01 Rock 'n' Roll is Undead - Veronica Mason

by Rose Pressey

  Buzz stood, pulling my chair out for me, then placing his hand on the small of my back as he led me toward the dance floor. The music swirled and so did the skirts around us as guys twirled the ladies across the floor. It was a fast song, so there wouldn’t be a lot of touching. No harm, no foul. One dance? I could handle that. Maybe. Kind of handle?

  Across from me stood this gorgeous man, waiting to dance with me, and just then I made a decision—enjoy the moment. Let my guard down for a brief time, erase negative thoughts and worry from my mind. Go with the flow.

  Buzz smiled and took my hand. We moved to the music, back and forth, hips shaking and feet stepping in time. Each movement he made flowed with my body. Buzz was a great dancer. And, well you know what they say about men who can dance…. No, I had to push the bedroom thoughts out of my head. Enjoy the moment, but I didn’t need to enjoy it that much.

  The music stopped and, I had to admit, disappointment washed over me. A half of one dance was not enough. But before I had time to utter a word, the music started again.

  Huge problem though: a slow song cascaded from the speakers. Not good. Not good at all.

  Buzz looked at me expectantly and held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

  His smile made my heart melt. How could I say no? Just one little slow dance, that was it, no biggie.

  My breath hitched as he wrapped his arms around me. Buzz placed one hand on my hip and the heat radiated through the fabric of my skirt. With my chest pressed tight against his, I couldn’t distinguish between his heartbeat, mine, and the beat of the music.

  My head rested against his muscular chest as we swayed back and forth. Each step he made displayed his confidence on the dance floor. He held me in a tight embrace. My stomach danced as if a fast song played and my heart thumped wildly, making breathing difficult. The room spun, but not because of the dancing. Buzz placed a hand under my chin and raised my face up in his direction. He traced my cheek with his finger, then my lips, all the while gazing into my eyes. His finger felt like fire. An electric feeling zinged between us that I’d never, in all my life, experienced. In that moment, I wanted to know what his hands would feel like caressing every inch of my body. We moved in sync with the song. No words were spoken. Our bodies did all the talking.

  As I met his gaze, he felt the exhilaration between us, I knew he did. What would I do now? His body wrapped around mine felt wonderful—hard and safe. Nothing could harm me in Buzz’s arms. At least that’s what I thought. But, oh how wrong could I have been?

  Chapter 46

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” Buzz said in my ear.

  “What? Why?” I scrunched my brow.

  “The guy.” He tilted his head in the general direction of half the bar. Not exactly narrowing it down much in the sea of bodies. “He’s here. The one from the diner.”

  He grabbed my hand like a little rag doll again.

  “The one you wouldn’t tell me why you’re avoiding? You know, this is just too weird, I—”

  He tugged on my arm and pulled me through the crowd. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your car.”

  Talk about mixed signals. Buzz had me bemused. My head spun as if I were on an amusement park ride. We weaved through the sea of bodies. He pulled me through the crowd as I tried to look over my shoulder for the mystery man.

  We made our way out from inside the club and into the warm night air. Buzz still held my hand. I pulled away, forcing him to release his grip.

  “I can handle myself from here, thanks.” I increased my stride and he hurried his steps to catch up.

  “Sorry about that,” he offered.

  I waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t ask whom this person is you’re hiding from because, frankly, I don’t care. I should go home.”

  Luckily, I hadn’t parked far. I unlocked my door and slipped behind the wheel.

  Buzz stood beside my Bel-Air. “Let me explain.”

  “Never mind. It’s late and I’m tired. I’ll see you.”

  I cranked the engine to life. As I backed out, I didn’t look at Buzz. I should have known not to let my guard down. No more feelings for band members.

  Whatever Buzz was into, I didn’t want any part of it. I had enough to handle without adding to my problems. One kiss was all it was and that was all it would be. I’d tell Buzz we had nothing but a professional relationship.

