Queen Midas In Reverse: A Rock And Roll Fantasy (The Rock And Roll Fantasy Collection) Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Introduction

  Love Stinks

  Not Fade Away

  Born Under A Bad Sign

  Girl All The Bad Boys Want

  Oliver's Army

  Born To Lose

  Work-A-Day World

  Even Better Than The Real Thing

  The Way You Look Tonight

  Instant Karma

  Play List

  To My Readers

  It's A Marshmallow World

  Scary Modsters … and Creepy Freaks

  Voices Carry

  Moonlight Serenade

  Something To Dream On

  Praise for the Forbidden Flower Series

  Love's Forbidden Flower

  Time's Forbidden Flower

  About the Author

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles, essays, and reviews.

  Copyright (C) 2015 Diane Rinella

  Cover art copyright (C) 2015 Diane Rinella

  Cover art and design by Heidi “Azurylipfe” Darras

  http://azurylipfe.daportfolio.com/

  Playlists for all of the Rock and Roll Fantasy stories are listed at the end and can be found on my YouTube Channel.

  For N. Stevenson Jennette III.

  Acknowledgements

  Every now and then a writer gets lucky enough to have someone enjoy her work and ask for more. At the repeated badgering, I mean request, of my friend, N. Stevenson Jennette III, I could not say no. He is the reason you are about to read Jacqueline's story.

  To my Modster Squad, a dedicated group of fans who make me feel like I’m a thousand times better than I am.

  By personal law I need to acknowledge The World’s Greatest Stalker, Darla Roybal. She motivates me when my inner spirit fails.

  My kindred spirit, Steve Stone. When it comes to music, he is Niles to my inner Rosalyn. Our conversations inspire much of the banter in the Scary Modsters universe.

  Last, and in no way least, my husband, Brian Preston, and our daughter, Trishalana Rinella Preston. Thank you for tolerating my ups, my downs, and my all arounds.

  Introduction

  The main characters in this stand-alone novella first appeared in the novel Scary Modsters … and Creepy Freaks, and its prequel novella, It's A Marshmallow World. Queen Midas In Reverse has been designed with those who have not read Scary Modsters in mind; however, Scary Modsters fans will find that this fills in Jacqueline’s story. The problems then occurring in Rosalyn’s life are ignored for the sake of new-reader experience.

  Love Stinks

  Friday nights always seem to be an angel that wears a devil’s tail. Even though we swear we are going to try someplace new, my friends and I always wind up at Mulligan’s. Coming here has turned into a ritual—like dragging your butt out of bed at five in the morning to go to a job where you feel underutilized.

  Seriously, of all the bars in Los Angeles, I don’t get why we hang out here. Maybe it has something to do with feeling like you are at a place where everyone knows you. I feel like I live here, and I don’t come here half as much as Rosalyn and Darla, as this also serves as the after-hours spot for their co-workers from Endeara Candies.

  Somehow though, this once cozy, neighborhood bar that has been transformed into a synthetic version of a Victorian era lounge is comforting. This makes zero sense because it often draws the type of clientele that drives us a little batty. I think we are still in love with the Mulligan’s of old—the one that reeked of used-up, nineteen-fifties charm. When the area was redeveloped, it was transformed into a beautiful, albeit a little tacky, pick-up club.

  If I'm totally honest though, my friends and I aren’t just fixtures here because we enjoy each other’s company. All of us, at one time or another, have wanted to find Mr. Right. That seems unlikely in a place like this. I mean, why hang out somewhere frequented by guys who are obviously not your type? The thing is, it has worked for my friends, so it is not unrealistic to think that it could work for me.

  A few months back Darla met her boyfriend, Chris, here. He walked in, took one look at her blue, green, and purple hair, and nearly sprinted over to the table. Within five minutes they were laughing at all the crazy things they had in common. I felt witness to two souls being reunited.

  Then there's Rosalyn—my quirky best friend whom we call Rox. The nickname was given to her by her dad as a homonym for her favorite genre of music. Back when we were knee high to tadpoles, our dads were in a band together. Wherever Rosalyn’s dad went, she followed. In turn, my dad always brought me to keep her company. Rosalyn and I have been through everything together; the loss of both of her parents, losing my grandma, my parents nearly divorcing, and most recently, the disappearing act her ex-boyfriend did when their infant son died. You name it and we've supported each other through it.

  To look at us you’d think we were opposites. That’s because while I am somewhat of a slave to modern fashion, she often wears Day-Glo. Yep! My best friend has a fetish for times before she was born. Usually she is dressed like she just walked off of Mary Quant’s runway, circa nineteen sixty-six. You know what? She looks the part, perfectly. You know what else? I'm totally jealous. As much as she struggles with her sense of self, once she puts on one of those old dresses she comes alive. Me? When I try on that stuff I look like a kid who should be given a Trick-Or-Treat bag.

  A few weeks ago, Rosalyn met her boyfriend, Niles, here. Niles seems to be her perfect match. He randomly showed up one night with a business associate. Rosalyn dared to put herself on the line and ended up meeting Mr. Right. I can't help but think that someday it's going to be my turn.

