Dare (The Dare Trilogy)

by Sara Frost

  As he rolled over and out of the bed, Dianne aimed a well-placed slap on his delicious, tight buttocks and turned onto her belly, watching him as he entered the shower. For a few moments she simply lay there, letting her feet dangle back and forth and kick against her own cheeks from behind. Looking idly across the room, she saw an acoustic guitar that Cam had brought with him the previous evening when he’d dropped off his stuff.

  Still naked, she slowly climbed from the bed, her own sex aching slightly from the rigours of the previous night, and sat down on a chair next to the guitar, lifting it up into her lap and tuning it, listening carefully to the sound of the notes from each string.

  When it was close enough to being in tune she strummed the strings, playing a few chords and then picking out notes over the rosette. The guitar had a warm, full sound, and though her fingers felt a little sleepy at first, soon she began to move them with a fluency, first and little finger picking in harmony as her thumb and other digits joined in to create a rich melody.

  “Well I wish I was a catfish,” she sang to herself, “swimmin’ in the deep, deep blue sea.” She let her voice rise up from her belly, filling her lungs and floating from her throat in a bluesy, melancholy drawl. She couldn’t help but smirk as she sang the next line: “I’d have all you pretty women’ fishin’ after me.”

  Her shoulders began to rock back and forth in rhythm with the music, the wooden back of the guitar cool against the flesh of her nipple and breast, its lower curve resting on her thigh. Closing her eyes, she sang and played, losing herself in the moment...

  ...then opened her eyes to see Cam standing in the doorway of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, his arms and shoulders still glistening slightly with the damp, his tattoos shining slickly dark against paler flesh. His eyes were gleaming as he watched her. She stopped, feeling a little embarrassed.

  “Don’t stop on my account,” he told her.

  “I was just fooling around. Sorry,” she replied. Lifting up the guitar to return it to the floor next to her, she suddenly felt self-conscious of her nakedness and pulled her one knee up to her chest, throwing a defensive arm around it to keep herself small.

  “What are you apologising for?” he asked, frowning.

  “For messing around with your guitar. I should have asked.”

  He came and sat down on the bed, just across from her. “It’s there to be played,” he said, “and you play really well. What was that? I recognise it from somewhere.”

  “Catfish Blues. My dad used to play it sometimes.”

  “Your dad played guitar?”

  She nodded. “He was in a blues band for a while, but gave it up after he got married and had me.” She shrugged. “It happens.”

  Cam looked at her thoughtfully. “I didn’t know you played—I mean, you said you did, but I didn’t...” Suddenly realising what he was saying, it was his turn to blush. “I guess that sounds patronising.”

  “Yeah, just a bit. I’m used to it, though.”

  He appeared genuinely pained by this. “Well, I didn’t mean it that way.” His face lit up at another thought. “Hey, why not come over to the new place, hang out with us for the day?”

  She smiled, her expression slightly bittersweet. “I’ll see where you are, perhaps come and meet you later. I’ve not been to Paris before, and I feel like exploring a bit. I don’t feel like doing the groupie thing today.”

  The look on his face indicated that her words stung and she regretted them immediately. When he shrugged, however, she dipped her head so that she wouldn’t have to look at him and went through to the bathroom to shower. She felt a bitch because of what she’d said, and looked forward to the water cleaning away her suddenly stupid emotions, but when she left the shower and went into the bedroom to apologise to Cam, he had already gone.

  On the table on her side of the bed was a scrap of paper with an address for the Rue Morgue, which she guessed was the name of the venue they would be playing at later. She entered the details into her phone and pulled on jeans, low slung boots and a T-shirt and jacket, dragging her long hair from the denim collar.

  Outside the hotel where they were staying, Dianne suddenly felt a little lonely. She wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but she’d frozen over with Cam all of a sudden. It happened so often when it came to her and music. Guys pretty much saw a pair of tits and a pretty face, with ass and legs to match, and no-one took her seriously. She felt that, for a second at least, she’d seen a similar look in Cam’s eyes—patronising and slightly contemptuous: hey, she’s pretty and she can play the guitar. But the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she was projecting the kind of bullshit she’d experienced so many times before onto him.

  She needed a friend, calling up Janey from her contacts and waiting for the phone to engage. When Janey answered, Dianne could hear her buddy let out a squeal of pleasure.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?” Janey asked. “You sound, I don’t know, a little...”

  “I’m tired, that’s all. It’s been a pretty hectic day.”

  “And night, I bet,” Janey sniggered. Then she let out a sigh. “You lucky sod. I’m so jealous of you right now.”

  Dianne bit her tongue, not letting on about the White Ark and the rather sordid condition of Notre Dame the previous night, or the hotel where they had meant to be staying. “Well, it won’t be much longer. It’s fun though,” she added, forcing herself to believe that it was fun. “How’s Magnus?” she asked.

  “Oh, that little prince of yours is enjoying the life of Riley. Don’t worry about him! I’m taking very good care of your precious.”

  This made Dianne smile, as did just hearing Janey’s voice. Dawdling near the hotel for a while, watching traffic drive by and people walking on the pavement, she shared tittle tattle and mindless gossip with her friend, activities that made her feel much brighter and dispelled her fug.

