[Found in Oblivion 03.0] Dirty Duet

by Cari Quinn

  None of them were up for Queen Molly today.

  Ryan walked over to her with his sax and West followed with his harmonica to do that one part over again. Michael played electric guitar and Elle kept her acoustic plugged in.

  Finally, Molly fell into line. She started from the middle of the song and killed it of course. Singing was effortless for her. Getting an arrangement to work for the rest of the band was usually the hard part.

  Instead of letting Molly railroad them with her perfectionist nature, they distracted her with soundcheck on the new songs. The fan club seemed to be cool with the mini show.

  Cameras were out and West knew there’d be a half dozen videos up before the show even started. Instead of being pissed about it, they played harder. The song was louder, smoother, and more cohesive by the time they finished another two versions of it.

  Lauren had slipped away from the corded off fan club members and sat in a purple velvet chair at the back of the room. She glanced up a few times, but for the most part, she was alternately scribbling in a notebook and typing on her phone.

  West was happy she was finding ways to keep herself occupied. It made it easier for him to concentrate. Their setlist was twenty songs deep, though they only had to rehearse a handful to figure out the sound in the room. Not to mention it would sound much different when the room filled anyway.

  He wandered over to her once they broke off to start the wining and dining portion of the evening.

  “What are you scribbling so furiously over here?”

  She blinked up at him, her eyes unfocused. “I spoke to a few of your fan club members. Did you know a few them have seen you guys over twenty-eight times?”

  “We play a lot of clubs in and around California. Not terribly hard to find us.”

  “It’s textbook stalking. And considering my history with your band, it seems the python may have more people to worry about than me.”

  “Python?”

  “Sorry. That’s rude. I didn’t mean to say that part out loud.”

  West shrugged. “We call her Dragon Lady sometimes. Twenty-eight shows, you say?”

  She nodded. “Jody Walters. She’s really nice, and man, did I get an education about your background. She’s better than Wikipedia.”

  “Yeah, the band has quite the past.”

  “No, you.”

  “Oh.” He was a little worried about that subject. He wasn’t exactly an innocent—not nearly as legendary as purported, but he definitely had his share of fun.

  “I think my favorite rumor was that you were with Jamie DuCaine.” She tipped her head, her phone clutched in her hand. “Any truth there?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  “Evidently, there’s been a few photo sessions with the bands on this tour and there’s a lot of speculation that you and Jamie had something of a tryst.”

  “Tryst?” Her word choices never ceased to amuse him, but that was a rumor he hadn’t heard. Brooklyn Dawn may have been the main act on the tour, but they were so out of their sphere. When they did get the chance to interact, they were welcoming, but their PR schedule was incredible. They were literally sprinting to get to soundchecks and the two bands passed each other with barely a wave.

  “You’re not answering.” She gnawed the inside of her cheek. “It’s fine if you were,” she said quietly.

  He crouched in front of her chair. “No. God, no.”

  She held up her phone and turned it to him. “Really?”

  Jamie—James to most of her friends—was on his lap and had turned his face to hers at the last minute and planted a liplock on him.

  He remembered it now that the picture was in front of him. But it had meant little to either of them at the time. James was always doing things to shock people. She’d kissed Elle a few weeks ago on a dare from her guitarist.

  The best part of that one had been Elle’s right cross. She’d snapped Jamie’s head back and bloodied her nose. James had laughed like a lunatic and hugged her. The girl was fucking insane. There was no way in hell he’d be dating a woman like her.

  “Are you formulating a lie? I’ll know.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry you know how to spot a lie.”

  Her lips parted and her eyes went shiny. “I know you’ve been with people before me. And I’m sure I’ll bump into a former girlfriend or sex partner, but I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to compete with Jamie DuCaine.”

  He stood and pulled her up to meet him. He cupped her face. “First of all, there’s no competition. James and I are barely more than acquaintances. And even if there had been a past between her and I—and there wasn’t—the past is the past. We may only be starting here, Lo, but I would never disrespect you like that.”

  Lauren looked down. “I don’t like these confusing emotions.”

  He tilted her chin up and covered her mouth. The kiss was firm and possessive. He wasn’t sure how to tell her that there wouldn’t be another person like her in his life. At least with words that wouldn’t send her sprinting for the door. It had just been a few days, goddammit. Just a few days and every cell told him he’d never be able to live without her.

  He was fucking certifiable.

  Who was the virgin?

  Fuck.

  She hummed her pleasure into his mouth before he eased back. “There’s nothing confusing about this. Intense, overwhelming, and surprising I’ll own up to. Confusing, no. James may have kissed me to piss off her publicist, but it was forgotten a second later. Because she didn’t mean it. She used it for utter shock value and to get people talking.”

  “Well, she’s good at it. I’ve seen video of it too. It sure looked authentic.”

  He sighed. “I was a single guy at the time. And one of the hottest women in the known world had kissed me. Wasn’t like I was going to wipe my mouth afterward. She forgot it before she even climbed off my lap.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t.”

  “Obviously, I did.”

  Lauren curled her fingers into his T-shirt. “I shouldn’t have gotten jealous.”

