Bullet Series Box Set Books 1-8

by Jade C. Jamison

  Well, it was probably better that way. Brad hadn’t stood a chance, no matter how drawn to her he felt.

  Zane called a few days before the show and told Brad that Valerie was going to watch the show. He wanted to warn Brad and Nick, because Zane and Val were still friends, but she was no longer on speaking terms with Ethan. Brad asked why.

  “Man, I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with Ethan. They were actually dating for a while, and I was like, it’s about time. But Ethan started fucking around on her. Made no sense. And I think it was a complete slap in the face because she’d been writing all those lyrics for him.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “She’s a really sweet girl.”

  Brad didn’t disagree, but he was afraid of what his voice might betray if he told Zane what he really thought about her. “But she’s coming to the show anyway?”

  “Well, yeah. Val and me are good friends, and if you wrote a bunch of words to some rockin’ songs, wouldn’t you want to see them performed live?”

  “Yeah, I guess I would.” Brad wasn’t going to complain. He wanted to see her again, see if he still had those same crazy strong feelings for her. No way would he say that to Zane, though. As it was, he was kicking himself for saying anything to Ethan to begin with. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that he had practically pushed his friend into her arms. Ethan hadn’t thought twice about the girl before Christmas break. Brad knew that much based on their conversation. But when he found out Brad was interested and the guy admitted that he knew Valerie was carrying a torch for him…well, he just couldn’t resist trying her out. But, like Brad had suspected, she wasn’t enough to keep Ethan. Ethan liked his girls with a harder edge, and Valerie just didn’t have that. Yeah, she loved their music, but she wasn’t dark and tormented or skanky beyond belief. Those were the kinds of girls Ethan liked—the ones just like his demented ass or the ones who could fuck him twenty different ways on the first date alone. Brad suspected the second trend would get even worse as they got older, because they’d be able to find more and more women willing to do weird stuff. Right now, the young girls weren’t too experienced, so they weren’t as eager to try things as those who’d been around the block once or twice.

  So, once more, Valerie was heavy on his mind as the day of their gig approached. He hoped that his feelings would be diminished, that he would see her and realize he’d just experienced some weird, inexplicable infatuation before and now things had returned to normal.

  He was afraid, though, that he would find that nothing had changed.

  * * *

  Nick’s dad let him and Brad borrow his truck, and they packed up the back with Nick’s drum kit, amps, and two of Brad’s guitars, plus all the little things they needed. They usually used Ethan’s truck with the trailer but that would, of course, have involved Ethan. Brad knew he needed to find another solution to how they toured. For now, though, they’d manage.

  He hadn’t wanted to, but he felt himself growing excited as they got closer and closer. He was feeling like a kid at Christmas, anticipating something that he had great hopes for but that would probably let him down, much like the gifts under the tree often did. No matter how great the presents were, they’d rarely been able to live up to his way-too-high expectations. As his mind dwelled on Valerie, he tried to keep reminding himself of that.

  But he couldn’t. He was jazzed beyond belief. When they got to The Cave, he was pleasantly surprised to see his other two band members there already. Ethan and Zane helped Brad and Nick unload the truck and get all their gear set up offstage in preparation for their turn. They would be the second band to play that night. The first had already set up.

  Brad had never played with either of the bands that were there that night, but he always made sure to introduce himself to other band members when he could. No one stayed a stranger around Brad for long, and most times he considered the people he met on the road allies. They all had the same goal, the same dreams. Once in a while, he’d meet people who were perfectly content only playing locally, who wanted to play and be heard and nothing more, but most of the people he met wanted big recognition—just like he did. He wanted to be heard; he wanted people to love his music. The money? Not as important, except in the regard that earning enough money as a band would mean he could spend more time focusing solely on the music instead of working for someone else for minimum wage. But to pour his heart into his art…he didn’t do it only for himself. His art was meant to be appreciated by others as well.

