Read Online FANtasy: A Hot Interracial BWWM Western Rockstar Erotic Story (Her Rocker Book 2) by Ja'lah Jones - Free Book Online
Authors: Ja'lah Jones
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Corbin
“I understand all of that,” Corbin said, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice, “What I don’t understand is why you want me to wear this ridiculous wig and make-up.”
The little man standing in front of him looked highly put upon, and Corbin couldn’t really blame him. Being Public Outcry’s publicity guy couldn’t be that great of a job, no matter what it paid. Especially since certain members of the band insisted on getting caught drinking and driving on a somewhat consistent basis.
And if Corbin hadn’t gotten to the scene of the latest accident and pretended it had been him driving when the foreign sports car had hit the light pole instead of the highly intoxicated drummer, Jay, then they would have had to cancel the upcoming summer tour, due to Jay having his misbegotten ass stuck inside of some rehab or jail cell.
So instead Corbin had taken a taxi to the scene of the crash and pretended like he’d been driving during the accident. Sadly, he had been drinking at home before he’d gotten the call or he could have played it off as just an accident, a moment where he’d lost control of the car after glancing down at his phone, but he had no such luck. Even though he’d been drinking lightly he was still over the legal limit that would have allowed him to drive, even if he wasn’t as pants-shittingly drunk as Jay.
“I mean, I don’t see why I can’t just go in and do my time without the costume.”
“Because, Corbin,” the little man sighed, “If you’re spotted working at the food bank and you make one mistake the paparazzi is going to get it on film and it’s going to be all over every single entertainment show on cable and the internet, not to mention all of the gossip mags. And while you may not care about that, it’s kind of my fucking job to care, and I don’t need you making my job any harder than your asshole bandmates already do.”
Corbin nodded, he had to admit that they didn’t make it easy for the older balding man. “Alright, whatever, but this wig looks like a mullet. Can’t I at least get something that isn’t going to make me look like Miley Cyrus’s dad?”
“No, you’ll fit right in this backwards ass town, and it matches your flannel shirt nicely.”
Corbin looked down at the faded flannel and sighed, all it took was a mullet to turn a nice flannel shirt from fashionable into something worn by a racist dickbag in a jacked up Ford. After this was over he was going to have to reevaluate his wardrobe choices, he shouldn’t be able to rock a mullet so seamlessly.
Julia
Julia took a sip of her peppermint tea as she flipped the page on her clip board. It was going to be a very busy day. She had three new ‘volunteers’ starting, on top of a huge shipment of rice that would have to be portioned out, and she was, as always, short staffed.
You would think having a steady flow of kids who’d gotten caught with pot being forced to help out would ease the burden of being perpetually understaffed but it didn’t. If anything it made it even worse because she spent half of her time training people to do shit they didn’t care about and the other half correcting their mistakes, which they also didn’t care about.
But for whatever reason the law had decided that her food bank was appropriate punishment for petty criminals.
It galled Julia that these people thought of it like that. The college girl who had been caught shoplifting one too many times, the small time suburban drug dealer who had tried to sell a dime bag to the wrong person, and the asshole who thought it was ok to drive after consuming their bodyweight in tequila.
That’s who she had coming into work this morning. To be punished.
It was anything but punishment to Julia, it was the closing of a circle, the fulfillment of being able to give back to a community that had supported her when she and her mother hadn’t been able
“I understand all of that,” Corbin said, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice, “What I don’t understand is why you want me to wear this ridiculous wig and make-up.”
The little man standing in front of him looked highly put upon, and Corbin couldn’t really blame him. Being Public Outcry’s publicity guy couldn’t be that great of a job, no matter what it paid. Especially since certain members of the band insisted on getting caught drinking and driving on a somewhat consistent basis.
And if Corbin hadn’t gotten to the scene of the latest accident and pretended it had been him driving when the foreign sports car had hit the light pole instead of the highly intoxicated drummer, Jay, then they would have had to cancel the upcoming summer tour, due to Jay having his misbegotten ass stuck inside of some rehab or jail cell.
So instead Corbin had taken a taxi to the scene of the crash and pretended like he’d been driving during the accident. Sadly, he had been drinking at home before he’d gotten the call or he could have played it off as just an accident, a moment where he’d lost control of the car after glancing down at his phone, but he had no such luck. Even though he’d been drinking lightly he was still over the legal limit that would have allowed him to drive, even if he wasn’t as pants-shittingly drunk as Jay.
“I mean, I don’t see why I can’t just go in and do my time without the costume.”
“Because, Corbin,” the little man sighed, “If you’re spotted working at the food bank and you make one mistake the paparazzi is going to get it on film and it’s going to be all over every single entertainment show on cable and the internet, not to mention all of the gossip mags. And while you may not care about that, it’s kind of my fucking job to care, and I don’t need you making my job any harder than your asshole bandmates already do.”
Corbin nodded, he had to admit that they didn’t make it easy for the older balding man. “Alright, whatever, but this wig looks like a mullet. Can’t I at least get something that isn’t going to make me look like Miley Cyrus’s dad?”
“No, you’ll fit right in this backwards ass town, and it matches your flannel shirt nicely.”
Corbin looked down at the faded flannel and sighed, all it took was a mullet to turn a nice flannel shirt from fashionable into something worn by a racist dickbag in a jacked up Ford. After this was over he was going to have to reevaluate his wardrobe choices, he shouldn’t be able to rock a mullet so seamlessly.
Julia
Julia took a sip of her peppermint tea as she flipped the page on her clip board. It was going to be a very busy day. She had three new ‘volunteers’ starting, on top of a huge shipment of rice that would have to be portioned out, and she was, as always, short staffed.
You would think having a steady flow of kids who’d gotten caught with pot being forced to help out would ease the burden of being perpetually understaffed but it didn’t. If anything it made it even worse because she spent half of her time training people to do shit they didn’t care about and the other half correcting their mistakes, which they also didn’t care about.
But for whatever reason the law had decided that her food bank was appropriate punishment for petty criminals.
It galled Julia that these people thought of it like that. The college girl who had been caught shoplifting one too many times, the small time suburban drug dealer who had tried to sell a dime bag to the wrong person, and the asshole who thought it was ok to drive after consuming their bodyweight in tequila.
That’s who she had coming into work this morning. To be punished.
It was anything but punishment to Julia, it was the closing of a circle, the fulfillment of being able to give back to a community that had supported her when she and her mother hadn’t been able
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