rock star Jamie Grimes was found dead at his London home earlier today.”
drugs and his love for her.
fuelled for the most part by chocolate and coffee.
Lit NJ became a contemporary romance junkie and finally found her calling. A
twisted romantic at heart, she loves nothing more than losing herself in a good
book with lots of passion and angst. She’s always at the mercy of one book boyfriend
or another, so creating her own book boyfriends and torturing them has been a
wicked dream come true… but she may have lost her heart to her victims in the
romance NJ loves a ‘Happy Ever After’ and is eagerly pursuing her own.
follow-up to DEATH OF A ROCK STAR is due for release Summer
has played a huge part in the inspiration for Death of a Rock Star & The
Boy in the Band – my playlist is endless, but here are a few highlights…
Monkeys – Why’d You Only Call Me When
– Waking up Dead
Libertines – Time for Heroes
Libertines – Don’t Look Back into the Sun
Grammar – Night Call
The Night I Lost My Head
& Chiddy – Rescue Me
spite of the rain, there’s a crowd milling around outside Jamie’s house and a
pool of defiant candles casting their golden light into the dark. It looks like
someone has scattered stars on the pavement. This is what bereft fans do. In
the absence of their Gods, they erect shrines – on their bedroom walls, on a
dead man’s doorstep. Someone is playing his music. It rises into the night sky
like a mournful offering, an appeasement to the rock gods. Those gods are so
fucking brutal. It seems they always take the best of us far too soon.
I stand at the furthest edge of this strange spontaneous wake, watching,
wondering what the hell Jamie would make of all this, my gaze catches on a
girl. Her face is heart-stopping and looks about as haunted as I feel. She’s
gazing down at the candles, not really seeing them I suspect, or maybe
wondering like me, how the fuck they are staying alight in this slow painful
rain. She’s wearing striped pyjama bottoms tucked into huge combat boots that
aren’t even fastened and a black biker jacket with an image on the back that is
unmistakable. I’d know that jacket anywhere. It’s Jamie’s, which means – she’s her. She’s Jamie’s mystery girl.
heart is ricocheting around like crazy. With anger and I’m ashamed to admit,
with crazy lust. For a moment I regret that my cock decided to behave on the
way over here. I wish I’d fucked the nameless model senseless just like I
needed. Maybe I wouldn’t be aching now at the sight of my dead friend’s girl.
No, not his girl, his fucking downfall – I have to remember that. Seeing her
now though, for the first time, I understand. I thought Jamie was crazy for
letting a girl get to him like she did. Now I get it. She’s that kind of beautiful. The kind of
beautiful you’d die for.