by Kacey Shea
I slide past Trent and Sean to head straight for the bar.
We usually have a good hour before we have to be on stage. Time to chill, nurse a few beers, shoot the shit. Hang with Opal and often times Lexi, too. Not tonight.
Not much these days rattles my nerves or shakes my confidence. I can play the set in my sleep. But not tonight. My mind races and I can’t get into my usual pre-show headspace. Anticipation thrums in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I want to blame it on the tight schedule, but that’s a complete lie. It’s her. It’s always been her.
I grab a beer from the bar and pop off the top before tilting it back to drain the entire bottle.
“Slow down, speed racer. We got all night.” Sean wanders closer and snags a beer for himself.
“Why wait?” I force a smirk and shrug. “I say, party starts now.” I reach for another drink but Trent snatches it out of my hand.
“Pretend you’ve done this before.” He shakes his head and by the forced smile on his lips I can tell he’s annoyed.
“No bailing now. You promised.” I step around him and grab another beer, taking a swallow before he attempts to block me again.
“Yeah, yeah.” He pushes his hair back from his face. “But that’s after the show. Nothing good comes of getting shitfaced beforehand.”
I don’t appreciate his tone, or that he’s acting as if I need hand-holding. But I shrug it off because I know the reason I’m feeling out of sorts has nothing to do with him. She’s out there. She’s waiting to watch me perform. I set the beer down and reach for a water instead. I need to be at my best.
You’re such a showoff.
Her playful words and a memory from my youth hit me square in the chest. As a teen, I wanted nothing more than for her to like me. It was half the reason I took up guitar in the first place. I guess no matter how much time passes, some things never change.
“Crazy seeing Jayla?” Trent says, probably able to read my mind. “You two were close. Right?”
“Yeah.” I swallow down the memories and feign disinterest. I don’t feel like rehashing the past. Not now. Not right before the show.
“She wasn’t wearing a ring.” Trent shrugs and glances at Sean with a smirk.
I noticed the same. But that doesn’t mean she’s single, or even interested. Hell, she didn’t want to date me then, so there’s no indication she’d want to now. Fuck.
Trent lifts an eyebrow and tips his head at the door. “Come on, Mr. Bachelor. You really trying to tell me you didn’t notice.”
“I did.”
“And . . .” He twirls his finger as if to say get on with it.
“You think she’d be into me?” I ask in a moment of clarity.
Trent’s jaw drops open and he turns to Sean. “I don’t believe it. Didn’t know it was even possible.”
“Maybe he’s sick?” Sean glances at me with wide eyes. “Inhabited by aliens.”
“What?” I glance behind to see who they’re talking about, but then turn back to find both their gazes on me. Shit. I pat my hands over my body, thinking surely something must be out of place.
“The humility thing.” Trent’s lips lift in a slight grin. “It’s strange.”
“It’s uncomfortable for me, too,” I admit.
“Don’t worry, man. Get on that stage tonight and play your heart out.”
Sean slaps me on the back with a chuckle. “Yeah, some chicks really dig rock stars.”
He’s right. What am I so worried about? I’m a fucking god on stage; if anything’s gonna impress a woman, it’s me and my guitar. I straighten my shoulders and let the smile take over my lips. “You ugly fuckers make me look good.”
“And he’s back.” Trent laughs. “Come on, let’s get out there.”
I’ve been on a thousand stages. Played so many shows I’ve stopped keeping count, but the high of playing for a massive group of screaming, adoring fans never ceases to amaze me. Doesn’t matter that we’ve been up here for two hours. If anything, the crowd’s enthusiasm only increases. We long ago exhausted our usual playlist. This is our second encore. But the fact we don’t have to hop on a bus or catch a flight until tomorrow propels us to play just a few more.
“I love you, Three Ugly Guys!”
“Marry me!”
Trent chuckles into his mic and points a finger across the stage at me. “Don’t give up hope, because that guy’s still single, ladies.” He winks and the crowd erupts in cheers.
