Strings (11 page)

We wrap up our last song to excited cheers,
and I stumble out of my Rock daze. Jillian and the members of
Killer Dixon watch from the side. I make a point of avoiding
Shades. Now that I’ve rejoined the realm of reality, I’m not sure I
can deal with him. Or anyone else.

“
Thank you guys for coming
out to support Cherry Buzz Float tonight. Killer Dixon is up next,
so refill those cups, take your pisses, and get ready to be rocked
by some big ol’ cocks. Good night!”

Claps and whistles take control of the
airwaves as Jinx, Kate, and I depart the limelight. I make a hasty
retreat backstage, dump off my bass, and rush past Shades, Rax,
Toombs, and Jillian toward the fire exit.

Rax says, “Where the fuck is she going?”

“
Leave it alone,” Jillian
replies.

The moment the night air
hits my face, I bawl my eyes out. I
always
do the ugly-cry thing after
landmark gigs. The music high overwhelms me. I have to let out the
emotion trapped inside, or I’ll explode. Jillian, Kate, and Jinx
know this is part of my process from time to time, and they give me
space by clearing our equipment from the stage while I work things
out.

Tonight, it’s different.
Bittersweet emotion. The audience wasn’t nearly as into the music
as I was. That saddens and scares the shit out of me. Did we suck?
Didn’t seem like we did, but we weren’t…
there
with the crowd.

The door opens behind me.

“
It’s not a good idea—” A
slam cuts off Jillian’s voice.

“
Don’t worry. I’m okay,
Jinx.” I turn around.

Not Jinx. Shades.

Wow. Didn’t see that coming.

He stands still as a statue covered in
pigeon shit, staring at me through his glasses.

My skin registers the cold like an
afterthought, and I wrap my arms around myself. I casually brush
away the last tear, hoping he’ll think I have something in my
eye.

A bullet out of a gun, he hits me. We crash
into the wall, a tangle of leather and plaid. He pins me to the
bricks with his body and kisses me the same way he kissed my pussy
the other night. Like he fucking worships me.

Uh…what the hell?

My breath rushes as his tongue sweeps mine,
its metal nub an agonizing reminder of how much my cooch misses
him. Another swipe. My panties are soaked. I twist my thighs
together.

Sweat from the stage evaporates off my
goosebumped skin in the chilly night air. His chest crushes mine;
his hard cock arches into the cradle of my hips.

I try to keep up with his mouth, but the
shock of this entire scenario knocked my motor function into reboot
mode. He dives in again with purpose. His fingers lift the skirt
and softly rub my clit through the ruined underwear as he kisses me
into the wall. I’ll soon be a fucking fossil for future generations
to ponder.

I gasp and push him away. My lungs heave for
oxygen. My brain is still fucked up from the highs and lows of the
show. I’m speechless again. Funny how he does that to me.

After a thirty-second standoff, I cross my
arms over my boobs and somehow muster enough spunk to revive my
charming attitude from certain death. “I thought we weren’t going
to do this again.”

“
You thought wrong.” Still
with the swagger, and he’s not even moving. Intimidating as
hell.

Gulp.

“
Just because you caught
me rubbing one out on the bus doesn’t give you the right
to—”

He snaps off his glasses and gets right up
in my soul with those emerald eyes. “It’s my birthday.”

My heart clogs my throat. I force myself not
to sputter. No fucking way. “You’re full of crap.”

He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket
and flashes his driver’s license. December 16. Sure as shit, he’s a
birthday boy. His hard stare bores into my head where I’m naked,
and not in the good way. I don’t like how he affects me. It’s
dangerous.

I also don’t like how hurt I am that he
didn’t notice I was crying.

Stupid guy.

Stupid
me
for being so ridiculously
obsessed about a one-night stand I told myself meant
nothing.

Refusing to shiver, despite the cold both
in- and outside, I look away. I adjust my tone dial to flippant and
cool. “All right. I’ll give you your present tonight if you want. I
did promise. Text me when you’re ready.”

“
I don’t have your
number.”

