we called you is… I want him to have a positive opinion of the press, so he’ll consider coming back and pursuing his dreams again. He doesn’t want me to get hurt, but I was hoping you’d help me show him that it’s safe, and that I’m going to be okay. I mean, I know some people might still want to hurt us, but he needs to see that there are a lot more people who won’t and want him back.”

  “Wow,” Johnny says, sounding impressed. “Well, honestly, you had me at ‘I’m M.A.D.’s daughter,’ but now I’m really hooked.”

  I laugh nervously. “Thank you.”

  “Would it be possible for me to talk to your Dad now?”

  “Sure, just a sec.”

  I hurry outside, carrying Cass’s cell phone, and find Dad in the stables with the horses. “Hey, Mads! What’s up?” Dad says.

  I ran a little
too fast and my throat is dry, so my voice is a little hoarse. “The phone…” I say, panting. “For you.”

  Dad gives me a quizzical look, and I shove the phone at him. “Uh… okay,” he says, chuckling and taking the phone. “Hello?”

  I don’t hear the Johnny side of the conversation, but this is how Dad’s side goes.

  “Johnny McIntyre?? Hi! Um, yeah, I have a minute. Uh-huh. I see. They did?” He looks at me with an unreadable expression. “Um, well… Yeah, she was right about that. You are? Well, I’m flattered, but really, I can’t accept.” NOOOOOOOO, my inner voice growls. “Thank you for your time. Yes, I will. Goodbye.” He swallows and looks down at the ground. Then, he looks up at me. “Was I not clear yesterday? ‘Cause I could have sworn I said we were never going back there.”

  Dammit, Tanner… You steered me wrong. “Dad, what is the big deal?!” Now I’m getting angry. “What is so horrible about LA that I can’t even step foot within its boundaries?”

  “You’re not ready for that information yet,” Dad says.

  “What, there’s more?” Annnd… I’m yelling. “Dad, how many fucking secrets do you have??”

  “Go to your room, Madison. And stay there.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  I’m moping in my room, lying flat on my stomach on the bed with the door cracked open. Dad, Cass, and Nana are eating dinner downstairs, but I’m still banned from going down and joining them, all because I cared enough about my dad to try to get him out of this cage he’s locked both of us in.

  Hmm… “Locked in a cage.” That’s a good song lyric. In spite of my frustration, I smile a little and go for my guitar. Whenever I think of a good lyric, I try to write the song that goes with it as soon as possible. I sit down on my bed with the guitar and play around with some chords before finding the right ones. When I’ve got it down, I start to sing—

  Locked in a cage

  Frozen in chains

  Will it never be my day?

  Always the same

  Always enslaved by this pain

  Someday I’ll break away

  The rest of that is something I’ve had in my head for a while, but I didn’t know how to start it. With moderately heavy chords, I sing those phrases again, trying to perfect the melody. When I stop to fix a chord, I suddenly hear Dad clear his throat at the door and I nearly jump out of my skin. When you’re in the zone, you kind of forget that the rest of the world exists.