  The first round of drinks arrives at our table. Immediately we raise our glasses. “What are we drinking to tonight?” Darla asks.

  “To the fact that Jacqueline looks smoking hot!” Rosalyn adds.

  “What are you talking about, Rox?” Darla asks. “Even with barely any makeup on, with those blue eyes and silky, onyx hair, Jacqueline always smolders. It's a miracle you and I ever get any attention.”

  “Isn't that the truth!”

  Lord, with how colorful those two are! “Are you kidding? Between Darla’s peacock mane and Rox’s Day-Glo dress it's hard to miss you two.”

  Darla and Rosalyn whip their heads toward each other and snicker. They then look back to me, again in unison, but Darla is the one who speaks. “Did you ever think that we have to do this because next to you we look like the most unattractive people in the world?”

  I change the subject before the girls can seal the toast with a sip. As much as I appreciate the compliments, I’d rather move on to something else. “To the fact that my two best friends are crazy.”

  Rosalyn senses how self-conscious I am and slips me a smile. She then shifts the attention to Darla. “So what was the big commotion between you and Oliver at work today? I heard he flipped your files around.”

  Darla smacks her hand on the table. “Oh no, it was far worse than that. He took the first file in my top drawer, removed the contents, then swapped the
m with the contents of the last folder in the bottom drawer. He then proceeded to do that with each file so only the one in the middle had the proper stuff in it. Three drawers! Three whole drawers of refiling! Unbelievable!”

  I take another sip of my drink while shaking my head at the craziness of Darla's work situation. This is what happens when people are not allowed to work to their full potentials.

  Laughter from a group of guys across the room grabs my attention. They seem rather happy-go-lucky. That is, all but one of them. He's mostly looking at his beer, but occasionally he glances up and lets out a reserved chuckle. He doesn’t seem troubled but more out of place—like he has other things he'd rather think about. He also has a really nice smile.

  “That's okay,” Darla says. “I already have a plan to get back at Oliver.”

  “Of course you do,” Rosalyn adds. “I can't wait to hear this one.”

  One of the guys from the rambunctious group tells a joke. I can't make out the details, but it comes off as being condescending to women. The nice guy looks up, gives a polite smile, and sips his beer. He didn't seem to appreciate the joke much. This makes me appreciate him.

  “Well,” Darla continues. “It's not very devious, but it will be kind of fun. You know how he’s always using pens to color code stuff, like what client he talked to about which product and the day of the week he’s promised deliveries? I'm going to swap the insides around. When he picks up the red pen it will actually be purple. The blue one will be green.”

  Rosalyn laughs. Her long, brown locks shimmer as she bounces in her seat. “That will drive him absolutely crazy, especially if he doesn't realize it until he is on the phone and has to make a note. I can't wait to hear his rant over this one!”

  The guy with the nice air about him heads to the bar for a refill. There is nothing about his appearance that makes him my type. I like guys who are tall and handsome in a bit of a pretty yet rugged way. This man is short, got a couple of extra pounds around the middle, and his hair is thinning. However, I find his demeanor fascinating. I want to meet him.

  But I have a second date with Jeff tomorrow. Should I really do this?

  Seriously, Jacqueline, no wonder why you are still single at thirty-one. You have a second date tomorrow with a guy who had such a hard time making eye contact that seeing him again goes against your instincts. Under those conditions, a simple hello to someone else hardly implies you’re a bad person.

  I down the rest of my drink and turn to the girls. “I'm ready for another. Anyone else?”

  These girls know me all too well. All eyes go to the bar and see nothing that they think would interest me. When they turn back, both of them cock their heads as if asking why. It's a little weird. We can't help it though. When alcohol starts creeping its way into our systems we tend to act in sync.

  Rosalyn's eyes glance back to the bar. A slip of a smile forms on her face. “Looks like we’re good for now.”

  I take a moment to straighten my skirt before heading off. I’m always concerned I’ll accidentally be one of those girls whose skirt rides up and shows what color her underwear is, which is one of the many reasons why most of my dresses come to around my knees. I also take a moment to make sure my blouse is buttoned above the cleavage line because sometimes the top button pops open. I seem to do the exact opposite of what other girls do. I guess this is yet another reason why I am still single.

  I head to the bar and stand next to the guy who sits while waiting for his beer. Harold, the bartender, hands it to him while addressing me. “Hey, Jacqueline. What can I get you?”

  “Hey, Harold. Another of the same, please. Thanks.”

  I slip the guy next to me a smile. He looks straight into my eyes and smiles back. That doesn't happen very often. Usually a smile is followed by—

  His eyes scan downward, pausing briefly on each of the three points of my curves. Damn.

  Well, it’s not like we girls don’t check out guys, too.

  I say hello. He returns the greeting before his eyes go to his beer. Now I am even more curious. I check to make sure he is not wearing a ring before continuing. “I've never seen you here before. Are you new to the neighborhood, or are you just visiting?”

  His eyes meet mine again, and he keeps a polite smile. “I'm here with some friends.”

