Dream Me Off My Feet (Sex, Love, And Rock & Roll)

by Kisner, Stevie

  She plucked the fullest one, a yellow, from his hand and lit her skinny cigarette. “Thank you,” she rasped, turning back toward the door.

  As she neared, he reached out again to brush the hair from her face. He caught her off-guard, and this time was successful. Her nose was bright red, eyelids swollen…but what arrested him were her eyes, the glimpse he caught before she looked down and closed them. The bloodshot, he expected The color, he did not. The turquoise of an ocean atoll; bluer than a sunlit summer sky, yet greener than a forest canopy. God, how they change hue with her emotions. And there were so many reflected in those eyes this morning. Fear, misery, guilt, and … something softer. Don’t read into it, Blackwood. Face value: she cares. Don’t play with that heart. She wears it too close to the surface, and the consequences would surely be something you don’t want to see.

  She scooted out the door without a word, softly closing her own before he could ask any questions.

  ***

  The coffee did its job; her throat no longer felt like it hosted a sandpaper marathon, and her eyes were almost back to normal. The caffeine had also boosted the Advil she took. Today might not be so bad, after all. She grabbed her camera bag and sat down to wait for JT’s knock at her door. She lit another cigarette to help pass the ten minutes until he was supposed to arrive.

  JT knocked promptly at eleven. She was able to meet his assessing gaze this time with her own. Huh,if I hadn’t known she was crying earlier, I wouldn’t suspect it now. I wonder what else she hides that well.

  “Good morning again, love,” he said, his eyes glowing. I’m not going to hide my feelings, but I’m not going to pursue her, either. Not anymore. It’ll be strictly up to her and what she wants. Funny, I honestly do like Mark, but at this point, that doesn’t really matter. My feelings for her are…hell, I don’t even know WHAT they are. It’s as if I’ve known her for years, and those kinds of familiar-yet-unfamiliar relationships go only two ways: they burn up fast and furious, or linger on, smoldering for a lifetime. We’ll have to see which one this will be.

  Korina noticed he said it differently this time, again. Now it was back to love. “Hey, JT,” she replied noncommittally. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “I’m sure they’ll be out any minute. You know us, we’re only on time for two things — airplanes and taking the stage.”

  “Yeah, yeah, ‘We can’t even spell deadline, let alone meet one.’ I still haven’t decided if that’s because you’re perfectionists, or too busy screwing around to notice what day it is.”

  Before he could retort, their manager, Stuart, emerged from his room and began knocking on doors, calling out “Let’s go!” and “The bus leaves in two minutes!”

  Kori looked a question at JT. “Just a figure of speech. Sometimes it is the bus, but today it’s a limo van. We won’t be back on the tourbus until we leave Dallas.”

  “That’s good to know,” she replied, fighting a quick rush of panic at being stuck in a bus with him for hours. She needed to ask Stuart for an itinerary so she wouldn’t be surprised again. She took a deep breath and willed herself to think of it as the opportunity she’d been letting pass by while JT had kept her sequestered. To see them all together, catch their interaction. Get something interesting to write about and post up on the website. She’d almost forgotten…

  “JT, what is my official title?”

  Main squeeze. Lusty wench. Keeper of my heart. “Uh, to be honest, I hadn’t given it all that much thought. Why?” He eyed her carefully.

  “I was working on a tour report to post, and thought it would be a good idea to introduce myself. But I don’t know what to call, um, what it is that I do for you.”

  Now there’s a loaded statement. Before he could reply, the door to their right opened and Rafe stepped out. “Since when do we leave on time?” he asked, his still-damp hair curling in an unruly tangle around his face.

  “Ya know, mate, I’m beginning to think, and after all these years it finally occurred to me, that Stuart tells us we have to leave earlier than we actually do just so we leave on time,” Paul answered as he closed his own door.

  Oldest mom trick in the book, Kori thought with a tiny smile. She almost laughed out loud as Ian, still holding his shoes and socks, was bodily shoved from his room by a bustling Stuart. She had a sudden vision of Stuart as the White Rabbit from ‘Alice in Wonderland’ — No time, no time, I’m late!

