Chapter Twenty-Four
“Remember, this is the place that’s out there in the woods. It’s like a one-lane highway and nothing for miles and then bam, right there in the middle of the forest, there’s the amphitheater. We played there last time, dude,” said Will, Sin Pointe’s drummer, trying to refresh Jaxon’s memory as they rode from the hotel to the venue in a black shiny van.
The extra-dark tint on the windows cast a grey haze over the trees. When they pulled to the back entrance and climbed the ramp to the trailers, the leaves turned a crisp green. If only she could tap into that presto-change-o herself.
“Virginny, right?” Jaxon looked around, squinting at the sunny sky.
Her voice came out dull but it still seemed to cut right through him. “Yes, Jaxon. Virginia. Or D.C. However you want to call it, this is where we are tonight.”
She’d expect to spend another night in the hotel’s gym, killing herself to poppy music, before Jaxon led her back to her room. It had become a habit. Not a good one. She needed him as much as an addict needed painkillers and a vodka chaser. They both worked to dull the pain but left a lasting mark the next day. He probably hadn’t meant for her to find comfort in his swarming darkness that lulled her to sleep each night but so far, he hadn’t denied her.
“Oh crap. Jaxon, did we forget to bring Ben?” She was sure he’d gotten in the van. But he was nowhere to be seen. Seriously, she was now forgetting six-foot-five grown men? If she popped open her skull, would there be a fortune cookie instead of brain mass? Would it say “Sorry, better luck next life time?” Probably.
Ugh. Shake it off and get your head in the game, Trista.
Jaxon had started changing into his stage clothes, swapping out his casual jeans for leather pants and a tight, black, three-quarters sleeve shirt. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled on a large, black, buckled boot, letting his pant leg set stiffly unbound around it.
“I don’t know, Trissy. I’m sure he’s fine. Hey, when is the meet and greet? Do I have time to grab some chow?” He obviously wasn’t that concerned.
She fidgeted with her phone, holding a makeup bag and set lists in her other hand. “Twenty minutes so you’d better eat fast. Here…” She gave him a stick of gum. “You’re gonna need that.” The smell of garlic and cheese wafted down the narrow corridor that connected their dressing room to the catering area. “You don’t want people all over the message board tomorrow saying how much your breath stinks.”
“They wouldn’t…”
“You’d be surprised.”
He tucked the stick of gum into his pocket, kissed her on the cheek, and then disappeared behind an unmarked white door.
Time to head back to the dressing room and set some of this stuff down so she could call and check on Ben. If he was still at the hotel he was going to have to make his own way here. Soon, Stefan, Will and Jaxon would line up like good little boys for their makeup. Black guy-liner and hair gel. It was a part of the show. Part of the magic and fantasy. If girls thought Stefan looked more brooding with runny eyeliner from all the sweat dripping off his skin, then that’s what they’d give them. Marion didn’t fancy the makeup but he paid her regular visits for sideburn trims. Apparently she did them “wickedly even.”
She sat down on a backless stool and dialed Ben. He answered but sounded frazzled.
“Ben, where are you? Did I leave you?”
“I’m on my way. And no, you didn’t leave me.”
Had he just shushed someone in the background? “Well, what’s going on?”
“Oh, it’s a long story. I’ll have to tell you later.” Ben groaned.
“Is everything okay?”
“Oh yeah, everything’s…great. Look, my…driver, doesn’t know where he’s going. I have to help him with directions. I swear, GPS was invented for this region.”
“Okay, well good luck. Do you need me to ground guide you?”
“No, I know where I’m going; I just have to be phone free to tell him.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go. See you soon.”
They hung up. Her makeshift cosmetologist station was ready for business but she was momentarily without clients so she sat there and fiddled with her dress. And then with her hair. And then with her makeup. It was the most attention she’d paid to herself in a long time. The end result was that she looked like a pretty groupie. She’d kick Stefan if he teased her. The thought of getting lucky with anyone other than Lucky gave her heartburn. She crossed her arms at the wrists and then pressed the “x” to her chest.
