Hard Rock Roots Box Set (101 page)

He ends that note on a laugh and spins his mic around his hand, catching it with a self-assured head nod at the crowd. “What. A. Fucking. Night.”

Ronnie kicks his kit into gear and Josh climbs onboard. It's different, playing with them. Makes me miss my own band. Other than Hayden, of course. Not that she doesn't have a beautiful voice, but to reach your full potential, to make music that transcends existence, you have to trust the people you're playing with, and I don't trust her as far as I can throw her.

“
This, this is truth. This is pain. This is us. Can't break what ain't fixed, can't mend what's not torn.
” Turner screams this next part, bending low at the knee, hovering over the crowd, pumping his hand for emphasis. “
CAN'T BLEED FOREVER. CAN'T WEATHER ANY STORM!
” His scream drops into a low growl, a snarl torn from his throat by force, ripped out by the angry hand of rock.

He stands up and bounces on his toes while I smash back and forth, breaking the stage into bits underneath my borrowed gray boots. I didn't pick them out, but I decide then that I like them. They look good when the light hits the silver buckles, reflects off of them and makes star patterns on the back of Turner's black suit jacket. I spin in a circle, jumping around with the rest of the band, like we're all on fucking crack or something.

Turner jumps back a few steps and presses his mouth to his mic, eating it out, making it come as he continues into the next verse. “
Gotta find a way, gotta know a way, gotta go away. Baby, I'm torn 'cause this pretty girl won't break. And in this bed, there isn't room to say, but fucking Christ, I love you anyway.
”

“
This, this is truth. This is pain. This is us. This. Is. US!
” I scream the lyrics into the microphone, wrapping my voice around Ronnie's, Jesse's, Josh's. And then I move away, detaching myself from them, spinning in another circle and ending up center stage with the spotlight eating away at my soul. I forget about the cameras, the crowd, the threat of danger looming low. My head moves with the rhythm of the music, and my fingers dance like the devil, moving so quick I can't even make out what they're doing. I don't even know what
I'm
doing anymore. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and let it all take over.

“
And oh, what a night, what a fucking night, oh.
” Turner trills, making my insides flutter and sending the crowd into such a massive clusterfuck that their cries break through my trance and open me back up just in time to see that my shades are slipping off my face. Like he did in the bathroom that first day we had sex, Turner tosses my sunglasses away, stripping me bare, leaving me open. “
And oh, can't forget that blessed day. CAN'T FORGET EVER. CAN'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IN THERE. My pretty girl won't break, and she won't let me bend. That pretty girl knows the truth, the pain. She knows it's US.
” Turner shouts this last part, taking off his own sunglasses and dropping his jacket to the floor.

Chapter 12
Turner Campbell

My skin prickles, sound driving into my pores and ripping me open, splitting my soul in half and leaving me bare and panting before Naomi Knox. The world spins like one of the cameras turning on a track above my head. I drop to my knees because when I look at her, I find myself humbled and awed. Yeah. And I'm not ashamed of that. Not one little fucking bit. I've spent years searching for respect only to find that the one person I really needed it from was her. A lover. An equal. My soul crawls around the stage, searching blindly for her, for my other half, while the song dies down and my hand slides along my soaking wet belly, teasing my tattoos, dipping just the slightest bit under the waistband of my pants.

Naomi punches her guitar one last time and turns away, putting her hands on her forehead. When she turns back around to look at me, she's smiling. I watch as she backs up a few steps and scoots her microphone forward.

We face each other from opposite sides of the stage while the silence between songs is filled with crying and wailing, moans and whimpers, blood bubbling from the lips of the damned. But I don't worry about them. They belong to us, and they know it. They always have. I grin. I want Naomi onstage with me permanently. We're going to have to figure out a way to integrate, take on an unprecedented place in the music world. Next fucking album we record, she's on it. No ifs, ands, or buts about that.