  Right now, I needed to make it home safely and forget about the events of the last twenty-four hours. Perhaps my little sleuthing activity hadn’t been such a great idea, after all. Tomorrow I could think clearer, after I had some sleep. I needed rest with no dreams, no chasing, no blood, no murder, and no Buzz.

  When I parked in front of my apartment, the feeling of being watched overwhelmed me again, and shaking it off seemed impossible. As if someone’s eyes were burning right through me. I swung out from behind the wheel, and brushed past the bushes, stepping out wide in case someone was hiding behind them, then hurried down the stone path to the front door. When I stepped inside the foyer, the small space loomed dark. The bulb must have blown.

  The quiet, shadowy space did nothing to ease my fear. Where were the old folks when you needed them? Any other time they’d want to chit-chat. Luckily, I made it to the top of the stairs and inside my apartment without incident. I tossed my purse and keys on the table, then secured the dead bolt on the door before hurrying into the kitchen. Straight to the little window over the sink I went, lifting the shade slightly and peeking out into the darkness, toward the park. A streetlight above a park bench washed the surrounding space in light. No one peeked out from behind the trees, so I let out a sigh of relief and closed the shade.

  *

  The next day arrived, bringing with it a stunningly bright morning and a bit of prospect for good—a possible record deal. With everything that had happened, I hadn’t had time to worry about the big event much. If any good could come from the situation, a record deal was it. Filled with anticipation, like a child waiting on Christmas, Halloween, and a birthday all rolled into one, I was eager for night to arrive.

  As usual, sleep hadn’t come easy. I tossed and turned like a kid waiting for the boogeyman to jump out of the closet. In this case, the boogeyman was a vampire killer, but was he a witch killer, too? Would I be burned at the stake? Stoned to death? I’d woken once during the night with my heart pounding and covered in sweat. Nothing I had tried made the dreams stop. Much to my surprise, I’d had a good dream mixed in with the bad. In it, a handsome stranger—no, not Buzz…okay, it was Buzz—had whisked me away to a tropical paradise. We’d just popped the champagne bottle when the sun streaming through the blinds interrupted the bubbly. Kind of like the stranger interrupted our dance last night.

  The sun peeked through the slats and splashed across my face. I forced myself to sit up in bed, then untangled the sheets from my body. Had Buzz really kissed me? Had we really danced? Was Frank really arrested? So many questions. And to top it off, I’d discovered another vampire! And Johnny really was gone…and not coming back. I’d thought about the crazy mess all night. It didn’t make for a restful sleep, but at least I hadn’t had another vision.

  It was ten minutes after nine already. I’d slept later than I’d planned. But since I’d woken up almost every hour through the night, I wasn’t surprised that getting out of bed was tough. After showering, I slipped on my pink Capri pants, and pink and white halter, then found my favorite wedge heels. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and clicked a pink lily to the side. No time to style it.

  I headed to the kitchen for a quick cup of coffee and a piece of the cake my mom had sent home with me last night. If I wanted to make it on time for practice, I’d have to hurry; being late was one of my pet peeves, that and driving slow in the fast lane. Frank always gave me a hard time when I was late, although now he had no room to talk. He’d almost screwed up everything at the last minute. I was pissed at him for being so careless.

  As I stood in fron
t of the window pouring my coffee, I noticed movement in the park. Not unusual, until I looked up and noticed who it was. Or at least who I thought it was. Because of the distance, I couldn’t say for sure, but with someone that good-looking it was hard to mistake.

  Buzz hurried from across the park. He’d been standing near a bench. He moved to the sidewalk and leaned down, talking to someone in a car. But not just any car, it looked a lot like the car that had followed me. Still, I couldn’t be sure. The tops of the dense trees covered part of my view. My heart thumped harder at the thought. Buzz couldn’t have been in the car that followed me last night, because he was at my parents’ house when I arrived. He’d driven his motorcycle, too. But did he know the person who’d chased me? What were the odds there’d be two cars like that one around town? I watched as he leaned down, almost sticking his entire head into the window. After a minute, he leaned up, grabbed the door, and hopped in. The car sped off. Did Buzz have a doppelganger? They say everyone has one.