* * * *
Lucky sat on the familiar worn upholstery of his truck, proud his new engine had done so well getting all the way out here. “Do I turn here? Look, I’m sorry; I’ve never been here before, Ben.”
“I know, really I understand. We’re on the right road now. Just follow this all the way down until you see a hoard of stopped one-way traffic. That’ll be the sign that we’ve made it.”
“Okay, so you don’t have like a badge or something to show to get us past it?”
“Dude, I actually do have a badge, but um, the problem with this place is that there’s only this one entrance. The rest of it is tree line and so it’s pretty much our only option, to wait with the masses. Once we get up to the entrance, yeah, then I’ll be able to get us VIP treatment.”
“Are we gonna miss the show?”
“Probably miss like, half of Lonerby’s set. I’ll give you the CD if you want. They’re pretty good. The lead singer, Erby, she’s totally gorgeous. I think she loves me but is afraid to say anything, you know? She’s always watching me.”
Ben definitely had a way of stoking people’s curiosity. He didn’t know if this young lady, Erby, was acting out of love, but Ben certainly thought so. “Yeah, I’m not too worried about that…So where is Trista gonna be? Do you know? Was that her on the phone? Does she know I’m with you?”
“Okay, cowboy, slow down. By the time we get there, she’ll probably be working on getting the meet’n’greeters email addresses to send them their photos with the guys later on. She usually heads out and catches the last couple songs of the opener. Then she stays there for the rest of the show. And no, she doesn’t know you’re with me.”
Neither of them knew how that was going to go over. They didn’t talk about it except for to say that Ben thought he was crazy for driving up there in this old beat up truck of his and that he should have given her a call. A long time ago.
He wiped an apprehensive and sweaty hand across his jean-clad thigh. “So she goes where to watch the show?”
“To her seat.”
“Like on the side of the stage?”
“No, like in the seating area, with the fans. It’s always different but she’s usually on Jaxon’s side, not too close but not too far away.”
That figured. This was a mistake. Wasn’t it? He should have stayed back at the hotel and waited for her there. He’d have been able to practice the speech he’d decided to go with. The one where he apologized and hoped she’d give him another chance. And he could definitely use more time with the guitar he’d bought. The song was bare bones and minimal, sounding even rougher for his rusty playing ability. But it came from his heart. The one he knew belonged to her. He had to show her what she brought to his world. The way she gave it color and adventure. He hoped she’d understand that she was the only person he could play for. She was the only one he loved that much.
They pulled around the short wooden barricades once they’d made it to the front of the line. The security waved them around and to the back. As this happened, curious onlookers gave them a second of consideration, wondering who they were. But his dusty old windows didn’t have a shred of tint and it was quickly easy to see they weren’t in the band. They passed to the back lot without chase, parking near the loading docks. Ben started with a quick low-down on the various passes he was rifling through.
“All right, this is your pass that says it’s okay for you to be back here.”
He eyed it quickly. It had the band’s logo, the letters D.C. and the year printed on it at the bottom and in all capitals, ALL ACCESS. It looked important but he wasn’t sure what to do with it until Ben handed him a wadded up lanyard from his bag.
“Just slide it in here and wear it around your neck. I know it probably looks a little goofy but it’s the easiest way not to get questioned every two minutes. Just trying to save you the hassle, partner.”
“Ben, thanks. You do know I’m not actually a cowboy, right?”
He rolled his big eyes. “Okay, so are you ready?” Ben didn’t believe him. He supposed he probably was the closest thing to a cowboy Ben had ever known.
“Am I good to go? I mean, do I need to stick with you, as my escort, or am I free to roam around?”
“Nope, you’re a free man. But I have to get going. So, I’ll see you around then.” Ben opened the heavy metal door to leave.
“Hey man, hold up. Seriously, thank you, Ben. I really appreciate it.”
“Good luck, bro.”
It was as if they both knew how badly he’d need it. He slid the lanyard over his head and let it lay down the center of the opened buttons of his red and black shirt. Ben disappeared.