A grin pulls at my lips. The knowledge that I could ask any number of said ladies to spend the night in my hotel room and they’d say yes still baffles me. Not too bad for the skinny kid who couldn’t get laid or hook a girlfriend in high school. “That’s right, all you sexy, gorgeous, single women. Sing your heart out for me.” I point out into the crowd, even though it’s difficult to see past the first rows because of my spotlight. “I’m gonna come find whoever’s the loudest.”
“Yeah, brother?” Trent chuckles into his mic. “Then what’cha gonna do to the poor thing?”
I turn to him and flash a smile. “Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m gonna do.” But it’s all for show. There’s only one woman on my mind right now, and I wish to hell I had the good sense to give her backstage passes. Then I wouldn’t be staring out into this massive crowd, wondering where she is, if she’s even there.
Shit. She must think I’m a complete ass. If I hadn’t been taken by surprise, I would have given her and her friends the best seats in the house. Fuck. I hope I didn’t screw up. She probably thinks I’m a pretentious asshole. God, I hope she shows at the bar. I’ll make sure to set things right. Take care of her the way I should have.
Trent turns to Sean, his mouth on the mic. “I say we take it old school for this last one.”
“I like the way you think, brother.” Sean grins and walks over to Leighton. Back in the day we did tons of covers. They were crowd pleasers, and we always try to squeeze one or two into each show. No matter how big or famous we become, playing the bar scene is where we started.
Leighton counts off with his sticks and we break into a rocked out, grungy cover of “I Wanna Sex You Up.” The crowd eats it up, and everyone goes wild with my added theatrics. Okay. Not everyone. Sean doesn’t seem amused in the slightest. But hell, if thrusting my hips into my guitar is wrong, I don’t want to be right.
As Trent belts out the lyrics and I join in the chorus, I can’t help my thoughts as they wander back to Jayla. She looked better than I remember. Full curves in all the right places, natural curls where she used to wear her hair straight. But her eyes, always expressive, are the same. Her lips, thick and luscious, still call to my inner caveman, wanting to claim them as mine.
And she’s here. Now. Watching me right this very minute as I strut my stuff and shred to impress. We were other people when we knew each other before. Young kids. Dumb. Well, I was mostly dumb. And yet, she’s the one girl I continue to think about. Never stopped.
Maybe second chances really do exist.
I wonder if she’s thinking about that, too. Fuck. I want to search her out in the crowd. Abandon my guitar and call her out on the mic, bring her on stage and beg her to give me another shot, but even I know that’s ludicrous. It takes everything to keep my gaze forward and focus on the performance.
We make the “Color Me Badd” classic our own and then transition into our last number for the night, “Anyone But You.” As soon as our fans recognize the hit that’s been stuck on the charts for the better part of the last six months, their screams become overpowering. I can barely hear the music in my headpiece, and by the way Trent holds his hand to his right ear, he’s having the same issue.
Guitar in hand, I make my way off to the side of the stage to find a tech. “Turn it up!” I shout and then tap my ear. He nods and relays the message as I run back to my place on stage. Trent shoots me a thankful smile and breaks in with the first verse.
Lifting my arm, I sink into the rhythm and wail on Lola. Yeah, I
name my guitars, and this beauty hasn’t let me down once since I bought her used from a shop off Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood. Having her restored to her former glory was a pretty penny, but worth it. It’s the same make Hendrix played when he recorded “Electric Ladyland,” and while his fucking talented fingers never touched this one, I feel pride in knowing there’s a connection to the legend.
I lose myself in the notes, letting the music bleed from my heart and all the way down to the tips of my fingers as they move with a practiced speed I don’t even have to think about. The fans sing along to every word above the amplified sound, but that only adds to the magnetic energy. I jam out, dancing and singing along until the very last note. The applause is deafening, and as I turn back to smile at my bandmates. I know they feel it, too. This stage, this moment, it’s what rock dreams are made of. If we could, we’d stay here all night.
“Thank you, Los Angeles! You’re beautiful!” Trent calls out to the crowd.
