Rock Steady

by Dawn Ryder

  It was quite a job though, along the line of dream-come-true ones.

  “You remember Taz and Syon?” Ramsey pointed toward a line of makeup stations, where the two rockers were sitting as their faces were touched up.

  “I think you missed Drake,” Ramsey said as he pointed at the fourth member of Toxsin.

  “Evening.” Drake unleashed a very British accent on her and winked from where he was inspecting his overall look in front of a full-length mirror.

  “And Kate, our leather artist.” Ramsey pointed toward a redhead standing by a rolling clothing rack that had leather pants and vests hanging on it. “Syon’s her bitch.”

  “And happy to be so,” Syon Braden, lead singer, sang out. He hopped out of the makeup chair and went over to his wife. There was a smack as he landed a hand on her bottom, her leather skirt popping.

  “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” she chastised her husband.

  “Oh, I can finish it alright,” Syon cooed softly to her. “And I will.”

  But he moved over to where a guitar was hanging from a stand. He picked it up and started fingering the strings.

  “Got to go to work,” Ramsey said.

  He moved over to where Syon was and picked up another guitar. Syon Braden was a legend, but Ramsey smoked him when he started to play. There was a sharp edge to the notes he coaxed out of the strings. His expression became raw while his whole body moved with the music. It was erotic, and she was mesmerized by the sight, suddenly realizing that she’d never seen a true music legend at work.

  Drake started up on the drums as Taz joined in. The staff in the room started nodding with the beat as they finished up their duties. Jewel ended up leaning against the wall, enjoying the private glimpse of Toxsin. Without a doubt, it was a privilege.

  At least she saw it that way.

  Ramsey opened his eyes, catching her gaze. Her breath stopped, time freezing, and she felt suspended between moments, waiting for the next note, unable to move forward until the music carried her. It was incredibly intimate—that thing she’d seen a glimpse of in his eyes on full display now. Her gaze lowered to his lips, and her own tingled.

  God, she wanted him to kiss her. And just for a moment, his lips curved, making it clear he wanted to do exactly that.

  In the next instant, his eyes slid shut and he looked like he was pushing the music straight out of his soul.

  He was letting loose completely. Something most people didn’t have the guts to do. At least, not in front of others, and he was going to do it in front of thousands of fans.

  He rocked.

  It was that simple.

  She felt it seeping into her, washing away her better judgment and leaving her nothing but a pile of receptors, just waiting for him to stimulate her.

  Rock star.

  He was definitely that and something more, something that hit her as polished and trained. It was a heady combination, because she could have ignored someone who had just gotten lucky and was pushing out decent music with a show to tantalize the teenagers. Now, an artist who had earned everything he had? That was intoxicating on an epic level. She watched the way his fingers moved on the strings; the skill was unmistakable. He was watching a flat screen, looking at the notes the computer program picked up to make sure he was hitting them right.

  That was skill and dedication. As well as respect for his art.

  Hell, she was totally impressed now. The car was great, the strawberries a treat, but seeing him and his bandmates focused and determined to excel, well, that sent a whole different sensation through her.

  Respect.

  * * *

  She had a seat.

  Not that Jewel stayed in it.

  The moment the members of Toxsin took the stage, the fans near the long catwalk surged to their feet and crowded the edge of the stage. The temperature felt like it was going up from the frenzy the crowd was working itself into.

  Ramsey seemed to know exactly how to push their buttons too. He took the stage. He didn’t walk onto it. He fucking stormed it and claimed it as his domain. There was no just watching him. The audience was captivated, held in a grip that was nearly hypnotic. Ramsey and his bandmates were putting out such high levels of energy, everyone in the arena was moved to screaming.

  Jewel was no exception.

  Nor did she want to be.

  She surged to her feet and smiled at the pulsing in her blood. It warmed her like alcohol and was just as devastating to her wits. Thinking was completely out of the question as Toxsin finished one song and rolled into another one that punched up the level of frenzy surrounding them. The fans were like desperate disciples who reached out for their idols. The reason was clear. The members of Toxsin embodied what everyone fought for.