  “Me too. This is kind of our Friday night, hangout place.” His gaze is distant, maybe a little detached. He isn’t making this easy. Okay, one more piece of small talk. If he doesn’t warm up, I’ll leave him alone. “I work in the marketing department for a news network. What do you do?” I leave off the part about it being for Sporting News Today. I really don’t know more about sports than I need to. However, guys assume I am going to try to one up them, and sometimes that is a turn off. That and how I constantly need to do things five times better than any of my male counterparts is ridiculous.

  “Marketing? That’s clever.” His eyes scan my body again. “I should really get back to my friends.” His brushoff comes out hesitantly, leaving me feeling even more awkward.

  “Enjoy your night,” I tell him before returning my attention to Harold as he makes my drink.

  The guy turns back to me. “Look, you're a gorgeous girl and all, but I'm here to have a good time with my friends. If you're here every Friday, then maybe next week we can do some business. Just not tonight. Sorry. I'm sure I’ll regret it later.”

  Business? He thinks I'm a prostitute?

  My gaze goes to my outfit. The most skin that shows are my arms from the bicep down. The length of my skirt reveals only the top of my knees to my calves. My cleavage is still almost fully covered. This outfit doesn't make me look cheap or tarty. Either my sense of self-image is totally wrong, or this guy is just a prick. “I believe you have the wrong impression.” My voice sounds indignant.

  “Look, lady, you can stop with the sale. I'm not buying.”

  My jaw drops. I know it’s stereotypical, but it’s what happens. I try to keep from causing a scene, but restraint is a little hard. “What the hell? How dare you?”

  In a flash, Rosalyn is by my side. “Jacqueline, what’s wrong?”

  The guy takes a good look at Rosalyn who is wearing a paisley dress and go-go boots. He looks at me again and shakes his head. “This is a really weird fetish thing you all have going on.”

  “I'm fine, Rox. This man seems to think that I'm trying to sell him something—that something being me. I was just trying to make small talk with someone who looked like a nice guy. Apparently I was wrong.”

  As if I don’t want to sink into the ground enough, now Harold dashes over. “Jacqueline, are you okay?”

  No, I'm far from okay. This isn't the first time something like this has happened. Even though I hardly looked like a whore last time either, Rosalyn had to stop me from tossing out half of the contents of my closet. This time I know I don’t look like a tramp. How can this guy think that?

  Now that Harold has stood up for me, my words seem to have merit. The guy’s expression changes from unimpressed to embarrassed to the point of actually going a little red around the edges. He sets down his beer and motions for me to take a seat. There's no way I'm doing it.

  His eyes look to the ground. “I am very sorry. I'm not used to women making small talk with me, especially ones that are as pretty as you. Naturally I came to the conclusion that you were looking for something else. Call it bad self-esteem on my part. It doesn't excuse my behavior, and for that I am truly sorry.”

  “Come on, Jacqueline.” Rosalyn tugs at my arm for us to go back to our table but no. I need to know what's going on. Why isn’t this the first time? What is it about me that gave this man that horrible impression? My eyes start welling with tears, but I am determined to stay calm because getting information is far more important than letting out my aggressions. “Why did you think I was a prostitute? Was it something I said? Is it the way I'm dressed? If I'm doing something that conveys that, I want to change it. Please be honest.”

&n
bsp; The man shifts, looking awkward. Finally his eyes race up and stare straight into mine. This is the honest man that I saw sitting with his friends. “It wasn't a single thing you did,” he says. “The truth is, you're the type of gorgeous woman that walks into a room and every man takes notice. You are also the type of woman that every man feels he could never have. You came from out of nowhere and started talking to me. Let's face it, I'm no prize. As much as you weren't exactly coming on to me, I had to question why a woman as pretty as yourself would bother looking in my direction, even if just for small talk. Really, it's not you, it's me, and I mean that sincerely. I am also truly sorry.”

  What can I say to that? I can't say it's okay because it's not, but he’s truly upset with himself. Lack of self-esteem makes people do a lot of stupid things. I get that. “Thank you. Apology accepted.” I head back to my table without giving the guy another look. I am going to sit with my friends and pretend this little event never happened. Well, at least I'm going to pretend it for now, because I'm sure it will haunt me later.

  When Rox and I get back to the table, Darla is off keeping the guy’s friends at bay. She comes back fuming. “I can't believe those guys! Are you okay?”

  Lord, what now? “I’m fine. What are they saying?”

  “Nothing that a brainless idiot wouldn’t blurt.” Darla grabs her purse. “We’re out of here.”

  I take my seat. “Nope. I’m not going to let a little stupidity ruin my night. I look how I look, and I look like me.”

  Harold comes to check on us. “You ladies okay?”

  “Yeah, we're fine,” I tell him.

  “Stay put, okay? Another round of drinks is coming for you, courtesy of the idiot. The one after that is on me. If you pass on that extra round tonight, the credit carries over to next Friday.”

  I start to refuse the drinks, but why should I? Because I feel bad about how that guy hates himself for his ridiculous mistake? Because he has self-esteem issues that make him think he is not worthy of having a conversation with a pretty girl? Let him pay.