He starts laughing even harder, standing up and gesturing his hands like he’s shooting.
“Spray that shit all over while we find a couple volunteers from the crew to walk through the crowd dressed like them too and shit. Everyone will trip the fuck out. Fuck! It’ll be so awesome with the lights and fog and all that other cool shit. We were messing around last night with the march and we got a pretty freaking dope version of the riff we’ll be playing while you guys do your thing.”
“What’s Sophia going to be doing?” Caleb asks, then grins at me.
“Oh, you know. Head banging. Whatever she usually does while we play.”
Why the fuck?
“I’m in.” Caleb gives Roger a full grin then looks at me. “You down, Tristan?”
Fucking costumes.
“Yeah, man. You can be that tall fucker. Damn, he gave me some shit nightmares when I was a kid. Turning that dick cop into a puppet. Damn, that was awesome.”
“Fuck, yeah. Whatever,” I groan. This is fucking crazy.
“Yeah!” Roger balls his hand into a fist.
“Get a hold of the other guys. I gotta call Matt and see if he’s still down there. Gonna be fucking epic!”
Before Roger is even out of the room, he’s on his phone with Matt. I guess I don’t mind. I may have to have some fun with my girl.
“You thinking nasty, bro?”
Caleb is wearing a shit smirk on his face. I don’t say anything back, but I’m sure my face is telling it all.
“You’re a fucked up individual, you know that, right?”
Caleb looks up sinisterly, the metal on his lip pushing out.
“Yeah,” he cackles. “I’m gonna get a hold of Ryan and let him know.”
He lifts himself out of the chair, taking his phone out. He starts texting as he goes into the other room.
************
“Yo, Ryan. Since you’re the shortest, you gotta be the baby Klown.”
Ryan takes a swig of his beer then sets the bottle down at the edge of the table. We’re chilling out back while Dollar Settlement slays their last show over here.
“Look at these fucking gloves, guy.”
Gunner’s stoned laugh rings out as he lifts up gloves looking like the Klowns’ hands.
“Who’s taking the spray?” Dave asks. He’s walking around in almost full suit now, just without the mask on. “Tristan, you want one?” he turns and asks me.
“Nah, man. I’m good,” I nod at him.
Caleb smirks at me. Fucker.
“I’ll take one,” he says, staring at me.
Through the small club, you can hear the screams of the audience.
“Holy shit,” Caleb laughs, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s fucking go. But first,” he points his finger. “Shots.”
Wrapping my hand around the glass, I tip my head back and down a shot of Absinthe. Fuck!
“Thatta boy,” Caleb grins and turns around, handing Ryan a glass.
Picking up this insane mask, I head out of the small room. As we step out into the dim, narrow hallway, the bass rumbles the opening riff. Coming up to the side of the stage, I wait, watching it go from complete darkness to the flashing of white strobes. Within those split seconds heads are banging, even Sophia’s.
I get split-second flashes of her long, dark hair swirling around. Her wardrobe here is different from the States. She’s wearing a short, backless dress that drapes off her chest, hiding the baby. We’re still trying to keep a low profile for just a little while longer. I stand there admiring the back of her upper thighs and how the end of the dress grazes over that sweet, supple flesh that meets the end of her thigh. Damn, this is gonna be fun.
Sophia
Yes… I step off the stage for a moment as it goes dark, giving the guys in on it some time to get ready, and to gear up the crowd.
“Fuck, yeah!” Roger jumps. “Let’s go.”
He grins then spins around, heading back to his set.
“Ah, man,” Matt chuckles as he walks by me.
Jared smirks at me with a tight smile, teasing. Running my tongue over my lips, I take one last swig of my water before handing it off to Steve. Every time Roger’s sticks come down, our techs hit the white lights, the hint of fog giving it an eerie effect. He stretches out the intro for at least half a minute.