  So, as was his usual custom, he made his way around the backstage area first, introducing himself to the first person he could, and it went from there. He knew that pissed Ethan off; he wasn’t sure why. The only thing he could figure was that Ethan thought they were better than most of the other people they played with, and so he was above mingling with the riffraff. He’d never asked Ethan and wouldn’t because he didn’t want to know. He hoped Ethan would come around eventually. Zane and Nick had no problems socializing with other bands, but they didn’t go out of their way like Brad did, and he was okay with that. He knew he was unusual in that regard. Nick even bordered on shy, so Brad could understand why he had a bit of a harder time, but Ethan was flat out aloof sometimes, and he was worried about what kind of reputation that would give his band. Maybe that was why he himself went overboard on the flip side, to make sure other bands knew they were approachable. If his band was perceived as not only great sounding but easy to get along with, it could pave the way to being invited to more (and bigger) shows. He wanted to be thought of when those opportunities came up.

  And so he spent a good half hour pressing palms, chewing the fat with other bands, getting to know the guys in them. The last band of the night had a big merchandise table, and Brad started asking questions. He knew Fully Automatic was missing out on opportunities to make money by not selling merchandise. He’d seen lots of great tables over the past year too—not only t-shirts, but buttons, bumper stickers, and—of course—CDs. The CDs would have to wait until they could afford to buy some studio time, but he wanted to know if having a merch table would be worth it. If they could make more money, they would be able to spend more time honing their craft. There was no denying it.

  The guy he was talking to said, “Let me take you out to our table to talk to Shane. We all man it sometimes, but he’s the guy doing it tonight. He can show you how it’s done.”

  They walked out front and Brad was introduced to Shane. He asked, “What’s the most important thing you can tell me about having a merch table?”

  Shane took a second, giving it some thought. Then he said, “Well, sometimes it’s to give your stuff away. I know. Sounds like the worst thing to do, but trust me. You have some beautiful chick walk past your table without giving you a second thought, give her a shirt. And it’s not to score. But if she’s walking around wearing your shirt, tits out to here, your band name stretched across her rack, she’ll get noticed, and so will your name. Ask her to wear it during the concert. Free publicity, dude, and that’s worth every penny.”

  Brad was dubious but didn’t say anything. A couple of people approached the table, and one wanted to buy a shirt. Shane offered a discount if the guy bought two. While they were negotiating, Brad was scanning faces. The place wasn’t packed yet, and the house lights wouldn’t be turned off until the show, so he could see the people in the crowd.

  And that’s when he noticed her. Except she looked a little different. She was sitting at a table next to a girl with short blonde hair, talking and looking excited and happy. If that was Valerie (and he still wasn’t completely sure), she’d teased her hair a little. Her eye makeup was heavy and dark, something she hadn’t done last fall, and she was wearing a black tank top. Without taking his eyes off her, he leaned toward Shane. “Be back in a few.”

  He stood, and he knew he had to put on a game face. One thing he’d learned in his few short years was that chicks dug confidence. He knew that was why Ethan got
away with so much shit. Brad didn’t intend to push his luck, because he knew you could go from confident to cocky in short order, but he did want to communicate through his body language that there was no hesitation. He knew what he wanted, and he wasn’t afraid to go after it.

  As he got closer, he knew it definitely was Valerie, but she’d metaled out. She looked...hot. She’d been sweet and innocent before, something that had attracted Brad from the get go, but now she was dressed like a metalhead and she was gorgeous. Oh, fuck, he had it bad. Just seeing her confirmed it. But he needed to test the waters, because maybe what he’d felt last December had been a fluke. Physical attraction was one thing, but it wasn’t everything, and it wasn’t the basis of what he’d felt. No, instead…instead, there was something else, something intangible between them.

  Or at least that’s how he remembered it. He needed to find out if it was for real.