“Do you have an idea for a song, Naomi Knox?” I ask, out of breath, panting, teasing my hot body with my hand. If it wouldn't get us kicked off the air, I'd pull my damn pants down right now and fuck the shit out of myself with my hand. And I wouldn't apologize for it either. Instead, I put on my best grin and hope Stephen what's-his-name is watching this, realizing that he can never beat us, no matter how hard he tries. Travis was a better man than him, and he knew that. Was so desperate to fight the truth that he'd rather kill him. Well, what now, Stephen? You can't steal Travis's words from my throat, can't stop him from speaking from beyond the grave. “Because I do,” I say, licking some sweat off my lips and rising to my feet. “How about
Lost not Found
?” Naomi shrugs like she doesn't give a shit, but I can see her chest rising and falling, my eyes tracing the shimmer of moisture on the broken heart tattoo on her chest, the
Real Ugly
tattoo on her belly. I wish I could see her
Turner Dakota Campbell
tat, but then, maybe that's something that should be saved for private time. I smirk, and give Josh a look. Travis wrote this song way back when, and I know the bass parts are tough. Josh has practiced them with us, but can he master them? Not like Travis could, I bet, but it'll have to do. I think now's the most appropriate time to play this – the
only
time.

“
I was out, but I didn't want to be in. I was gone, but I didn't want to come back. I was lost, but I couldn't be found,
” I whisper into the mic, my breath so heavy it breaks the speakers into pieces. I imagine that the whole universe is looking at me then, watching me make my way over to Naomi.

“
I was down, but I didn't want to be up. I was asleep, but I didn't want to wake. I was dead, but I didn't want to live.
” Her voice is like glass, strong but capable of being shattered, of cutting the audience to bits and destroying the whole word, just like that. Hayden's a good singer, a great performer, but she isn't Naomi Knox. Nobody is Naomi Knox.
Friday, onstage in Los Angeles at our biggest show ever, when our fans flock to see us, climbing through the doors with the tickets from shows we've missed, I'll propose again. In front of all those people. With our souls blended like this, there's no way she'll say no. No way.

“
And I will survive,
” we sing together, her strumming her guitar, me listening for Josh. When he breaks in with the bass, I close my eyes and pretend Travis is there, that none of this had ever happened. But I still wouldn't change it for the world, even if I had the power because there's a chance that Naomi and I wouldn't have ended up together, and for me, that's all that really matters anymore.

“
I will triumph because that's what I do. I'll make it out of here, it's true. You'll see me running, but you won't know why. If anything I have to say makes you understand that I, I have to go this way then it's all been worth it. Even if you don't deserve shit. Even if on the baddest day, you bleed tears of black. I'm lost but not found, and I won't go back.
” I sing this part of the song alone, turning around and letting my eyes fall on the rest of the band. I manage to make eye contact with every single one of them before I come full circle, marching to the edge of the stage and bending down, making sweet love to the crowd with my voice. In my songs, I like to scream and cuss and grab my fucking junk, but that's not what Travis was about. And I respect that.

“
I was down,
” Naomi belts after I move away. “
But that's where I always wanted to be.
”

“
Don't pick me up because I'm happy here.
” I rise back up, standing tall and raising my hand in the air, exciting the crowd, igniting them. Lighters come up, cell phones, all swaying with the deep bass, the oozing sound of confident conflict that Travis worked with everyday of his life. Even in his last days, spending time with a girl he loved, but having to lie about it. It's tragic, but it suits the person he was. It really, really does. “
Don't pick me up because I'm exactly where I belong.
”

I move back a few steps until I find Naomi, eyes hooded, swaying in time with the crowd, her Wolfgang howling its pain to the moon above, somewhere out there over the auditorium roof, smiling down on us. Always smiling down. I look her straight in the face, no shades, no bullshit, and then I lean forward and press a kiss to her cheek.

Yeah.

Fuck yeah.

Turner Campbell just gave some cheek sugar.

