The ground level was filled with chairs and there were even more people working to set up the sound and lights for the concert.
“These steps go to the stage,” Toby said. “Have at it.”
“What’s with the X’s?” I asked, pointing to the sloppy tape.
“Glows in the dark,” he said. “So the guys don’t fall. Between that and flashlights, they’ve been good this tour. But usually someone falls. I blame the whiskey.”
“That’s what any good drunk says,” I said.
Toby laughed. “See? You fit right in.”
His phone started to ring. He touched my arm and walked away.
I slowly climbed up the steps and walked onto the stage.
There was a giant wall of speakers next to me.
I saw Sab’s drum kit and approached it.
The gold cymbals shined so bright. The neon green drums made me smile. The snare drum looked beat to hell and back.
“You can take one.”
I turned my head and saw Sab.
“What?”
“A drumstick,” he said. “You can take one. Give it to your friend. The crazy one.”
“Nash told you about Zoe?”
“That a problem?”
“No.”
“You play drums?”
“Me?” I laughed. “There’s nothing musical about me at all.”
Sab nodded. “If you want me to sign a stick, I could do that.”
“Actually… my best friend has a young son. He’d probably go crazy for some drumsticks.”
“Consider it done,” Sab said. “I’ll hook you up before you’re sent packing.”
“Before I’m sent packing?” I asked.
Sab lifted an eyebrow. “You think Nash is keeping you around forever?”
He laughed to himself as he walked off the stage.
I had no idea what that meant.
I slowly turned and looked out from the vantage point that Nash had each and every concert.
My heart raced again.
I didn’t get how he did it.
To stand there with so many people watching.
My mouth went dry just thinking about it.
But I totally understood it.
It was like a drug.
Like getting drunk or high.
“You look good up here, babe.”
Now I had Nash next to me.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“You’d look better down on your knees,” he said.
“So would you,” I said.
“That can be arranged.”
I turned my head and rolled my eyes.
“Is it the same for you?” he asked.
“What?”
“When you sit down to write.”
“What do you mean?”
“The feeling,” he said.
His right hand touched my back. Every muscle tensed in my body. A gentle flood tried to begin elsewhere.
Fuck.
“I stand here and look at all these seats. And soon they’ll be filled with people. And they’ll want me to sing a song a certain way. And then they’ll sing it back to me. And we do this dance… me and the fans. You know? Is that how it is for you?”
“Nash, we are on two different planets when it comes to our careers,” I said.
“But it’s still the same. Every song we’ve ever written started with an idea. A note. A riff. A lyric. Same as a book, right? You think of an idea…”
I tilted my head to the side.
Was Nash talking to me like a human? No references to my chest? Or my ass? Or talking about his dick?
“Yeah… I guess,” I said.
“Well, what’s it like, babe?”
“I don’t know. I don’t put that much thought into it.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. You care enough to be here. You want to do this for yourself. On your own. I respect that. You know, we got our first offer when we were still in high school. This guy wanted us to come out and record a certain kind of music. And he wanted us to dress a certain way. Kind of just pull us together, you know? It was hard to pass that up. I mean, think about it, babe… I could have gone to biology or to the recording studio.”
“What did you do?”
“We beat the shit out of that guy,” Nash said. “He left in a little yellow fancy ass car and I never saw him again.”
“So you went to biology.”
“Fuck no,” Nash said. “But I was very fond of anatomy.”
I sighed. “You would say that.”
“Close your eyes.”
“No.”
* * *
As the band gave their last waves to the crowd, I knew what was next. They were going to invite some fans up on stage to become Line Whores. Jay, Dex, and Reed tossed picks out to the crowd. Sab threw at least six drumsticks. Nash being the lead singer, he didn’t have anything to throw out, so he just stood there, letting them all reach for him. Desperate to touch him, even for a second, hoping he would whisper something to the security guards to invite them backstage.
Because I was untouchable.
I started to climb into my own head, feeling like Nash for a split second, which was a disgusting feeling.
It could be a secret.
I turned and walked along the side of the stage as the crowd cheered and the band played into it. I was still invisible to everyone there as they walked around, bumping into me, shouting orders at each other. The way they were running around you would have sworn there was a fire.
But they were just getting ready to pack the entire stage up and move it to another city. I paused for a second and took that in. I wondered what that life was like. Traveling with a band like Filthy Line. Better yet, knowing their livelihoods were on the line each night. All it took was something crazy from Nash and the shows would be cancelled. The crew would be out of work.
For some reason that made me feel pressured.
It was bad enough being near Nash.
Bad enough that I was only doing this for my own benefit.
I shut my eyes and reminded myself of the goal.
I pictured myself sitting in a busy cafe in the middle of New York City. The smell of the coffee. The sounds of the city. On a really cool fall day too. The kind of days that never existed here. And I’d be listening to some chill music, earbuds in my ears, working on my next book.