  I placed the coffee mug down in a hurry, grabbed my purse, and headed for the door. One way or another, I intended to find out what was going on. A little research into the background of my mysterious new bass player was in order. He’d showed up out of nowhere and now he was talking to the person following me. Was he somehow involved? I shuddered at the thought. Had he been involved in the murders and the break-in of my apartment? Had I let the killer into my apartment? Or, worse yet, had I let him kiss me?

  After stepping out onto the path leading to my car, I scanned the area. Heck, I didn’t know who I could trust or where people could be hiding, waiting to jump out at me. Maybe Buzz and the mystery car were hanging around to follow me again. If they did, I’d call the police. I wouldn’t go down without a fight. Sure, the detective wouldn’t want to hear from me again, but I was sick of this and I wanted answers. One thing for sure, I needed to find out every possible detail about one Mr. Buzz Vaughn.

  I slipped into the driver’s seat and eased out onto the street, pointing the car in the direction of the bar, all the while keeping my alert on high for any strange vehicles. First, I’d ask Frank who the friends were who knew about the audition. Buzz had said he’d found out from a friend of a friend. Frank should be able to tell me more about this guy.

  Then it hit me. As much as I didn’t want my father to know everything that was going on, I’d have to call him. I needed his police friend to find any info he could on Buzz. If that was even his name. Maybe later I could slip a look at his wallet and see his identification. After making a turn, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed my dad’s number.

  “Hello, Pumpkin,” he said when he answered.

  Caller ID. No way to hide from them now.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “I can’t believe I’m so lucky to get a call after I just saw you. What a treat. It was so nice seeing you last night. You really should do that more often.”

  “Yeah, I’ll have to. Hey, Dad—”

  “You’re not driving while talking, are you? You know how dangerous that can be.”

  “Um, no, I’ve pulled over.” Good thing he couldn’t see me whizzing down Bear Creek Avenue. “Listen, Dad, I need your help. The new guy I brought last night, Buzz Vaughn—”

  “Yeah, you got yourself a good one there. You should keep him around for a bit.”

  “Daddy, I’m not dating him.”

  “Well, maybe you should.”

  “’I’m not dating band members again.”

  “This one’s different. I can feel it.”

  “I can’t talk about this right now. I didn’t call to discuss my dating life.”

  “I’m sorry, go ahead.”

  “What did he tell you about himself?”

  “Served in the Marines. Went to Iraq, came back, and finished his college. Spent the time since painting and selling his work, and playing bass.”

  “And you like this guy? I can’t believe it. You always want me to settle down with a professional of some sort.”

  “Well, like I said, he’s different.”

  “Right. Okay. Well, can you do me a favor?”

  “Anything, Pumpkin.”

  “Ask Bob about him for me. See what he can find out.”

  “You don’t trust him?”

  “It’s not that, I just want to know who’s playing in my band, that’s all. With what happened to Johnny, you understand.” He didn’t need to know how much I didn’t trust Buzz.

  “I do, Sweetheart. I’ll call him now and let you know as soon as I find out any details. Is there anything in particular you want to know?”

  “Everything,” I said. “I gotta go, I’ll be late. Thanks, Dad.”

  “Be careful, please. Your mama and I worry about you.”

  “I know, I’m fine.” That was why I hated to make the call; they didn’t need to worry about me.

  After making my way through the light traffic, I pulled into the parking lot in front of The Lipstick Lounge—how appropriate. It was Saturday morning and not many people were out and about yet. Thank goodness. I had my choice of parking spaces. I steered into a spot in front of the main door and slipped out. If I was lucky, the owner would be there already; I didn’t want to stand around outside by myself any longer than I had to. If I remembered correctly, he owned the huge red Dodge truck parked across the lot. With hurried steps, I marched across the pavement, looking from side to side, not something I’d normally do, but things were different now. My life had changed permanently because of the murders. But I’d already realized with the loss of my brother you couldn’t take one day for granted. I never thought playing in a band would be so dangerous. Flying bottles and creepy fans, maybe, but murders, not so much.

