5
Jack
Mayzie is beautiful no matter what she wears, or what she does. But this is my favorite look on her. After we make love, she looks sleepy, her hair has that ‘just fucked’ look and her eyes are bright and happy. Naked, vulnerable, but secure. I don’t want to let go of her; I just want to keep holding and kissing her as she looks at me with those grey eyes through her lashes. But the digital clock on the side table warns me that I’ve got 20 minutes to get to sound check. I reluctantly sit up, and she follows suit. She looks around the room for a minute, her eyebrows drawn together in question.
“Did you see where Phil put my suitcase?”
I search my mind for a moment, coming up empty. “Uh… no. Gimme a sec, I’ll check the rest of the bus.” I tell her as I pull my jeans up and fasten them. I walk out of the room, careful while opening the door so that Mayzie’s naked form can’t be seen by anyone but me. Her suitcase is nowhere in sight as I scan the lounge and the bunk area. When I return to the bedroom, she’s sitting on the bed with her dress back on, a hopeful look on her face that falls when she sees I’m empty handed.
“No luck, huh?”
I shake my head at her. “Sorry baby. We’ll find it though, don’t worry.”
“Okay, I hope so,” she says, biting her lip in frustration. “In the meantime, where exactly did you throw my panties?”
My lips can’t help but curl up at the very recent memory of pulling them off of her. Although I’m feeling a little sheepish when I realize I’m not sure which direction I threw them. “Um…” I run a hand through my hair as I glance around the room.
“Jack?” she prods.
“You know, uh… I’m not sure, I was kind of just focused on getting them off you baby,” I rest my hands on my hips and can’t help but smirk.
She gives me a sweet little knowing smile of her own, followed by a sigh. “Well, I can’t find them and I’m not going anywhere without them,” she says, matter-of-factly.
“Oh, come on baby. I want you to come to sound check.” I kneel down in front of her and place my hands on her knees, like I’m preparing to beg. “You can go without for a little bit, can’t you?”
“I absolutely cannot. I, sir, am a lady,” she proclaims with humor. I’ll give her that. She does keep it classy, although a memory is making its way from the back of my mind to the front and I feel a smile spread across my face and a thrill spread in my chest. I can’t help it; I have to point it out.
“Baby, you know, it wouldn’t be the first time…” There’s no way in hell I can keep the smirk off my face.
She tips her head down at me while one eyebrow goes up in a deadpan expression. “That was a one-time thing, and I had no choice in the matter. I do, however, have one now, and I choose to not get off this bus with no panties on.” She crosses her arms in finality, putting her foot down.
“Come on baby, no one’s going to know but me. That’s kind of sexy when you think about it…”
“Until I trip over an amp cord, or a wind picks up,” she’s waving her hands around as she describes the possible scenarios.
“I get it, I get it. But please, come on, we have to go or I’m going to be late.” I lean in to kiss her cheek, hoping to coax her off the bus with me. And then I hear her gasp right next to my ear.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” she says on a sigh that turns into an amused giggle. I lean back to see her laughing at something over my shoulder. I turn my head and follow her gaze to the flat screen that faces the bed from the corner… where her black lace panties are hanging off of one corner. “You really weren’t messing around,” she’s shaking her head, breaking into a full-on laugh.
I chuckle as I turn around to retrieve her panties, twirling them on my finger before tossing them to her. “No I wasn’t. It’s been a long two weeks.” She slips them on and stands up to pull them up under her dress as I pull my t-shirt back on.
We’re just stepping off of the bus when Kelly approaches us with the dogs on their leashes in one hand, and her other pulling Mayzie’s suitcase.
“Kelly! Jesus, let me get that for you, you don’t have to haul all this by yourself,” I say, rushing to relieve her of the luggage.
“It’s okay Jack,” she hollers over me as I heft it onto the bus and carry it in the direction of the bedroom. When I come back, she explains, “Phil loaded it onto Josh and Chris’s bus by mistake. When I told him it was the wrong bus, he pulled it back off and then got called away, but it’s no big deal,” she shrugs, as Mayzie takes the leashes from her.
