Title : Jag (Pandemic Sorrow, #1)
Author Stevie J Cole
Genre: Rock Romance
Release Date: September 12 2014
"My name's Jag Steele. I’m the lead singer and guitarist to the band Pandemic Sorrow and I have a drug problem – well, I mean it's not really a problem unless you count the fact that I almost made my heart explode from all the blow I shoved up my nose a few weeks back."
That was my introduction during my first stint in rehab. I'm a fuckup. If you ask anybody who I am there’s a list they will go down: Famous, rock star, legend, drug addict, womanizing man-whore… but if you asked me, I wouldn't have the first idea of what to say because I don’t know who Jag Steele is. Really, I’m living every other damn person's dream, and all I want is reality.
Roxy Slade, that girl was my reality. My brutally flawed and beautifully broken reality. And she fucking hated everything I stood for. To her I was just one of “those guys”, and she’d rather be buried alive with poisonous snakes than give someone like me a piece of toilet paper to wipe their ass with. Brutal - Life. Is. Brutal. And it is just a giant pain in the ass, which is why I chase after anything to make it numb, anything that can fill this void. I just want anything that can make me not feel.
4.5 ‘ADDICTED’ STARS!!!
Jag is a testament to the kind of awesomeness that can be made with 26 letters, some punctuation, and one very creative mind.
I have to warn you, this book is little bit addicting... okay a lot addicting… and it’s not for everyone.
“If I accept you as you are, I will make you worse; however if I treat you as though you are what you are capable of becoming, I help you become that.” – Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll... the life of a rocker. Strip away the record exec. constructed image, all the tabloid crap, and the life of a rock star isn't always what you imagined. Stevie J Cole gives us the "story" no one ever talks about. She strips it down and shows us the dirty and often ugly that takes place when the show is over and the curtain comes down.
“I had no idea how to handle fame, so, unfortunately, fame handled me.”
Jag Steele. He’s not tame. He's not a guy you bring home to meet mom. He's far from a being gentleman. He's crass and rude. He always, and I mean always, gets what he wants. Fuck is his favorite word and thing to do. Alcohol and drugs are his mainstay. And, he just happens to be the larger than life front man of one of the biggest and hottest rock bands around, Pandemic Sorrow.
“So, why are you broken?”….. “Broken?” I laughed. “Nah, princess. I’m a shattered fucking mess”.
Jag Steele may look like he has it all: fame, money, women. But behind closed doors, he is a complete and utter mess. He’s an addict. He numbs the pain and hides his scars with alcohol and drugs. Jag may have just gotten out of rehab, but he's on a collision course with death. It's not a question of if, but when he will roll up on death’s doorstep. Sitting in the driver’s seat may give the illusion of being in control, but Jag is anything but. Jag has two settings: off and self-destruct. There is seriously no half way with this guy. He’s reckless and plays Russian Roulette with his life without a second thought. He’s the epitome of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll. Despite the swarms of people around him Jag is lost, miserable, and completely alone. His only friend is loneliness, and she’s one complete bitch….
“Everybody’s broken, chipped, and damaged, and we just have to find the one person that can accept our flaws and love them, the one that can take the ugliest part of us and paint something beautiful with it. When you find the person who can create hope and breathe life into you – that’s the person you can’t let get away.”
…that is until a certain feisty little bartender who has no interest in what Jag has to offer gives him a run for his money. Roxy Slade. Roxy pushes and challenges Jag. She treats him like the womanizing asshole drug addict that everyone else is afraid to. He's not a big time rock star to her, he's just a big time ass, and she treats him as such. It takes an equally broken and scarred girl to make the broken and scarred guy realize he can't keep hiding behind the drugs and alcohol. But you have to WANT to be clean in order to get clean. Roxy can only make Jag acknowledge his situation. Jag is the only one with the power to change it, but can he? Better yet, will he? At some point the ride is going to end, and it's up to Jag to decide if he gets off or stays strapped in until the bitter (and disastrous) end.
“We’re both chasing something that’ll kill us in the end, Jag. You’re chasing after an unending high. And I’m – well, I guess as much as I fucking hate to admit it, I’m chasing after you.”
I swear Stevie J Cole was a coke addicted bad-ass rocker in a previous life because the realness and authenticity she brought alive in Jag is incredible. It's easy to water down the rock star life to make it more palatable, and I am so glad Stevie didn't do that here. When I would hope for something good to happen even thought I knew that isn’t what would happen in real life, Stevie gave me real life. Finding an authentic and hard core rock star book isn't easy so I love that Stevie kept it real.
The entire story is seen through Jag's eyes, and the insight we get from him is absolutely raw and unfiltered. He gives us hard hitting and candid look behind the rock star persona. I am honestly surprised at how well this story is executed and written. This was simply phenomenal and mind-blowing. To write a story with this much rawness, emotion, and feeling is no small feat. Stevie’s writing is wonderful, and her style really brings the story to life. It's descriptive and lyrical.
There are very few rock star books of this caliber. As far as rock star books go, this is definitely one for my favorites shelf. If you are looking for a "sweet" and tame rock star book, THIS AIN'T IT. If you are looking for a hard core sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll story, it’s time for you to meet Jag Steele.
“Well,” she said, “you’re clean now. That’s amazing. You’ve been clean for – how long now?”
Just talking about those drugs had made my mouth water. Every fiber inside my body was twitching, thinking about how good it would feel to just get something in my system. My heart was banging against my chest with anger, with the need for something that would cut the pain of being sober right out of my life.
Forcing a smile so it would appear I really was proud, I said, “Six months.” I knew I was lying, I knew it had only been two weeks ago that I had gone through an eight ball of coke, and I had just drank myself into a stupor the night before, but other than those two times, I really had been sober – I think.
Brittney beamed, relieved that part of the interview was over with. “That’s awesome, Jag. You are such an inspiration. Addiction is a hard battle to win, and to see you doing it is wonderful. I’m sure many of your fans find strength hearing you say that.”
I hated hearing that. I despised that somehow, for some unknown fucking reason, people still looked up to me. No matter what mess I got into, people still wanted to be me. Liars like me shouldn’t be role models, but that’s what happens when you’re a celebrity – regardless of how worthy you are, you become an idol.
I was too weak for fame, but she didn’t care. She broke me, and I tried to let drugs mend me. While it numbed the pain and may have held the pieces together in a nice little package, I was deteriorating on the inside, and it was only a matter of time before it would all crumble to a pile of shit. In the beginning I’d thought fame was as close to being a mortal god as you could get, and in some ways I was right. The thing I had no idea about was my ability to handle this fucking double-edged sword. I like to think of fame as a metamorphosis. You get all wrapped up in it, almost like a cocoon, and the way I emerged from it was like that moth from Silence of the Lambs, with the stamp of death and destruction all over me. I had no idea how to handle fame, so, unfortunately, fame handled me.