It was a calm feeling.
A really calm feeling.
Then I made the mistake of opening my eyes.
The rush of rock stardom was right there in my face.
Filthy Line was off the stage, walking by me.
Celebrating another show.
Last off the stage this time was Nash.
He was slow, his face stone like.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
As he walked by me, he was the only person who made me feel like I was in existence.
He touched my face with his right hand and kept going.
It was a second, if that.
His rock star, lead singer, sweaty hand.
He kept walking and had a security guard on each side of him. Head down, looking tired and deep in thought. Shirtless. Tattoos on his muscular back. The right back pocket of his jeans ripped off. I wasn’t sure if that was on purpose for looks or an accident by design.
Nash then stopped and pointed for the security guards to keep going.
He turned his head and the wild stare he shot at me made me touch my chest to make sure my heart was still beating.
I stepped forward one step and he disappeared.
I thought about going to find him but then remembered about his Line Whore. Hand-picked like a piece of meat at a fancy steakhouse.
I turned and Toby was right there.
As though he were watching me.
“You scared me,” I said.
“You’re scaring me,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
“What are you doing righ
t now, Olivia?”
“I’m going to my room,” I said. “Get me a ride. Now.”
If Toby was going to be up my ass about Nash and whether we were getting close or not, I was going to take advantage of it.
And I did.
There was a car waiting for me that drove me to the hotel.
I went to my room and fell face down onto the bed and screamed.
That felt good.
Really fucking good.
Then I decided to call Eve. She was the only one I could talk to right now who didn’t get all crazy eyed because I was on tour with a famous rock band.
“Hey, freak face,” Eve said.
“Ugly pants,” I said.
That’s what Jacob Smirth used to call us when we were in the ninth grade. He was this older, jock asshole who refused to leave us alone. His name calling was pathetic. So one day after a gym class we snuck into the boys room and pretended to flirt with him. Then me and Eve kissed. And let’s just say it made Jacob make a mess of himself and we told the entire school about his no-touch-one-second-squirt issue.
He never bothered us after that.
“How’s the road?” Eve asked.
“It’s crazy.”
“Like really crazy or just crazy?”
“It’s really crazy. I can’t even…”
“So, all the rock star things are true?”
My mind flashed to images of the booze, drugs, women… the stripper pole in the dressing room… the number of women’s breasts I had seen in such a short time…
“Yeah,” I said. “They had one thousand green gummy bears delivered.”
“Excuse me?”
I laughed. “Nash told me for each show they do something stupid to piss off their manager. They can demand anything they want and they get it.”
“Gummy bears?”
“Just to be pricks,” I said.
“Hey, tonight Jerry smacked me in the face and called me a bitch.”
“No,” I said, gasping.
“Yeah,” Eve said. “Brian was watching some crime movie and Jerry was napping on the couch. Or so he thought.”
“Oh god,” I said, laughing. “What did you do?”
“Told him my mother didn’t raise no bitch,” Eve said.
“You didn’t.”
“In my head I did. In reality I told him to never say that again. And to never hit a woman. Then I texted Brian and told him he has to figure it out.”
There was a knock at my room door.
“Hold on, Eve,” I said. I turned the phone away. “I’m sleeping!” I yelled.
“Food service,” a muffled voice yelled.
“I didn’t order anything!” I yelled.
“Food service.”
I stood up. “Sorry, Eve, but there’s food here. I didn’t order anything.”
“Maybe it’s from the band,” she said.
“Are you going to get all starry eyed now too?”
“No,” she said. “Sorry. Even if it is fucking Filthy Line. Like, when do I get my ohmyfuckinggod moment?”
“You’re a bitch,” I said.
“I know. Love you. Enjoy your food. I bet it’s gummy bears.”
“I’ll kill Nash,” I said. “I swear.”
“Listen to you. Talking about him like that. Like you’re old friends.”
“Far from it. I’m trying to hold things together. I get through this tour and all these people get to work, the band gets a deal, and I finally get my shot at a real book deal.”
“Well, go get it done,” Eve said. “And if things get too crazy, remember me. You could be sitting on the couch in heart pajamas waiting for your favorite reality show to come on.”
“That actually sounds amazing right now.”
Now there was banging at the door. “Food service!”
“I’ll buy you a pair of heart PJs,” Eve said. “Now go.”
The call ended.
I ripped open the hotel door ready to punch the asshole with the food.
I had to jump back and I didn’t get to punch anyone.
It was Filthy Line.
The entire damn band… well, minus Sab.
Rushing into my room.
* * *
“So there’s no food?” I asked with my arms crossed.
Nash stood across from me, trying to mimic me with his arms crossed.
“You hungry for something, babe?” he asked.
“Oh, this is a fucking sweet room,” Jay said. “Nice bed. Got some miles on it.”