  “Well,” said Janey at last rather regretfully. “Some of us still have to work, unfortunately. I’m jealous about that as well, bitch!”

  This made Dianne let out a sigh. “Well, don’t be. God alone knows what I’m going to do for money when I get back.”

  “Oh, you’ll be alright,” Janey said. “Live a little. Go on! Everything will be here when you get back. Give my love to my boys,” she added with a snort. “Tell them to come and visit me when you all return to London—and hands off! If I hear you’ve engaged in any kind of hanky panky with them, I swear I’ll cut your tits off.”

  With a laugh, Dianne bid Janey goodbye and flicked off her phone, smiling now as she followed once more the road that led from the hotel towards the Seine, picking out the path that she and Cam had followed the previous night, a slight smile on her lips now at the thought of him.

  Throughout the day, Dianne felt herself approaching a kind of bliss as she wandered the streets of Paris. Leading off the Rue de Rivoli, she found the huge arcade of Les Halles and window shopped in the huge, sunken area below street level that was filled with people, before following a meandering route to the Palais Royal.

  The sun was bright and the air not too hot, a breeze blowing gently through the crowds of people as they wandered among the shops. For a moment, Dianne smirked as she thought how pleasant it would have been to come out dressed as she had the previous evening, feeling the warm air between her legs. Taking a spot beside the pavement outside a café, she ordered a coffee and light lunch then watched the people, individually or in couples, passing her by.

  Seeing one pair, a young man and woman about her own age, she felt a little lonely all of a sudden. This was her first time in Paris, and to appreciate it fully she thought that really it would have been better if Cam had been with her. Pulling out her phone, she dialled his number.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice warm and sending a strange feeling through her as she heard it. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, nothing much, just enjoying the day. I just thought it would be nice
to have company, though.”

  He laughed at this. “Well, it’s been a bit hectic here, but I think we’ve got everything set up. We’ll be doing a sound check in a while—after Gary’s finished throwing his hissy fits.” The slight emphasis he placed on Gary made her giggle.

  “I thought you said this was a better venue.”

  “It is, it is.” He sounded a little weary on the other end of the phone. “Ah, to be fair he just wants everything right—if it hadn’t been such a fiasco last night, I could be more sympathetic to Darius-anal-retentive-Optimus being such a prima donna. Anyway, enough of that. You want to come over and hear us practice?”

  Having determined the precise location of the Rue Morgue and chatting a little more, Dianne finished her lunch and took a pleasant stroll towards the nightclub.

  When she approached it nearly an hour later, having detoured along the river once more, she could see at a glance that the club looked much more impressive from the outside, the whole building being in a better state of repair than their previous venue the night before. At the door, a bored attendant—a girl in her early twenties—looked up at her as she began to explain in slow English mixed with pidgin French and then simply pointed towards a doorway, returning her attention to the book she had been reading when Dianne moved away.

  Entering the large room, Dianne immediately saw the stage across from the bar and dancefloor, the members of Black Ark and most of Optima and their road crew milling around between instruments and equipment. She paused, hovering at the edge of the room, feeling a little nervous about going over. It wasn’t long, however, before Cam saw her and made his way across the dancefloor. His smile was tight and a little wary.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “If this isn’t convenient...” she began to say, but he placed an arm around her shoulders, softly pulling her head towards his chest.

  “It’s absolutely fine. Don’t mind me. I just think if I hear our glorious leader issue another command about why this has to go there, or why that has to be placed just so, I think I’m going to punch a wall—especially as he doesn’t seem to give a shit about what we do with our gear.”

  Dianne kept her mouth closed. She felt for Cam, but at the same time she had to admit to a little excitement. There was something special—very special—about Cam, and she saw that his band had the potential to be really good, but until only a few nights previously she had never even heard of Black Ark. Optima, however—there was a group that had a special place in her heart, even if the lead singer was turning out to be the kind of asshole she would have guessed him to be had she given it more consideration. The thought that she was here, seeing what was going on behind the scenes, gave her a thrill inside. She’d always fought the designation of being a groupie, but she was enjoying herself immensely.

  She saw Tony and James coming down from the stage. “Hey,” she called out to them. “Janey sends her love.”

  Tony flashed her a broad grin while James half-stumbled down the final few steps. “So did you talk her into flying out tonight? Your friend always has a special place in my heart, as well as a few other places I won’t mention in polite company.”

  “When was the last time you were in polite company?” Cam scoffed. Tony looked thoughtful.

  “Aye, well you may have a point there.”

  Dianne arched an eyebrow. “You don’t mean to tell me that you’ve gone into self-imposed chastity since we left London.”

  The Irishman pulled back his chin and gave her a quizzical expression. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” He leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, loud enough for the keyboard player to hear: “It’s not me. I’ve always been a bit of a ladies man, if you know what I mean. But young Jim here hasn’t had the opportunity of such lovely company for a very long time.”

  “Fuck off,” James told him good naturedly. Looking to Dianne, he asked: “So, how are you finding Paris?”

  “Much more relaxing than last night,” she replied.