“Thank you so much for walking them Kelly,” she says with a voice full of gratitude.
“Anytime,” Kelly smiles as she turns and walks off in the direction of Chris and Josh’s bus. Mayzie and I quickly get the dogs settled inside with some water, and then with her hand in mine, I lead her toward the stage.
MAYZIE
Seeing the show for the first time this tour is as much of a rush for me as it is for the audience. Knowing these guys personally in no way takes away from the thrill of seeing them perform live. As with most bands, tour planners and promoters always try to step it up more each tour. Turn it Up has come a long way from running out on stage and having their show emphasized with a few lights and fog machines. For this Tempest Highway tour, the stage is set with a backdrop that projects the effects of a thunderstorm, complete with pouring rain and flashing lightning. A strobe light across the entire arena makes it more lifelike, and cracks of thunder accompany it through the sound system. A synthesizer plays an ominous, electrical hook that will eventually transition into the title track that the guys are opening with. The beat picks up and gets louder and the strobe flashes harder as the guys slowly rise through trap doors in the stage. Jack, Matt, and Josh emerge clutching their guitars and stare intently at the crazed fans. Chris comes up through a raised platform behind them, he and his drum set rising as a unit. After standing motionless for a moment, letting the anticipation build, the guys delve into the song, tearing around the stage as the storm continues to rage on the screen behind them. The strobe light ceases and industrial fans kick on, making all the guys clothes ripple and flap. It’s rather sexy on Jack with his fringy hair getting picked up by the illusion of wind. Hot.
It’s chaotic and charged and completely exhilarating. Chris’s drum beats resound in my chest. Matt’s bass hums up my spine. Josh’s rhythm guitar rushes through my blood, and Jack’s voice sweeps around me and nestles in my soul. It’s a full-on attack of the senses. Good thing I haven’t gotten ready for the club opening yet; I’m getting a bit wind-blown myself. I have everything laid out back at the bus so that when the guys leave the stage, I can get ready quickly and we can head to Elements.
Kelly and I are enjoying the show from back stage. This is roughly her tenth time seeing it, and while the novelty has worn off, she’s still rocking out. I can’t tear my eyes away. There are jumbo screens on either side of the stage so that those seated in the nosebleeds can get an idea of the essence, the energy that these guys play with. Jack is wearing grey baggy cargo pants that come down over his black and white Vans, and a dark blue button-down that flaps in the wind open over a grey tank.
During the performance of See Her, the first song they became known for, Jack’s head turns in my direction. I’m watching from stage right, and his eyes meet mine. He gives me a knowing smile and continues to stare, never breaking verse. He doesn’t seem to care what the crowd thinks of his head being turned to the side for so long, but eventually he subtly puckers his lips, sending me a kiss before facing forward again.
An hour after the show concludes, our SUV pulls up in front of Elements, its grand opening already in full swing. Outside, the entrance pathway is roped off in velvet, with a crowd of people on either side, either hoping to get in or catch a look at the people who do. Chris, Josh and Matt slide out of the middle row, all GQ’d out in slacks and jackets. Jack is dressed similarly with just a few rock embellishments like his necklace, black
boots, and black leather bracelets on his wrist. He slides out of the third row first and camera flashes go crazy, even more so when he turns to help me out of the vehicle. I take his outstretched hand and slide out in a long-sleeved black crop top that shows a hint of midriff between it and my black slacks. My black and gold strappy sandal heels show off my black toenail polish. I’ve worn my brown hair down and gone for subtle eyeshadow, but my red lipstick gives me just a pop of color. We’re ushered inside so that we can show our support for new club owners, I suppose. I guess that’s why we’re here anyway.
We are taken to the VIP area on the upper level that is roped off, but overlooks the rest of the club. There seems to be a bar lining every wall and a wide and sprawling dance floor where people are dressed to the nines and tearing it up under the flashing lights. Every wall in the VIP area has a floor to ceiling screen where some kind of weather system is being projected in motion. On one screen is wind and rain, resembling a hurricane, and it looks a lot like the theme of Turn it Up’s current tour. On the next wall, wind is blowing fat white snowflakes sideways in a blizzard. On the next wall, thunderbolts flash between dark clouds. You get the idea.
