My Rock #5 (The Rock Star Romance Series - Book #5) (7 page)

Tristan whistled and hooted and egged him on. It was
hilarious to watch both him and Tristan. I’d never seen him that animated over
anything other than sex or his own performances. That jacket swing thing, by
the way, was the man’s only resemblance to John. When he finished and I was
clapping for him, I realized that there was suddenly a lot more noise in the
bar than I thought there should be. I looked behind us and there were at least
a dozen more people now than when we came in. The last group was comprised of
about five or six biker-looking guys. One of them winked at me.

I turned back around and told Tristan, “I really
can’t do this…there are too many people….”

“You’ll be fine,” he said. Then, he stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s my turn,” he told me. I watched as he went up
on the stage and picked up the mic. He smiled at me and then the music came on.
He started singing Johnny Cash’s
Folsom
Prison Blues
.

He opened his mouth and I couldn’t believe my ears.
The fact that he wasn’t looking at the monitor told me he knew all the words.
What was even more impressive was that somehow he had made his voice sound just
like the Man in Black.

The whole bar was silent as they listened to him. I
couldn’t take my eyes off him myself. I felt someone step up next to me. I
didn’t pay much attention to them until I saw the chair next to me move and
then I saw one of the bikers drop down in the seat. I looked at him and then
back up at Tristan. Tristan was still singing, but his eyes were on the guy
sitting next to me. He had a strange look on his face, I couldn’t tell if he
knew the guy, or if he was just pissed that the guy was sitting in his seat.

The biker leaned in close to me. He smelled like
alcohol and cigarettes. “Hi there pretty girl,” he said.

I didn’t know what to do. I definitely didn’t want
to encourage him. I didn’t want to piss him off either though. He was a big son
of a bitch.

“Hi, that’s actually my friend’s chair,” I told him.

“Well, your friend shouldn’t leave his pretty
belongings lying around.”

I folded my arms tightly. “I’m no one’s belonging.
I’d appreciate it if you just left me alone.”

“Let me buy you a drink,
darlin
’.”

“I don’t want a drink,” I told him. “I’d like you to
go back over there with your friends and let me sit here and wait for mine.”

He reached his arm around me and I heard Tristan
stop singing. I looked up and saw him coming down off the stage. The look on
his face told me clearly that now he was pissed.

I stood up when he reached the table and quickly
said, “It’s okay, Tristan.” The biker guy’s friend’s saw there was something
going on and started over. The music stopped.

“That’s my fucking seat,” Tristan told the big guy.
The guy stood up. He was almost a foot taller than Tristan and a whole lot
bulkier.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” the guy started to
pick up the chair and Tristan still stood his ground.

“Tristan, please. Let’s just go.”

“Tristan? Bounty Hunter, hang on there a sec,” one
of his buddies said.

“Are you Tristan Rogers?”

Tristan looked at the other guy. He was older with a
fuzzy grey beard and a black bandana tied around his head. “Yeah, who the fuck
wants to know?”

The man busted up laughing. His friends were all
looking at him strangely, but he must have been the leader or the boss or
whatever you call him; they still weren’t making a move.

“Name’s Bill,” the old man said, “And I been
watching you on that show, what do you call it?”

“
Fresh Voices
!”
One of the other guys shouted it out; he recognized him too.

“I’ll be damned,” another one said.

“You’re the fucking bomb man!” a young skinny one
added.

Suddenly they were our five new best friends. They
tried to buy us a round of drinks; when Tristan said we were drinking club soda,
they got a big kick out of that. I did my karaoke, and I didn’t know if it was
good or if Tristan’s new friends just didn’t want to hurt my feelings. They
voted for me and I won two free bowling passes.
Whoo
Hoo
!

It was a fun night though. It gave me a glimpse of
the Tristan that didn’t have to be on for the show; the one who wasn’t horny and
the one who wasn’t high. This guy was fun…I liked him.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

TRISTAN

Every nerve ending in my body felt raw and on edge
as I got ready for the results show. When Elly and I got back from the beach
the night before, she helped me pick out what shirt I was going to wear. I
slipped it on and wondered if we made the wrong choice. I didn’t want to look
like everyone else and the shirt was just kind of…blah. I took it off and put
another one on. That one looked like shit. It looked like an old man shirt. I
took it off and put the one Elly and I picked out back on. I rolled up the
sleeves and left it unbuttoned at the collar. It looked a little better.

Once I’d been I the bathroom for over an hour, I
heard a tap on the door.

“Tristan?” It was Elly.

“Yep.”

“I have to pee.” She killed me sometimes.

“Okay, thanks for sharing.”

“Tristan!” I smiled; I could hear the agitation in
her voice. I don’t know why it amused me so much, but it did. It was like
wrestling with a puppy over his squeaky toy.

I opened the door and said, “Are you about to pee
your pants?”

“No, you’ve just been in here for a long time and my
bladder is full.”

She tried to step around me and I moved over. She
stepped to the other side and I moved again.

“Excuse me!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want in here?”

“Yes, damn it! I need to pee!”

“Oh wow, then I guess I probably shouldn’t do
this….” I grabbed her by the waist and tickled her. She squealed and screamed
and cussed at me until I finally let her go. “You still have to pee?”

She was trying to look mad as she pushed past me and
stood in front of the toilet but I could see traces of a smile. She kept
standing there looking at me. I knew she was waiting for me to leave, but I
wasn’t finished messing with her.

“What?” I asked her with a grin.

“Get out!” Messing with her made me feel better. For
those few minutes, I’d forgotten how stressed out I was about the show. As soon
as I walked out of the bathroom and closed the door, the nerves attacked me
again. It was times like this that I regretted my sobriety. Smoking a fat blunt
right then would have taken the edge off.