  Unable to stop the mental picture, complete with an enormous pocket watch in Stuart’s hand and a fluffy cotton tail poking out the back of his trousers, she began to giggle.

  “What’s so funny?” Clay asked as he emerged.

  “Explain in the elevator. There’s no time right now. We’re late,” blustered Stuart, herding them toward the lifts. Kori thought she might wet her pants as she shrieked with new gales of laughter.

  JT had a sudden flash of Stuart in a bunny suit, with a big pocket watch, muttering ‘I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date…” and began to chuckle himself. He looked at Kori and managed a low, “No time to say hello, goodbye…”

  “I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!” she finished in a squeal of laughter.

  “What’s with those two?” grumbled Ian as he stumbled while shoving one foot into his shoe as he walked.

  “Got me,” answered Clay. “She was giggling when I got here.” They crammed into the elevator, wishing JT and Kori would either let them in on the joke or just shut the hell up.

  Korina stood behind the raised sound and light booth, watching. Every possible surface was covered with control boards and laptops, and the entire area was snaked with wires, cords and cables that seemed to follow no particular layout. How could he tell which wire went to what component? She climbed the three steps to get a closer look, careful to stay out of the way of the cursing sound tech, Dan Gordon.

  “Always a malfunction. Bloody hell! These things are supposed to be taken down and reassembled constantly — you’d think they’d be sturdier, or be designed better. But noooo…hand me that roll of duct tape, please? Thanks, luv.”

  It’s a wonder it works at all, she thought, observing all the duct tape, electrical tape and frayed, spliced wires.

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” she asked, pointing to a wire that was spliced so many times it looked like a mass of plastic electrical twist-caps.

  “Eh, this? Nah. It’s all grounded. Those grounding wires never seem to break. It’s all the others that are made of two-penny crap.”

  He looked up and shouted to the stage, “Okay, we’ll try it again!” He flipped a switch, then pointed to Ian.

  “It damn well better work this time,” broadcasted clearly through the arena. Dan gave him a thumbs-up.

  “Now Rafe!” he yelled, pointing to the patiently waiting bassist.

  “Test, for the fourth flippin’ time,” came over loudly. He, too, received a thumbs-up.

  “Clay!” he pointed to the drummer, who sat watching, chuckling and shaking his head. “I don’t even know why I have a mic, I hardly use the bleedin’ thing.”

  “ ‘Cause we live to annoy you,” Dan shouted back. He was smiling now. Just one to go on this circuit. Then maybe, just maybe, they could test JT’s.

  “Paul?” he called.

  “Yeah, yeah, motherfuckin’ test, all right?”

  Dan Gordon’s smile evaporated as a large spark shot from the recently-spliced wire, and with a whiff of ozone, the mics all went dead again. “SonofaBITCH!” he roared. “Isn’t there any significant length of wire in any of these crates so I can just REWIRE the motherfucker! These splices are going to fry the system!”

  Kori decided that since she couldn’t really be of help, it was best to not be in the way either, and set off toward the stage. Maybe soothe some frazzled nerves, maybe catch a few candid shots. She held her camera to her eye as she walked, checking lighting and angles. Later, but still long before the audience would start to filter in, the cables would be duct taped to the floor. Since t
he crew were still working, nothing was taped down yet and wires and cables trailed every which-way. She snagged her toe on one of them, stumbling. She caught her balance again, but not before Paul and several of the crew noticed.

  “Have a nice trip, luv?” he called out from the stage, chuckling.

  Being a lifelong klutz, she had a ready reply. “Nah, it was much too short!” she shouted back, her raw throat prickling. Dammit. Which way was the room with the snacks and coffee? Something warm should do the trick. She edged around the side risers to the backstage area.

  Up one hall, down another, turn a corner, and….something smelled like Starbucks. She peeked in one open doorway to find plush lounge furniture but no refreshments; this was the greeting room, which wouldn’t contain food and beverages until later. The next open door revealed the coffee pots filled with their steaming dark magic.