With a careless shrug, I say, “You’re a rich
boy. Put some servants on that shit.”

He doesn’t smile like I expect him to. He
stomps to the door and goes back inside.

What a fucking dickhole.

Two can play this game. I have a PhD in
dickology—giving and receiving.

I huff a deep breath. It’s cold as balls out
here, and not just because it’s December, but I’m not going back in
until he’s on stage. I don’t want to give him the pleasure of
knowing I’m listening to him sing.

I hate him more than ever. And after that
kiss, I want him so fucking badly.

Conflicted in the worst way.

I go to the bus and change into some warmer
clothes, then wander around to the venue’s entrance. Flashing my
ID, I convince the bouncer I’m with the band, and he lets me
in.

Killer Dixon is already up and running.
Shades stands to the left, Rax on the right, and Toombs sits behind
the drums in the middle. Their grungy song sizzles. Fans go
bat-shit crazy. The air charges with The Rock’s intensity. Jealousy
rages within me.

Shades is a total stranger. All traces of
the laid-back, cool-as-a-cucumber guy I knew have left the
premises. The hot piece of rock god ass on the stage is pure sex,
pure soul. He woos half-naked women at his feet, flaunting
suggestive smiles between screamed lyrics, tossing them guitar
picks, and serenading them. His voice…oh fuck. If I weren’t already
planning to bang him tonight, I’d be sitting on a guy’s shoulders
flashing my tits at him right now.

The band is super tight—every note is
perfect, every beat spot on, every smile perfectly engineered for
maximum crowd reaction—but they still sound like every other
popular hard rock band out there today. Maybe that’s the
attraction. Shit, I’m even enamored of Killer Dixon, and I despise
them.

Fans rush the stage, waving devil horns and
cell phone torches. They crawl over each other to get close. A mosh
pit opens below the stage. Drunks collide into one another, tear
clothing, unleash deafening screams.

Shit, I thought Cherry Buzz Float did okay
tonight until these assholes came on. Is it because we’re girls? Or
is our sound so retro in a world of techno bullshit garbage that
people can’t relate to us? We churn out powerful melodies with
great hooks steeped in classic, timeless rock style. What’s not to
love?

A crowd surfer gets tossed up and passed
around on a human tsunami of excitement.

Plenty, apparently. There’s no question
which group the audience prefers.

My heart takes a tumble.

Goddamn it. Killer Dixon is smoking us.

I want to go home to my miserable life, my
ramen noodles, and my shitty job at Fat Johnny’s. Nothing is worse
than thinking you’re awesome, only to be put in your place by your
worst enemy in front of a huge crowd.

The song wraps, and the fans go wild.

“
How’s it going tonight?”
Shades growls into the mic. His shoulders and stance loosen. A lacy
black bra lands at his feet, and several pairs of bare boobs bounce
in the audience. Judging by the smile plastered on his face, he’s
eating up the attention. He owns every woman in this joint. The
bastard.

Screams rip up the night. Shades seduces the
crowd with that gorgeous smile. I throw up in my mouth a
little.

“
What did you guys think
about Cherry Buzz Float?” He claps and nods like he’s patting a
good dog on the head. “Not bad, huh?” More cheers.

An indecipherable chant begins and quickly
spreads. By the time the vocal wave hits the back of the room where
I stand, Shades is shaking his head and laughing. He grabs a bottle
of beer from the closest monitor and imbibes.

“
Fuck us, fuck us, fuck
us!” the women yell. Traitorous crowd. They started that shit
when
we
were on
stage.

“
You ready for us to dive
into your pants?”

“
Yes!” the people
holler.

“
Here we go…” Shades
thrashes his bass when Toombs kicks off the next song, and he and
Rax break into a hot homoerotic dueling guitar thing.

It’s time to leave. I’ve seen enough of this
shit.

I bolt out the door and wind around to the
tour bus. I’d better grab a shower since I probably stink to high
hell, and I’m gonna have to give up the ass to my mortal enemy in a
couple hours. I could be a bitch and go skank, but I’m classier
than that.

