“Pawn her off on the first girl willing to buy her a drink,” I said.
“Yeah, well, maybe you should call Owen,” Zoe said.
“Use Nash as motivation,” Sky said with a giggle.
Toby whistled again.
I turned and threw him the middle finger.
I walked extra slow toward him.
“How was the show?” he asked.
“Really good,” I said.
“Was that your first time seeing them?”
“No. I saw them once before. When Dirty Ways came out.”
“Ah, that’s an old one,” Toby said. “You must have been a Line Whore then.”
“Not even close. I’m going to go write my story and that’s that.”
“You don’t want to see the backstage?”
I swallowed hard.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted or did not want to see.
I shrugged my shoulders and played it off.
“Follow me,” Toby said. “I’ll keep you safe, sweetie.”
I rolled my eyes.
Sweetie.
We walked the alley next to the club.
The second I made the turn to the back entrance of the club, I saw Nash.
He was standing on the roof of a black Mercedes.
“What the hell are you doing?” Toby called out.
I had no idea how he had gotten from the stage to the back so quick.
In his left hand was a bottle of whiskey.
He brought it to his lips and took a big drink.
“Whose car is that?” I asked Toby.
Toby started to massage his own temples. “That’s the promoter. I called in a favor to get him to get the show set up.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“No, sweetie, it’s not okay. Last year he predicted that Nash was going to be dead before the ball dropped on the new year.”
“Oh,” I said. “So…”
Nash took another swig of the whiskey and then dumped the bottle through the open sunroof on the luxury car.
When he took out a lighter, I gasped.
“Damn, sweetie,” Toby said turning his attention to me. “Just how good of a writer are you?”
I opened my mouth but had nothing to say.
This was going to be a disaster.
* * *
I was jumpy in my seat.
“I’ll read it,” Toby said.
It was just me, Toby, my father, and Nash at the end of the table.
Dark sunglasses on this face.
Asshole grin plastered to his face.
I wanted to put my fist to his face.
I liked him better as a fantasy on a poster hanging in my room.
“He set a car on fire,” my father said. “The car of a promoter who does a lot of work with this company.”
“Let’s hear the story,” Nash said.
Toby cleared his throat. “A show that was never supposed to happen. Perhaps one of the greatest FL shows that ever happened. Unexpected. Uninhibited. Raw. Real. The power of music without the big stage, bright lights, and everything that comes with the arena setting. That’s the night. Explosive. The fire on stage. And in a strange twist of events, that same fire and vitriol carried itself backstage and outside. Labeled as the baddest rock star on the planet, Nash stood next to the burning luxury car as though he started it and wanted everyone to see. But let’s say for a second he did strike the match. Let’s say he tossed that match through an open window and watched it burn. Is it safe enough to ask the question ‘why’ … or better yet - ‘why not?’”
Toby looked at me and raised an eyebrow.
“Sounds good so far,” Nash said.
Toby looked back down. “The baddest rock star on the planet was the only one who cared enough to do something about it. I watched as he challenged the flames like a drunk man picking a fight. Crazy? Yeah. Stupid? Double yeah. But Nash ripped open the car door and stuck his head into the burning vehicle to make sure there was nobody inside. With voices around yelling to stop, he did what he wanted. Like he always does. After making sure the car was clear of all passengers, he located the owner of the vehicle. When that man - later identified as promoter Braggs Billy - tried to race toward his burning vehicle, it was Nash who held him back…”
“Is that what really happened?” my father asked.
“For the most part,” Nash said with a grin.
“Point is, Dale, this is the story that makes things look great,” Toby said. “Doesn’t matter what Nash did to that car or to Braggs. What matters is that he looks like a fucking hero.”
“Hardly a hero,” I said.
“We’ll see what the fallout is,” my father said. He slowly stood up. “I have another meeting.”
“This is gold, Dale,” Toby said. “Admit it.”
“It’s a great spin,” my father said. He looked at me and nodded. “A really great spin.”
He exited the room and I sat there alone with Toby and Nash.
It was silent.
A very uncomfortable silence.
So, I stood up and gave a wave. “I’m out of here.”
“You’ll be writing again for us, right?” Toby asked.
I didn’t answer.
I just got the hell out of the room.
Part of me really didn’t know what to think or what to do.
Writing about Nash on stage was one thing. Writing about him with other women was another. But he purposely stood on the roof of that car and waited for me. He waited to show me how crazy he was. Setting it on fire. Jumping off the roof and standing there. And when Braggs came out and saw the car on fire, Nash went after him. He slammed him against the building and threatened him.
Nash was… insane.
I stepped onto the elevator and turned.
Nash was right there, his body an inch from mine.
I let out a yell as I jumped back.
I grabbed the silver railing in the elevator as the doors shut.
Fuck.