“Okay, I’m finished,” she said as she came out. “You
look really nice.”

“Thanks that was fast. Did you wash your hands?”

“Shut the fuck up!” she said. She was picking up my
potty mouth.

Grinning at her I said, “I’m done in there. I’m
going to take off.”

“You can wait and ride in the car with me so you
don’t have to go out on that death machine.”

I laughed, “I’ll be fine,” I told her. “I need some
fresh air.”

“Okay, good luck,” she told me with a smile.

“Oh shit!”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing, I just forgot something.” I found my
duffel bag and rifled through it until I found the cross I wear on a chain
around my neck. I’m not a religious guy so a lot of people find it strange. I
don’t give a shit what they think. When I was a kid and I was about to go out
on stage for the very first time, my nerves felt raw like they were right then.
I told my producer that I couldn’t do it…I felt sick. While I was talking to
him, a lady that was backstage came up to me and held out the cross.

“I’d be honored if you would wear my cross onstage
today. It will bring you good luck.”

I took it; touching it made me feel better for some
reason. When I came off stage I tried to give it back to her. She told me it had
my energy in it now so I would need to keep it. After that, every time I had to
go onstage, I wore it. I convinced myself that my success was wrapped up in a
stupid necklace. It had accidentally become my trademark back when the boy band
was together, and even all those years later, I felt like I needed it before I
could go out on stage. I knew it was all in my head, but whatever worked. I slipped
it on over my head and waited. So far, it was doing nothing at all for my
nerves.

“Your cross!” Elly said. “When I was a kid, I used
to think of you every time I saw one.”

I laughed and said, “Imagine a guy like me being
associated with anything holy.” She laughed too. “It looks good with this shirt
don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it does,” she said. I could tell that she
knew it meant more than that, but she either respected my privacy enough not to
ask, or she knew I’d snap her head off. Either way, I appreciated it.

“Okay, see you later,” I told her.

“Good luck,” she told me again. On my way out the
door, I saw the little pink seashell that Elly found on the beach the night
before. I looked over my shoulder to make sure she wasn’t behind me and then I
slipped it into my pocket. A little extra luck couldn’t hurt.

Two hours later, I walked out on stage as my name
was called and took my seat. It was the final show, so they were dragging it
out for two whole hours. I knew our drama queen MC would take it all the way to
the end. I wondered if I could get away with punching him in the mouth if I didn’t
win.

I looked over at Ethan. He looked as nervous as I
felt. I briefly wondered what he had at stake here, but then I realized that I
honestly didn’t give a shit. He was nineteen years old. He’d have a lot of
other opportunities. I was getting towards the older end of the spectrum; I
needed it. We had to sing our song again, the one we’d sang the night before.
Ethan went first and I found myself wishing the voting was happening right then.
His voice was cracking and quivering all over the place.

When he finished and took his seat, I got behind the
mic. I looked out at the audience and saw Elly, with that encouraging, “You got
this” smile on her face. Knowing she was here made me feel a little better. I
reached inside my shirt and touched the cross. It didn’t help at all; I guess
its magic was gone.

I finally just told myself, “Fuck it, the voting’s
over anyways,” and I cued the band. I rocked out to
Dream On
like no one was watching. I was feeling great and smiling
when I went back to take my seat; that lasted about ten seconds and then the
doubts started to force their way back in. I was twenty-eight years old and I
didn’t have shit. Not even an apartment. Why should I believe that this would
be any different?

They had two guest stars on who sang, but I swear I
didn’t hear any of it. I knew I needed to get out of my head and just see what
happened. Stressing and obsessing wasn’t going to help. All it was doing was
making me feel like I wanted to puke. I wanted to vomit right there on stage in
front of millions of people…maybe on Ethan. Fuck…hurry up! If I was going to
lose, I wanted them to just get it the fuck over with.

Finally, after what seemed like days instead of a
couple of hours, the little shit MC called us to center stage. The large screen
behind us was playing clips from both of our performances. There were a couple
when I was so high I could barely remember them. I realized while I listened to
it that although I’d thought I was the shit, I’d really sounded like shit.
There was another point in sobriety’s favor.

“Tristan…..” The MC said my name, they lowered the
lights, the dramatic music was playing and I was holding my fucking breath to
the point I could have passed the fuck out.

“Tristan…” he said again. That was it; if he said it
one more time I was going to punch him the fuck out. My heart was pounding so
hard that it hurt.

“Congratulations! You’re this season’s Fresh Voice!”

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that Ethan was
literally hugging me before I processed what he said.

“Congratulations, man,” Ethan said.

It finally hit me…I won. I had a fucking million
dollars and a recording contract. I’ll be damned. I actually hugged Ethan back.
I wasn’t in the habit of hugging guys, but he’d been through the same shit as
me and he deserved it.

“Thanks, man.” There was confetti falling all over
the theater and balloons. It looked like a parade. Everyone was on their feet,
but suddenly it was like the rest of them disappeared and all I saw was Elly.

I think the MC was still talking to me when I ran
off the stage. It was all a blur, but all of a sudden, I had to kiss her. She
looked shocked when I grabbed her and pulled her nearly up off her feet. I
crushed my lips down on her sweet ones and, in front of eight million people, I
kiss my girl.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

ELLY

Tristan won! Everything from the moment I met him in
that bar had been worth it.
I was so
happy for him. I was on my feet clapping and I could see exactly when it dawned
on him that he had won. It was a beautiful sight. Then all of a sudden he ran
off the stage. I realized he was coming towards me. He picked me up off my feet
and kissed me; it was like the people and the cameras and all of the noise fell
away. Tristan and I were alone together in a vacuum, sharing a passionate kiss
that was only for us.