When I get to the parked behemoth, I bang on
the door. Freddie startles in the driver’s seat, drops his porn
magazine, and lets me in.

“
How’d it go?” he says,
toeing the mag under his chair.

“
Don’t ask.” I trudge to
my bunk’s trundle, grab supplies, and hit the shower. At least the
water’s warm.

How did I devolve from squatting on top of
the fucking world, ready to piss on all who dare defy me to clawing
my way through the underground shit pile, gasping for air?

You didn’t, Letty,
The Rock says.

“
Rock, is that you?” I
pause my hair rinsing.

Yes, it is I. You’re as badass as you ever
were. When shit gets you down, remember this: You’re not Killer
Dixon, and they’re not you. You’re apples and they’re oranges. Both
are good to different people.

So, stop comparing yourself to other bands.
Stop judging yourself by someone else’s standards. Stop selling
yourself short.

Fuck the doubts and carry on. You were put
on Earth to rock. Go forth and wow the world with your badassery.
And hurry up about it.

My spirits lift. The numbness evaporates. My
perspective shifts and assures me The Rock is right.

Well, of course, it’s right. That’s how The
Rock rolls.

And tonight, I’m gonna roll all over
Shades.

Anal Probing and Bunk
Hosing

After the show, everyone returns to the bus,
high from the excitement of our debut. Rax wanted to bring chicks
to bang, but Jillian told him we had to find a place to park for
the night. I’m not wild about sleeping out in the open. Don’t
thieves target buses and RVs? It’s not like we have tons to rip
off, but we’re hauling some expensive equipment in the trailer
behind us.

Though, if we do get ripped off, Shades’s
daddy will probably bail us out. I glance at the birthday boy. He’s
back to acting like I’m invisible.

Wonder why he hasn’t mentioned it’s his
birthday to anyone? His business. I’ll leave it alone.

“
Great first show,
everyone.” Jillian high-fives the girls and nods to the men, who
are sprawled around the tables, drinking beer.

Rax clinks his bottle with Shades and
Toombs. “To many more.”

“
You got it, man.” Shades
takes a sip.

Toombs stares at Jinx.

I step in front of Jinx to
block his view. “You seriously rocked the skins, girl. Tomorrow
let’s work on a new song. I’ve got an idea you might like.” I
scavenged
most
of
the bass line I scrawled on the napkin Shades stole, but a few
pieces are still missing. One of the key grooves has been like a
word on the tip of my tongue all day. It drives me nuts that I
can’t remember it.

A grin lights up her face, and Jinx nods
anxiously. She fist-bumps me and follows me toward the bunks. Kate
looks as pissy as ever. Still with the drama. That bitch can never
be happy about anything.

Whatever.

“
Ladies,” Jillian calls to
us.

I face her.

“
Nice work tonight.” No
smile. No eye contact. No warmth. But coming from Jillian, it’s the
sweetest thing anyone’s said to me all day.

“
Thanks, Jillian. Good
night.” I climb into my bunk, clutching my cell phone, and
wait.

I fall asleep.

I wake to a
buzz-ker-clunk-buzz
flopping on my chest. The text reads:
You awake?

Holy mother loving fuck, I
am now.
Who is this?
I slow type back. God, I need an upgrade. This phone
sucks.

Birthday boy.

My pussy lips pucker.

Who were u thinking about
when u masturbated?
he says.

Why the hell does he care?

Jimmy Page.
Sort of.

Liar.
He knows me so well.

I’m gonna need my song back after I fuck u,
thief.

Tried to give it back at restaurant. U
didn’t want it.

The bastard.
I changed my mind.

U gotta win it back now.

I smother a snort with my
hand. I’ll bet I do.
Do u have condoms and
lube?

Yes.

R u horny?
I sure hope so.

R u?

It’s *your* birthday.
Whatever.
I don’t want him to think
I’m
too
gung-ho
about paying him back, even though I secretly am.

Your place or mine?

I smile.
Yours.
Let him sleep on
any ensuing wet spots.