Then he opened his mouth and sang his lyrics with a guttural sound that slid over Elaina and settled low in her belly. His deep, growling voice delivered his lyrics straight into the pleasure center of her brain. Oh, how she loved a good vocalist, and she was already impressed with this guy. Her eyes stayed on the singer, mesmerized in a way she hadn’t been since discovering the unexpectedly amazing voice of Linkin Park’s Chester Bennington. Like Chester, this singer had a range that allowed for silky smooth crooning or loud and forceful screams, depending on the song. This singer—she’d have to ask Jack what his name was—didn’t do much in the way of showmanship beyond singing, playing his guitar, and head-banging or making faces, but he had the kind of magnetic charisma that made him moving to the music entertaining enough to move along with him. Elaina swayed to the music, letting it carry her away.
With each song, the wall of sound enveloped her as the people in the crowd sang the lyrics word for word and moved with the music. Elaina was jostled against the front of the stage and against Jack, who was screaming and fist pumping beside her. As the concert went on, she tried to pay attention to the lyrics, but loud music combined with screaming fans made it difficult to understand everything being said. Some of the songs were dark, some angry, and some were surprisingly light and even comical—from what she could make out over the wailing guitars and sampler playing techno-like loops in the background. She wanted to let go once again and just move with the music, but the pushing and shoving of the people around her convinced her staying still was the best option. She caught an elbow to her side from a careless dancer beside her, making her spill her beer down the front of herself. Shit.
Her initial enjoyment of the concert wore off as the beer saturated her clothing, but not because the band wasn’t good. Thanks to the insanely loud music that made her eardrums want to escape from her head, and the pushing of the crowd, she’d had enough. Now her shirt, jeans, and her underwear were soaked with beer. Why hadn’t she gotten rid of it before?
“Alright my little metal fiends, you know what time it is!” The singer snarled into the mic. The crowd answered with a resounding roar, making Elaina look around to figure out what was going on. “Come on out, Trina!” On stage, a woman came strutting out wearing an outfit better suited for a strip club, if it could even be called an outfit. She was pretty sure the woman wore just barely enough not to be arrested for indecent exposure, with the nipples of her giant breasts covered only by an X of glittery tape and shorts so tight, short, and see through on the sides and back that a thong left more to the imagination.
The crowd began to chant what sounded like “holy Trina-ty”, and they nodded enthusiastically as he showed Trina off to the crowd like a game show hostess showing off the prize. Trina played to the crowd by shaking her breasts and wiggling her hips in a suggestive manner. Meanwhile, the rest of the band appeared anxious to get on with it and avoided looking at Trina. The next song began fast, loud, and driving hard. It didn’t take Elaina long to figure out the song was indeed called Holy Trina-ty, nor to understand the subject matter of the song related to the woman’s body parts that designated her as female. The woman on stage gyrated to the beat, alternating between grinding on the singer and his mic stand. She all but ignored the rest of the band, and the singer copped feels in between guitar riffs. Sex in rock and roll was nothing new, and half-naked women on stage happened often, but there was something in this display that put Elaina off. Maybe it was jealousy, because she wasn’t enjoying herself much at all now that she was soaked with terrible beer, and the woman on stage looked to be enjoying herself immensely. Maybe it was the accompanying lyrics about how she could beat him like a bad dog as long as she let him ride her doggie style that she didn’t care for. She loved metal, but could do without obscene lyrics. She looked at Jack, who was clearly taking in everything the woman had on display, and loving every second of it. Maybe she wasn’t having fun because her date was more interested in the woman on stage.
The heat generated from all of the bodies crammed into the small space and the sound pressure of the room wrapped Elaina in a merciless grip. She tried to suck in air, but couldn’t get enough as her body heated up and sweat trickled down her spine.
“I’m going outside for some fresh air,” she yelled into Jack’s ear at the top of her lungs.
He looked at her, confused. “What?” he mouthed.
Rather than yell again, she fanned herself and then pointed toward the door.
Jack nodded as comprehension dawned. He waved briefly before turning back to ogle the woman on stage. Elaina shook her head as she weaved her way through the crowd. Was it unrealistic to expect her date not to gawk at another woman during the date? She strained on tiptoes to find the exit after she walked for a while and still hadn’t made it outside. The place wasn’t that big for it to take that long. Twisting around until she found where she needed to go, her heel slipped out to the side as she set her heel down. Narrowly avoiding twisting her ankle, she cursed her choice of footwear as she pushed her way through to the exit.
She threw her weight against the door and sucked in the cool night air in gulps once it opened. She walked a couple of steps away from the door and leaned against the concrete wall of the club, still warm from the day’s sun. Even outside the music was loud enough to hear everything clearly. The building vibrated with every note. Should she wait for Jack or go home? She stuck it out inside for an hour before she had to get out of there, surely the concert had to be over soon.
