Black Falcon: Complete Series Collection (99 page)

ROCK My Body

by Michelle A. Valentine

“Rage, rage against the dying of the light” – Dylan Thomas

––––––––

T
yke I nod my head to the beat, glad that, for once, we are in our element in playing to a sold-out crowd.

I’m not exactly sure where everything started falling apart. Wait...that’s a lie. I know
exactly
when my blissful happiness began to deteriorate. It was the day Riff brought a woman on our bus for a long-term stay. A woman who fucked everything up and started Black Falcon on our downward spiral.

One day things were great—every guy in the band practically floating on cloud nine and all that shit—but somehow in the midst of our happiness and living out our life-long dream, things turned to shit. Sophie, Riff’s temporary fuck-of-the-month, single handedly drove a wedge into our foundation and rocked our ship by claiming she one-nighted Noel and was knocked up by him. For a while, I wasn’t even sure if the band would make it, but we did, ironically, with the help of two women, Lanie Vance and Aubrey Jenson. They were all right chicks at first, but eventually became thorns in my side too. Noel and Riff are so lovesick; they can’t see that their constant need to “
take a break
” for “
family time
” is destroying us.

My twin brother, Trip, used to look at the situation like I do. He wasn’t happy about the disappearing acts that both Noel and Riff insisted on pulling all the damn time. That was until my baby brother took it upon himself to seek out other interests besides the band. He not only found a dirt bike track to invest his money into, he also found a chick to invest his time into. He had to go and fall for the fucking track owner’s daughter, Holly. After that, he had a change of heart, and started empathizing with my other bandmates.

Fucking pussies.

All of them.

Black Falcon might as well be a label-made band like those Embrace the Darkness douchebags who are always trying to upstage us and ride our coattails. Like them, we don’t really give a fuck about each other anymore. Seems like this band is nothing more than a paycheck, which is sad. When we all vibe well together, magic truly happens.

Trip pounds out the last few beats of the song and the crowd explodes, instantly begging for more.

This is what I love. There isn’t any other feeling like it in the world. Nothing can ever top this rush, but because our performances are so few and far between, I’ve been forced to find other things that really get my blood pumping.

When my eyes lock with my twin’s green ones, we both have the biggest grins on our face, I know he loves this, too—the euphoric energy from the crowd.

How can he not miss this?

How can he put anything above this? How can any of them?

Our band’s front man, Noel Falcon, chuckles into the mic as he stares out into the crowd. “Damn. You fuckers are insane. We’ve got one more song left for you.” He pauses, running his hand through his dark hair, giving the twenty thousand bodies here to see us perform time to respond, their screaming getting louder and louder. “I feel the love.” He readjusts his mic stand. “Since we’re all friends here, I’m gonna tell you all a little story about a girl who shredded my heart back in high school without any hesitation. It’s called ‘Ball Busting Bitch’. If you’ve ever had your heart fucked over by a woman, sing along.”

Noel smirks and the laughter in his eyes is evident. Ever since he married Lanie Vance, it’s pretty funny to see him keep up appearances with this song—even though he’s madly in love with that ball buster.

Trip kicks up the beat, and I thump away on the strings of my bass, creating our signature dark and dirty beat while we wait on Riff to join us, who makes the lead guitar scream like a woman in heat.

I close my eyes as the rhythm of our biggest hit pulses through my body. Music is the one thing I can completely lose myself in. When I’m in the moment, feeling the beat, I’m untouchable; nothing else matters but the way each note engulfs my soul, scorching itself onto me permanently, reminding me that music is what I live for. It’s what I was born to do.

I slide my fingers down the thick strings, finding the sweet spot, and slap them hard with the thumb on the opposite hand. My head rocks back and forth as I play the hell out of the song. I can’t remember a time that we’ve ever sounded better.

Surely, they’ll want to celebrate like old times after this show—the four of us together, cracking open a few cold ones and just being
together
.

That’s what I miss the most.

The final notes in the song play out, ending our forty-five minute set, and Noel shouts, “You’ve all been a fucking beautiful crowd. Thank you!”

As soon as my eyes snap open, they land on my brother, tossing his drumsticks into the crowd while Noel and Riff exit the stage. And just like that, the song disappears, taking my euphoria along with it, and the warmth I was just feeling is completely gone from my heart, replaced by an arctic chill.

What’s their big fucking hurry?

I set my bass down on the stand and follow Trip off the stage. The remnants of the crowd’s energy still linger in my veins, and I’m ready to burn it off and party with my buddies.

I throw my arm around my twin’s neck as we make our way backstage. “Where are we partying tonight, baby brother?”

Trip shakes his head and smiles as his eyes drift off like he’s thinking of something else. “Can’t, man. Holly just flew in, and she’s waiting for me at the hotel.”

I sigh and pull my arm away. “You suck. Can’t you see her after we go out for a while? I need my wingman.”

“Wish I could, but I can’t let my girl down. Besides, it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen her.” He gives me a quick jab to the ribs. “Stop frowning, Sunshine. We’ll do something soon. Promise.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s what you always say, but it never fucking happens. Just go the fuck back to your girl and forget about me.”

Trip’s brow furrows. “What the fuck’s with the attitude? Are you pissed that I’m happy.”

My lip rises as my face contorts with disgust. “No, I’m not
pissed
that you’re happy.”

“Then what the fuck is the problem? You’ve been nothing but a drunken asshole most of the time I’m around lately, so why in the hell do you even care that I want to spend some time with my girl? It’s obvious that you’re perfectly capable of partying on your own. You don’t need me for that.”