So, there he sat, behind the wheel of his baby blue pickup. Not sure about how to reconcile with the woman he’d hurt. He realized something, sitting there watching people, mostly men, as they went about from place to place, all with the familiar lanyard around their necks. Trista didn’t belong there. Maybe she had at one point in her life. But she didn’t need to be the center of their dude universe anymore.
She was everything in this world to him. He had to get her back. But showing up here, unannounced, while she was working, might feel more like an ambush than an apology. He’d do his best to stay out of sight. He would have left and gone back to the hotel right then and there but curiosity to see Trista in her world egged him to stay. Sure, he hoped to take her away from all this, but still.
He walked the venue until settling for a temporary spot along an aisle.
With his arms folded across his chest and his hair tied back snugly in its usual ponytail, he did his best to blend in. A few young girls eye-balled him and then giggled when he turned their way to scan once more for Trista. He smiled at them and they turned away quickly, their red faces huddled in teeny bopper seclusion. He was surprised that such young girls would be allowed to attend a Sin Pointe concert. Had their parents heard the band’s music? He wondered what it would do to these teens if he were to tell them he was Jaxon’s cousin. And then he wondered what it must be like for Trista to constantly be in that situation. Always attached to someone else’s fame.
Hopping down off his high horse, he quit worrying about where the girls’ parents were. Their attendance here was nothing compared to Trista’s stint at the same age. She’d been adopted into the beast and had lived it. What all had she seen? From what he gathered, her life so far had hinged on unhealthy sexual exploitation. It had stolen her childhood and then lured her away from college. The process most went through of dating, finding a lifetime mate and then settling down had passed her over. No wonder she’d been so forward with him that very first night. It was all she knew.
For the first time in a handful of weeks, he was grateful things had worked out the way they had. This was his chance to make it right with her.
He scanned the crowd again. A second time, starting at the center of the aisle and working his gaze to the far left. There in the twelfth row, was a mess of golden blonde curls.
Her back-lighted silhouette shone through the hundreds of people enjoying the warm up music in a gentle sway. From the tangled bun dipped a neck that held a black lace choker so intimately, he was instantly jealous. Her feminine shoulders framed a black and silver print dress that he was sure she’d made. A sleeve slunk down lower on her left shoulder and settled happily at the bends of her elbows. She wore a belt tonight, something he hadn’t seen before. Its black fabric swirled around her waist like his arms should’ve. He couldn’t see past her hips. She was just too short to see anymore. As he took in her appearance, it tormented him that he had to keep the distance between them like this.
But it had to be this way.
Lonerby finished up their set, ending on a rampant round of applause. They may have even garnered a standing ovation but everyone was already on their feet so it was impossible to tell. The lead singer, Erby, a pixie-like, spirited young woman with a shock of banana-yellow hair, blew a kiss out to the crowd before she hopped on the back of her bass guitarist and was trotted off into the waiting side wings of the stage. The applause died down and chatter picked up.
His eyes were trained on Trista. She was harder to see now that she’d taken her seat. It would have been nothing of note to anyone but him, but once, for a very brief minute, her forehead fell into her right hand, rubbing at it as if she had a headache. She then corrected by leaning to the far left, stretching out her neck and then back again to the right. She was trying to release stress. He felt thick with guilt that any portion of that came from his recent cowardice.
He started going over what he would say to her later at the hotel since he had no plans of ambushing her here. And then he saw Ben’s familiar wool cap topping a face full of smiles and dangling brown hair bobbing through her aisle.
She greeted him with a kiss to the cheek before he looked at his watch and then made his way back down to exit the row. Totally unaware of who Ben and Trista were, the fans who shared their row didn’t give a second glance to the goofy guy in the vest or the beach beauty in the home-made dress. They were there to see Sin Pointe.