We’re handed a shot of something dark and gloomy looking upon arrival. We’re told by the waitress in a short black tank dress that it’s a called a Thundercloud, and the five of us take it together as a group. Jack switches to Johnny Walker and I take a vodka soda when we’re informed they don’t serve beer. Heathens. After we’re served our second Thundercloud, I start to feel my jet lag. It’s three in the morning back east, which means I would’ve normally gone to bed about four hours ago. After the third shot, I’ve asked them to hold the vodka in my soda drinks and Jack is holding me in his lap.
“So, what do you think of this place?” he asks, his mouth next to my ear so I can hear him over the pulsing bass of the music.
“I think they’re meanies for not serving beer,” he chuckles at my answer. “But the whole weather theme is cool,” I shrug, gesturing to the décor that lives up to the club’s name. “Why, what do you think?” I ask turning my head to try to catch his expression along with his answer.
“Well… it’s not like that place in Chicago…” he trails off with a mischievous smile and I pin him with a glare that I mean to be threatening, but he just smiles fondly at me, showing me his damn dimple, trying to weaken my resolve.
“Jaaack…” I warn. Strange how this is the second time today he has brought up the night that he and I got caught up in a moment of pure insanity. The very same night I had to discard my panties because they were obliterated. He has got that club on the brain for some reason.
“What?” he gives me an innocent smile and shrugs his shoulders.
“That was a one-time thing. Don’t get any ideas,” I try to be serious but I can’t keep the damn smirk off my face when my mind goes to the same place his does.
“It was a pretty damn great one-time thing,” he shakes his head, grinning, before playfully biting my ear.
The next morning, we are rudely awakened by a blaring alarm on the bedside table. As a writer, I make my own hours, and Jack is a rock star, so we don’t normally have to deal with such things as early morning alarms. And this one is extra intrusive as I was out until the ungodly hours without even getting a chance to get adjusted to the time zone. Stupid Thunderclouds are not helping me out right now either. My head is resting on Jack’s bare bicep like it’s a pillow, my face buried in his chest, and his other arm is draped over me.
“Make it stop…” I whimper pathetically, as Jack reaches over me to smack the off switch, squashing me under his weight in the process. “What time is it?” I ask, as my back is to the offending object that is the keeper of time in the room, and our lovely black-out blinds are keeping most of the daylight out.
“Nine,” Jack grumbles, his voice gravelly, as he rolls away from the clock with a heavy sigh. “How do you feel?” He gently rakes his fingers up and down my back and it’s so lulling and soothing.
“Nothing some coffee won’t fix. Oh my God, tell me there’s coffee,” I say as the dreadful thought of no caffeine fix breaks through the fog in my brain.
“Relax, there’s a Keurig in the kitchenette. What kind of animals do you think Matt and I are when you aren’t around?”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t’ve doubted you.”
Apparently, this interview/photo shoot is at some rich dude’s house in the Hollywood Hills, and we have to leave in half an hour. The upside is that since I’m going to be messed with and put in different clothes anywho, I don’t have to do a lot to get ready. Cut-off jean shorts and a slouchy t-shirt it is. Jack and I fall into the back of one of the SUVs that takes us to the address Ron gave the driver.
When we arrive at an electronic black iron gate, security checks all of our IDs and hits the button to let us pass through. We drive up a long winding driveway that eventually spits us out in front of a very modern villa-style mansion. I try not to come off as too awestruck when we get out of the vehicle in front of a slew of staff running around. There are people talking into headsets and carrying clipboards as they rush back and forth.
