Plastic Confidence (Good Bye Trilogy #1) (4 page)

FIVE

SIXTEEN YEARS LATER

2009

New York City

My dream about the
OUIJA board from last night was just another repeat memory to me now as I set up the stage for our show. I sensed something looming over my head all day, like a dusty cloud that never dissipates. It had been a while since I had the dream. Weeks? Maybe months? I wondered why I had one today. Normally, it had something to do with my mood, but I was fine. Everything was right as rain. Putting all that aside, I had to focus. Too much bullshit from the past would mess up my game tonight.

T
iny droplets of sweat appeared in my cleavage just as I took the stage. Dex, a beefy dark haired muscle man, started the beginning drum beats for our first song. It was a chaotic beat that got the whole crowd rip roaring and jumping. I smiled and threw my hands up to the crowd in an all-encompassing welcome. They flailed their arms right back in response. Johnny, the bassist and my former surfer looking blond boyfriend, gave me my signature silver and black Fender guitar and made sure that I saw him wink at me. Every single show, he had to give me that stupid wink.
Ass hat
. He joined Dex in the beat with his perfect bass banging. I bobbed my head side to side, in an attempt to loosen up my neck for the next forty minute set. One of the worst things about singing and playing guitar was my neck always throbbed in pain post show.

When I strapped on the
guitar, my foot immediately found the pedal to fine-tune the distortion. I adjusted the microphone to my five foot three inches and waited for my cue. I closed my eyes and counted down four, three, two, and one...
I Sang for You
was met with another hurricane of praise. It was, after all, one of our most widespread and popular songs these days.

We are Love Sick Ponies.
No, it wasn’t
my
favorite name at first but it grew on me after about ten minutes. Johnny’s pep talk which outlined how famous we would be with such a rocking name made sense. We had the perfect story to go with our rocking band name. Love Sick Ponies or LSP, voted unanimously by all three of us, was founded on a hilarious, albeit a drug induced memory. Dex, Johnny and I have been friends since college, our band started in our sophomore year. Johnny and I were living together in a small two bedroom apartment in Baltimore after we graduated from the University of Maryland. For years, we took odd jobs and looked for gigs everywhere we could get in, just to pay for rent for that dump.

One night
, maybe two years after we moved in together, we decided to eat tripped out mushrooms. After several hours of laughing and chatting a mile a minute, we fixed ourselves on the couch to watch television. While we flipped through the channels on cable we stopped and became instantly fascinated by the cartoon, My Little Pony. I commanded that Johnny record the first episode half way through. We then proceeded to record the following two episodes and scrutinized them over and over until the sun came up. As we started to come down off the high near dawn, we both abruptly noticed that were tangled in a conversation about the sparkles and colors. We were intimately close. He was right there.
Delicious enough to kiss.

We
found ourselves making out on the couch, while My Little Pony’s theme song rang throughout the apartment. The kissing directed us to my bedroom. There he threw me down on the mattress and started licking my ankles for what felt like hours. His beautiful blonde hair and tanned, muscled chest, Johnny held himself over me in a frozen push-up for three solid hours while he devoured every part of my body. When I finally saw Johnny completely nude for the first time, I had to ask myself why I went against the grain with him. I loved sex, he was hot, and yes, I got the stink eye for at least a full day when I brought any guy home for the night.

Johnny and I fit. We were wild about each other
for twenty four hours straight only stopping for food and a quick nap. It was extreme. We didn’t leave our apartment for days, ignoring the phone, ordering delivery, and enforcing a no clothing rule in effect for the duration. I loved Johnny. I loved him solid. Sex with him was not ever what I would call ‘making love’. I was mesmerized by the incredible pleasure he gave me and he was clearly taken with me, as well.

To the outside world,
we were the levy that everyone was waiting for to break. I mean break
up
. Effortlessly, we announced that we were a couple to three older hunters and a metrosexual bartender, who was on the phone the whole time. We still got the applause we sought after... from Dex. Then he begged us to get the show over with so that he could get back to his own girl. We were together for a few years and it was a fun, laid back relationship.

I guess somewhere along the way, Johnny and I
started to focus more on the band than our relationship, because when we landed our first real headlining tour, Johnny celebrated by blatantly getting so plastered that he fucked another girl in the back stage bathroom. It was a night to remember because not only did the band get noticed and our relationship went into the gutter, but it was the first time I had ever had the dream about the summer of 1993.

Of course,
Johnny claimed the busty blonde threw herself at him, so it wasn’t really his fault. I still account the incident as nature’s way of telling us that we were better as friends and bandmates. I mean, shit. He didn’t even bother to look ashamed when I watched him exit the bathroom, pulling up his pants, and Blondie hanging on to his every word for the rest of the evening. I didn’t feel hurt about his infidelity, but embarrassment was the killer for me. The pitying looks I received from the tour crew were infuriating.

