Sinners On Tour 02 Rock Hard (23 page)

If Eric had been within range, Sed would have decked him.

“Just stay here and finish your session with the guys,” Jessica said. “I’ll go by myself.”

“I said I’d drive you.”

“I can drive, you know.”

“I want to be there. In the unlikely event that you need me.”

She hesitated, then turned on her heel and stalked out to the car. She even let him drive and didn’t pull away when he reached over to take her hand and pressed her knuckles to his lips.

Jessica sank into the leather-upholstered chair across from the dean. She was glad she’d changed into a neat skirt and sweater set when she’d stopped by her mother’s house to pick up her term paper. She needed the self-confidence boost.

Dr. Taylor set his elbows on his desk and folded his hands in front of his chin, assessing her with piercing blue eyes beneath arched gray eyebrows. She imagined he’d been a very attractive man in his youth. Still was in that distinguished older gentleman way.

“How can I help you, Ms. Chase?”

“I received this letter in the mail while I was… out of town. It says the council of deans decided to revoke my scholarship for the upcoming semester.”

“That’s right. Dr. Ellington made it clear that you’re undeserving of such a prodigious award.”

Jessica figured it had been something like that. Why did Dr. Ellington have it out for her? “The rest of my grades are exemplary,” Jessica said. “I’d like the chance to prove myself.”

“What kind of a chance?”

“I’ll retake her class.”

“Dr. Ellington doesn’t want you in her class.”

So she wasn’t just imagining things. “Why not?”

“Maybe she doesn’t think you’re living up to your potential.”

“So she fails me on a final paper worth fifty percent of my grade? That doesn’t make sense.” She pulled the graded paper out of her folio. The huge red F emblazoned on the coversheet made her wince. “Read it. Tell me if you think it deserves a failing grade.”

“I don’t question the grading methods of my professors. If she thought you deserved a failing grade, then you did.”

“Can I take the course independent study? Or is there another instructor who teaches it?”

“No and no,” Dr. Taylor said.

She was beginning to think coming here was a waste of time. Maybe she could appeal to his sense of justice. He was a law professor first, a dean second. “Other students in my position are given a semester to bring up their grades before their scholarships are revoked. Why doesn’t that provision apply in my case?”

“Other students attend their probation hearings.”

“I didn’t know about it. I would have attended if I’d known.”

His gaze moved from her eyes to her neck and settled on her chest. He cocked his head at her. “Did you enjoy your time working in Las Vegas?” His gaze shifted back to her face.

Her eyes widened. “How did you know…” She reminded herself that she hadn’t been doing anything wrong. “I was there for a summer job.”

“An internship at a law firm, I’m assuming.”

She lowered her gaze, her cheeks hot. “Well, no. I needed to make money and internships don’t pay. But I’m not working in Vegas anymore. I’m doing research for a psychology professor.”

“What kind of research?”

Her cheeks flamed hotter. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. “Uh… well, she’s studying promiscuity in band groupies.” Why did her voice sound so squeaky? “Sir.”

“Interesting. Are you a test subject? That guy you did at the top of the Eiffel Tower is in a band, isn’t he? Are you one of his groupies?”

Bile rose to the back of Jessica’s throat. Dean Taylor knew about the video? Now would be a great time for a black hole to open up beside her and suck her into oblivion.

“How much do you want this scholarship?”

She looked up. A second chance? “I’d do anything.”

“Anything? Would you, say…” He shrugged nonchalantly. “…suck me off?”

She must have heard him wrong. “What?”

“I can overturn this decision with one signature. I just require the proper motivation.”

She could not believe this. Jaw set, teeth clenched, she growled, “I’m sure you’re aware that there are laws against sexual harassment.”

He sat up straighter in his chair and chuckled uncomfortably. “That was just a hypothetical question, Ms. Chase. I needed to know how serious you are about continuing your studies.”

“Not that serious.” She climbed to her feet and stuffed her failed term paper back into her folio.

“Leave that paper on my desk and I’ll get back to you with my decision.”