We slowly make our way through the throng, looking for where we’re supposed to go. We decide to try the front door that is perched wide open for people that are running in and out, and give our information to a security guard wearing a headset that stands just inside the immaculate foyer. He repeats our names to whoever is on the other side of the headset, and then directs us towards a hallway that leads to an open living area that has floor to ceiling glass doors that slide open to the back yard area, giving it an open air atmosphere. Beyond the doors, it is very obvious that the back of the house overlooks the L.A. skyline, with a sparse placement of palm trees in between. It’s a hell of a view, and I step closer to the doors to take it in. As I gaze around the sprawling but private back yard, I see a group of staff polishing up a black and chrome Harley at the edge of the drive. It’s positioned with the city view as a backdrop in the late morning sun. I get the feeling we’ll be doing some sort of motorcycle couple poses for our shoot.
“There’s the Turn it Up couple!” I hear a familiar voice carry through the spacious living room. Jack and I turn from the back windows to see Eli coming down a staircase that is as white as the rest of the house, and leads to a loft that overlooks the living area.
“Eli,” Jack looks as surprised as I am to see him, and even a little wary as he reaches out to shake Eli’s awaiting hand as he approaches. “What are you doing here?”
“Actually,” Eli looks only slightly coy, “this is my home.”
“You live here?” I ask, in confusion. “We’re doing the interview at your home?”
“Yes,” he nods in my direction. “This was fairly last minute, and when I spoke with the Shred journalist, their only concern was finding a space for the shoot. With you guys touring, time slots were very limited so I offered up my place as a photo location to help seal the deal, make it happen.” He puts his hands in his pockets, taking on a relaxed stance.
“It’s very beautiful,” I say, trying to follow his lead and relax. I’m just very taken by surprise. I didn’t think I’d be seeing Eli again for a while. He normally does things from his office, which I’m not complaining about. He’s not usually very hands on. “It’s an amazing view.”
“Thank you,” he nods to me again, hands still in his pockets. “They are hoping to have it in the background.”
I give him what I hope is an appreciative smile, and turn back to the view. A couple of minutes later, a petite man dressed in black slacks and a tight black t-shirt that probably cost a ridiculous amount of money, comes scurrying up to me in a speed walk. His brown hair with frosted tips is sticking straight up, which looks completely intentional. His designer sunglasses are pushed up on his head, and his blue eyes sparkle as if they swam in Visine while he got ten hours of sleep.
“Is this the Turn it Up couple?” he asks, excitedly. “Oh my gawd,
Mrs. Krasinski, come with me now. I insist!” He’s waving his hands around, before reaching one out for me to take. I’ve never seen anything quite like him. I hesitantly reach out to take his hand.
“And I’m coming with you because…” I raise my eyebrows, cueing him to finish the sentence.
“You’re coming with me because I am Enrique, the renowned stylist of the rock world, baby. When I’m done with you, you’re going to blow,” he enacts an explosion with his hands, “some minds.” He points to his temple. “Including your sexy husband’s.” He waves at Jack in his worn ripped jeans and white button down. He says all this as if he’s on his third energy drink, and this time takes my hand in his.
“She already does, but give it your best shot man,” Jack acquiesces, making my heart buzz with the warm-fuzzies.
“Let’s go, missy. I’ve been dying to get my hands on you, and we’re on a time crunch here. Let’s go… chop-chop Lambchop!” Enrique is giving my hand little tugs, prodding and beckoning.
“Okay,” I say giving in before looking over my shoulder to catch Jack’s kiss on my cheek. I shrug and give him a nervous smile as Enrique drags me away.
“See you in a bit baby,” Jack calls, as another staff member approaches him and leads him off somewhere. Eli moseys away to some other part of his abode.
A minute later, I’m plopped down in a chair in a very spacious bathroom with bright vanity lights everywhere, while Enrique animatedly regales me with his vision.
“Don’t get me wrong, fans totally dig your laid-back, don’t-care, vintage look, but you have to throw them off the rails every once in a while, you feel me girlfriend?” he proclaims as he circles around me, his hips practically shimmying as if they’re programmed to be in salsa mode at all times. He stops at the side of me, and claps his hands together before I can tell him, that sure, I feel him.
Still Her (Turn it Up Book 2) Page 4