I looked and had to do a double take. I imagined me telling Zoe that Jay from Filthy Line was in my bed. And that Dex stood with the balcony door open, smoking a joint. And that Reed sat on the dresser next to my bag chugging vodka like it was water.
“Where’s Sab?” I asked.
Nash pointed to the door.
The timing was perfect, which irritated me.
The door opened and in came Sab carrying three pizza boxes.
“Order’s up,” he said.
“What took so fucking long?” Reed asked.
“You know what he was doing,” Jay said. He humped the air for a second and laughed.
“No, more like this,” Dex said as he made a fist and jerked off the air.
“Ah, how sweet,” Nash said. “Does she know you stroke it when you’re texting?”
Sab dropped the pizza boxes to the bed and reached for Reed’s bottle of vodka.
“You’re all pieces of shit,” Sab said. “I’m not saying a word because you won’t hear it.”
“Some things you just can’t let go, babe,” Nash whispered to me. “Old memories. They’re the worst, right?”
“What does that mean?”
Nash leaned in on me even more.
I put my hand out and shoved him away. “Where’s your handpicked bitch?”
“I don’t give a shit,” Nash said.
“Well you should,” I said. “Or else you’ll be the one whacking off into a toilet.”
Jay and Dex clapped their hands together.
“She’s brutal, bro,” Reed said.
“Yeah, she is,” Nash said, his eyes burning into mine.
Unfuckingtouchable…
“For the record, I don’t blow loads into a toilet,” Sab said.
“Thanks for that information,” I said. “I’ll keep that in mind when I write my next story.”
“Speaking of which,” Nash said. “Let’s give her something to write about.”
“No,” I said. I grabbed Nash’s hand. “No.”
He pulled me toward him, right in front of the band.
“I’m either going crazy in this hotel or crazy between your legs, Liv,” he growled. “You choose.”
I gritted my teeth and let him go.
Nash propped open the door and the band ran into the hallway.
As Sab passed me by, he paused. “Left you a pizza to snack on. You’ll have a busy night writing.”
They were all drunk and high.
And they ran down the hall, banging on every door.
By the time I could get Toby on the phone, Jay and Dex had dropped their pants and were pissing on the floor. Nash grabbed the vodka bottle out of Reed’s hand and finished it off. Then he wound up and threw the bottle at an EXIT sign, smashing everything into pieces. He walked to the end of the hall and put his fingers to the fire alarm.
Toby had already ended the call.
I stood in the hall and shook my head.
With a devilish grin on his face, Nash slowly pulled up his shirt. He looked down at his muscle cut body and looked at me, nodding.
He put his shirt down and lifted it again.
Then he pointed to me.
He wanted me to flash him?
I showed him my middle finger.
His fingers tugged at the alarm.
I put my hand out and waved.
Please… no… nonononono….
Nash lifted his shirt again and pointed at me again.
I
looked around the hallway.
The rest of the band were down at the other end of the hall, making noise, banging on more doors. Announcing that this hotel is fucking filthy and we’re here to spread the filth…
I side stepped back into my room halfway.
I lifted my shirt, showing Nash my bra.
He shook his head.
He reached back for the fire alarm again and I sucked in a breath.
My fingertips grabbed under my bra and I lifted.
I shut my eyes and felt my left boob fall free.
I didn’t even make it to one Mississippi before I covered myself up.
I opened my eyes and Nash was grinning.
His attention was no longer on the fire alarm either.
That was enough for me.
My hotel room door was shut and locked.
My heart pounding in my chest.
What did you just do, Olivia?
I had half flashed the lead singer of Filthy Line.
Oh fucking well.
Let him use that for himself later then.
For me, I sat down at the desk in the room and turned on the light.
I grabbed paper and started to write up a story about the band being mobbed by fans in the hallway. They had been there to talk to me about the next show and the travel schedule. But then a group of fans figured out where the guys were and they charged the hallway. The band had to run and things went crazy…
There was another knock at the door.
I figured it was Toby to make sure I was working on the story to keep Nash and the band out of trouble.
I opened the door and Nash stood there.
My face filled with heat.
“Go away,” I said.
“Forgot something,” he said and pushed his way into my room again.
He walked to the bed and grabbed the pizza box Sab left.
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Sab left the wrong one,” Nash said. He lifted the lid and grinned. “These are the extra special toppings. You can help yourself if you want.”
“Get that crap out of my room,” I said, my heart feeling deflated.
“No problem, babe,” Nash said. He walked up to me and looked down at my chest.
“Hope you enjoyed your one and only look,” I whispered.
Nash lowered his lips to my ear. “I’ll burn this fucking hotel down to see the other one, babe. And just imagine my thumbs rolling over your rock fucking hard nipples. Your body unable to control itself around me. Don’t think I couldn’t see that your nipple was ready to cut glass. The tip of my tongue hasn’t stopped tingling yet.”
A FILTHY Rock Star: a filthy line novel Page 6