  “I like that you’re jealous. I like that you don’t like the thought of my lips on anyone else.” He lowered his voice. “The same reason I love that my cock was the first one to stretch you until you screamed.”

  Red flags of color stained her cheeks. “Just remember it’s my teeth marks on your chest, buddy. For as long as we’re together, you’re mine.”

  He slipped his fingers along the back of her neck and tugged her hair until her chin tipped up. “Remember that tonight when I fuck you until you can’t walk.”

  “If you’re done making out with your virgin, we have some photo ops to take care of,” Ryan shouted.

  “Not anymore,” she said in a small singsong voice.

  West laughed.

  “I look forward to that after the show,” she said shakily.

  “Me too.” He palmed her ass with his other hand. “I want you up front tonight.”

  She swallowed. “All right.”

  “Good.” He dropped a sweet kiss on her lips before jogging over to his band.

  For the next twenty minutes, he signed a parade of posters and went blind with flashbulbs as they took dozens of pictures. Twenty minutes soon stretched into more. Under an hour later, the venue started to fill with the regular fans who had tickets to the show.

  He met up with Michael and Ryan in the small room they’d put aside for them to change. Ryan was sprawled in one of the velvet club chairs, one long leg thrown over the arm as his head hung off the back. Human pretzel at work again.

  Michael was on a Skype call with his wife. The babbling voice of a little boy filled the room. Michael’s stepson. Hell, son for all intents and purposes. His buddy had fallen into the father role with ease. He’d waltzed into it where West had been punted out before he’d even gotten to try out for the part.

  Michael never made it look like it was hard. Ever. And they had another one on the way. Just as his best friend had
said, Chloe was beautiful. She wore pregnancy well, but there was a strain around her eyes.

  Having a toddler while being pregnant had to be tough. Again, not in his wheelhouse. There were plenty of babies crawling around in his circle of friends, but he had a hard time being around them most of the time. Too afraid he’d screw up and swear in front of them, or insult them with questions that were too young or too old for them.

  It was easier to just get out of the way.

  The story of his life.

  He dragged his T-shirt over his head and swapped it out for a white tank for the show. It had been hot on the stage and that was before the lights and heat from two hundred bodies would raise the temperature.

  Getting through this show and finding solace in Lauren’s arms made it all so much better. He had so few precious days with her that he didn’t want to waste a moment. And that wasn’t even his dick talking—mostly.

  He couldn’t pretend that the sex wasn’t phenomenal. Even the awkward parts of figuring out how to make sure it was good for her were more engaging than any other woman he’d been with. The only thing that worried him was putting this crazy aggression he hadn’t been aware of before in a box. He got a hold of her and wanted to brand every inch of her skin.

  It was awesome and powerful and scary as fuck.

  His hands were fists as Michael and Axl made plans for when Michael came home the following night.

  Another reminder of how close he was to saying goodbye to Lauren. Maybe he could convince her to stick around a few more days. He had an actual bedroom he could take her to in an apartment he barely used. It was nearly empty and shabby as shit, but it was his.

  He’d never upgraded simply because he was rarely home. It was easier to pay for the crappy two-bedroom place than to worry about outfitting a better house he’d never enjoy either. Truly a waste of time and effort.

  Until now.

  He almost didn’t want to show her where he lived. Reality had no place in this little bubble they’d created. But that was a problem for a different time. Another twenty-four hours to push that to the back of his head.

  He strode out of the room and up the side stairs to the stage. The floor was full of people already. Lauren was directly in front of his piano, with her arms resting on the stage. The security guy flashed her a dirty look until West crouched in front of her and lifted her hand to his mouth. Turning her wrist up, he scraped his teeth over her fragile skin and traced the line of veins until her pulse fluttered under his lips.

  Then he stood and went to his piano. Elle came from the other side of the stage with Jules waving behind her, bass swinging from her neck.

  Juliet went right to the microphone. “Hey, guys.”

  The whole crowd roared.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he said into his own mic.

  “We’re ready for a kickass night. We left a few slots in the setlist for you guys. Any requests?”

  A barrage of song titles came at them. He plucked one of them out of the air. One he hadn’t played since they’d first gotten together as a group. He’d written it with Michael on the beach when they’d been certain the band was going to implode.

  He scrawled “Welcome to the Edge” on the white board they kept on Mal’s drum riser for audibles. He passed it over to Elle who looked down and gave him a rare wide smile. She scribbled down another song and swung the board around so he could see it.

  He laughed. Damn right, they’d do “Dangerous” from the new album.

  After a shouting match, they agreed to add a final song by way of a vote. “Intent” and “Undermine” went to a song battle status as the fans sang the lyrics to “Intent” at them.

  “Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” West shouted.

  The crowd went crazy. Then again when Mal sauntered out, holding his battered sticks over his head.

  Michael and Ryan ran up the steps and took their places with huge smiles. The house lights dimmed and the disco ball spun lazily. Raspberry pinpricks of light glowed from the walls as a scatter shot of silver blue lights penetrated the night.