I blow out a rush of air through my nose. Starting a fight with him wasn’t my intention. But doesn’t he see what spending all his time with his woman is doing to the band?

Do any of them see?

Jesus, it’s like we have three fucking Yoko Onos, yet no one sees the problem here except me. These women are dictating the future of this band. It’s all going to fall apart, but it’s like all of them are too fucking pussy-whipped to see it happening right before their own eyes.

Noel and Riff walk over toward us, both wearing perplexed expressions.

“What are you two dipshits fighting over now?” Riff mocks. “Can’t you assholes just kiss and make up. The tension between you two lately has been fucking ridiculous. What’s up?”

Trip shakes his head. “Nothing’s wrong. My brother is just acting like a chick here, crying about how I never spend time with him anymore.”

I scrub my hand down my face, not wanting to waste any more of my time. “Fuck it. I’m out of here.”

I can’t get into this with them. None of them will ever see things like I do, so there’s no point in even trying to reason with them.

I turn toward the exit, and I hear the guys calling my name but don’t bother to turn around. If none of them care what happens to Black Falcon then why should I?

I’m done being the goddamn babysitter of the group: keeping everyone on task and writing eighty percent of the music. It’s time I start living
my
life and forget I give a fuck, too.

T
he pounding in my skull is relentless. Holy fuck. What in the hell did I get myself into last night? The last thing I remember is being at the club that Lou, one of the roadies, dragged me to. Everything else is fuzzy as shit.

I rub my eyes as I try to remember, but a loud buzz echoes around the room and keeps me from focusing on anything but the God-awful sound.

What the fuck?

I peel my eyes open and blink hard as my gaze lands first, on a brick wall, then, a small window with bars on it. I push myself up slowly, studying the unusual window as I try to get my bearings. After my eyes slide around every inch of the room and find nothing but bars surrounding me, blocking my freedom, my heart rate kicks up a notch, and the panic sets in.

How in the hell did I wind up in
jail
?

I push myself to my feet and wobble a split second before I regain my balance. Whatever I drank last night is still obviously in my system. My feet shuffle toward the bars, and I wrap my fingers around the cold steel. I strain my neck to look down the long hall, but all I hear is the sound of other prisoners talking. I need some answers.

I press my head against the bars. “Guards? Hey? Guards!”

Heavy footsteps fall down the concrete hallway, each step coming closer to the small cell I’m stuck in.

A gray-haired guard dressed in a dark blue uniform that’s a size too small wears a scowl on his plump face as he sets his stern eyes on me. “You need something?”

My shoulders stiffen, and I’m instantly riled by his tone, especially considering I don’t have the foggiest idea why I’m here. “Yeah. What in the hell am I in here for?”

The guard sighs heavily. “DUI. We picked you up last night on I-95 swerving all over the lanes.”

My shoulders slack and I push back from the bars but still hang on and drop my head. “Fuck. Does my brother know to come and get me?”

“Doubtful. You were too toasted to make your phone call last night. You kept fighting us off you, so we tossed you in here to sleep it off. You’re welcome to that call any time. Call anyone you’d like.”

I take a deep breath. When Trip finds out about this, he’s going to flip his shit. Usually, I’m the one thinking about how things like this will affect the band, not him—hell, not any of the others. Riff is known for giving out golden tickets to chicks who hang out backstage to sleep with him. Trip never gives two shits about anything, and Noel...well, he’s no angel either. Back in the day, me getting this DUI would’ve just been something we laughed off, but now that they’re all on the straight and narrow, I imagine they’ll give me the third degree over this.

But what choice do I have? Who else can I call?

After a long moment, I push away from the bars and look the guard in the eye. “I think I’ll make that call now.”

A few hours later, I’m finally at the front desk, gathering all the personal items I had on me when I was booked.

“One wallet, a set of keys, two hundred and fifteen dollars in cash, four guitar picks, a sheet of folded up paper, and one cell phone,” the middle-aged brunette clerk says as she hands me all the items. “Sign here and here, and you’ll be on your way.”

I scribble my name in the sections she’s marked and gather my things. Before I can even turn around, I feel Trip’s eyes, judging me.

I head toward the door, Trip close on my heels. Once we’re outside, my brother clears his throat. “I called the rental car company to come pick up their car from the impound lot. Kyle is waiting around the side with the Escalade to take us to the airport.”

I raise my eyebrows. “That’s it? No big lecture?”

Trip sighs. “What do you want me to say, Tyke? Do you really need me to tell you how much you fucked up? How bad this is going to look for the band? You know better than anyone this isn’t good fucking PR, so why voice it? As long as I can remember, you’ve been the stable one. I’m sure this isn’t going to happen again. You always do what’s best for the band. It was a one-time mistake. We all make them.”

“Glad to hear you actually still care about the band.”

Trip flinches. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? When have I ever
not
cared?”

I shake my head. “Come on, brother. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. No one has cared for a while now, including you. You guys spend all of your time with your women and leave all the work to me. I’m the one writing all the songs while Noel and Riff are off being husbands and fathers and you’re out there playing house. Do you think that’s fair? You guys get to fuck around and not give a shit about the future of this band?”

He licks the corner of his mouth as he huffs. “Fuck you, Tyke. Just because we settled down and found other interests, don’t think for one goddamn minute that we don’t care about the band anymore. Nothing with the band has changed.
You’re
the one who’s changed.”

Anger boils inside me. Is he really that blind? Can he not see how so much has changed in the year since Noel and Riff got married, and he got with Holly? I love my brother. I don’t want to lose him, but I’m not going to stand here attempting to make him see my side when I know it’s a lost cause. I’d be better off beating my head against a brick wall.