Waving, I throw my guitar pick to a skinny teen crowded at the front corner of the stage. He catches it with a big smile, and as we head off to the green room I’d like to think that inspires him to pick up a guitar himself, if he hasn’t already.
“Be careful with my babe,” I say seriously before handing Lola over to Ben, one of the more responsible stagehands.
“Yes, sir.” He admires the guitar appreciatively as he packs her back up.
“Fuck, did you see that crowd?” Leighton says as we head for the girls. Opal waits until he’s within reach and then pulls him in for a kiss.
“See it? I could fucking feel it,” Trent slings an arm around Lexi’s shoulder. “We kicked ass out there.”
“You sure did, babe.” Lexi pushes up on her toes and meets him for a kiss.
“Hell, yeah.” Leighton grins and it makes him look like a fucking kid.
I don’t even have to turn around and look to know Sean’s kissing Jess.
Fucking lovebirds. A tiny burst of jealously coils in my gut. I want a woman to kiss me when I walk off stage. Hell, not just any woman. I want Jayla. “Enough with the kissing. You promised me partying. Let’s hit the showers and head out.” I try for nonchalance but who am I kidding? I’m never this impatient to get going.
“Why the rush?” Lexi eyes me with curiosity.
“He’s got a girl waiting on him.”
“Just one?” Opal teases and everyone laughs.
“An old friend of mine. I invited her and her friends to go out with us. That’s all.” Again with the lies. I don’t know why I bother hiding my interest, other than the fact Jayla is someone from my past. Worry gathers at the edge of my mind. Jayla knew me before I was famous, before I was a rock god. She might not be all that impressed with the person I’ve become. I might not be as different as I try to act.
“Better have Jax or someone call ahead and get them on the list. That place is crazy any night, let alone the weekend,” Leighton says.
“Good idea,” I say and glance around for one of the assistants.
“Old friend?” Trent eyes me with a grin. “From what I remember, you two were really close.”
“Yeah. So?” I pretend as if my heart doesn’t race at the thought of her.
“Ohhh.” Lexi lets loose a low whistle.
“An old crush? I need to meet her.” Opal rubs her hands together and gives me a stare.
“Wait? An ex-girlfriend?” Even Jess lights up. “This I have to see.”
“No.” I roll my eyes. “We weren’t ever together.” The lie tastes sour in my mouth. I shake it off and wave Jax over from across the room, but he doesn’t notice. “Try not to be embarrassing.”
“Are we embarrassing?” Trent gasps and presses his hand to his chest as if he’s offended.
“Rich coming from the dude who shit his pants at last year’s VMAs.” Sean chuckles.
“Nearly. I nearly shit my pants.” I throw up my hands and narrow my gaze. “And this is exactly what I’m talking about. No stories that make me look bad.”
“Fuck, what are we even gonna talk about?” Sean deadpans and scratches his head. “I can’t recall one story where you don’t do or say something stupid.”
“Fuck off.” I shove him and finally give in to a laugh. “Just steer clear of the stuff that paints me as a level ten asshole. Okay?”
“So, we shouldn’t mention all the random women you hook up with?” Lexi lifts her eyebrow in challenge.
I narrow my gaze. “If I didn’t love you, I would hate you.”
She shakes her head, and leaves Trent’s side to grab my arm. “Feeling’s mutual. Come on, let’s go find Jax and get you a shower. You smell, and not in a good way.”
112
Jayla
Going out to a club always sounds like a good idea until I’m there. If it were just my girls, and the guys would keep their hands and eyes to themselves, this would be enjoyable. I love to dance, and hitting the floor with my ladies brings a smile to my face. We’ve been here a few hours waiting on Austin, sipping drinks and rocking to whatever the DJ spins.
I’m having fun. Something I don’t do enough of. It’s a good time.
That is, until some dickwad slides his hands onto my hips. I step forward and spin around. “Not interested.”
“You’re looking good tonight.” He closes the space between us and reaches for my body again.
