We both leaned over and simultaneously sniffed back the gritty powder. Rush’s eyes rolled back in his head and he panted, “Ah, man. Nothing like playing a gig all hyped up on this shit.” He held his finger over one nostril and sniffed hard. “It makes you feel like a god.” He punched me in the arm and tossed the pick back down onto the table, then grabbed a beer and popped the tab.
Rubbing my fingers underneath my nose, I said, “What do you mean, ‘makes you feel like a god’? We are gods. Rock gods.” I threw up the rock and roll sign with my fingers and let out one of my high-pitched, raspy stage screams and stuck my tongue out.
Pax flung himself down onto the sofa next to Stone. “Fuck! I can’t believe you let James sign us up for this stupid VIP bullshit.”
“Hey, dumb fuck!” Stone looked up from his guitar and shot a nasty glare in Pax’s direction. “They’re our fans. We wouldn’t be shit without them, you unappreciative ass!”
I jerked the bottle of bourbon from the table and turned it up, watching bubbles form in the brown liquid and float up the neck.
“It makes me uncomfortable,” Pax said, spinning his drumstick in the air.
The coke was getting into my system. That twitchy feeling splintering through my body was almost better than an orgasm. I burst out into laughter and slapped my hand on my knee, my sweaty palm sticking momentarily to the leather pants that were so tight the circulation got cut off sometimes.
“Shut the fuck up, Paxton. You’re just pissed because no one ever wants to screw the drummer. You’re always last choice.” I took another swig from the bottle, the drink barely burning as it coated my throat. “Don’t be angry because you always get the swamp donkey of the lot of girls we get. Just suck it up already, Napoleon!”
Pax narrowed his eyes at me, his brows pointing down and his lips straightening into a disgusted smirk. “Better than the bassist!” he snarled.
“Whatever, dude!” Rush laughed. “It takes mad skill to play a bass like me. I get to strut around the stage, get my junk grabbed by girls when I bend over. You’re stuck behind your set, banging out all your sexual frustration with some sticks.” Rush chugged his beer, then wiped the dribble from the corners of his mouth. “I think it was a hella good idea. I mean, how much easier can it possibly get? Girls are paying to meet us – to get our autograph. They line them up in a nice little line and trot ’em by us, one by one. Makes it so easy to make a selection. You know if they’re willing to shell out a few hundred bucks just to get a picture snapped with us, they’ll be more than willing to do anything we ask.” The corners of Rush’s mouth flipped up and he acted like he was holding onto the hips of an imaginary woman, pounding her from behind and slapping her ass while he did it.
Stone stood up and pulled his strap over his head. “Man, you guys are pathetic. I don’t want nothing to do with a girl if it isn’t a challenge.”
I almost spit out the bourbon I’d just filled my mouth with. “Stone! You fucking lie! You took some chick out to the limo from the VIP area of that club the other night. You think she wanted to jump on your stubby little dick because of your beautiful fucking mind? Hell, no! You’re Stone Steele, you’re a rock legend – that’s why she wanted you. You could tell them you had an incurable STD, and they’d probably just ask where they could buy a band shirt saying, ‘I got my STDs from Stone Steele. My STDs are better than yours!’ ”
“Hey! That’s a good idea for a shirt,” Rush chuckled, fidgeting with his genitals again.
I raised my eyebrows and nodded, then looked back at Stone. “Might as well just accept that you’ll never find a girl that’s a challenge ever again. Hell, virgins would give it up to brag that they got laid by any of us – well, except for you, Pax. No one wants you.”
Pax hurled a drumstick at me. I ducked and the stick cracked against the wall.
“Dude, you throw like a puss!” Rush managed to choke out between his laughter.
Pax flipped us the bird, banging the end of his elbow with the palm of his other hand for added emphasis on just how hard we could go fuck ourselves.
There was a soft knock on the door before it cracked open. “Everyone decent?” Jules asked, not waiting on a reply before pushing the door the rest of the way open. She was our manager’s assistant and had pretty much been assigned the task of babysitting us. Grown-ass men, and James thought we couldn’t handle ourselves – well, he knew I couldn’t handle myself – so he’d assigned this short, pixie-looking thing to take care of us.
She glanced over each of us, making sure we hadn’t forgotten to cake on the eyeliner or zip our flies. “They’re all waiting. You guys remember, this is a PR thing, okay? Be nice. Don’t grope any of them. Don’t swear at them. And for God’s sake, Rush, don’t grab your crotch and shake it at them.”
Rush snorted and tugged on himself. “What? They go crazy when I do this.” He jiggled his hand hard and thrust his hips at Jules. “You liked it. Remember?”
Jules snarled her lips up, pulling her clipboard up to her chest. Rush was the only one stupid enough to fuck with her. And a year ago he’d somehow, for some reason, ended up fucking her. Jules took off for two weeks after that happened, and she threatened to kill any of us if we ever gave her shit about it.