“Nice spin, babe,” he said. “You have a way with words.”
“You have a way with making everyone feel uncomfortable.”
“Do you feel uncomfortable right now?”
“You know who I am,” I said. “And I know what was said to you.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. You try anything… or I say anything… you lose the deal of a lifetime.”
Nash nodded. “And that’s who you are? A little princess looking to live off the old man’s cash?”
“Never,” I said. “I’m on my own, Nash. I do everything on my own.”
“Except this job,” he said. “You’re using me to get what you want.”
“How does it feel?”
“Not sure yet, babe,” he said. “I’m just getting started.”
“Well, I’m about finished already.”
“I’ll buy us some time,” he said.
I watched as his hand reached for the emergency stop button.
There was no way in hell I was going to get stuck in an elevator with Nash from Filthy Line.
I dove forward and grabbed his wrist.
I was touching him.
The baddest rock star on the planet.
My mouth went dry.
My heart pounded in my chest.
His fingertips wiggled against the button.
But he didn’t press it.
The elevator came to its stomach bouncing stop and the doors opened.
It was chaos outside the elevators.
People must have found out about the band being back at SLECK RECORDS.
The lobby was filled with screaming fans.
Security guards stood there, holding the doors open, reaching for Nash.
He faced me again, inches away, and lifted his sunglasses.
His eyes were like amber. The kind that made promises but broke your heart all in the same breath.
“You’re not getting away that easily, babe,” he whispered.
“You can
’t touch me,” I said.
Nash laughed.
He put the sunglasses back on his face and kissed the air.
He walked backwards into the sea of fans desperate to touch him.
The elevator doors shut and I completely forgot that I was supposed to get off on the ground floor too.
As the elevator started to move up, I reached for the railing again.
I could spin any story on Nash and get through this bullshit to get what I wanted.
And the same went for me.
I could spin anything I felt into something else.
I was untouchable.
Which meant I was the one in control.
Fuck. Nash.
5
NASH
I heard the song playing from the bluetooth speaker, grabbed it off the table and threw it into the pool.
“Hey!” a woman yelled as she jumped up from her chair.
Her tits almost smacked her in the face because her bikini top was so skimpy.
“We don’t listen to that shit here,” I said to her.
“Bro, what did you do?” Jay asked.
He pulled at my arm as the woman stood there, ready to take me on.
I ripped the sunglasses off my face. “Don’t ever play that shit again. Got it?”
“I didn’t do anything…”
“You want to guzzle on their cum, go for it. But not here.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Fuck, bro, look at me,” Jay ordered.
“What?” I asked him.
“What was it?”
“You know what it was,” I said.
“It’s streaming. She can’t control what plays.”
“It was halfway through the song,” I said. “That cheap fucking solo bullshit.”
“Let it go, Nash,” Jay said. “Go get a drink.”
I walked away, all eyes on me.
Jay went to console the woman while I walked from the pool to the pool house. There wasn’t a single luxury Jay skipped when it came to flaunting everything he had earned through great riffs, big solos, and a wild party attitude.
Sab sat on the bar, strumming a guitar.
Reed and Dex were in chairs, each with a guitar.
“What happened out there?” Sab asked.
“Fucking junk music came on,” I said.
“Ah,” Dex said. “Fuck that.”
“Don’t worry about Jay,” Reed said. “He’s just looking to take that one inside for a little bit.”
“More plastic than woman there,” I said.
“Since when do we care about that?” Dex asked.
It was a valid point.
I turned and put my elbows on the bar.
I stared at the wall of booze and wondered where to start.
It was our last day and night to party before getting back on the road.
We had a few city obligations to take care of as well.
Then we’d be back here to hit the studio for a recording session. Some new material to get done and stuff to send to SLECK RECORDS. They wanted to hear our sound and start putting together a plan.
Fuck their plans though.
This wasn’t about plans.
This was about writing music that mattered and playing it for those who understood what it meant.
“You sure you’re good, bro?” Sab asked.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Need a drink.”
Sab patted my back. “Now you’re talking. What’s your poison?”
Olivia.
“Just give me a fucking bottle and I’ll be fine.”
Sab jumped over the bar and knew just what I liked. He tossed the bottle over his head and I snagged it out of the air.
“Still got it,” he said with a sly grin.
He was the tour bartender, always mixing new drinks or serving up old ones. Knowing just what everyone wanted and how to make it perfectly. In another life he would have made one hell of a bartender. But instead he went from small town drummer boy to a crazy rock star.
“Come on, let’s play this one out,” Dex said. “We have something going here. Let Nash hear it.”
I jumped up on the bar and took the cap off the bottle then flicked it away.
No way in hell I was putting the cap back on the whiskey bottle. That would have been a fucking crime.
The guys started playing a new song.
