For the next song, Deklan grabs an electric guitar and sings with the mic on a stand. The concentration and focus he has on the guitar makes me flash back to our time in bed. Mouth slightly pursed together, eyes shining and brows bunched. Yum. He can pluck my strings anytime. Such dirty thoughts, I scold myself mentally! Maybe I’m going to be a nympho preggo like my Shell girl Carmen was. She would meet her husband on their lunch break to get at it, because she just couldn’t wait.
I finish my smoothie and am pleased to feel not one bit nauseous. I hold up my cup when I catch Tommy’s eye and give him a thumbs up. He does a chin lift and grins at me, still beating away at the drums. Three more songs with the guys talking to people in the sound booth at the back of the arena, adjusting until it’s just right, then Deklan makes a come here motion with his hand.
I look behind me half-jokingly, then point my thumb to my chest. “Me?” I mouth.
He nods, so I pick up my stuff and walk to the stage. He moves to the side stairs and holds a hand out to me. I climb the steps as he sings about a nice girl in a bad part of town. I set down my purse by the stairs and immediately after that, Alan starts Dream On by Aerosmith. Deklan is walking backward, pulling me by my hand until he gets to a stool he’d set in the middle of the stage. He sits so his face is just a little below mine and pulls me in between his legs. I settle my arms on his biceps, my fingers gripping strong muscle.
He starts singing, while with the other hand, tracing the seam of my jeans on my thigh. My whole leg instantly erupts in goose bumps. During the guitar solo he puts his arm holding the mic down against his stomach and looks at my lips. I feel them part as a little sigh escapes me that he can’t possibly hear. He licks his bottom lip and moves his eyes to mine, again bringing the microphone back to his mouth. As he starts singing again, my eyes are fastened on his mouth. I’m so close I can see this tongue ring. My breath accelerates just thinking about that tongue.
When he gets to the part ‘Dream On’, his hands move higher up the seam of my pants. Then, as he belts out screaming the part perfectly, he grips my hip bone. His body leans forward so that if I moved at all his forehead would touch my boob. I stay perfectly still. After the song is done, I feel sort of like I just had a mini orgasm. He stands up as the other guys store their instruments for later, and I struggle to get my body under control.
He's so close when he stands, that my jacket is touching his chest, and I’m already breathing hard. His hand is still on my hip bone, and I can feel his fingers squeeze. “You wanna get outta here?” he asks in a deep rumbling voice.
“Are you done?” I ask dumbly. Like he would leave if there was more sound check or something? This is his job after all.
“Yeah, we're good until the show,” he replies.
I just nod my head so nothing insane comes out. Something like I want to have your babies… Oh wait. He starts walking me back to the stairs, sliding his arm around me. In doing so, his thumb goes under my shirt so that it's touching the skin above my low rise jeans. This man and his magic hands are going to get me off with grazes and accidental touches alone. It's not a sacrifice, that’s for sure. I have enough working brain cells to remember to grab my purse on the way off the stage.
He checks his mic and ear pieces in with the tech guy, then steers me to the double doors again. He chin lifts to the band and says, “Later guys.”
I turn around and gush, “Thank you Tommy! I feel great. Smoothies are my new go-to.”
He lifts a hand and yells back, “No problem Ali, glad I could help!”
We walk out a door near the front. Which is kind of dangerous for him seeing as its a few hours until the concert and people are already starting to arrive. We grab a cab right away and head off.
“Whose room do you want to go to?” he asks me.
I check my phone for the time and reply, “Oh mine, I have to take a shower and change. You can drop me off if you want.”
He shakes his head, takes my hand and looks out the window. “I’ll go with you.”
I hesitate, and he catches it out of the corner of his eye, then looks at me and asks uncertainly, “What? Do you want me to leave?”
“No,” I deny quickly, “But I kind of have a ritual when I’m getting ready for a concert. I always listen to the set list. I didn’t think you would want to listen to your music for over an hour.”
