My groupie: Recall Book One(18+)

Jenna

You can’t make up the shitshow that is my life. I’m Jenna McCain. Yes, rockstar Mac McCain’s daughter. You wouldn’t know it by the look of me, though my long blonde hair and light green eyes remind people more of a sorority girl than a rockstar’s daughter.

My parents had me when they were in high school. Dad stuck around for a while, but when he got his big break, he didn’t hesitate to split. Mom does her best, but most teenage mothers struggle in life.

It’s not all bad. I’m starting my last year of college in the fall, and this summer is the last summer I can let loose. My dad always pops in at the right times, and this is one of them.

“Jenna.” The door of my dad’s black Escalade swings open, and he hugs me tightly. His leather and chains are cold against my warm skin.

“Hey dad.” My voice muffled in his chest. I breathe in his calming scent. I miss him so much it hurts sometimes.

“So I hear you’re off from school for the summer?” He pulls back, keeping his strong hands on my upper arms and bending at the waist to be eye-level with me.

“Yea, last one before I start working for the man.” We laugh together. I love my dad’s laugh. I don’t know how to explain it, really, but it’s the most dad-like thing about him.

He is a big guy—maybe six feet—but has a trim build. He has a few tattoos covering his arms, one of which is my baby feet. His beard is always just a bit longer than a five o’clock shadow, and he has his long dark hair pulled back in a man bun on his head.

I’m in school for business, although I’m not really sure what I will do with that degree. It’s just something to do. I never really had a strong desire to be anything specific growing up. Unless you count the year I wanted to be a professional ballerina when I was eight.

Dad has always wanted me to go on tour with him, and this is the summer that I finally do. I am pretty nervous about it. I know a lot of the places he goes can be pretty hardcore, and the only thing that is hardcore about me is my secret nipple piercings.

“Mac.” Mom is leaning in the doorway with a disapproving scowl on her face. She is totally against me going on tour with my dad.

I get it. He made a choice to leave us behind. She was heartbroken, and I think she still is sometimes. I honestly believe that maybe they were meant to be. However, they met too young, it was the wrong time, and now too much of that has passed for the hurt to be mended.

“Eliza.” Dad hums back at her. It always gave me chills the way he said my mom’s name. He never fell out of love with her. He has told me that after he had a few too many drinks, they just drifted apart. She wanted the white picket fence and kids running around the yard, and his dreams were elsewhere. They couldn’t come to a compromise, so they split when I was just a toddler.

“I don’t like this idea you two came up with.” Mom’s voice carries down the few stairs leading to the front porch, where she stands, her hand on her hip, the opposite shoulder resting against the door frame.

“She is an adult, Eliza. It’s her choice.” My dad picks up my bags from the ground and puts them in the back of his vehicle.

I watch my mom’s face go from agitated to concerned in the blink of an eye.

My feet carried me up the four wooden stairs to our covered front porch.

“It will be ok, mom. I will be back in a few months.” I smile. She forces a smile before pulling me into a hug that constricts my breathing.

“If you are trying to kill me,” I say through struggling breaths, “so I can’t go with dad, you are doing an outstanding job.”

“Right,” She pulls away, tears shimmering in her hazel eyes. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

I hear my dad laughing behind me. I laugh through my nose, then try to cover my mouth to muffle the few giggles I let slip out.

Dad is pretty quiet on the drive, but I don’t mind. I put my headphones in and turned on Nirvana to keep me occupied. I feel one of my earphones rip out of my ear.

“You can’t even listen to my music when you are trying to avoid conversation.”

“I’m not avoiding conversation; you weren’t talking, so I found something to entertain myself. Besides, your new stuff sounds different.”

Dad’s music has been just a little different from normal. I didn’t follow him much, just because I preferred not to know what he was doing while he left me behind. The few times I did hear his music, it sounded different from what I remembered.

Confusion knits his eyebrows. “We got a new drummer, but that was a few years ago.” I can’t help but pick up the hurt in his voice when he adds, “You don’t listen, uh?”

I am stumped for words. It wasn’t my intention to hurt him, but I needed to put some distance between us. Even more distance than he already had, I guess.

I don’t think dad knows just how difficult it was growing up listening to how awesome he was from literally everyone I came in contact with.

It took a toll on me as a kid and even worse as a teenager. He doesn’t know the half of it.

“Dad-”

He cuts me off. “It’s cool; I get it.” His smirk does not cover the bit of hurt still evident on his face. “We’ve got a new drummer. He’s a good kid, but he has his ideas.”

Wanting so badly to change the vibe in the vehicle, I smiled and said, “Mm, kids and their ideas.”

Dad lives in LA with his longtime girlfriend, Celeste. She is nice, as far as I can remember. The last time I saw her was at my high school graduation, so it has been a while.

“Jenna, you look wonderful!” Celeste is the very definition of a supermodel. She is tall and thin, with dark hair and brown eyes. I love how confident she is in her skin, and she isn’t scared to show it off. She has short black jean shorts with a trendy gray t-shirt that hangs off her tanned shoulder.

“Hey, Celeste, it’s good to see you again.” We hug, and she pulls me back and gives me a once-over.

“You have grown up since I last saw you.” She smiles. I try not to be too hard on her, she is really sweet, but it’s been almost four years. Of course, I grew up.

“I have to get down to the studio,” Dad says, “Jenna gets some rest, and Celeste will take you out shopping later.”

“Oh yes! We need to get you some proper groupie attire.” Celeste is excited to go shopping, but I don’t need new clothes. I want to avoid standing out or being noticed. I just want to spend time with my dad before my life begins.

“I don’t need-”

“You need something other than workout gear for shows, Jenna.” Dad dumps my last bag in the living room. “Celeste will take you shopping, and it is on me. I have to go. You two have fun.” From the front door of the giant house, I watch as he bounds down the stairs away from me. He jumps in his car and speeds down the road.

Not an unusual sight for me.