Rock Hard: Bad Boy Bandmates & Babies Series by Jamie Knight (ebook reader 8 inch .TXT) 📗

“How so?” Jonna pressed.

“Well, we have different cultures.”

“Do you now, Olga? You think you have a radically different culture than Ragnar Karlssen?” she asked.

I grimaced at the pointed use of my first name. “Okay, in terms of background no, but he grew up in Norway, and we were raised here. I’m American, really.”

“And Ragnar is a Norwegian living in America. Sounds like an opportunity for both of you.”

“I never really thought about it that way.”

“What are sisters for?”

Another line she took from me. Things really had gone topsy-turvy. If only that were what was rally concerning me. I liked that Ragnar and I had a shared cultural history. I’d learned a bit on my own, but Norse-Americans were difficult to come by, particularly on the west coast.

“Then there’s the other thing,” Jonna promoted.

“Other thing?”

“Come on sis, this is me, your screw-up of a baby sister who was nearly disowned twice. I know what it is to go against expectations. Ragnar is a metalhead and looks it. You definitely don’t, except with special effort. I’m guessing you like his band?”

“Yes,” I confessed, my cheeks getting warm.

“Most people do. They have what most producers would call ‘cross-over appeal,’ like Metallica with the Black Album.”

“I thought it was the White Album.”

“That’s the Beatles. It’s a bit of an inside joke.”

“I wouldn’t have thought they would have fans in common.”

She shrugged. “Music does that. And sometimes a genre just grabs you, like metal grabbed me. And apparently, now, you.”

The denial caught in my throat. Screaming for release despite the ultimate truth of the matter. I had stepped, however shallowly, into the pool of Metal, and liked what I found there.

“True,” I finally agreed.

“But you’re worried about your reputation. What might happen if your friends and colleagues found out you’re with a dirty headbanger.”

“Ragnar is not dirty,” I protested on reflex.

“No, he isn’t, and neither am I. I’m as much of a metalhead as Ragnar, he’s just managed to make it a career. Are you embarrassed by me, or try to hide my existence?”

“No, I would never.”

“Exactly.”

Casey started to fuss a bit, moving, and twisting in my arms, patting my chest with his tiny hand.

“Oh, I think he’s hungry,” she remarked.

I passed Casey back to Jonna, who started to feed him, a blanket over her shoulder to conceal herself, just as the food she’d already order arrived.

Jonna knew exactly what to order. I loved every bit of it, each bite like a jubilee bursting in my mouth. She must have been paying attention during our rare family outings. At periodic intervals, I would look at Casey, and wonder.

Chapter Eight - Stephanie

It was inexplicable. An impulse from the unexplored depths of being, like the driving urge to climb a mountain, or jump of a low cliff into deep blue water just because they are there. But I had to try on the show clothes again. They were even more comfortable than the first time.

I tucked in the shirt, just to double-check. My ass indeed looked wonderful in the jeans, still visible under the bottom of the biker jacket. I didn’t have the makeup anymore, but it still worked.

It felt good, if not entirely natural, still one up on my office clothes, which felt neither comfortable nor natural, and were just something I wore because I was told to. I was honestly beginning to see the attraction for people like Jonna and Ragnar. Even if Varg’s look seemed a bit over the top.

Urged by curiosity, I went to my computer and, with little trouble, found the Suspicious Activity Records website. Loki’s Laugh were there of course, listed as a ‘coming soon.’

They’d started playing new songs live which I figured were from the new album. Going further down the drop menu, I found other names, some of which I recognized in passing and others I didn’t know at all. Dante Street Massacre and, of course, Autumn Corrosion rang a bell.

There were a number of others that were complete new to me. In my newfound spirit of discovery, I downloaded everything of theirs I could get, their listings joining Loki’s Laugh on my account.

And as I pressed play, I reached into my purse and drew out my other impulse of the day and ripped open the cardboard box.

It was a hunch, but certainty was better than worry. The first album playing in my wireless headphones, I headed to the bathroom.

The time it took for the result was almost as nerve wracking as the time I had to take an STD test ‘just in case’ after an incident with a faulty condom. Finally, the answer came, as clear as it was confusing. Positive. I was positively pregnant with Ragnar’s baby.

Elation and terror clashed like opposing armies, neither with the obvious upper hand, the battlefield choked with smoke and blood. The music in my ears the perfect soundtrack for the strange film unspooling in my head. Reality bit, and it was time to make a decision.

“Really?”

My phone pinged and I groaned, not in the mood to deal with anyone right now, my mind racing. Pausing the song, I switched to the message to see what it could be about, and my heart pounded when I saw his name.

Ragnar: Want to meet for lunch?

My thumb moved by itself as I tapped out my reply. Only four little letters, back lit on the screen, four letters that could change everything forever.

Me: Okay.

The waist of my skirt suddenly seemed to pinch more than usual. There were all identical, so I couldn’t blame the individual garment. It felt like I had expanded, even though it was impossible.

It hadn’t been that long since Ragnar must have knocked me up, but imagination is a powerful thing.

I