He's watching me. Trying to decide if I’m lying? I hold up my phone, pull up my music playlist, and show it to him. He takes the phone from me, scrolls around and taps a few times, then hands it back.
“What did you do?” I ask accusingly.
He answers, “We changed the order and added Dream On, wanted to make sure you had it right.”
“Does that mean you're staying or going?” I ask hesitantly. Of course I want to spend time with him but I don’t want him to be uncomfortable.
“I want to go with you, if you don’t have a problem with it. We've been apart for years. I know who you are on the inside. I just want to hear it said in your voice and learn who you are on the outside,” he replies immediately.
"I don’t have a problem with it, as long as you don’t mind my singing all of your songs with my off-key voice in a fabulously acoustic bathroom while I get ready,” I warn him.
He chuckles, “I think it’ll be worth it.”
I smile and look out my window. He wants to spend time with me to the point of torture!
Chapter 14
As we ride the elevator up to my room I tell him spontaneously, “You're really good.”
He looks at me questioningly.
I explain. “At singing, performing. I’ve been going to your shows for a long time and it's never been anything less than a great performance every time. Even back when you played the little clubs and bars, you guys had it. You should be proud of everything you've accomplished, and that you've been on top for so long.” I immediately feel a blush and am mentally kicking myself, because he never said he wasn’t proud of their success.
But he nods his head solemnly instead of scoffing at me. “We definitely didn’t know all of this was possible when we started. But it's been so much fun and I think if you have a gift you should use it to the extent of your ability. For you it's tattooing, with the pictures you've shown me, you have serious talent. For us it's music, so we just keep doing it until our time is up. But I’m glad we have fans like you who have been there almost as long and have stayed with us. It's a huge compliment that we don’t take for granted. You should know that.”
“Thank you, Deklan. And thanks for the free tickets.” I smile.
He smiles back to me saying, “Thanks for coming back! And call me Dek.”
"Okay,” I agree just as the bell dings and the doors open. I walk in my room and unzip my vest, I turn to Deklan. “What will you do while I’m in the shower?”
His eyes roam my body like he's imagining me naked already. He runs his tongue over his front teeth with his mouth closed, but I can see the movement, then he lays sprawled out sideways on my bed on his stomach and pulls out his phone. Holding up his phone he says, “Check some emails or somethin’. I’m good.”
I walk to the bathroom and shut the double doors. The whole time in the shower I think of him on my bed. I keep glancing at the door like he's going to barge in naked. I finish up, get out and wrap a towel around my head then put on my white hotel robe and pull open the doors open. Deklan is lying in the same spot, head facing me, up on his elbows messing with his phone. He moves just his eyes to me, roaming my body. But now there's only a sash between clothed and naked, and I feel it keenly.
“Still good?" I question in a slightly higher voice than normal.
He nods his head slowly. “Mhmm.”
I move to the walk-in closet and shut the door before slipping into a lace bra and undies. I put the robe back on and cinch the sash tight, grabbing my clothes and heading back to the bathroom. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I realize he just saw me for the first time without an
y makeup on. Not that my appearance is changed all that much with it anymore. I have a good complexion, I’m tanned, my skin smooth, but everyone looks better with makeup on, if only just to highlight what you already have. Setting the clothes down, I sit on the side of the tub to put lotion on my legs. I make sure to get my ankles and knees rubbed in really well on my right leg and glance to the doors, freezing immediately.
I forgot there are full length mirrors on the back of both doors and since I didn’t open them all the way, I can see Deklan perfectly on my bed. He's not looking at me at all, totally focused on his phone, which is a bummer and relief at the same time. I wasn’t trying to give him a show, but would it hurt if he appreciated the accident?
I stick my lotioned leg in the tub and work on the other one. There's the sugar skull in flowers on my thigh that he would notice if he bothered to look. He can probably see the side of it. Still moving my arms, I glance to the side with just my eyes, and see him watching me with a hungry look. YES! I turn my head and he doesn’t put his head down. Green eyes stay on me.