She paused. Should she swallow her pride and hand over the paper? Screw that. He’d think he’d won. “I’d rather inform the other deans what you just said to me. And the campus president. And your wife.”

“I’ve just given you your one chance, Jessica. Don’t be stubborn.” He smirked. “They’ve all seen your video. Don’t refuse your one opportunity to change everything. We can pretend your brilliant paper changed my mind.”

His hand disappeared beneath his desk and she heard his fly unzip.

“A twenty thousand dollar scholarship for five minutes, Ms. Chase.”

The skin on her back tried to crawl off her body. “I’m going to report you for this.”

He chuckled. “It’s your word against mine. Who do you think they’ll believe? A prestigious law professor with a spotless record or a stripper sex-kitten from the wrong side of town?”

“Fuck off.”

He shrugged nonchalantly again. “If you’d rather fuck than suck, I wouldn’t object.”

Her folio flew out of her hand of its own accord. Okay, so maybe she hurled it at him. Unfortunately, he ducked and it hit the back of his chair instead of his smug face. She spun on her heel, flung open his office door and stalked through the outer office, glaring at the startled secretary as she left.

Jessica found Sed outside at the curb, leaning against the front fender of his Mercedes on the passenger side. Some petite Asian chick with pink highlights in her hair stood before him, giggling like an idiot. When Sed noticed Jessica marching in his direction, he smiled brightly. It faltered when he caught her expression.

“I assume that didn’t go well.”

She climbed into the passenger side of the car, shooting eye-daggers at his giddy young companion, while he walked around the car and slid behind the wheel.

“You okay?”

“Drive,” she bellowed, fighting angry tears.

“Jess?”

“Just drive, okay? Drive!”

He started the car and pulled into traffic. “Where am I driving?”

“I don’t care. Just not here.” She hit the dashboard with both fists. “That ass. That unbelievable ass. How dare he? How
dare
he?”

Sed squeezed her knee. “What happened?”

She couldn’t tell him. She just couldn’t. “Nothing.”

“Something happened. Do you have any chance of getting your scholarship back?”

“Not anymore.” Her head started swimming. She knew she was hyperventilating, but she couldn’t calm down.

“Why not?”

“Because I refused to suck the dean’s cock, that’s why not!” She drew in a deep breath, hoping to retrieve the words she’d unthinkingly spewed.

Sed slammed on the brakes. The seat belt dug into Jessica’s shoulder and then she banged her head on the headrest. Angry horns blared as cars swerved around them.

“
What?
”

Sed did a U-turn into oncoming traffic. More horns blared.

“Are you trying to kill us?” Jessica screamed, gripping the door handle with both hands, her eyes squeezed shut.

“I do have murder on my mind at the moment. Yes.”

“Sed, don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

He pulled to a halt in front of the building Jessica had recently vacated, illegally parked in the middle of the street with two tires on the center median, and opened his door. Jessica grabbed his arm before he could climb from the car.

“Don’t make it worse. I took care of it, okay? He won’t bother me again. I told him to fuck off.”
Oh my God, I told the dean to fuck off. I’m so screwed.

“I just want to make sure your rejection sinks in. I think my fist will do the trick.” He cracked his knuckles, the muscles in his forearms straining against his skin.

“Sed, you can’t.”

“Why not? The prick has it coming to him.”

“Maybe he does—”

“Thank you.”

“—but I don’t want you to fight my battles. When you brought me here and let me go in by myself, I thought you finally understood. But you don’t understand at all.”

“What I really don’t understand is why men think they can talk to you like that.”

“He knew I was stripping in Vegas,” she said. “And he saw our video, Sed. Oh God. They’ve all seen it.” She couldn’t catch her breath.

“That shouldn’t matter.” He slammed his door and shifted into first gear. The tires squealed as the car shot forward.

“Why are you driving like a maniac?”

“Because I’m pissed and you won’t let me hit anyone.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she murmured. “You always overreact.”