Due to my mortification, I felt the urge to act upon my own sexual desires from that very night on. I kicked Johnny out of our place in Baltimore for good measure. He moved in with Dex until we all left permanently to go wherever our label told us to. I was somewhat disappointed in the expectations I had put on a man, especially Johnny. I had never trusted men before him and I guess I fell into the trap that nothing bad would ever happen. I assumed we were something special and our relationship would never get so boring that one of us would stray. I was sorely wrong since he still had a penis and it evidently needed the endorsement of numerous women.

I closed my eyes against the pink, green
, and yellow strobe lights. Why on earth our tour manager, Danielle, required our band to look like a kaleidoscope on stage, I would never fathom. I twisted to sing to Johnny to dodge being blinded or seeing spots for the rest of the night. I examined his fingers smacking down on the strings and gave my plaid school skirt a little jiggle. He and I did a back and forth guitar dance and as the song neared the ending, I turned to face the masses again. Once again, the flashes and strobe lights caused me momentary blindness. Most nights I really didn’t care that much. It was part of the gig. Tonight, however, I was uptight about it. If I went blind from being a rock star, I wouldn’t know who to sue.

“Hello, New York City!” I
roared into the microphone. The crowd went mad and then hushed down to wait for my obligatory speech I made at each show.

“I’
m Jules Delaney. That crazy drummer is Dex Parker and the sexy bassist over there is Johnny Lennox. We are Love Sick Ponies and we are so thrilled to be here tonight with Desired Pitch! Lizzie was incredible, yeah?” The crowd screamed and I giggled at their fervor.

“So we are going to bring it down
a notch. How about a slow one? Can you guess what it is?” I probed.

The crowd chanted “Leg up, Leg Up, Leg Up
.” It was out of control.

I nodded my head
enthusiastically and put my mouth back on to the microphone. The beginning solo vocals were sweet on
Leg Up
. The reverberations, the lyrics, and the energy were more elegant than who I really was beneath all of my eye makeup and piercings. Total contradiction. I don’t know why Dex wrote this song exactly. I considered that his girlfriend had broken up with him for something like the fifth time and he was tired of spending their few days apart drinking himself into oblivion.

Dex would
write songs for days and nights around-the-clock. I am a firm believer that these two new songs were the reason for why we were ready to record with Nick Sawyer Productions for our next album. Based out of Boston, NSP was huge because Nick and Lizzie Sawyer had serious abilities and contacts. They had built an incredible company over the past few years and Love Sick Ponies was there every step of the way.

Nick and Lizzie
always set us up in a bad ass apartment downtown Boston and it was a blast while we hung out with Desired Pitch. They were like family. The production company became just as widespread as both bands in the past few years. I busted out a wide smile at the thought of spending the ensuing two months in their studio as I initiated the first verse.

You haven’t been home

I called around

No one knows where you can be found.

If I found you, I’d hide you well

I’d make you scream with one leg up.
One Leg Up,

I got you
baby with one leg up.

I started to play the lead guitar solo in the song when my eyes landed on
him
. He wasn’t jumping or screaming. He was a stone statue and wholly contented to watch my individual act. He was stunning. He was a man I could look at for days. His black blue hair, his stormed dark eyes were disguised with brown square rimmed glasses and a brown beanie hat.
Hot
. One full tattooed sleeve peeked out from his Henley and I peered at the arm to make out some of the design. I shook my head in exasperation when I couldn’t see anything that far away. The fucking white spotlight that found my face made me want to throw my guitar across the stage.

After my solo, m
y eyes danced up to his face and his expression looked intensely thoughtful for a man. I grinned to myself as I looked down at my fingers flying across the strings. He would obviously never know that I was checking him out. People in the crowd never did notice that we, too, looked at the crowd one by one. That was one of the best parts of being on stage. Sure, they were all watching us but we were inspecting them just as much. I was the actual stalker in a room. A big belly laugh erupted out of my throat as I automatically chimed into the chorus.

One Leg Up, Up, Up

One Leg up, up

One leg is all I have
when I am with you.

That’s
it how it will always be.

I looked to my right and saw him again.
He was marginally moving his head back and forth. So the guy liked slow songs, too?
Very mysterious man.
He looked like a death metal fan and yet he was digging on this love ballad.
Oxymoron
. The song finished on one long note as I pursed my full lips in his direction as if I was giving him a kiss. His answering smile made me stumble backwards.

My boobs were officially drenched.

Danielle,
stealthy as she was when we were on stage, handed me a clean towel and my first bottle of water. It was going to be a long soaking wet night. Johnny and Dex started the next song and fortunately Johnny was on vocals for this one. I hung back and let him take the show over. It gave me time to admire my admirer. His piercing dark eyes took me in. No, he was visually molesting me. They perused me, drinking me in, from my black cowboy boots to my dark hair pulled back into a spiky ponytail. I considered my guitar and was thankful for the first time ever that I had something to focus on. I grinned. If I had it my way, that chunk of sex would be licking my body sweat off in the shower back at the hotel.