He clears his throat and inquires with a chin lift. “The skull?”
I nod silently.
He nods back, looks into my eyes and asks, “Can I see it?”
Oh right. I stand from the tub and take a deep breath, making sure the sash is tight around me. I walk up to him, stop about two feet away, and move the robe over to expose my upper thigh with the six inch tattoo made up of one hundred flowers.
He looks at it with the appropriate amount of awe and says, “It's beautiful.”
I nod, it is beautiful. “Reed Evans did it. He did all of mine, actually. I interned for him in college, he was my mentor,” I explain.
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You mentored with Reed Evans? No wonder you're so good and your tats are so detailed. You can see every striation in the petals.”
“Thank you, and he is a great artist. Taught me a lot, I got lucky.”
Deklan shoots back, “You've got talent, Ali. You just got a teacher that knew what to do with it.”
Over the years I would send Redy pictures of some of the tattoos I was most proud of. Portraits that are so hard to get right in the first place and come out exactly like a picture, things like that. He's always exclaimed over my talent, and it's a heady thing now knowing it was from one artist to another.
I step back and drop the robe, “Thanks Dek that means a lot.”
“Can I see the back piece?” he asks as I make my way back toward the bathroom.
I stop and look over my shoulder, shake my head no and remark, “I think we should save a few things. You know, anticipation.”
He chuckles darkly, “Right, anticipation. You know two can play that game, Miss Alaina.”
I turn to face him fully. “What does that mean?”
Deklan says, “You’ll see.” He flashes his megawatt, blinding smile, and I have to look away, so I reach for my iPhone and turn on the playlist. I see him wrinkle his nose and let out a giggle before I turn it up so I can hear it over my blow dryer.
Walking into the bathroom, I shut the doors to put on the grey wide-neck skull t-shirt and a pair of distressed jeans. Over that I slip on a thigh high silk kimono so that I don’t get any makeup or hair product on my clothes then open the doors again.
I do my hair in a faux hawk, looping my hair in bubbles with bobby pins and elastic ties. Then I move on to makeup, singing and shaking my hips to the songs. Deklan is directly behind me, so I can’t see what he's doing unless I turn to look or move to the side. I decide to do my spins in the 'OH’s of the poppy club song to see what he's doing. Mid-spin I stop when I see him holding his phone up more than he had been.
"What are you doing?” I ask suspiciously.
He looks over the top of his phone, which is still directed at me. “Nothing, what do you mean?” he counters with fake innocence.
My eyes narrow on him. “You better not be recording me.”
“Would I do that?” He still tries to act innocent, but the sparkle in his eyes are giving him away.
“Give me that,” I say, lunging for the phone just as he presses a button and holds the phone out of my reach.
He's looking up at me. “I’m just gonna post this real quick, hang on a sec.”
“You will not, absolutely not. Do you want me to get murdered? The majority of your fans are women, and they’ll hate me.” I try to reason with him as I crawl closer on the bed then stand to be able to reach the phone. I lunge again and miss.
“Fine, for now, but I was emailing my publicist earlier, and we agreed on some stuff about that. We can talk about it later. Are you ready to go, it's almost time to get back.”
I look down at myself. “Um, yeah lip gloss and shoes and I’m set to go.” I turn and jump off the bed, I lace up my low rise chucks as Deklan disappears into the bathroom. I take out my ID and AmEx, and slip them into my pocket.
Deklan comes out of the bathroom and hands me my phone. “Don’t forget this.”
I slip it into my back pocket and ask, “Is there somewhere I can keep my jacket when we get there?”
“Yeah in the dressing room. There's a guard at the door and nobody can get in but the band.”
“Perfect,” I say, zipping up my silver metallic jacket.
Deklan leads me downstairs and says in the lobby that he called for a car to pick us up instead of catching a taxi, since it's an hour until the doors open and the venue is going to be packed. A private car can drive through security while a taxi has to stay at the gate.