Jared joins in, his long fingers pressing flat against the strings as he works his hand in rhythm with Roger. The top length of his hair bangs in his face as his head is tilted down. Matt and Jeff, or Ted... I’m kind of liking Ted more, begin with their guitars tuned in D. Old school, but heavy for the remake. Ted’s hat, yeah, I like that, is tipped into his eyes so all you can see is this half grin he’s wearing. You know, the one that drops panties, if the chick is wearing any.
Walking up to the front of the stage with my mic in my hand, I lean over and start rolling my neck. My other arm stretches out with my hand doing the devil horns, ʻrock on’ sign.
The screams pierce louder. Slowing my rhythm, I see a couple of the security guys I talked to about going along with the gag, making their way through the small but packed crowd. I know the other guys are probably on stage now, too, because the lights go from strobing to flashing yellow and orange.
Right when I’m about to straighten up, my waist gets taken hold of in a strong grip and I feel a hard thrust hit my ass. Fucking Tristan! Looking over my shoulder, his scary as all hell Klown mask with a painted on death smirk stares down at me. When I turn back around, I see the fans’ faces light up and laugh while getting sprayed in the face by two Klowns. I’m not sure who is which, but obviously Tristan’s is a given. One Klown brings a large spray container down to his groin and blasts the closest female fans right in the fucking face.
Oh my God, I can’t stop grinning. The Klown security dudes are now reaching the front. Tristan lets go of my waist and slowly, like those creepy fuckers did in the movie, backs off the stage. Once one of them notices Tristan leaving, they slowly follow him off, one by one. This is so fucking cool. I hope Frankie got this. Roger jumps over his set and pauses for me to walk by him. Wow, Roger kind of acting like a gentleman? Nice.
The club fills with the sound of a very satisfied crowd. That was so much fun! When I step off the stage, Tristan stands in front of me still wearing his costume, but the scary hands and mask are off. Grinning widely up at him, I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. I have to kiss him before doing anything else.
I close my eyes and Tristan dips his head and lays his lips over mine. I can’t help it. My own lips break out in a smile. With our faces still close, Tristan leans back, his mouth moving away from mine.
“Thanks.”
I tug on the scary ball on the front of his costume. He shakes his head as he tosses his chin up.
“Christ…”
I love that I finally defeated the dragon; meaning, Tristan doesn’t have to be too cool or whatever all the time. It’s okay to loosen up more. And he does, sometimes. I’m never gonna forget this. The darks of his eyes lower against the white; he slowly lowers his head to his chest so he can look at me.
“Go sit down.”
He tips my chin back in an instant eye-closing move. His warm lips part mine as his tongue barely grazes my lips before I open my mouth up wider. He glides it along the side of mine before bringing it back into his mouth. Wrapping his lips around my tongue, he gives it a gentle suck before pulling away from me.
Shit! When I open my eyes, I swear for a moment I’m seeing double. I blink up at him and he gives me his half smirk.
“Knock ’em dead,” I say to him with a wink.
Tristan reaches behind himself, then steps out of his Klown suit.
“Get outta here. Rest now, my girl.”
Tristan pulls me into his chest and kisses me on the head before he lets me go, then takes off toward the stage, the crazy Klown suit left in a pile on the floor. Aw, he doesn’t want to keep it, I guess. Maybe that’s a good thing. If our kid
were to ever see that, it would freak them out.
I go back to my dressing room where Frankie has my black leather pants laid out for me along with a loose, off the shoulder, grayish black metallic tee. Crossing my arms in front of me, I reach down and grab the hem of my dress. Yanking it over my head, I drop it beside me and start working down my torn black stockings.
“Holy shit. Breasts!” I hear Frankie exclaim as I finish removing one stocking.
Still bent over to take off the other, I glance up at him. He comes walking forward with another pair of black boots.
“Don’t be acting coy now, Frankie,” I chuckle.
The stocking reaches my ankle and I ball it up in my hand, standing back up straight wearing only a pair of black cotton boy shorts. Frankie’s smirk turns into a sly grin.
“Put them things away before you hurt someone,” he says, puckering his lips.
I mimic his duck lips.
“Jealous?”