It was pretty good. It was the way we always wrote songs. Someone would play a riff to the others and they’d start piecing it together. I’d dig through some old lyrics or ideas or just let something new hit me. We’d work through a few versions of the song before taking it to one of our home studios just to get some tracks laid.
As they played, I shut my eyes and put my head back.
The whiskey was smooth and the only thing that could taste better… was more of it.
Before they finished the song, I slid off the bar and walked back to the pool.
It was mandatory topless time, which was always a staple of a Filthy Line gathering.
My eyes scanned the water and I saw a beautiful dark-haired woman pop her head up from the water. She moved in slow motion as though she were in some commercial or a porno. She blinked water off her mile long eyelashes and reached for the side of the pool. As she pushed up, she showed off a bathing suit that was more string than an actual bathing suit.
She got out of the water and walked toward me, leaving a trail of footsteps and drips from her hair behind her. Her hips danced as much as her eyes did.
She reached for the whiskey bottle and I eased my hand away.
“Not yet, babe,” I said. “You’re overdressed for this party.”
“I’m not here for the party,” she said. “I’m here for you.”
“Of course you are,” I said.
I slipped my hand into hers and walked her into Jay’s house.
The upstairs was for sleepovers. For anything that could have been something more serious. The basement was for the Line Whores. If you were lucky you could spend the night, but when the morning came it was either Toby or the cleaning people kicking your ass out.
In a bedroom laced with black silk and walls covered in the success of Filthy Line albums, my new found beauty slowly fell to her knees.
She touched my jeans and I stopped her.
“Head back, babe,” I whispered. “Open wide.”
She did as I told her and I slowly poured the whiskey from the bottle onto her tongue, making her shiver as though she was cold.
She gasped when I kept pouring.
She tried to keep up but soon had whiskey running down her chin dripping to her chest.
I stopped pouring the whiskey and fell to one knee before her. I grabbed her chin and curled my lip.
I don’t want to know your fucking name. I don’t want to know a thing about you. Anything I care about I’ll find out for myself with my eyes, my hands, and my cock.
I slammed my lips to hers.
My tongue tasted whiskey and a willing tongue.
The kiss lasted a few seconds before I stood up.
I opened my jeans and felt her sloppy tongue on my dick.
I took another big gulp of the whiskey and shut my eyes.
Fucking Olivia.
Untouchable?
Nobody was untouchable.
And if there was something I wanted, I’d fucking get it.
Or…
Maybe…
Just maybe…
I’d take my time with Olivia.
I could make her break the rules… taste the sweet innocence of her tears as she wondered what was regret and what was need.
I sucked in a breath and let out a groan.
“You like that, baby?” the Line Whore asked me.
I looked down. “Keep your mouth full.”
She did as she was told.
And Olivia would do the same soon enough.
* * *
I put my foot up against the side of the bus.
“Th
ey are gonna kill you, Nash,” Bill said as he blew smoke from his mouth.
He smoked the cheapest and smelliest cigarettes he could find.
I tried to get him to switch to something better but he refused. He said it reminded him of his deceased wife. I guess that was love.
Something I had no fucks to give about.
My little adventure from last night was probably getting her ass a ride home right now to ice her jaw and touch herself, knowing every guy she’d fuck from here on out would be a downhill slide compared to what I did to her last night.
“I’ll keep your name clear of this,” I said.
“I know that,” Bill said with a laugh. “Unless they tell me to drive.”
“I’ll stand in front of the bus.”
“Then you’ll be a pancake, Nash.”
I laughed. “Did you bring syrup?”
“Yeah. In my fucking duffle bag.”
“You’re too much, Bill,” I said.
“You’ve got company,” he said.
I saw Dex and Toby coming toward me.
Bill flicked his cigarette across the parking lot and went back on the tour bus.
I crossed my arms and saw the look on Dex’s face.
He was pissed at me but he had a knowing grin that said he’d do the same thing.
Toby waved his arms like an air traffic controller, ready to explode.
“You’re going to be late,” he yelled. “You were supposed to be on the road an hour ago. We have a set schedule. We have an itinerary!”
Toby waved papers in my face.
I ripped them out of his hands and ripped them in half.
“Go get her,” I said.
“Nash…”
“I feel like doing some crazy shit,” I said. “And she needs to be there to make sure I don’t look bad.”
“She wasn’t there for your pirate escapade,” Toby said.
“But this time she will be,” I said.
“I already called her,” Toby said.
“Good. When she gets here, we’ll leave.”
“Nash. She’s not coming.”
I laughed. “Then I guess we’re done touring. Pack up the shit and head to the studio. Tell SLECK RECORDS we’re going to the studio right now.”
“You have a commitment,” Toby said. “You can’t just cancel shows.”
“Watch me,” I said.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Dex said.
A FILTHY Rock Star: a filthy line novel Page 4