“Do you really think I’m overreacting?” Sed slammed both palms into the steering wheel. “Some sonuvabitch tells my girlfriend to suck his dick and I’m overreacting!”

“Except I’m not your girlfriend.”

He growled, his eyes narrow, jaw taut. “Of course you aren’t. How could I forget?”

Sed waited for the first commercial to interrupt the ball game before he took the beer out of Trey’s hand and set it on the side table. Trey took his eyes off the TV to gape at Sed.

“How long has it been since you picked up your guitar?” Sed asked.

Trey shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Can’t play it anyway.”

“You’re never going to play again if you don’t try. Do you expect to wake up one morning and be back to one hundred percent with no effort?”

“Lay off, Sed. I thought you invited me over for a beer and to watch a ball game, not to bitch at me.”

“Someone has to bitch at you. Lots of people rely on us for a paycheck. How are we going to pay them if we keep canceling shows? And how long do you think our fans will back us if we keep turning them away?”

“Our fans are awesome, Sed. Loyal ’til the end.” He grabbed his beer and chugged it in several swallows.

“If we keep canceling tour dates, the end is going to come a lot sooner than you think. No concerts. No new album. Do you want this to end? We worked our fucking asses off to get this far. You gonna let it go without a fight?”

“I am fighting.”

“I don’t see you fighting. I see you pussing out.”

Jessica wandered out of the bathroom, drying her hair with her towel. Her one towel. “Are we going out tonight? Or can I lounge around in shorts?”

“I vote for that outfit,” Trey said.

Jessica peeked out from under her towel. “Shit,” she muttered and wrapped the towel around her naked body.

“No worries. I’ve seen it before. Me and a couple million other people.”

Jessica shook her head at him. “Screw you, Trey.”

“If you insist.”

“Did I forget to mention that I invited Trey over?” Sed scratched his head as he looked up at Jessica from his recliner.

“Yeah, you forgot to mention that.” She headed for the bedroom. “I’m going to go slip into something more… more.”

Unable to take his eyes off her slim thighs, Sed watched her until she disappeared in his bedroom and then turned his attention back to Trey. What had they been talking about? Oh yeah. “You know I wouldn’t push you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

“Bullshit.”

Okay, he would. Someone had to. “Have you even been going to physical therapy?”

Trey scowled. “I go.”

“Let me guess how that goes. You flirt with your therapist for an hour and then you go home.”

He looked at the ceiling and grinned. “Maybe.”

“It’s obvious that you don’t care about the band anymore. What do you think I should do about that?”

Trey’s recently acquired tan lightened a shade. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

“Are you considering replacing me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you thought it.” Trey pressed the leg rest of the recliner down and stood.

“How long are we supposed to wait for you, Trey? You tell me.”

Trey headed for the stairs. Sed launched himself from his chair and took off after him.

“Don’t run away,” Sed demanded. “I need to know if you’re done. By the amount of effort you’re putting into your recovery, I’d say you don’t think the band is worth it.”

Trey turned and shoved Sed with all his strength. Sed stumbled backward and hit his lower back against the pool table. He pulled himself upright, giving Trey a wide berth.

“You know I don’t think that!” Trey yelled. “The band means everything to me. Everything.”

“Prove it.”

Trey shook his head slightly, turned and took the stairs two at a time. He stormed out of the condo and slammed the front door behind him. Sed took a deep breath and rubbed his face with both hands.

Jessica appeared at his elbow. “Did I hear yelling? Where did Trey go?”

“He had to go practice his guitar or something.”

“You didn’t bully him, did you?” Jessica’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Me?” He tried on his best innocent expression. “Of course not.”

Backstage a week later, Sed clamped a hand over Trey’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Kind of late to change my mind now, isn’t it?” Trey adjusted his guitar strap into a more comfortable position on his shoulder and then stared at the pick in his left hand. He hadn’t been able to grip it for more than a few days, but he’d called their manager, Jerry, to reschedule tour dates despite everyone’s insistence that he needed more time to recover.

Now they had this sold out show to contend with. A packed venue of fifteen thousand. So Trey was correct, it was too late to change his mind.