She slid her phone from her pocket, and Googled Black Castle as she waited for Jack, tapping her foot to the beat. She could enjoy the music much better away from the screaming crowd. Despite the wailing riffs of the lead guitar, the techno samples, and the pounding drums, the songs had a simplicity about them that made them easy to enjoy. She skimmed the band’s webpage to satisfy her curiosity about them. The band was made up of four members: singer and rhythm guitarist Rick Castle, lead guitarist Mike Johnson, bassist Brian Baines, and drummer Mark Dallas. From the pictures, Black Castle had toured with bands she knew, including Linkin Park and Korn. She was mildly surprised to learn about Rick Castle’s collaborations with 90’s grunge bands Alice in Chains, Stone Temple Pilots, and Nirvana. He seemed to be in so many different places in the music industry that she couldn’t believe she’d never heard of him before tonight.
A picture of Rick and the woman that joined the band on stage was to the left of his biography. His wife, Trina. Surprise, surprise. Rick married a stripper. Elaina rolled her eyes. Could he be anymore rock star-ish? A quick poke around the rest of the website revealed more pictures of Rick and Trina than of the rest of the band. No wonder the other band members didn’t appear all that thrilled with her sharing the stage with them.
After thirty minutes of waiting, the doors of Club Now flung open and the crowd of concertgoers came streaming out, still hyped up from the concert. People yelled and screamed lyrics to the songs at the top of their drunken lungs as they stumbled across the parking lot. Hopefully, there were designated drivers in the throng of people. Elaina scanned the people leaving the building until she found Jack. He walked with his arm around a woman she recognized as one of the groupies hanging by the bus before the concert. Judging from how he shoved his tongue down the groupie’s throat, Elaina’s date with him was over. She shook her head, put her phone in her pocket, and walked to her car.
In a way, she was relieved that the date didn’t go well. Jack was nice enough, but he wasn’t someone she’d want to see again. Sure, it would have been better to end the date with an awkward handshake rather than to watch him kissing another woman, but things had a habit of working out the way they’re supposed to.
Chapter 3
“Come on, Rick. Do a line with us?” Trina cooed as she held the pocket mirror and rolled up dollar bill out for him. The faces of two of his band members stared up expectantly.
He shook his head. “No, babe. I don’t do coke anymore, remember?” He tur
ned away as his wife shrugged, put the bill up her own nose, and cleared the line from the mirror herself.
It was the same thing after each show. They’d go back to the bus, or their hotel room, and they’d all get high and party while Rick drank away the tension after a show. Some musicians spent their time with groupies as a form of release, but not Rick. Not anymore. Being married to Trina, Rick shunned those women with ease. Who could compare to his sexy wife? She had everything a man could want in a woman.
He took a heavy swig of his whiskey as he turned back to watch Trina. Mark and Brian sat on either side of her, each with his own groupie eagerly waiting for the time they’ll go off into a darkened corner for a quickie or blow job. That’s probably where Mike was. Trina, still dressed in her stage get up, set up another line of coke to snort. Whenever he looked at her, all he could think of was how right her body was for fucking. But that’s to be expected when married to an ex-stripper, right? He hated that cliché. Trina was so much more than ‘just a stripper’. Rick knew what people thought about her, but he didn’t care. She was smart, loyal, and he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could. She supported him in everything he did, and she was always quick with encouraging words. They’d been married for two years and he still couldn’t get enough of her.
She looked up at him, her green eyes afire with her high, distracting him from his thoughts.
“What is it, baby? Why are you looking at me like that?” Her bottom lip pushed out, making him itch to suck it into his mouth.
“I love you.” Rick held his whiskey bottle up to her in a toast before taking a drink.
She smiled and went back to her coke.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, would you stop?” Rick turned to the angry voice behind him and came eye to eye with Mike.
“So I can’t tell my wife I love her on my bus?” Rick rounded on Mike as he set the whiskey bottle down on the counter.
“You have to do it in front of everyone? None of us want to hear that shit. It’s bad enough we have to watch the two of you pawing each other all the time, and share the stage with her. Have some consideration for those around you, man.” He shouldered past Rick.
Rick put a hand on Mike’s shoulder in part to stop him, but also to steady himself. “What is wrong with you? We had a great show. You can’t just hang out with us and have some fun?”
Mike looked pointedly toward Trina, Mark, and Brian, who were all more concerned with the drugs on the table, before freezing Rick with his ice cold stare. “And do what? Whatever drugs Trina has brought on the bus this time? Doesn’t it bother you that Mark is a recovering addict and he’s over there doing blow?”
Rick’s hand dropped from Mike’s shoulder. “He’s a grown man. And don’t blame Trina for this. I manage to stay off the drugs. You know as well as I do drugs are never hard to find on the road.”
Mike threw up his hands. “I can’t do this anymore, Rick. I’ve tried to make this work, but I can’t be here. We’re done, man.” Mike crossed over to the bunks and grabbed his bag. On his way to the door, he picked up a bottle of whiskey. He stopped at the door before stepping off the bus. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted things to be.”
Rick closed his eyes and dropped his head back. “Don’t do this, Mike.”
When he opened his eyes and looked toward the door, Mike was gone. The idea of chasing after him hadn’t fully formed when the cool night air hit Rick’s face.