“Maybe?”
Somehow, he manages to push those lips out even more. One word- collagen. Every six months when he gets them done again, he reminds me of Goldie Hawn from First Wives’ Club. They’re freaking comical, but I love it.
Turning away from him, I take a couple steps over to where my clothes are laid out. Frankie gives a shy giggle when I reach for my pants. My eyes snap over to him and my eyebrow raises along with the corner of my lip. Frankie straightens up to his full six foot height, smiling wide enough that I can see almost every tooth in his mouth.
“Can I touch them?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
Huh? My other eyebrow raises as well.
“No.” I say clearly, giving him this look that says, ʻfuck that’.
“Oh, girl. It’s not like I haven’t felt them before when I was sizing you.”
“Yeah, but now you’re just staring at my chest, wanting to touch it.”
Frankie gives me this ʻbitch, please’ look.
“Honey, don’t be all flattering your sexy self.” He puckers his lips again, circling his wrist at me.
“This is just fucking crazy.”
His tone changes again and his eyes widen when he glances down at my chest again.
“Frankie!”
He starts laughing.
“What? There’s milk in there, I just wanted to see what it felt like.”
“You’re so fucking stupid.” I shake my head at him, my voice sounding mixed with a light laugh, and exasperated.
“And you’re such a hormonal bitch,” he says in comeback.
Placing his hands on his hips, he snaps his head. I want to start laughing now, but I hold it in.
“Yeah, okay. What’s your excuse?”
"Oooh," Frankie mouths.
I break into a smile as I shake my head at him and go back to getting dressed.
“Okay, on to more important matters…”
Frankie spins around too, swaying over to the empty chair that he used earlier to get me ready, dramatically kicking one leg over the other as he crosses them. Lacing his fingers in his lap, he drops his chin to his chest.
“When do I get to play with your new house?”
Frankie looks like a tiger that’s just found an antelope. His eyes are dark and shining. I rub my hands against the glossy material of my shirt. His eyes watch me as I come closer to him, stopping to pick my brush off the table. Looking down at it, I pull out a couple pieces of my hair and shrug just to torture him.
“Oh girl, you’re killing me!” Frankie whines.
“I want it done before the baby is born.”
His eyes are round and moist as he cups his hands over his mouth.
“May I design the nursery?” he mumbles through them.
“Uh... yeah, Frankie. That was kind of the point when I asked you to help me out with the new house.”
“Really?” he asks, his voice high, then tips the side of his head so his cheek brushes his shoulder.
Seeing Frankie get this happy right now makes me glad I’m able to make him feel good. Yeah, it’s just decorating, but to Frankie, it’s Wonderland.
“Just no zoo animals,” I point at him, smiling.
He pinches his fingers together.
“Not even a cute little monkey?” he teases. “Well, I’ll be over in a few days to pick you up. You two have a safe flight.”
He clasps his hands together and leaps out of the chair. Wait, what? I turn around to face him as he heads for the door.
“What’s going on in a few days?”
He comes to a stop, the lean muscles of his back flexing underneath his shirt.
“The fabric store,” he says, grinning over his shoulder at me.
Damn… Frankie can spend days in there. The guy would have a freaking slumber party there if they would let him. I laugh to myself.
“Frankie, I trust you. You just go ahead.”
He spins around on his heel so fast that I almost get whiplash. He jumps up and down, his medium length blond hair bouncing off his shoulders every time his feet hit the ground.
“You’re gonna fucking love it, I swear!” He shows me the palm of his hand as if I were a cop.
“I know,” I say to him as I step in for a hug. Frankie’s long arms wrap around my body.
I don’t know how long we stood there holding each other, but it felt good. I love my friend. He’s been there right along with me these last couple years through some pretty crazy shit, always holding my hand, or hair. When I feel my eyes moisten, I close them to trap the tears behind my lids. Frankie’s soft chuckle vibrates through his chest.
“Fucking hormones,” I say as I let go, wiping underneath my eyes real quick.