  So he took a deep breath and imagined testosterone coursing through his veins, and then he made his way to the table where Valerie and her friend sat. Oh, hell, yeah. Jesus. She was wearing spiked wristbands too. She’d tripped some trigger last time they’d been together, but this time, he knew exactly what alarms were going off in his head. She was sexy and he was turned on. Another deep breath. He had this.

  He slid into the chair next to her. She sensed him, because she turned, and he noticed her friend looking at him as Val turned her head. As soon as her eyes met his, he saw the recognition in hers and she smiled. He said, “Hi, beautiful.” Fuck. The reaction he got was more than he’d hoped for. She was happy to see him and…she was checking him out. He saw her eyes scour his lips, his chin, his hair. That was nice. And he’d been worried.

  She propped her chin in her hands, resting her elbows on the table. That was so cute and flirty. Yeah, much more than he’d dreamed of. Her reaction alone was worth the trip here, even if the whole damn crowd hated his band. But she wasn’t done bowling him over. “Well, hello back, gorgeous.” Goddamn. He had to maintain his cool, but he was feeling his blood surge harder than it had in a long time. What was it about this girl? She turned her head slightly back and to the side to indicate the girl next to her, but she held that flirty pose while she spoke. “Um…this is my roommate, Jennifer Manders.”

  It was easy to stand and reach over, so he did. He held his hand out as though to shake hers. “Jennifer.” The young blonde extended her hand to his and he leaned over, bringing it up to his lips. Val’s roommate was thrilled—he could tell—but he wondered what Val herself thought. He was hoping to score more points.

  It was definitely working. Val said, “How debonair.”

  Yeah, and that told him it was time to push his luck, and he sat down. He lowered his voice so her roommate wouldn’t be able to hear it easily. “You…I’ll kiss elsewhere.” Fuck, yes. It was working, and so much better than he’d ever dreamed. He could see it on her face. And she probably had no idea all the places he’d love to kiss on her. He took a breath and smiled, then raised his voice, because what he was going to say next, he didn’t care if her roommate heard. He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her response anyway. “So…you here to watch us play, or is this just a coincidence?”

  She had a devilish grin on her face. “I came to watch you.”

  Fucking God. He couldn’t believe it. She was messing with him—he knew that much. Still, that she was going to the trouble to inflate his ego and flirt with him at the same time…well, that told him everything he needed to know, and he was going to keep the ball rolling. “You’re here just for me?”

  “Yep. Just for you.” He winked at her then, as if to communicate to her that he knew she was playing but he appreciated it just the same.

  Time to leave while he was ahead and she was eating out of the palm of his hand. “Gotta go. I’m hanging at another band’s merch table to see how it’s done.” Without thinking it through, on impulse, he kissed her on the cheek. Then he stood. “See you after the show?”

  “Maybe.” Oh, that little shit. God, now she was teasing him. Now he’d have to get out of there before he popped a boner.

  He raised his eyebrows, wanting to keep the flirting tone in his voice. He pointed at her and said, “You better be here.” Then he turned to leave.

  He wasn’t sure, because it was so loud in the joint already, but as he walked away, he thought he could hear her roommate say, “Oh, my God. Who was that?” If her friend was impressed by Brad, it could only help him out, right?

  He joined Shane at the merch table again and took mental notes the entire time he was there. Brad caught that the guy was really good at upselling, something Brad didn’t know he’d be good at. He’d always believed in the power of his music. He believed that if it was good enough, that was all he’d need. He wouldn’t have to sell bumper stickers and other bullshit. Yeah, that was true, sure, but he also knew sometimes fans would want merchandise—he knew he spent money on band merchandise. Why wouldn’t his fans want merch too? Besides, if it helped move his band forward by providing them with a little extra cash, why wouldn’t he? Now that they were one-hundred percent solid on their name (and he’d been redesigning their logo), why not do it? It couldn’t hurt, unless for some reason they spent more on merchandise than they made. But that would be stupid. They would know how much they’d have to charge to make a profit, and they’d make sure they would. He didn’t know that he’d follow Shane’s advice of giving pretty girls a t-shirt for free, but he’d have to try it once or twice before ruling out the idea.