When we get close to the venue there is noticeably more traffic. The amount of people walking around our car while we wait for an opening makes me grateful for tinted windows. After five nerve wracking minutes for me —Deklan looks totally chill and unbothered while I feel like there's a neon sign pointing to our car— we get in the gate.
As soon as we're out of the car, Dek takes my hand again and maneuver the backstage crowd.
As we near a door marked Deklan Thomas on a lime green sheet of paper I inform him, “When the doors open, I need to get some shirts from the vendors. They were sold out last night. I just don’t know my way out of here to get to them.”
He looks over at me. "I can get you anything you want, but if you want to go look at what’s available, I just have to check in and let them know I’m in the building. It's five thirty do you want something to eat or a smoothie?”
It's been three hours since I last ate, and although I’m not hungry yet, it’s a safe bet I’ll get there pretty soon. I nod and we walk back to the green room. Only Tag and Peter are in the room this time. They all do chin lifts and Tag comments, “Badass hawk, Ali!”
I smile. “Thanks, Tag.”
Deklan moves over to the buffet, while I walk to the blender. I make the same smoothie Tommy had made for me before, but the ginger and juicer stump me. Do I put it in before I turn it on like a blender, or turn it on first? I can’t remember what he did.
Peter walks over to me. “First time with the juicer?”
“Yeah, I can’t remember if he turned it on first,” I answer.
He gives a grin and tells me you do turn it on first.
“Thanks Pete.”
He walks back to his seat, and I juice the ginger before adding it to the blender. Glancing over my shoulder, I look around to make sure nobody's on the phone before I turn it on and close the box around it that muffles the sound. Deklan wanders over with a piece of pizza, taking a huge bite as I turn the blender off.
He tells the guys we're going to the vendors, and they all ask for beer that's on tap out there. I laugh.
Deklan shrugs. “Best beer there is, on tap at a concert. Usually we have someone go get it for us. With you here, I’ll have extra hands so we can grab it.” He bumps my shoulder and gives a little side grin. The flash of his dimple sends a wave of warmth through me, so I causally unzip my jacket. We exit to the side of the arena where all of the vendors are. The doors aren’t open yet, so it'
s quiet and there's no line. Its twenty minutes until the doors open and the salespeople are still organizing their merchandise.
There are black shirts, hoodies, and pink baby doll tees with white writing and the Rolling Bridges logo on the front. It's an R and B that look like twisted ladders almost but cooler. I get pink for myself and each of my Shell girls. Deklan eyes the pile of shirts as I hand over my AmEx. He opens his mouth, seems to think better of it and shuts it again.
“What?” I ask as I’m signing my name on the credit card slip.
He shakes his head and says, “Nothing, I just never realized how much you buy at the concerts. I thought it was a t-shirt you wear to bed or something. You have to have a thousand by now.” That is a slight exaggeration but not a crazy one. Rolling Bridges have done tours every year since being signed over a decade ago.
In the beginning, when they were selling t-shirts out of their trunks in the parking lots of the bars they were playing, I would drive two hours south to L.A. with a fake ID, and a sleepover alibi courtesy of Stacie. They would switch designs all the time depending on the deals they could get from suppliers. Between the band’s t-shirts, and those of the bars when they had a cool design, they’ve added up.
We grab the bagged shirts and make our way across the hall. “You're early t-shirts got retired, boxed and labeled vintage. I haven’t worn one in a while,” I offer him.
He throws his head back and laughs. “Vintage?” he asks incredulously. “Christ, I didn’t think we were that old.”
Deklan rubs his head, messing up the James Dean do for the first time. Holding out his hand, he scowls at the hair product left there. “Fuck now I have hair shit all over me.”
I laugh and reach for some napkins by the beer vendors. He wipes his hand and shoots the napkin in a trash can before walking up and ordering six beers. They load them up in holders for us. Clear flimsy plastic solo-type cups filled to the brim.
Fan Girl Page 11