“Mike! Wait up, man.” Rick jogged over to Mike, who was about to climb into a waiting Range Rover. The idea that Mike planned this departure dimly registered through the whiskey fueled haze.
“What is it, Rick? There really isn’t much to talk about now, is there?” Mike’s bored tone made Rick pause mid step. Was breaking up the band and throwing away nineteen years’ worth of a working friendship really that easy for him?
“Is that all there is to this? You just say ‘it’s over’ and walk away? You don’t even bother to tell me what exactly your problem is? You’ve had a bug up your ass ever since I married Trina, and I’ve tried to talk to you to sort things out before it came to this point. Why can’t you just tell me what the problem is so we can get to the bottom of this. Forget the band, you were my best friend for a long time and I can’t see letting that go.”
Mike tossed his hair over his shoulder and looked up to the dark sky. “Rick. Just let it go. I told you I can’t do this anymore, and I really do just want to leave it at that.”
“Without even telling me why?”
Mike lowered his gaze to Rick. The sadness in Mike’s eyes tore at Rick’s heart. “I won’t be the one that makes you choose between your wife or your band.”
Rick took a step back as his mind reeled. “So, this has been about Trina all along?”
Mike nodded.
“I thought you got along great with her. I don’t understand what the problem is.”
Mike threw his hands up. “She’s always around. I don’t care if she comes on tour with us or whatever because I get you don’t like being away from her, but you’ve basically made her part of the band. You let her sing and create samples for our songs. You have her out on stage at every show. Fuck man, you even do interviews about the band without anyone other than her. And you did it without talking to the rest of us.”
It was as if someone doused Rick with cold water. Rick never saw beyond his own desire to be with his wife. No one had complained when Trina started singing on tracks or dancing on stage. He never meant to cut the band out of the interviews—never even told them they couldn’t join him—but at the same time, the realization set in that Rick may not have even mentioned the interviews to them ahead of time. He was an asshole, and because he didn’t look at the situation from their perspective, he’d messed up everything.
How could he fix this? Could he fix this, or was it too late?
“What if I made more of an effort to include you and asked Trina to step back a bit?”
Mike shook his head. “It’s too late for that. Maybe I’m a dick for not bringing it up when there was still a chance of fixing it, but it is what it is. I have an offer to go play with another band and I’m taking it.”
Rick clenched and released his fist. “You can’t just leave the band because you’re upset over me getting married and including my wife in my life.”
Mike cocked his head to the side, a half smirk formed on his lips. “You mean legally? Yeah, I can. I talked to my lawyer. The tour promoting the new album is done, we’re not working on anything new. My obligations are satisfied. So, not only can I leave, but I can also stop you from using the Black Castle name. Remember the clause in our contract that stated neither one of us could add new members without the other’s consent? You violated that with Trina.”
“She’s not—”
Mike took a step toward Rick. “What, Rick? Not a member? Doesn’t she do all the same things the rest of us do? You write the songs, we all give our input, and then we each add in our own parts. For me, I build on the guitar part you’ve set up. For Trina, she added backing vocals and samples. While you could argue that studio musicians aren’t band members—and you’d be right—it doesn’t apply here because she doesn’t just do what you tell her. She contributes creatively, she tours with us, and appears on stage and in interviews. For fuck’s sake, man, she even signs autographs! Tell me how she’s not a member.”
Rick turned over what Mike said, unable to think of a single point he could actually counter. Mike had obviously thought this through and planned his departure down to the last detail. Rick was too drunk to think fast enough on his feet.
“Wait a minute. How can you stop me from using my own band’s name? I am Black Castle, for fuck’s sake.” Rick ground out from between clenched teeth.
“You made me a partner. As such, anything done under the name Black Castle belongs to both of us, including the name. Given how this has worked out, maybe you were an idiot for making me partner, but oh well.
”
Rick raised his chin and clenched both hands into fists. “’Oh well’? That’s all you can say? What is the name to you? You can’t use it without me. Fans wouldn’t follow you if you did, because you can’t legally perform the songs I own. As you’ve already said, I write the songs. Every goddamn last one of them belongs to me.”
Mike shrugged. “I have no intention of using the name myself, or performing any of your songs.”
“Then why do you want to stop me from using the band’s name?”
“Oh, it’s not that I want to stop you. You can still use the name, but you and I will have to agree to the terms that make that possible. You’ll have to pay me for it, of course.” He climbed into the Range Rover and signaled the driver to go.
Rick stared at the receding vehicle until it was lost in the traffic way down the road. Just like that, his band fell apart. Mike may have been just one person, but Rick relied on him more than anyone else, even Trina.
It was his own fault. He couldn’t deny that, no matter how much he wanted to. When he and Trina met, he fell head over heels in love with her. She was a fan in the front row at the first show Black Castle performed when he was fresh out of rehab. Throughout the whole show, Rick could only take his eyes off her for a few seconds at a time. After the show, he’d asked one of the security guards to bring her backstage, which was something he’d never done. Never had to because the women were just there. From the moment she stepped into his dressing room, they became inseparable and married six months later.
Rule of the Shieldmaiden Page 20