  When the first band started playing, Brad bought a t-shirt from Shane as a way of saying thanks for letting him sit with him and learn. Their band was good too, so he’d wear it. He considered joining Valerie and her friend to watch the first band and decided against it. He didn’t want to seem like an eager puppy dog. Yeah, there continued to be some weird inexplicable spark between them that he could no better explain than he could the properties of a black hole, but he was smart enough to know that, no matter what she said or how she acted toward him, Valerie now had a bit of history with Ethan, and he didn’t know if that would trump whatever moves he made. From this point forward, he knew he had to be cautious…and prepare to give that girl a hell of a show.

  Chapter Twelve

  HE COULDN’T HAVE played a better show if he’d planned it. Really, though, Brad went into every show planning to give it his all, and this one had been no different. Each audience deserved the best show it could get, the best show they’d paid for, and Brad intended to deliver. Still, there were some nights where things just didn’t click—where they’d felt sluggish, or out of sync, or like anything that could have gone wrong had. Tonight, though, it was like magic.

  In spite of the fact that he was there for the whole crowd, Valerie was at the forefront of his mind, and after the fourth song of their set, he pulled off his Black Label Society t-shirt and threw it to the side of the stage. He’d been hot and sweaty anyway, but if she was watching, he wanted to show himself off. He had some new ink anyway, and it was going to waste hiding under the shirt.

  Midway into the fifth song, he noticed Val and her friend at the foot of the stage. He knew she had to be more invested than other audience members, because several of the songs had her words as the lyrics. Ever since that night in his garage where they’d written their first song as a group effort that began with Val’s constructive criticism, he’d tried harder with his words. He’d always felt that the words were secondary to the music, because that was the kind of music lover he was. If he loved the music, he loved the song. Yeah, he’d listen to and (maybe) appreciate the words later, but if he didn’t love the music—if the tune didn’t speak to him—he’d never hear the words. The lyrics would never stand a chance. Since Val had hopped on board with her word wizardry, he’d taken a step back and rethought his ideas about lyrics. He’d since paid more attention to the lines he wrote and the words he chose. He wanted them to mean something, and if he could even come close to the brilliance
of some of Val’s lyrics, he’d have it made. He’d even retooled the words of a couple of his older songs, hoping to make them fresher, more original.

  He hoped she would notice.

  God, he also hoped he wasn’t making her uncomfortable, but seeing her there, he could hardly take his eyes off her. She was beautiful. She was loving the show too, headbanging, throwing the horns in the air, rocking out. Her friend liked the music too, but Brad could tell Valerie loved it. What made him feel better was that, even though she was watching the whole band, Ethan included, she kept her eyes mostly on him too.

  Yeah, he had a chance. A good chance.

  So, by the second to last song, he was more self-assured than ever, and he was prepared to venture past the point of no return. When the applause from the previous song died down, Brad said into the mike, “I’m dedicating this song to the cute brunette standing near the edge of the stage.” He made sure he caught Val’s eye before he added, “You know who you are.” At this point, he wasn’t going to look over at Ethan, because his friend knew how Brad felt about Val, and Brad was no dummy. He knew something had happened between Ethan and Val, but he was hoping that whatever it had been was over. It was time to move in. “This song is called ‘Want You’.” It was a song he’d written the week after he’d met her, before he and Ethan had had their little talk. It had also been his first attempt at trying to write something with more meaning, more substance…more like the way Val wrote. He started feeling nervous as he played the chords on his guitar, because he wondered what she’d think. He was especially nervous because he’d written the damn song about her.

  “A chance encounter,

  Two strangers meet.

  A hidden smile, a secret glance.

  You’re in my sights,

  Won’t take defeat,

  No second thought, no second chance