Too Many Rock Stars (Access All Areas #1) (5 page)

He lowered me onto the mattress, gently, without taking his mouth from mine. I traced the tattoo lines along his chest and down his arms, the dips and curves over muscles of steel.

His fingers deftly undid the buttons on my dress until it fell open. His finger ran down my stomach, slowly, as though memorising every contour of my skin. It tickled and I tried not to flinch but that just made him laugh.

There was something right about it, like we were meant to be. No need to rush or to think too much. Just a delicious dream.

Then the phone rang.

I tried to ignore it. It rang out once. The second time, I could ignore it no longer.

He ran his hand through his hair while I answered. It was Chuck.

"Where are you, Violet? You're meant to be working tonight. You know I need to be able to rely on you."

My heart hit reality with a thud so heavy, I was surprised the building didn't shake. I couldn't do this. I couldn't run away and I couldn't have these feelings. I needed to prove myself. I would be proving myself until the end of time.

I sat up, shooting Razer an apologetic smile but not meeting his eyes. Never meeting his eyes.

"I've got to run," I said. "I'm needed back at work." I spun around, trying to get my head straight. I needed to shower and change. My ankle throbbed but I could get a cab into the club. I wasn't sure how I'd manage the stairs but I would do it somehow.

"Do you need me to go with you?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I'll be fine. But I need to get there."

I willed him to get the hint and leave. I didn't want to deal with the fallout from this. But he lingered. I grabbed a towel off the back of a chair and headed to the bathroom.

"Don't touch anything," I said and hit the shower.

As the water hit me, I realised I'd come so close to fucking up. Too close. I needed to put as much distance between Razer and me as I could.

Whenever the staff got together, it seemed the possibility of the bar closing was the only thing we talked about. To say the mood was gloomy was an understatement. We were like a bunch of emo kids who'd been told the shop had sold out of black hair dye. Carlie sprawled on the corner sofa. The way she put her boots on the cushions made me cringe a little inside but, with the amount of bodily fluids cakes onto those cushions, a bit of boot dirt wouldn't hurt any.

She ashed her cigarette into a beer can sitting on the chipped coffee table in front of her. The club, of course, had become no smoking since those damn laws had come in but Carlie said it was okay before opening. She also said it was okay in my office during her breaks. Mostly because she didn't want to stand outside in the heat. I was pretty sure that it wasn't okay but I never said anything.

We had about half an hour before opening so I'd poured myself a beer and grabbed a seat. I could manage to get around the club but couldn't spend too long on my sore ankle. I'd bandaged it up which made my shoe-wearing options very limited. It hurt when I walked but I was determined not to have crutches. I didn't want to look helpless.

"We're all getting the sack, nothing surer. He just wants us to stick around until it happens so he has staff. I'll be looking for another job as soon as I can." Mark thumped the table to emphasis his words. ‘I knew something like this would happen. Didn’t I say the other day that something like this would happen?”

He was perched in a chair opposite Carlie with his foot on his knee. Even though he tried to sound angry¸ he had a smug smile on his face like he knew more about the situation than the rest of us. Which he didn't.

To be honest, he was a bit of a jerk and the sooner he left, the better. He was too damn smug.

"No free drinks, huh? That's half the reason I work here," Carlie said. "He's probably making it all up just to get us to work harder and drink less. I wouldn't be surprised."

Babs sat at the Galaga machine, picking at her nails and occasionally looking up and nodding.

"I can't look for another job. I was lucky to get the job here." She didn't explain further. She never did when she made comments like that but I had the impression she had a prison record. You can't just ask someone outright about something like that but it all fit.

“Trouble is really in trouble,” Mark added. Then chortled at his lame joke. No one else did.

Drew, the bus boy, sat in the corner being broody. "We're doomed. We're all doomed. Look at us. We aren't the type of people who can just walk into another job. Even another bar job. We're a bunch of social misfits."

"Talk for yourself, Drew." Carlie swung around to glare at him. "I'm fine, just fine."

"Yeah, you say that but what are you going to do when you get a boss who grabs your bootie while you're working behind the bar? You'll swing at him and end up on charges. I've been to other bars. I know what goes on there. At least the Chuckster keeps his distance."