“I feel a little rusty,” Brian said. “I hope I remember the set. It’s been almost three weeks since we set foot on a stage and we didn’t have time to rehearse this afternoon.”

“Like falling off a bike,” Sed assured him.

“Embarrassing and painful?”

“Exactly.”

Doing the sound check onstage, Jake strummed Brian’s guitar and played an intricate riff to ensure the instrument was tuned and responding to the amplifier. He earned a few cheers from the waiting crowd. Roadies loved to play rock star.

Sed looked over his shoulder to where Jessica promised she’d stand and watch the performance. She smiled at him and waved. He waved back. The groupies who’d gotten backstage passes from the roadies glared at her.

Sed glanced at Trey, who was limbering up his fingers. He still didn’t have full mobility, but he could play chords. Brian watched him, wincing when Trey attempted part of one of their dueling solos and missed every note. “If you can’t keep up tonight, just let me carry all the solos.”

“I’m not a fucking invalid.” Trey scowled.

“No one said that,” Brian said. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

Trey glanced at Sed, who dropped his gaze to the floor. Yeah, that was mostly Sed’s fault and he knew it, but fans only remained loyal for so long, and while most everyone understood why they’d cancelled tour dates and refunded tickets, it didn’t make them happy.

“I’ll be fine,” Trey said.

Jake signaled them into position. Sed stuck his earpiece in his right ear and a sound-muffling earplug in his left. He’d be able to hear the band and instructions from the sound crew from the earpiece. Now he heard mostly, “Check. Check. Check.” He gave Dave a thumbs up to let him know he could hear him just fine.

Brian and Jace settled their instruments into place and moved to the side of the stage. A slightly green Trey followed them. Eric stood just behind the drum kit, ready to take his stool as soon as the lights went out. Someone thrust a microphone into Sed’s hand. The adrenaline rush hit him like the most powerful stimulant on the planet.

He lived for this shit. The music. The crowd’s adulation. Their energy. He owned it and it owned him.

The stadium lights went down and the crowd cheered. Another rush, more powerful than the first, kicked Sed’s heart rate up another notch.

The three guitarists trotted across the stage in the dark. The beat of the bass drum thrummed through Sed’s chest. A low blue light illuminated the floor, lighting the stage enough for Brian and Trey to find the foot pedals that switched out their various amps, and for Sed to find the set instructions taped to the floor. The musical intro to the first song was rather long, giving Sed time to hum and warm up his vocal cords for that first scream. Like Brian, he felt a little rusty. His voice a little coarse.

Trey did fine shredding chords in the intro and the crowd cheered. Though good, Trey’s playing was more reserved than usual. Thready.

With too little rhythm guitar to balance it, Jace’s bass riff sounded more pronounced. But when Brian entered with his signature finger-burning note progressions, fans wouldn’t notice Trey’s playing lacked his usual skill.

At the end of Brian’s intro, Sed raced across the stage, his low growl increasing in volume until it broke into a loud battle cry. The crowd screamed when the lights suddenly went bright and they recognized he’d entered the stage. God, he loved these people. All fifteen thousand of them.

Sed sang with his usual enthusiasm, stalking from one end of the stage to the other, raising his hands to encourage the crowd to participate. All the while, the music playing in his ear sounded off. Not terrible, just sort of weak. He glanced at Trey, who’d already broken into a sweat. Not normal for him. He usually rocked on his heels and strummed each chord with gusto. Tonight he had a hard time keeping up.

Shit.
Shouldn’t have pushed him so hard. Sed knew he was responsible for this entire fiasco. He’d made Trey feel guilty and uncertain of his place in the band. Sed had just been trying to encourage him, not force him into taking a step he wasn’t ready to take. But they had a show to finish. He hoped Trey could hang in there for nine more songs. No one expected him to be as good as he usually was. Just there. Singing his occasional back up vocal. Strumming chords the best he could.