Naomi's eyes are wide now, like I just tea-bagged her or something. I bet she'd actually have been less surprised if I'd done that. When I turn back to the crowd, I make sure to give them a nice, long, slow lick down my microphone. Can't have them thinking I've gone soft. On the contrary, I've actually gotten harder. Stronger. More confident. Naomi makes me want to walk tall and carry a big ass motherfucking stick.

I keep the mic gripped tight in my sweaty fingers, kissing my way up the handle until my breath clogs the speakers and fills the auditorium.

“
Don't pick me up because I'm lost, not found, in the space between, and there's nowhere else I need to be.
”

We finish the set on a flurry of applause and chanting, my heart beating out of my chest, my face flushed, my body shaking like I'm coming down from a badass motherfucking trip. Instead of doing what I usually do – throwing the mic, storming off the stage, flipping the crowd off – I just stand there. I stand there with the mic by my side, and a smile on my face. My shirtless figure beams back at me from the monitors on either side of the stage, the ones I was too distracted to notice earlier.

Behind me, I can feel Naomi's heart pounding, teasing the air between us with heat that draws me back a few steps and drops my hand to hers. She's supposed to play another set, a whole other fucking set, with Amatory Riot right now. But I don't want to let her go. I don't
ever
want to let her go.

I squeeze my lover's hand and stare out at the audience. There are positives and minuses of having a crowd this big. On the plus side, ain't nobody getting up on this stage, no matter how hard they push and fight and scream. On the negative, I can't see their faces like I want to, can't make out smiles and frowns and tears and bruises and mosh pits. They've become a single entity, a faceless whole, and no matter how hard I stare, I can't break them up.

But they're cheering.

And cheering.

And cheering.

And the sound is vibrating the earth and moving the sky. It's loud, so loud I think that maybe Travis can hear it up there in Heaven. Or down in Hell. Either way, you know.

When I think we've waited long enough, when I feel like their excitement is at its peak, I reach over and help Naomi slip off her guitar, pulling her along with me as we exit the stage. I'm smiling so big I feel like my fucking face is going to split in half. My friends follow along behind us.

Milo's standing there, shaking, and in his eyes are tears.

“Whoa, dude, we weren't that fucking good,” I say, but he just shakes his head, pressing his tongue to his teeth as he takes in a big breath and tries to get control of himself.

“Trey?” Ronnie asks suddenly, startling me. He moves forward, past Lola with her guest pass hanging around her neck, and grabs onto our manager's shoulders, eyes sparking with fear. “Has something happened to Trey?” Milo nods, and my heart plummets.

“Trey's waking up,” he says, and Ronnie and I both exchange a look.

“He's waking up?” I ask, and my voice is so quiet, the words are nearly impossible to hear. “How? When? Right now?”

“Yes, yes, right now,” Milo says, glancing over his shoulder at America and the entourage of bodyguards and staff members. We're not even close to being done here. But I'm not waiting around to finish up. If Trey's awake, I have to go. I can always come back, but I have to go now. “And I know what you're going to say and do, so I've already prepared for it. We have a one day reprieve, Turner. I've already spoken with the producers and the editors.”

I can't hold back a fist pump as I turn to face Naomi, red faced and panting, orange eyes locked onto me like they're stuck there.

“Just one day,” Milo emphasizes from behind me. I ignore him and focus on my Rock Goddess.

“Go,” she whispers, her voice slightly hoarse. “I have to stay, but you go.” I start to protest, but she leans forward, sweaty hands rubbing over the muscles in my shoulders, trailing down my arms, touching me, feeling me up in the worst way possible. I push against her, finding my lips with hers, eating her up and tasting sweat and fatigue and tired vocal cords. Best fucking taste there is. My cock stirs to life, seeking her out, grinding painfully against the stupid ass boxer briefs the stylist made me wear underneath my slacks. “I have to be here tonight or Hayden wins. I can't leave, but I also can't let you wait to see your friend. Go. I'll be here when you come back.” I pull away from her, and she smiles. “Remember, I've got Brayden Ryker. I'm impenetrable now.”