Carlie sighed. "It's a sad world when you have to be grateful for a boss who doesn't molest you."

The music Carlie had chosen moved on to the next song. She was in a country music phase at the moment. Sad, soulful country.

"Yeah, and you get to be a right bitch to the customers without anyone caring. If you worked in another bar, do you think you'd get away with that? Telling someone to go grow a real cock, that'd get you fired anywhere else. You'd have to put a smile in your voice when some suit comes in."

Drew had obviously had too much of that Scotch if he was talking to Carlie like that.

"You're more screwed than me, Drew. If Chuck knew how many glasses you smashed in a night, he'd dock your pay and you'd end up in debt."

"That's definitely true facts." Drew dropped his head.

The other downstairs staff worked setting up but kept popping back to make sure they hadn't missed anything interesting. There was nothing interesting though. None of us knew more than Chuck had told me but that didn't stop the speculation and rumours.

"And what about the regulars? It'd be a major life adjustment for us."

Jackson sat at the bar nursing a whisky. I wasn't even sure why he was in before opening. He wasn't staff. It was like that corner of the bar would be too lonely without him. I'm sure he went home somewhere at the end of the night but it was hard to imagine him having a life outside of the bar. Hard to imagine for any of us.

I crossed my legs and took a sip of my drink. Words bubbled up inside me, wanting to get out.

"It's balls. The whole thing is balls and, as much as I think Chuck is a big jerk-face clown, I don't want this club to shut down. I don't want another job. I like it here."

It was a special place for me and I'd fight to keep it alive. I'd fight until there was nothing left in me. Even though it would mean fighting my arse off to save Chuck, I'd do it if it saved the club.

"I think we have to do everything within our power to save this place. We can't go down without a fight."

"Me too, babe," said Carlie. The fire in her eyes confirmed that she was with me.

"Count me in," said Babs. "I owe Chuck."

Drew nodded.

Mark glanced around the table. He nodded his head but without commitment. He'd be gone the first chance he got.

"We need to save this place," I added.

"True facts," Carlie said, standing up, "so does that mean you'll agree to date one of those horny dudes fighting over you?"

I didn't reply. When I'd said I'd do
anything
, I hadn't meant
that
. I'd meant work hard and make this place more profitable. I hadn't meant becoming a stupid prize.

Carlie started setting up behind the bar. The rest of us followed her lead.

I went upstairs to check out the night's line up. It was best to put some distance between myself and Carlie's pushy face for a while anyway. I had to grip the rail tight and it took me a while but it beat the hell out of hopping.

The opening band were setting up. They were nice kids, not screwed up by this rock life yet. All fresh-faced and innocent. Nervous as hell about playing their first real gig.

The lead singer looked like she was still in high school. She wasn't. I was ultra careful about checking stuff like that. You could get into a world of trouble with kids on licenced premises and all that. She was all pale-faced though, with blonde pigtails and glittery eyes.

The guitarist was her brother. You could tell that just by looking at them.

Kirin. That was their band name.

"You guys organised?" I called out. "The doors open soon."

"Sure." The girl smiled nervously. "I think so."

I nodded and sat at the door. I wanted to keep an eye on these guys. Despite the innocence and the nerves, they had something. Normally, I worked the door for these weeknight gigs. It saved paying someone else to do it and I got to check out the new bands to see if they were worth rebooking. On weekends, when the crowds came in, one of the other staff did it.

Like Chuck had said, the room was barely half full. He had to understand though, people just didn't go out to see bands on weeknights. Not unless they were diehard fans – and what band starting out has those? Otherwise it was friends and family. Or the few faithful that were here almost every night no matter who played.

There was a method to this, a way things worked. You put a new band on as openers early in the week to give them a go. If that worked out, then they moved their way up to week night headliners. Weekends, of course, we had on the bands that could pull in a good crowd or bands that were touring from out of town.

You can't have the bigger bands play every night of the week. They'd wear out their welcome. I needed to spell that out to Chuck even though he should know it.

The punters, they want variety. They might say they will turn up to see their favourite bands play week after week but no one actually does that. You needed scarcity and a bit of buzz, otherwise people just figure they can stay home and do their laundry this week because there is always next week if they miss out.