  She grabbed a styrofoam cup, filled it, and poked through the containers of creamer, hoping to find something flavored. She sighed. Nope, just plain half-n-half. She dumped in several, added a few packets of artificial sweetener, and an ice cube to cool it down. When it had melted down to a sliver, she took a tentative sip. “Ow! Crap,” she mumbled.

  “Burn your lip, love?”

  Startled by the familiar rumble, she spun on her heel, splashing coffee on her shoes.

  “I saw you disappear to somewhere backstage, and thought you might be searching for something soothing.” She raised a brow to meet his stare. “For your throat, love. I heard you crying this morning.” He moved further into the room. “And I noticed you were raspy and hoarse earlier. That’s gotta hurt.”

  Not nearly as much as what caused it. “A little,” she admitted. She set down the styrofoam cup as he stepped closer. Her eyes stayed trained on the table. Don’t look, you know what will happen if he captures you with those intense emerald magnets he calls eyes…

  “Will you please look at me, Kori? I want you to see what I’m telling you is the truth.” He was near enough to touch her, and he raised her chin with two gentle fingers. “It won’t happen again. I promise you that. It hurts me to know that what I wanted caused you so much sorrow.” He saw the understanding and sadness fill her eyes, along with something softer he wouldn’t place a label on. Their color changed to that entrancing shade of Caribbean blue as they brimmed with the threat of tears.

  JT pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. She allowed the tears to fall, silently soaking his shirt. He whispered soothing, quiet words into her hair, words of understanding and love, of denying himself, and meant each and every one as he said them.

  “I have to go home, JT,” she sniffled into his damp t-shirt. “I can’t do this.”

  “No. You can’t go. I need you here.” He looked down at her tear-streaked face. “You keep me grounded. We can do this, love. We can. Give it a chance. And trust me.”

  Her sniffle became a derisive snort. “Hell, I can’t even trust myself. And if these last two days are any indication, I can’t trust you, either. No, I have to leave, even though I don’t want to.”

  “Then don’t go.”

  “It’s not that simple, dammit! It’s not like I can just stay away from you! Proximity makes it worse, but you were in my head from halfway around the planet. At least, if you’re far away, I’m not tempted by your touch.”

  Oh, yes, you will be. Same as I am yours. No matter where you are. His eyes narrowed. “You signed a contract, love.”

  “After all we’ve done, you’d hold me to that?” she sputtered, stepping back.

  “Yes, I would,” he said in ominously quiet tones. “If that’s the only way to keep your smiling face nearby, I would. If that’s the only way to prove you can trust me, I most certainly will.”

  “If you force me to stay, I can guarantee it won’t be a smiling face you’ll see.”

  “Give it time, love. You’ll see I’m not the horny sot you think I am.”

  “Know you are, is more like it,” she mumbled.

  “I heard that. I can control myself. You have to trust me.” But can you control yourself, love? Can you?

  –You can’t go. I only just found you….

  Korina sank into a nearby easychair. “See? There you go again.”

  JT held his hands out, palms up. “What? What did I do?”

  “You’re thinking at me again. This won’t work, JT.” She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling very tired and overwhelmed.

  His voice was rough silk, directly above her. “Thinking and doing are two very different things, Korina.”

  She opened her eyes to find him leaning down, one hand on either arm of her chair, his captivating eyes only inches away.

  “Stop it, JT.” She closed her eyes again.

  “Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”

  She felt his breath on her cheek. She looked at him again and found his lips hovering over hers. “You’re too close,” she whispered.

  “But I’m still not doing anything.”

  “It’s the way you’re not doing anything that is doing something. At least, to me. And that’s what I need to stay away from, dammit. Can’t you understand that?”

  “Oh, I do understand that. Perfectly. The point is, I’m not going to do anything about it. But the question is, are you?” he murmured.

  She could feel his mouth forming words a breath away from hers, almost touching. The movement was enough to start a warm buzzing in her belly.

  “Can you keep from taking your firm little body and holding it against mine? Keep from wanting my touch on your skin? My lips over yours, just like this?” He brushed softly against her mouth. “I can. I’m very good at controlling myself. If I wasn’t, I’d close that door and…” his voice trailed away as his lips again grazed hers, light as a gossamer dream.