My pulse spikes and I hate that I still hesitate, even a beat, before I push back. “I said I wasn’t interested. Move on.” I wave him off and turn back to Kalise.
“Hey, come on. Don’t shoot a brother down so fast.” He drops his chin and flashes me a smile, positioning himself between me and my friend. This man had the audacity to put his hands on me without my permission or encouragement. Now he can’t take the hint to leave, even when I spell it out for him. I hate men like this. One who assumes a nice body and handsome smile are his ticket to whatever he wants. By the lift of his smile, he thinks he’s got game.
I hold up my hands to keep him from coming closer and bite out my response, rude and forceful this time. “Not. Interested.”
His smile transforms to a look of disgust, and he throws an insult loud enough I can hear it above the music. “Cunt.”
My temper flares, anger clouds my better judgment. “Excuse me?” I practically scream at his now retreating form. I open my mouth, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but Kalise gets in my face.
“Let’s go get a drink?” She holds my arm as if she’s worried I might go after the asshole. “Yeah?”
“Fine.” He’s not worth it. He’s not worth it. I repeat the phrase over and over until my pulse reestablishes my normal baseline and I don’t feel the need to rebuke the man who feels it’s socially acceptable to assault and degrade a woman he doesn’t even know.
We walk over to where Aaliyah shamelessly grinds against a total stranger. It’s probably best she missed the entire encounter, because her temper puts mine to shame, and I have no intention of getting kicked out of this club.
“Drink break!” Kalise shouts and it’s enough of an excuse for Aaliyah to ditch her dance partner and head to our table.
We’ve been here for hours, and while our name was on the list as promised and we were given a reserved table, I don’t know how much longer I want to wait around. As much as I want to see Austin again, I won’t hang around like some groupie. Does he even want to see me? If he did, he’d be here by now. I don’t know much about his life, or how the schedule after a show goes, but I can’t image he has that much to do.
“It’s after one,” Kalise shouts above the music.
“I know.” I swallow down the disappointment.
“What do you wanna do, Jayla?” Aaliyah asks. “We can stay for another drink, if you think . . .” she trails off, but I know she’s wondering as much as me where the hell he is. Or whether they’re even coming. Maybe he got tied up, but maybe he just forgot.
“No. Let’s go. This is stupid. I’m sorry.” I shake my hea
d and try to not let the feeling of rejection sink into my thoughts.
“Girl, don’t apologize. You didn’t drag us here. Besides, not a complete waste.” Aaliyah pulls a folded napkin from her wallet and raises it between her fingers with a grin. “I still got it.”
“I’m telling Drake,” Kalise chides.
Despite being upset, I let loose a smile.
The cocktail waitress who’s been helping us all night comes by our high top. “Another round?”
“I think we’ll just take the check.”
She holds up her hand as I try to hand her my card. “Oh, it’s been taken care of. Sure I can’t get you one more round?”
I look at my girls, but they’re as shocked as I am. “Excuse me?”
“Another round? Or maybe bottled water?”
“Who paid the bill?” Kalise asks what we’re all wondering.
“You’re guests of Off Track Records.” She smiles again. “It’s all taken care of.”
There’s something wrong with me because her words strike a fresh wound in my already crippled ego. He wants to pay for my drinks, but can’t be bothered to show up? I dig into my wallet and pull out a twenty. “Thank you.”
She holds up her hand, not accepting my money. “My tip has also been taken care of.”
“Oh.” I grate my jaw back and forth.
“Do you need me to call you a ride?”
“Let me guess, that would be taken care of as well?”
She grins. “Why, yes it would.”
“No, thanks,” I say at the same time my friends answer, “Yes, please!”
I glare at them. “We’re good. We can get our own damn ride.” I slide out of my seat, toss my jacket over my arm, and march toward the exit. I don’t stop walking until I pass the bouncers outside the deafening club. Even with the late hour, a line of waiting patrons wraps around one side of the building. I step to the opposite side and pull out my cell to request a ride. The wind whips through the night air and my arms break out in goosebumps.