One idea did strike me while I watched the band play. If we put more bands on for the weeknight gigs and gave each of them shorter slots, we'd get more punters in. You'd have to be the biggest loser band to not get at least 50 friends and family through the door for your first gig. By shoehorning in another slot, we'd have a lot more drinkers in the club. That wouldn't go far but it'd be a start.

While I watched the band, I felt someone come over to sit beside me. Instinctively, I grabbed the cash box. You couldn't be too careful in a place like this.

I looked around to see Alex. God, could I do nothing without one of those men shadowing me? Between him and Razer, I could rarely be alone. Still, when he gave me a half-grin and a sideways glance, I didn't discourage him from sitting down.

He raised his glass to me.

"They're not bad," he said, looking at the stage. "That tiny chick is a spitfire on stage."

She really did have something. You'd think there was a crowd of thousands in the room. That's always a good sign. Start strong or you never get there. I'd definitely be booking them again.

"Want me to get you a drink?" Alex asked.

I was going to say no out of habit but that bar was a long way away and I had no desire to try to make my way over there when I could barely walk.

I gave him a nod. Having him there beside me gave my brain a break from stressing about the club and all the problems. I'd let him distract me for a while.

He came back with the beers and sat down beside me again, sprawling in the chair as though he owned all the space. His leg was actually a bit too close to mine and I shuffled my chair back.

"What's going on with you and that meathead?" he asked.

"Razer? Nothing." Then wondered if that was the wrong thing to say. I mean, just because I had nothing with Razer didn't mean I wanted a thing with anyone. Guys never seem to get that though.

"What the hell kind of name is that anyway? Razer? I bet it’s really Richard or something. Dick. That'd suit him."

I grimaced. What did he care about Razer?

"Why are you so interested in Razer? I should be asking what's going on with you and him. Do you have a thing for him? Now that you mention it, I have noticed a bit of tension there. Maybe it’s sexual tension… He is single, you know."

Alex sneered. "It's nothing. He just gets under my skin. He's not even that talented."

God, competitive rockers. They were the worst. I yawned. If he couldn't think of anything more entertaining to talk about, he could leave me in peace. He'd not even seen Razer play so I don't know how he'd made that judgement.

"Sorry, I'm boring you," he said. "So Violet, what do you do when you aren't working?"

"Sleep."

"I mean apart from that. What do you do for fun?"

"Fun? I sleep for fun. It's my hobby. And, when I'm done with sleeping, I take a nap. That's my free time schedule."

He laughed, his hair flopping back into his eyes.

"You wouldn't be interested in going out to get a drink some time? The two of us, together? Forget about the contest. There doesn’t need to be any big fuss if it’s just a drink.”

I tried to stop my eyes from rolling. I tried my hardest. It was nice of him to try but I had to nip this in the bud. There'd be no going for a drink, no date and no stupid contest.

"Yep, I wouldn't be interested. It's nothing personal. I just don't date rockers. I don't date musos at all. And I don't go out. You know what I do most nights of the week? I sit in this room or downstairs, drinking and listening to bands. That's my job. Asking me out for a drink is like asking an accountant to come around and add up numbers or whatever it is that accountants do. You understand what I'm saying? If I'm not here, I'm in a total Zen-like state of nothingness."

He sighed, leaning over so that the leather of his pants brushed against my leg again.

"I mean it, Alex. I don't date."

He moved back slightly and turned to watch the band onstage. They were wrapping up their set and had all the attention. Even the friends of the other bands crept up close to the stage to check them out. Those little guys sure had a palpable energy.

When the band finished their set, Alex turned back to me.

"So, what's going on with the club?" he asked.

“Who knows? Chuck doesn’t even seem to know himself.”

“It’s good to see people coming out to support the place though. At least they aren’t looking around for another bar to hang out in.”

That brought a new fear to my mind. Once word got out about this, would the club be instantly doomed? Any decent band wouldn't want to book themselves to a club that could fold any moment. And, without decent bands, we'd have nothing.

Who knew how long this would all last?

I needed to fix this and I needed to do it soon. If only I could fix it without agreeing to their stupid terms.