  No one appeared to be following me, so I pulled on the large door. It opened. In spite of several lights shining faintly inside the club, I had to blink to adjust my eyes to the darkness. The owner had to be around somewhere, so I walked into the middle of the bar and scanned the area.

  “Hello?” I called. No answer. I stepped further into the room. “Hello?”

  “Hey!”

  I jumped, clutching my chest. “You almost scared me to death.” I continued to grip my chest to steady my heartbeat. Maybe not the best choice of words—I hated saying death, dead, or any other variation of the word in front of vamps.

  The bar owner’s wife, Barbie, walked toward me. Her blonde bob bounced with each step. She wore red hip-hugging jogging pants and a tiny white midriff-baring tank top. The front came down in a low v-shape, showing an ample amount of enhanced cleavage. The fabric hung to her hourglass figure.

  Her face was red and her eyes puffy. She sniffled.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Um, yeah. Everything’s fine.”

  “Here have a seat.” I pulled out one of the chairs at the table in front of us. She plopped down and rested her head in her hands, propping it up with her elbows on the table.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked as I sat across from her.

  “It’s just that Monty and I had an argument.”

  “Oh.” I nodded. “I see. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “He...he... found out something about me the other day and I don’t think he’s going to forgive me. I didn’t mean to do it, it just happened.”

  By her statement, I think I knew what she’d done.

  “Does this involve someone else?” I tried to put it as delicately as I could.

  “Yes.” She nodded. “It was Johnny Davis.”

  Whoa, I hadn’t seen that one coming. She could have punched me in the stomach and I would have had less air knocked out of me.

  “Johnny? As in my bass player?” The one who was murdered?

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  Wow, I didn’t know what to say. “I’ll go talk to Monty. Maybe I can help.”

  “Wait. No.” She grabbed my arm when I stood. Her grip was so tight I thought she might break my bones. She wasn’t more than one hundred twenty pounds
, but she was strong.

  “Ouch. You’re hurting me. Do you mind letting go of my arm?” I twisted.

  Like I said, Barbie wasn’t a big woman and she didn’t look strong. I thought I could take her if I had to. We were about the same size—five foot two without heels.

  “Don’t touch me.” I yelled.

  “I’ll do whatever I want. This is my bar.” She leaned in close. The smell of liquor hit me in the face. “I’ll suck you dry and gut you like a fish.” She leaned back. “That is unless you stake me like the others.” Okay, maybe I couldn’t take her if I had to; she obviously had an unfair advantage with the fangs.

  Frank and Craig came through the door and she released her grip on me. She looked down as if nothing had happened. They frowned, walking toward us. I was sure they’d seen the exchange. Before she said another word, I marched toward the back of the bar. Whether she liked it or not, I needed to talk with the owner about tonight. She jumped up and ran over, falling into step beside me. Her over-sprayed Chanel No.5 almost knocked me over. Hadn’t she ever heard the phrase a little goes a long way? She pranced next to me. It was as if a shark was circling me.

  “I told you not to talk with him about this.”

  “Look, Barbie. I’m talking to him about the show tonight. And if you ever grab my arm like that again, I’ll give you way more than this to cry about.” Acting tough was all I had at this point.

  She let out a huff as I continued walking. Was she for real? No one was that strange, right? Cue the Twilight Zone theme music.

  I reached the back of the stage and opened the door that led into the back rooms. It was dark, only a single light shone from the cracked door of Monty’s office. I eased down the hall, trying not to trip in the darkness. When I reached the door, I knocked even though it was mostly open.

  “Anybody there?” No answer. Music played faintly in the background. I yelled louder in case he didn’t hear me. “Anybody there?” Still no answer, so I opened the door the rest of the way. No one was inside the small room. The walls were an awful yellow color. The wood trim made me want to run kicking and screaming from the building. The office furniture looked straight off a 1970s movie set. Had Monty bought this stuff new? I shouldn’t judge—some people liked the vintage look. On his desk were a couple of photos. Stacks of papers covered the top, exposing only small glimpses of wood.