  They were truly free.

  What they were was on display, along with all of their inner demons. The music was an outpouring of all the emotions everybody tried to ignore as they went about being respectable, civilized people. The cravings they had and were too self-conscious to admit having.

  Tonight, they all roared as Toxsin gave them permission to embrace those feelings, the seedy and the oh-so-often labeled immoral sexual passion. Jewel screamed with the rest of them, feeling freer than she ever had. She got it, really got it. Inside her was a person who wanted to be accepted for what she was. It wasn’t always decent, and it certainly didn’t fit into anything that might be termed “civilized,” which was why she and everyone around her kept that part of their souls bottled up. The day-to-day grind made them all contain their cravings; Toxsin showed them how to embrace them.

  Ramsey was a true badass, because he wasn’t afraid of what the world would say about him.

  She realized he was the most honest man she’d ever met.

  “Oh. My. God! Look at the tat!”

  Ramsey arched back, playing a solo on his guitar. His lean, ripped abs stretched out, his neck corded as he pushed the instrument and filled the arena with a perfect blending of sound. His leather pants slipped lower; his vest rose higher, baring his waist and the top of the dragon. There was a hint of the head and tail, tantalizing glimpses as he moved.

  “It’s a dragon!”

  “I want one!”

  “I have to have one!”

  She lost track of all the comments, feeling the praise wash through her. That dream she’d so carefully nurtured for the last few months suddenly surged back to robust health like a drowning victim who’d received CPR. It was no longer limping along as she fought for enough morsels of strength to resist tossing in the towel and falling into line with the rest of the world because it was the sensible thing to do. The thing that would help her sleep at night, because she wasn’t wondering how she was going to scrape together the rent.

  Ramsey was a mythical creature who had defied the odds and won.

  She let out another scream, enjoying the high of the moment. When the concert ended, she melted into the crowd, leaving the VIP pass in her bra. She made her way onto the pavement and followed a huge bunch of people toward the underground BART trains.

  She was wrung out, but happily so.

  And you’re a chicken…

  Well, it was a necessity, self-defense at its best. One kiss, and her self-control would be a goner. Poof! Up in smoke for sure.

  Chicken…

  Oh, she was guilty as charged. No argument. Just a twinge of regret kept her company on the train ride back to her end of town. Okay, a little more than a twinge. More like a bucketful, leaving her sexually frustrated and kicking herself for walking away from a prime opportunity.

  Which was why she’d done it.

  Ramsey was a lot of things, but she didn’t want to see him as an alley cat. She wanted to hold the memory of him being an artist. Keep him on a pedestal. Let him be a panther, a creature with nobility.

  Whimsical.

  And she wasn’t even drunk.

  No mere mortal man could claim to have intoxicated her.

  Only a god
.

  So she’d leave him in the heavens and hold on to her worship of him.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry, sir. She never came this way.”

  Ramsey considered the doorman before shrugging. But he turned and caught Syon watching him. His bandmate knew him. Really knew him.

  Syon carried a beer over to him, handing it to him as he sipped from his own longneck.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Ramsey said.

  Syon only took another long sip. Ramsey twisted the cap off and indulged, but the beverage didn’t taste right. He ended up setting it aside. He was unsatisfied, and beer wasn’t what he wanted.

  Brenton came into the performers’ backstage room. “Great work, gentlemen. I have some opportunities for promotion, if you’re interested.”

  Their new road manager didn’t try to control them, always making suggestions instead of demands. Brenton read off a few clubs that had issued invitations, along with two trendy restaurants that promised epic meals if the band wanted to drop in.

  “Your wife looks like she wants to go eat at the place with the view of the bay,” Ramsey said.

  Syon grinned at him. “Think I can’t spot a decoy from you, Rams?”