Six songs later
, I was convinced that I was in love. The fiery looks and burning bursts of energy we exchanged were intense. We were undoubtedly having visual intercourse. No matter how distracted I was, I was spot on with every queue and every lyric. Even the four shots of vodka I had taken before I jumped on the stage didn’t make me lose any brain cells. I was singing to my beanie wearing tatted up hunk and he knew it.

Johnny
hurled inquisitive looks my way throughout the last songs. I hit every beat and every breath. He probably had never seen me play so well and maybe I hadn’t. Damn jealous ass face. He recognized that something was going on with me and looked over the crowd to see who I was playing for because it was obviously
not
for him.

Even though I broke it off with Johnny that night he fucked the busty blonde, he never had another serious girlfriend. He made it clear to everyone who would listen to his love woes that he was waiting for me “to come around”.

He would be waiting a long time.
I saw him hook up with indiscriminate chicks under the radar. He wasn’t waiting around for me. His head was just trapped in the past. It was hard not to think of
us
and that night when we had to say Love Sick Ponies at least twenty times a day. But damn if I wasn’t a love sick pony for erotic beanie guy.

SIX

I
sauntered back stage into a flurry of activity. Fans were already waiting for us to sign shit and have a beer with us like we were old buddies. No one knew the true Jules Delaney, the face people associated with our band. Sometimes even I didn’t know me. I was Jules to some, Julia to others. Johnny liked to use both names to let me know which mood he was in at that moment.

Despite the ardent
fans that were actually very cool, this was the focused part of my night. After the show is when I found my male conquest for the evening. Johnny had nothing on me as far as ‘under the radar’ goes. I signed a few posters and tickets. I found Danielle on the side of the room. She handed me the obligatory shot and a beer. As I took them she rattled through the list of people that I needed to talk to and handed me a new shirt.

“What? I don’t look fucking sexy in this?” I asked, laughing at her disgusted look.
I hugged her and then handed her the empty shot glass, threw the shirt over my shoulder, and headed for the restroom. She called out somebody’s name I had to find after I went to pee. Someone extra important?
Yeah, whatever.
I nodded back to her like I cared. I would do what I wanted tonight. Tonight was off limits and while we are at it, please make a fucking appointment. Don't these people know I just sang my guts out for hours?

Just as I got to the open door, I slammed right into one of L
izzie’s friends. I had seen him around at the last few shows on this tour. He was attractive. Even the tattooed sleeves on both arms didn’t take away that he was hot. With a wide grin, he excused himself.

“Sean, right?”
I pointed at him. His expression was priceless. He must have thought I had ignored him outright when Lizzie introduced us. I knew names like my lyrics. They were part of my database vocabulary. I laughed at his bewildered look.

“Yeah, I’m Sean. You are Jules.
Or is it Julia?” he questioned. I shrugged.

“
We’ve met a few times over the years but I didn’t know that you were paying attention,” he grinned. Over the years? Shit, I thought I had
just
met him. Well hell. So much for attempting to get my head out of my ass for this conversation. I wondered if he detected my sudden flinch. I tried to save a shred of poise.

“
Sure! I love Lizzie and her friends. That means I love you!” I laughed. It was fake as shit. It was like me sticking out two finger pistols with the accompanying smirk that jested, “You matter to me, buddy!”

“
Hey, I have to run–gotta put this shirt on since I am drowning in this one,” I said as I considered the sad excuse for a shirt. When I pulled my eyes back up to say bye to Sean, his hand was on someone else’s shoulder.
His
shoulder.

“Hey Bren
nan! Lizzie got your pass all straightened out?” Sean asked, not detecting that I was transforming into a love drunk adolescent.

“Yeah, man. Liz got it set up. I am good,” he
affirmed, staring beautiful slivers of truth into my eyes. He was more than good. Was he a mind reader because I swear he knew exactly what I was thinking...which was... hell if I knew?

I held out my hand
to introduce myself, waiting in anticipation for his touch. I waited for the sizzling electricity that I already knew was there between us. I was thirsting for it. It
had
to be there. That was one fact I knew for sure.

“I’m
Jules. Or Julia. Julia Delaney.” I wanted to make sure he knew that he could call me any name he wanted. Bitch would even be okay if he was going to stick around and talk to me.

His hand was immediately in mine, stroking it with his thumb like it was itching to stroke all of me.
Yes, yes the electricity was there and scorching my hand. I felt it all the way to the nails on my toes.

“Brennan Curtis,” he confessed.