Brian finished his solo, and the segment where Trey usually accompanied him sounded entirely hollow. Sed glanced across the stage to see Trey staring at his hands as if they were on fire. Brian noticed as well. He quickly made his way from stage left to stage right and talked to Trey out of hearing range of the microphone. Trey shook his head. Brian said something else and Trey nodded. Trey pulled a guitar pick off the tape on his microphone stand and picked up on the series of chords that made up the majority of the rhythm guitar section. He managed to play it consistently until the end.

“How are we doing tonight, Salt Lake City?” Sed called into his microphone. He held the mic toward the crowd and put his hand to his ear.

The crowd responded with loud cheers.

“Are you ready to get crazy?”

More cheers. He glanced at Trey, who liked to talk to the crowd. He and Brian were in deep conversation near the drum kit. Trey looked upset. Brian, ever Trey’s rock, just kept talking him down.

“As you’ve probably heard, we’ve had to cancel ten shows over the past few weeks, but Sinners is back to rock Salt Lake. How do you all feel about that?”

More cheers.

“Hey, Trey, why don’t you come say something to the fans? I think they’ve been worried about you.”

Trey gave him a scathing look and stepped up to the microphone. “Hey.”

The roar from the crowd was deafening.

“He’s still not back to his usual bad-ass self, but he said he couldn’t stand to miss another show. Is that what you said, Trey?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

Brian wrapped an arm around Trey’s shoulders and spoke into the microphone. “He’s feeling kind of slow these days. I think they sucked half his brain out through this hole in his head.” Brian pointed to the ugly scar that ran a semi-circle around the side of his head. At least the staples were gone now.

Trey didn’t respond to the barb. Yeah, something wasn’t right. Best leave him alone. They might as well continue and get this over with.

“You know what I think?” Sed said into the mic. “I think it’s time to climb the gates of hell.”

Brian raced to his side of the stage to stomp a foot pedal that changed his amplifier settings. Eric tapped on a cymbal behind them. The intro to “Gates of Hell” was insane, and while Brian performed with his usual spectacular flare, Trey missed an entire progression and his guitar fell silent. There was a horrifically loud bang followed by screeching feedback in Sed’s ear. Sed winced, covering his earpiece with one hand. He turned to see Trey stalk offstage. Trey’s favorite guitar lay in pieces in the middle of the stage, its neck snapped near the yellow and black body.

Brian stopped playing and ran after him. Sed turned his attention back to the crowd. “We’ll be right back, folks. Don’t go anywhere.” He handed his mic to Jace as he headed after the two guitarists. “Entertain the crowd until I get back.”

Jace did a very good impression of a fish out of water, but Sed didn’t have time to worry about Jace’s ability to speak to the crowd. Trey had just trashed a $6,000 guitar and stormed offstage. Things were not boding well for their comeback show.

Brian had Trey by the shoulders backstage.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Brian said. “We’ll just call off the show—”

“We’re not calling off the show,” Sed said.

Trey turned his attention to Sed. “You heard me out there. I can’t play.”

“You were doing fine.”

“Were you listening at all? I sound like shit.”

“Brian can take up some of your slack. Just do the best you can. And get back onstage.” When Trey didn’t move, Sed added, “Now.” Pointing toward the audience.

“I’m not going back,” he said. “I can’t even hold on to my fucking pick.”

“You said you were ready for this, so get back out there and play some music. I really don’t care how much you suck.”

“Sed,” Brian protested.

“What? Are you going to baby him some more? He needs to man up and do his best. If you keep letting him get away with this crap, he’s never going to get better.”

“Hello, I’m standing right here,” Trey said. “I can hear everything you’re saying.”

Sed looked at Trey. “Am I right?”

Trey dropped his gaze. “I just need more time to get stronger.”

“We all tried to tell you that, but you wouldn’t listen. You made your choice and now you’re going to stick to it, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming back onstage.”

“Trey you don’t have to do this,” Brian said. “Honestly, the fans will understand if we send them home.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong, Sinclair,” Sed said. “I’m going back out there now. Even if it means singing a cappella into a megaphone.”