  Ramsey shrugged again. “I’m fine. Just don’t feel like drinking. It didn’t end too well a couple of nights ago.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Syon looked down at the top of the dragon tattoo.

  “Okay, it ended well. But in an ass-backward sort of way.”

  “Yeah, you almost got a reputation for liking flowers,” Taz said from a few feet away. “I can just smell the dressing room in Portland now if the fans had caught sight of those cherry blossoms.”

  Ramsey snorted. “Exactly. I think I’m going to be on the wagon for a bit.”

  “So, come to dinner.” Syon was already moving away before Ramsey got the chance to answer.

  “I could do dinner,” Taz agreed. Drake gave them a thumbs-up.

  “I’ll call and let them know you’re coming,” Brenton said as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

  * * *

  Her electricity was off.

  Jewel used her cell phone to light her way into her apartment and find a candle. She held it to the burner of her gas range to light it before setting it on the pub-style table. The golden, intimate glow fit her mood. The sketch of the dragon was on the table, drawing her to it. She sat down and picked up her pen, pulled to the image and the memory of working it onto Ramsey. Sometime later, she sipped a glass of red wine as she surveyed the finishing touches she’d put on the drawing. If she’d been smart, she would have had him sign it so she could have sold it for enough to pay her utility bills.

  But she knew she’d rather be homeless than part with the drawing. It was too personal. Too much a part of something that had been created inside her soul.

  So she savored her last glass of wine as the candle burned low and she finished the dragon.

  * * *

  Someone laid their fist on her door at nine in the morning.

  It was the building door, at the street level, and the iron gate was making a huge racket that echoed up the narrow stair corridor. Jewel groaned, but she’d be lying if she said she’d been sleeping. She ran her fingers through her hair and slipped her feet into a pair of shoes and headed down.

  “Good, you’re up.”

  The woman at the door had a rose tattooed on the left side of her neck. Her forearms had ink as well. She was also wearing a spiked dog collar around her neck with a little metal tag that had “Pony” inscribed on it. “I’m Pony from Spike Collar.”

  “Hi. What can I do for you?” Jewel kept the key to the outer door in her hand.

  “It’s what I can do for you,” Pony said with a snap of chewing gum. She propped one hand on her hip, the short, lacy skirt she had on flipping with the morning breeze. “Heard Ted booted you to the curb for doing the tat on Ramsey. Casey sent me over to tell you we’ve got a spot open for you.”

  Or more precisely, for her ten seconds of fame as tattoo artist to the stars.

  “You know I was covering up your guys’ work?” Jewel asked pointedly.

  Pony snapped her gum again and smirked. “Sure do.”

  There was a gleam of enjoyment in her eyes. Jewel decided it was pretty ugly. “Sorry, but I don’t roll that way.”

  “Like what?” Pony demanded. “The dude got what was coming to him. Even if you’re straight, you know men like him are massive pricks. About time he found out what it feels like to be on the business side of being used. You’ll make a lot more money working for Spike.”

  “I’m a professional. I don’t do drunk tats or vengeance ones,” Jewel said firmly.

  Pony snorted. “Don’t judge it, bitch. At least I don’t live in an armpit like this. Your morals aren’t going to keep you from getting evicted tomorrow.”

  Jewel stiffened. Pony snapped her gum again. “Yeah, we know the manager of this building. He heard you got canned. Already has someone lined up to move in. Casey can make it right for you. Show up if you don’t want to be on the street tomorrow night. It’s a dog-eat-dog world, baby. Better get with the program.”

  She turned with a flip of her torn skirt hem and started off down the street.

  Jewel leaned against the wall, feeling like the world was making ready to beat the crap out of her. She had options; she just didn’t like any of them.

  Something shifted, and her jaw dropped when Ramsey appeared in the doorway next to hers. It was all of three feet away. He had a T-shirt on today, to cover his new ink. But the thin jersey material stuck to him, sending a ripple of awareness through her.