  She was about to say more when Darius passed by and stopped in his tracks. He was staring at her directly, ignoring the rest of the group. He had opened his mouth to say something but then thought twice of it, evidently trying to place where he had seen her before. Dianne and the three members of Black Ark watched him expectantly.

  “You,” he said at last. “You’re the girl from the last night in London, aren’t you—the one who came backstage and then disappeared.”

  “I’m flattered you remember,” she said, self-deprecatingly.

  “Don’t give me that,” he said. “I bet no guy who ever sees you forgets you.” He bit his lip and then glanced across at Cam. “So this is why you legged it last night, then,” he mused. Cam shrugged and mumbled something.

  “Oh, come on,” Darius continued. “No need to be shy.” Stepping forward, he placed his hand through Dianne’s other arm, ensuring that he was on the other side of the much taller lead singer of Black Ark. “We’re all friends here.”

  Dianne felt strangely uncomfortable. Part of her was astonished to be so close to Darius—a full on, honest-to-goodness rock star. At the same time, she suddenly realised that her admiration of him was something that flourished much better from afar, especially as she could feel Cam tense up beside her.

  Not paying her attention for the moment, Darius leaned across her back and said: “You should have hung around, you sly, Scottish bastard. Shared the love a bit.”

  “I never realised you were such a romantic,” Cam replied tersely. Tony and James were looking uncomfortable now and quickly looked for an excuse to leave. Recognising Cam’s strained tone, Darius went to say something else but then thought better of it. Instead, he pulled his hand slowly from Dianne’s arm and came round in front of them both.

  “Not bad, is it?” he told them both, expanding his arms. “When I throw my weight around, I can get us somewhere much better than that shithole last night. I sacked my fucking manager over that.” He leered at Dianne. “You see, when Darius Optimus wants something, he fucking well gets it.”

  Dianne had no idea how to respond to this and so said nothing, while Cam paused for a painful few seconds before saying: “Yeah, well it’s going to be great to play here tonight.”

  “Too right,” Darius crowed. Raising a finger, he lifted it towards Cam’s face and waved it in front of the taller man. “This is a real opportunity for you, and don’t you forget who gave it to you. Isn’t that right?” This latter was directed towards Dianne. Not knowing what to do, and feeling incredibly out of her depth, she nodded mutely.

  “See, she knows a good thing when she sees it,” Darius continued. In the daylight, his makeup made his face look much older than on stage, the foundation covering lines and creases in his skin. “So,” he asked, “are you intending to follow Optima on tour then?”

  “Oh, yes,” she replied at last, starting to feel annoyed that she was acting like a dumb teenager. “And Black Ark, obviously.”

  “Obviously,” Darius echoed faintly, looking up at Cam who had squeezed Dianne just a little more as they had been speaking.

  “Like you say,” Cam added. “She knows a good thing when she sees it.”

  This made Darius scowl and he turned on his heels suddenly, walking away from them. Before he was out of earshot, walking towards the woman with long, black hair that Dianne had seen in the dressing room in London, he called back: “I’ll catch up with you later, sweetheart. Then you’ll see what a really good time is.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dianne felt her excitement growing inside her as she stood among the press of people. The Rue Morgue was packed out—including a few faces she recognised from the evening before, faces that stared towards the stage skeptically, wondering whether Optima were finally to make an appearance. Some of those had jeered and catcalled when Black Ark were on stage, presumably waiting for a repetition of the previous night. This had thrown Cam slightly—Dianne could see it even if no-one e
lse could—and their performance had been slightly off, more workmanlike than inspiring.

  Despite this, she couldn’t help the growing sense of anticipation. She had loved Optima’s music for some time but felt that she hadn’t really seen them yet. The night they had played in London she had been too distracted, too confused by Cam’s advances, to appreciate them properly.

  She remembered Janey’s remarks from that night—that given the chance she’d jump into Darius Optimus’s arms without hesitation—and laughed. That certainly wasn’t true: she was starting to get a very clear sense of the peevishness and arrogance that Gary Johnson draped over his personality to convert him into Darius. At the same time, she hoped that tonight would be good, and that she’d get the chance to see Johnny Korpus in full flow. Their names might be stupid, but at their best there was no denying that they could play.

  She was jostled slightly from behind, but her look of irritation turned to a smile when she saw Cam pushing his way through the crowd towards her. When he came beside her, she slipped an arm around his waist and lifted her head up to his as it bent down, kissing him deeply.

  “It’s much better than last night,” she said, gesturing around to the people.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, the place is better. Shame we were shit, though.”

  She slapped him lightly on the chest. “You weren’t shit!”

  Avoiding her eyes, he grimaced: “Yes we were. I think most of the crowd wanted us off stage as quickly as possible, and that bastard Darius had messed around with our sound—we were too muddy.”

  “You were great,” she said, but something about her tone made him look down at her. Again he shrugged.

  “Do you want to stay around or shall we get out of here?” His smile was sly now. “Go for a walk, perhaps.”

  Dianne froze for a second. The thought of him, touching her, holding her, taking her, made her body crave for him—but inside her was another craving that, for a moment, made her embarrassed. “Let’s... let’s just see them, first. Please.”