Five minutes later, the outside venue house lights went out and streams of red ribbon shot out from the cat walks above. Screams erupted so loudly he wondered if any animals were left in the nearby woods. When Jaxon strode out from the side stage, his guitar strapped to his back and his oversized black boots trouncing with each step, he ran a hand back against one side of his slicked hair and smiled devilishly, reminding Lucky of what Trista had once told him. Yeah, they’re all yours, Jaxon. But Trista, she’s mine. The noise level raised at least ten more decibels.
It peaked three more times, as each band member took to their spots. Stefan strutted up front, already fond of the mic stand. Marion eased back to his side, bass guitar ready to take them down into pure dirtiness, and Will, he stood for a moment, straddling his seat behind the shiny black drum kit. When he got the sign from Jaxon, the crowd once again went crazy and Will jumped down onto his stool and started hammering the bass drum. Every single person there was not only standing, but three beats into the first song and they were all in a uniform bounce, their collective heads bobbing up and down in solidarity. He realized he wouldn’t see Trista again until later at the hotel.
He stuck around for a good ten songs. When Sin Pointe came back out for the encore, he was already headed to his truck, on his way back to the elegant, quiet solitude of the hotel. Where he could think about why failing tonight was not an option. He hummed the opening lines of the song he’d written.
“A smile like yours is all I never had. I didn’t know how to help you, so I hurt you instead. If I can’t do anything else with my life, I’ll try until the last breath I take to see it one more time. Your smile.”
He strummed his guitar a few more times, trying to give just the barest hint of a melody to his words. When he felt a little more at ease in the way his fingers slid over the strings, plucking them and holding them down in the right ways, he set the instrument down. It was eleven o’clock. He called Ben, his accomplice in winning Trista back.
He never expected to hear her voice answering Ben’s phone. It came through like a dart slashing through honey, sticking him straight in the heart.
“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?” Trista asked as he sat down slowly on the bed’s edge, gathering himself.
She didn’t know it was him calling. Ben must not have programmed his name into his contact list. Wouldn’t she at l
east recognize the area code, or the numbers she’d dialed in the past weeks? He almost froze up but then remembered that this was his one chance to get things right. And that wouldn’t happen if she had no idea he was in town, at her hotel, lying in wait for her. He cleared his throat.
“Trista, it’s me, Lucky.”
She gasped, or maybe it was a huff. She didn’t answer back so he quickly added more, in case she hung up. “I’m here, at your hotel. I have my own room. I’m sorry, so sorry, first of all.” No disconnection yet. He kept on. “I need to talk to you. To apologize and…” But then he heard the click. He immediately dialed back. He couldn’t have failed this early on.
This time the call went straight to Ben’s voicemail. All he could hope for was that Trista was ignoring his call but would at least return the phone to Ben. If she chucked it into the woods, he’d be out of luck. He left a message.
“Ben, it’s me, Lucky. I just called you but Trista answered. I upset her. I’m back at the hotel, in my room. If you speak with her, please tell her I’ll be here, waiting. Doesn’t matter how late it gets. Thanks, man.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The ride back to the hotel was predictable. The fact she saw it as such was a sign she’d done this too many times. The guys sat quietly, thinking about what they’d be doing in their rooms later on. Most times, they kept those thoughts to themselves. She wasn’t claiming to be the Rock Star Whisperer, not officially at least, but she knew she was right. She’d gotten stuck in the middle of too many of those kinds of night caps over the years. Marion had his family with him and Will, well, Will had his ghosts, but Stefan—and now Jaxon—were free to invite whoever they’d like up for the night. And nine times out of ten, that’s what they’d do.
Vangie still hadn’t surfaced, in Jaxon’s life or Maryella’s. It was strange she hadn’t shown up at any of the shows yet, or more precisely, at any of the hotels. Vangie knew which ones they were. Exclusivity and professional courtesy kept the guys coming back to their favorite four-stars. If she’d wanted to find Jaxon, she could have. For Maryella’s sake, even though it grated her last nerve to admit it, she hoped Vangie showed soon. Losing a mother was tragic and she’d hate for the little girl to have to head down that road.
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