He just smiles sincerely down at me. Now I just have to go out there and sing one more song, then our first tour from the new album is over. Holy shit.
Frankie freshens my makeup and runs a curling iron through my hair. It’s been over a half an hour and I need to get going. Pieces Undone has been getting pretty good feedback online.
“Go, girl.” Frankie snaps his fingers again and begins packing his things away.
“See ya.” I twiddle my fingers at him and head out.
“Oh, Sophia. I was just coming to get you,” Tom, another tech, says to me when I step out into the narrow hallway.
Tristan’s voice fills the air with its deep, rich, soothing sound. I head for the side of the stage and another tech hands me a mic before I step out, maneuvering around Ryan since the area is so small. Bringing the mic to my mouth, I begin to wail over Tristan’s gentler tone, screaming through all the lies and pain that this part holds.
Dropping the hand with the mic to my waist, I head over to Tristan. Fuck. I didn’t notice when I first stepped up here, but he’s taken his shirt off. The muscles in his back and shoulders flex and contract as he sings his pain into the mic. Standing off to the right of him, I begin to tell my side of the story. My voice lighter, softer, prettier, holding its own against Tristan’s thrashing.
Caleb starts his wicked solo, his fingers effortlessly dancing with each other as he curls his head around the bottom of the neck. Tristan turns to face me before bringing the mic back to his mouth. I close my eyes as the final wails of this song pierce through my chest. My throat and lungs are on fire, but it feels so fucking good.
Then out of nowhere, as soon as Tristan finishes, he wraps his arm around my neck. Pulling me into him, he kisses my forehead. Tristan steps back and turns me around to face the crowd, keeping me against his side.
“Isn’t she fucking beautiful?”
Fuck, I love him, but I'm so embarrassed as everyone lights up and cheers and whistles. My eyes try to take in as much of the sight of happy fans as I can while my heart absorbs this exact moment... everything. My head falls back over Tristan’s forearm which is still wrapped around my neck as I stare up at the lights, smiling. Loving this fucking moment.
Chapter Twenty
Tristan
“Fucking Frankie. How did he talk me into this?
” Sophia pouts as she tries to tug the bottom of her fucking killer leather dress.
My heart stopped the moment she came out of the bedroom dressed for tonight.
“You’re hot, babe.”
I tuck her under my arm as we head for the car. We have a driver tonight to take us to the Metal Gods awards.
“Yeah, okay.” She huffs and rolls her darkly shadowed eyes.
My girl is fucking smoking. She has on this short, leather dress with side cutouts filled in with black lace. She’s paranoid that she’s not sexy now that she’s six months pregnant, but damn, she’s even more fucking perfect now. I get pissed at her sometimes, because even now, you can barely tell she’s knocked up.
“Be careful,” I say in her ear as I help her to the car, carting herself around on these black skyscraper heels. My mouth fucking waters as my eyes run up the length of her toned legs.
She steps out of the way as the driver comes around and opens the back door. We’re taking an SUV, not a limo. Tonight, Dollar Settlement is getting recognized as best new band. Grabbing her by the waist, I gently haul her up to the seat.
“Tristan!”
“Shut up,” I smirk at her.
When I let go of her waist, she’s able to swing her legs over. I know she gets embarrassed by me doing that kind of shit sometimes. If she wasn’t pregnant, she wouldn’t give a shit, but now... Christ. She turned all crazed feminist on my ass. Fuck that. She needs to just let go and let me take care of her. So now, I’m just doing it. Not tiptoeing around her.
“Fuck you,” she grins at me, twisting her long, thick hair in her hands then sweeping it over so it drapes across her left shoulder.
“Fuck you, too,” I say back to her. It’s become kind of our own fucked up endearment.
Stretching my arm out, I rest it behind her head as the driver gets back in and takes off.
“So, you said Lux is sending a ride over to get your boys?” I ask her as we pull out onto the main drive.
“Yeah,” she nods. “They’re probably already good and buzzed by now.”
Everything I Have (Everything I Want #3) Page 19