  Molly melted out of the night, all gypsy grace with her earthy tangle of scarves and beads tinkling from her rose gold microphone stand. Her husky voice started off the show with “Exile”. It was a slow building song.

  Lazy at first with heavy pianos to complement her sea siren voice. Until the bridge when the string lights slowly built as Molly’s voice did. The crowd lost their minds and sang along.

  The entire show became like that. The true fans were in residence. There were a few who were looking only to be seen with an up and coming band, but for the most part, it was people who were there for the pure love of the music.

  His gaze kept drifting to Lauren in the front.

  She’d made friends with the women around her. Well, at least the concert kind of friends. Bonds formed from music were a phenomenon that would appeal to her. Overall, there had been little talk of her project since they’d hooked up. There wasn’t much room for it when they both seemed to be more immersed in each other than the outside world.

  He found himself laughing with the girls and dropped in front of them with his tambourine and two extra cowbells, one of which he handed to Lauren and an ecstatic redhead beside her. Ryan pulled out his bongos behind them and hammed it up to the crowd. It was one of their larger hits and had a beachy flavor that was perfect for Molly’s earthy look. The crowd clapped along to “In Your Arms” as West sang the lyrics right to Lauren.

  She pounded on the cowbell and laughed when the girls nudged her.

  Every part of the song made sense for them. The moment he’d gotten her into his arms, he’d never wanted to let go. Her love—fuck—the word felt foreign and so right at the same time.

  But it was true, her open heart had healed him more in a few days than a lifetime of music and brotherhood had. The crowd clapped and sang back the lyrics he’d helped write with the heaviness of an uncertain future and a hope he’d been afraid to voice.

  Just like Lauren, though a different chamber of his heart.

  He took the cowbells from the girls as he climbed back onto the step up off the stage where his piano was. He slammed on the keys and wrestled with the powerhouse talent of their lead singer.

  Molly didn’t like when the spotlight was pulled away from her, but his song was next. “The Ghost Inside” was a heavier song with Ryan running for another bass guitar to build up a dual bass line that made the entire room thump like a heartbeat.

  His arms were slick with sweat and his hair and shirt soaked by the end of it. Molly fell to her knees as the last strains of the song echoed out into the fairy lights. The room was dark save for the blood red lights on the walls. She stayed on her knees, her hair curtained around her blinged out microphone.

  The iconic guitars of “Suicide Blonde” filled the dark room, and Molly used the lower registers of her ridiculous voice range. Ryan pulled out his maracas and chased Juliet around the stage.

  West flipped his harmonica into his palm and took a deep breath. It was a fast song and he raced to keep up with Molly as the lyrics came out like bullets. Elle flew across the stage with her acoustic guitar and Michael dueled with her on every note with his electric Gibson with its dirty, gritty feel.

  INXS was a timeless band that appealed to all ages. And while their fans skewed young, Guitar Hero and the million and one music games out there kept the classics alive.

  Ryan ran up to the balcony with his sax in tow and played into the darkness until the spotlight found him. The crowd went into a frenzy and a sea of flashbulbs and red lights filled the room.

  As one song bled into another, Molly owned the audience. She played all the roles well of the songs she embodied. From Michael Hutchence’s slinky sexualized showmanship to the freedom and vocal power of “Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover”, the set extended until everyone was a sweaty mess.

  The rest of the show was a blur of singalongs and fan favorites. And finally, M
olly climbed onto Mal’s drum riser and held her hands up. “Here’s to Us” came through loud and proud as she started the song a cappella.

  The fan club knew every damn word.

  It was a favorite on their set lists. A good bar band song to sing to and a signal for the end of their night. Lighters went up and the house lights brightened enough for them to be able to see everyone in the crowd.

  Arms up and swaying as a unit.

  Songs like these reminded him why he loved Warning Sign. Even when the bad days outweighed the good sometimes, it was the nights like this he lived for.

  And in the front of the crowd was his girl laughing and singing along.

  They didn’t bother with the fake back and forth of an encore. Instead Elle and Jules stood shoulder to shoulder and started the opening chords to “Delirious”. Its earthy, erotic vibe showcased every strength they had as a band. His piano was a haunting backdrop to Molly’s epic vocals. Malachi’s drums were like thunder and Michael and Ryan layered guitars until Elle came to the front of the stage and shone like a damn beacon with her solo. So quiet and so epic on the flip-side.

  The perfect storm.

  Molly’s voice echoed into the rafters as they closed out the show with a united front. As they took their final bows, they all held hands—even Mal—and waved to the people who made the angsty bullshit all worth it.

  The fans made everything so much better.

  As they filed into the green room, it felt too quiet, too emotional to talk. Adrenaline flowed out of each of them until there was no more room for silence and the place exploded with conversations. Play-by-plays of the best songs of the night and, of course, Molly with her infinite criticisms.

  She’d never be truly happy with a set, but tonight, she was damn close.

  He scanned the room for Lauren. Instead of waiting for her to come to him, he left the party and found her on the fringes of the crew. She was typing furiously on her phone. She’d pinned up her hair and had stripped down to a tank top to survive in the sweat box they called a venue.

  He crossed to her and caught her around the waist. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “That was amazing.”