Sed turned and stalked back toward the stage. He found Jace standing center stage, his face the color of cranberries, telling knock-knock jokes. Surprisingly, the crowd seemed to be enjoying his extreme discomfort. Especially the young women, who were practically swooning over his uncharacteristic interaction.

“Knock knock,” Jace whispered into the mic.

“Who’s there?” the crowd yelled.

Jace noticed Sed crossing the stage. “Oh thank God, Sed’s back.” Jace passed Sed the microphone and made a beeline toward the drum kit to hide.

“Oh thank God, Sed’s back who?” the crowd yelled.

“Oh thank God, Sed’s back to kick this show into high gear. Are you people ready to rock?”

The crowd yelled.

“Sorry about that unscheduled break, folks. Trey thinks he sucks too much to play for you wonderful people. If you agree, stay quiet, but if you think he should get his severely injured self out here and do the best he can, you should let him know it.”

Eric started a repetitive beat on the bass drum and the crowd rose up to the challenge. “Mills, Mills, Mills,” they chanted.

Within a minute, Brian came back onstage, followed by Trey, who looked incredibly sheepish. Trey stepped up to his microphone stand. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve such great fans, but I’ll try to get through this, if you pretend you can’t hear all those triplets I can’t finger.”

“You can finger me, Trey!” some chick screamed in the audience.

Trey laughed. “I probably wouldn’t be very good at that either, honey, but I’d be more than happy to give it a go.”

Sed grinned. There’s Trey. He was wondering where he’d wandered off to.

Trey continued, “Also, I sorta demolished my favorite guitar, so even if I could play, nothing would sound right.”

“You have a spare,” Brian said into his microphone.

“Hardly broke in.”

Jake dashed across the stage and handed Trey his red and white Schecter. The roadie then picked up the pieces of the destroyed yellow and black.

Sed heard Dave in his earpiece, “‘Gates of Hell’ from the top, guys. Trey, just improvise. Play a fuckin’ open E chord the entire song if you need to. Something. Brian, double up on your outro and try to fill in on the solo. Can you handle that?”

Trey and Brian gave Dave a thumbs-up. Eric tapped his cymbal to start the song again. Sed took a deep breath and growled into his microphone.

The next four songs sounded pretty much as bad as the first, but they made it through. The crowd seemed to delight in Trey’s struggle rather than be critical of it. Sed even caught Trey smiling once.

When it was time for their break, they left Brian onstage by himself to play some new solos for the crowd, while the rest of the band headed backstage. Eric, red in the face and drenched in sweat from head to foot, upended several bottles of water over his head. A roadie handed him a fresh shirt and he changed into it.

Sed grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from the side of his face. He waved at Jessica standing just in view next to the stage while he chomped down several pieces of red licorice to lubricate his vocal cords. His throat was really bothering him tonight. Must be from not using it for several weeks. Singing wasn’t a problem, but his usual screams hurt.

Jessica grinned and waved back. Some red-headed chick next to her said something and Jessica gave her a look that would freeze the Caribbean Sea. Jessica blew Sed a kiss which incited the woman to flip Jessica off behind her back. The woman spun on her heel and stomped away. Myrna whispered something to Jessica and she laughed.

Sed smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure why he worried about Jessica so much. She could obviously take care of herself. His dad had always insisted a man’s job was to protect the women he loved—whether mother, sister, wife, or treasured lover. Dad had lived that rule and enforced it by example, so it wasn’t something Sed could easily shake. It was ingrained and he didn’t want to abandon it, necessarily. But he wanted Jessica and to keep her, he realized he had to let her take care of her own problems. Occasionally.

Jace and Trey had gone off to a corner and were talking to each other in quiet tones. Sed approached them, hoping to offer Trey encouragement. Or piss him off again. Whatever worked.

“It doesn’t sound the same without a pick,” Trey said to Jace.

“I know, but you could play. Try it.”

Trey clamped his pick between his teeth, freeing the fingers of his left hand. He tried strumming with his index finger and thumb. “It feels weird.”