His smooth, rich, fucking delicious voice combined with his dark brown, ‘
please take me now’
eyes demanded my skin to ripple ubiquitously.
Heavenly Father, please forgive me because I am about to sin…again.

We stood there, neither one of us wanting to let go of
the other. Sean caught on, suggested something dismissively, and strolled into the room of people.

“I
... uh. I am going to head to the bathroom to change,” I insisted as I held up my shirt. Brennan nodded at me but his eyes told me I needed to stay in this spot for a little longer. Maybe even forever. I was barely breathing. Nope, scratch that. I wasn’t breathing.

“Where are you from?” I inquired
after my lungs discovered air.

And what the fuck was that?
I never ask guys anything. Normally by this time, we are taking shot after shot and making out like juveniles in a dark corner, far away from Johnny’s peripheral vision. Why did I
care
where Brennan was from?

“New York
. Brooklyn, more specifically,” he answered with a blaze in his eyes. “I met Sean at a tattoo conference and he mentioned he was going to come to the show tonight. I wanted to come meet you.”

Air escaped my lungs and I coughed
at his blatant statement, causing me to drop my hand from his. He looked disappointed at my response. I had never thanked personal connections to gain backstage access as much as I did in this moment.

Johnny came up behind me and kissed me on the cheek while he
flung his arms around my waist. He was already half tanked and laying on his nightly moves, hoping that tonight would be the night that I reformed my mind and fell to his feet with burning love. I extricated myself from his arms and gave him a scathing look. Feeling self-conscious and disgusted, I brushed past Brennan, his muscular build, and leather scent to bolt to the bathroom.
Johnny has to stop this revolting game.

I slammed the bathroom stall door shut and sat on the toilet. My brain was fried. I didn’t care about
Johnny and apparently, I just shit the bed with Brennan. It was the same shit every show with Johnny. I could never find it in me to stand up to him and tell him to fuck off. I wanted to hide in this stall for the rest of the night. I wondered if James, our occasional tour driver, was easily accessible for a ride back to the hotel. I dragged out my cell phone and sent James a text.

Me: R
eady to leave. Help?

James: Got it. Meet me in the back parking lot.

I flung my new shirt on and thought about going to Danielle for my personal shit. I sent a quick text to her asking to return my stuff to my room when she got back there. I dashed out of the bathroom and headed out to the back door. Luckily, nobody I knew was in the hall. I made it out the town car. The rain fell in cold splinters against my skin. James opened the door and gave me a lopsided smile. The guy was cute. He was probably my age and our best driver to date. He was always looking out for me. Although he would never bring up my issues, I knew he was well aware of my shortcomings.

I watched the beautiful buzz of downtown
Manhattan. People were lost in their surroundings as they observed the bright lights of signs and billboards. The city wasn’t a place to make friends. New York City
became
your friend. It was a city that compared to no other. I loved it but, as a New Hampshire native, I could only take it in small doses. Just the idea that I was on the small island and among so many people boxed in, I was more uneasy than enchanted. Nevertheless, it was exceptional to watch our crowds and their reactions to our band. I sucked it up. Coming to New York City was well worth the show.

James made it to the Hilton Midtown
in record time and I flew out of the car. I ran in before I realized that I didn’t have a key card or that I didn’t say goodbye to James. As I stood in the lobby, feeling misplaced, James presented a card before my eyes and I hugged him in thanks. He rubbed my back in silence until I pulled away. I was just hugging my driver.
Really?

“You
better be good to yourself tonight, Jules,” James whispered. “Glad to see you taking the night off from the after party.”

“Why don’t you head back there and pick up that red head you were drooling all over before the show?” I laughed
as I turned away but not before I saw his clever grin and heated blush.

As I
headed up to my floor, I replayed the whole scene with Johnny and Brennan in the backstage room. I cringed at how inferior Johnny had made me feel once again. No doubt that Johnny would end up with some dumb bitch tonight and I would never see Brennan again.

I was no one’s bitch. No one owned me. No one
stakes a claim on me. The more people tried to rein me in, the more I pushed against their restraints. Tonight I was worn-out from the battle. I met a man who I was instantly fascinated by and Johnny slaughtered any further conversation by making it look like we were together. He would never let me be happy with anyone else. One way or another I needed to set the record straight with him once and for all.

I picked up my phone and shot Johnny a text.

Me: We need to talk tomorrow. Not happy.

A few minutes passed and my phone chimed.

Johnny: Does this have to do with tatted nerdy guy?

Me: Tomorrow.
Sick of your shit.

I silenced my phone and went to the full
length mirror. Time to rehearse the speech. I put my hand up against the wall and leaned into the mirror.

“Listen, Johnny
... ” I started. I shook my head and started again. I needed all my expressions accomplished, my words articulated. I needed him not only to listen but to finally
hear
that I would never desire him romantically or sexually again. It was going to be a tough conversation but it had to be done.