  God, he was lickable.

  “Are you getting evicted tomorrow?” he asked.

  She drew in a stiff breath and decided to roll with the facts. “Ted claimed my pay as rent due on my slot at his shop. So, I guess so.” She tried to shrug it off but felt like she didn’t quite pull it off. “Like you said, this place is a death trap. I’ll be well rid of it. I’m sure not going to go to work for Spike to keep it.”

  “Did you mean that?” He pointed toward Pony making her way up the block.

  She opened her hands, slightly confused. Okay, slightly dumbfounded, because he was there, messing with her thought processes again.

  She was pretty sure she liked that best about his personality.

  Glutton for punishment.

  “Yes, I mean it,” she confirmed. “It’s a no-brainer. I’ll go home first.”

  His lips curved. It was the real McCoy too, a genuine smile.

  “Why’d you leave last night?” he asked.

  She shrugged, but it was a chicken answer. He knew it, too. She saw the flicker in his eyes. Heat teased her cheeks, and she realized she was actually blushing.

  Brain-frying time.

  She ended up offering him a half bark of laughter. “I was worried I’d get caught in your gravitational pull and end up on a one-way trip into the sun. It would be a blast, no doubt, but I’d end up frying in the end.”

  He snorted at her.

  “What? You think I’m buttering up your ego? Like you don’t have scores of women flinging themselves at you? And not just the desperate ones. I Googled you on the train ride home. You tend to run with some tight girls. Why are you here? I mean, it’s not like you have to go chasing anyone.”

  “Aren’t you glad to see me?” His lips twisted into the cocksure grin she found far too irresistible.

  Oh yeah…undermining.

  She caught herself returning the grin. “I’m going to claim my fifth amendment right and refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it will incriminate me. And encourage you, which you definitely don’t need.”

  His eyes narrowed as his lips curved. For a moment, he basked in the glow of the amusement her comment had provided him.

  “Part of me was glad you took off last night,” he said.

  “Sure,” she said to cover her shock, deciding on a change of topic
to keep from looking too lame. “Thank you for the car and strawberries. It was a blast of a show.”

  “You still left.”

  Jewel drew in a deep breath and decided to level. “I don’t do drunk tats, or vengeance ones, and I wanted to keep my memories of you in the area of ‘he’s an awesome dude, not a prick who’s trying to get into my pants.’”

  He contemplated her for a long moment, all hints of playfulness gone. A tingle touched her nape as she realized she was facing him. Just him, the person he kept locked behind a shield.

  “Okay. Fair enough. I do like to party.”

  “I’m not judging,” Jewel said.

  “Didn’t have to.” He reached through the bars and plucked the keys from her grip. “Everything you think shows on your face. That’s part of your allure. It was all I could do to resist kissing you last night when you looked at my mouth. But I wanted a bit more privacy for our first kiss.”

  “There isn’t going to be any kissing,” she told him flatly.

  He pushed the key into the lock and gave it a turn, completely ignoring her. The lock stuck, as usual. “Pony had one thing right. This place is an armpit.”

  The lock gave with a groan. Ramsey pulled the gate open and stepped inside. He was too large for the space.

  Or at least his persona was.

  Her belly tightened, the reaction surprising her. She was fascinated by how extreme it was.

  “I wanted to see that look on your face last night.” He slid a hand along her jawline, knowing exactly how to touch her. For a moment, she soaked it up, savoring it. The guy had talented fingers.

  But her belly growled, long and deep.

  He chuckled. “Come on, let’s get some chow.”

  He was up the stairs before she realized he still had her keys.

  “You’re going to take me to breakfast?” she asked.

  He sent her a wink so roguish, she felt her belly do a little flop. “Gotta work on the ‘being more than a prick’ thing, because I do want to get into your pants. That part’s not changing.”

  “Not sure if you’re honest or brazen to say that point-blank,” she confessed as she fought back a smile. Damn, the guy oozed charm.