  She whimpered at the purposeful touch, her eyes drifting closed, feeling the unwanted desire building again. “I can’t. You invade my mind, and I’m gone.”

  “Then think of this as a lesson in self-control, love. ‘Cause you’re not going anywhere.” He straightened, fixing her in a smoldering stare before he turned and left the room.

  She sat for a long moment, regaining control of her emotions. Damn him! She grabbed her camera with a sigh and followed him out.

  I’ll just find anything and everything under the sun to do to stay away. Hang out with the rest of the band, glean whatever I can learn from Russell, work myself into exhaustion every single night so I can drop off into dreamless sleep. If he wants to play the stubborn game, he’ll soon find he’s picked the wrong opponent.

  Kori heard someone talking as she neared the greeting room; she boldly poked her head through the doorway. She was part of this crew and it was high time she stopped acting like a pampered guest. Russell was talking to Stuart, trying to convince the manager to allow him to shoot from one of the catwalks above the stage.

  “I won’t fall off, I tell you. The dizziness from the flu is long gone.”

  “No. It’s still too soon. It gets hot up there, especially during the show. And that’s where all the pot smoke drifts to. No, Russell, and you can’t change my mind.”

  “I’ll do it. If you want those shots, I’ll be happy to climb up there, Russell.” Happy, my ass. I’m terrified of heights. But at least I’ll be away from that stage.

  “Hey, Korina. Good to see you again,” Russell said. “I really want to go up there myself, but this tyrant here has the final word, and as you heard, his word was no.”

  “Stuart, please? Can I do it? I haven’t been sick, so you don’t have to worry about me getting dizzy.” She hit Russell with an intense stare. “And I’d love to show you what I can do. Photography is my first love, even more so than writing.”

  Stuart looked at her, considering.

  “She’s very good, Stu. Good enough to make me worry about my job.” Russell winked at Kori and smiled. “You’ve seen her work. And JT wants these overhead shots. He asked me this afternoon to do these. He thought Kori could handle
the stage and front shots. Since you don’t think I’d be safe up there, we could just switch. No point in both of us running into each other in the wings and down in front.”

  Oh, so that was his plan, was it? Won’t he be surprised to find he’s not posing for my lens later. She was even more determined to be up on the catwalk.

  “C’mon, Stuart. I’ll be fine, and since they want these overheads, someone has to do it. That is, unless you want to…?”

  “You’re not getting me up there. You win, you go. Just don’t tell JT about the switch, okay? He’ll find out later. I don’t want him badgering me all afternoon to let Russell go up there when I know it’s not safe for him yet.”

  Stuart took his leave, needing to check the progress of the gaffers who were reworking a portion of the wiring on the control panels.

  Korina and Russell settled more deeply into the comfortable furniture to talk apertures, lighting, and Slanker Knox on tour.

  ****

  Three hours before the show, and everything was finally working. Except the preshow schedule. That had been ripped down and thrown away.

  Preshow dinner that day was a boisterous affair of catered food in the greeting room. People wandered around backstage with styrofoam plates, looking for a place to sit. Some venues had large rooms filled with tables and chairs intended for serving preshow meals, and some did not. This was one that didn’t, much to the crew’s and band’s dismay. Korina didn’t mind, she could mix among the groups of people, stay away from JT, and nobody noticed that she hardly ate a thing. Especially JT. The thought of going up on the catwalk had her somewhat queasy, and she didn’t want to explain to him why, once again, she wasn’t eating.

  The band took off for the hotel right after dinner to shower and change. Normally, they went back after soundcheck to relax, returning to the venue to dress before the show. Today, they spent most of the afternoon lounging about backstage, waiting for the call to try again. Ian, Rafe and Clay didn’t seem bothered by the change, but JT and Paul were edgy and out of sorts. Kori’s second camera was still in her room, so she, too, headed back to the hotel. She also needed to change into something more appropriate for spending hours near the ceiling.