“Whatever, Rush. That was and will continue to be the lowest point of my life.” She motioned with her hand for us to come on. “Let’s just get this over with and pray that none of you go to jail for sexual assault.” Shaking her head, she mumbled under her breath, “I can’t believe James thought this was a good idea.”
“Hey,” Stone shouted, “I heard that. And that’s why we’ve got waivers now!”
We made our way down the hall, turned right, and walked through the doorway. There was a line of girls, most of whom were wearing the skimpiest piece of clothing they could legally go out in, and they were there for us. One of the girls pointed, then every head snapped to the side. Jaws unhinged and giddy squeals erupted from the crowd. I managed to control the smile that was creeping up on my face and kept my serious, emotionless, tortured expression from conveying the slightest hint that the attention still got to me – sometimes.
Jules led us around behind a long table that had been draped with our band logo, the biohazard sign with a “P” and an “S” slashed through it in some wicked-looking font. “Pax, you go on down to the end. Rush, you go behind him, then Stone, and then Jag, you sit right here so you’re the last one they get to meet.”
I allowed one side of my mouth to curl up. “Want to build the anticipation? Good idea, Tink. That way, by the time they get to me, they’ll be sopping wet between their legs and ready to pass out.” I laughed, tossing my head back and letting my hair fall down my shoulders. I turned to face the line of girls and flashed a devious, one-sided smile.
Jules rolled her eyes at me. “Would you stop calling me that?”
“Don’t cut your hair like a damn fairy then.”
She huffed and threw some Sharpies down on the table. “You know I hate that, almost as much as I hate you!”
Pax groaned. “Oh, would you just shut your mouth already, Jag? I swear to God. One day I may just punch you in your throat if you don’t stop with that cocky-ass bullshit right there.” He pulled the aluminum chair out and glared at me.
“Whatever, Paxton.”
Looking down at the table, I saw an empty spot where my bourbon should’ve been. “Where’s my drink, Tink?”
I had barely finished my sentence before she slammed a glass down on the table; the ice hit against the rim and the drink sloshed over the edge.
“There, you damn lush! Maybe I should cut a few lines up for you too?” she said, and turned to walk to the front of the lined-up girls.
Laughing, I flipped the chair around and straddled it. I folded my arms over its back and glanced over at Stone, jabbing him in the side with my elbow. “Still kinda un-fuckin’-believable, huh?” I twirled the Sharpie between my fingers before using it to point at the line of fans. “A f
ew years ago, I never would’ve believed you if you’d said we’d be here, waiting to sign autographs. Sometimes it just doesn’t seem real.” Stone was the only person I’d ever confess to that the fame still got to me. Every now and then, I’d have a humble moment.
A large grin stretched across Stone’s face. “It’s pretty wild, bro.”
Amazingly, I was able to keep my mind focused on what I was doing, and none of the crap I’d been dealing with the last few weeks got to me. I sat there, scrawling something that looked like it had a “J” in it on shirts, tickets, posters, and, of course, titties; and for a little while, everything seemed right. Each girl beamed when I winked at her, their eyes widening and a shit-eating grin spreading across their mouths if I pulled their hand up and kissed it. Each of them pretty much went into instant ovulation when I spoke to them – all of them except one.
I didn’t even look up when the last girl in line slid her ticket across the table. I quickly penned my signature over the front of it, and she cocked her hip sharply to the side, which is what caught my attention. Raising my head, I scanned up her body. She was wearing jeans and a skin-tight black t-shirt. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, and the silver necklace she had on with a little crown and key hanging from it jangled as she tapped her foot anxiously on the floor. I leaned back in my chair and peered under the table. Her bright pink heels were tapping against the concrete floor like she was angry. Covering the ticket with my hand, I glanced up at her face. She had on cotton candy-colored lipstick, and there was a ton of smoky eyeliner rimmed around her round, brown-as-shit eyes. Her long, jet black hair was draped over one shoulder, a chunky pink stripe falling down in front of her left eye. It may have been because this chick was angry that she seemed so damn hot to me. Lucky her.
A slow grin pushed my mouth up, and I used the edge of my tongue to wet my lips. “What’s got you so pissy,” my smile deepened, hoping those dimples girls went crazy over were showing, “princess?”
She rolled her eyes. This chick rolled her fucking eyes at me! She huffed, the air fluffing that pink strand of hair out of her face. “You don’t want to know.”
Leaning over the back of the chair, I smiled again, and, still holding the Sharpie in my hand, I pushed my hair behind my ear. “Oh, but I do. You’re about to see a killer show. Shouldn’t be pissed about nothing.” I winked, twisted the piercing above my lips, and she remained completely unaffected. Hell, it even looked like my flirtatiousness made her more pissed.
“Trust me. You don’t want to know.”
I folded my arms over the table and let a short laugh growl out of me. “Something as pretty as you shouldn’t let anything ruin a good time with Jag Steele.” If there was anything I knew how to do, it was talk panties off of women. I reached out to stroke my fingertip over her arm, and she jerked away.
Her arms tightened across her chest, and her foot tapped louder on the floor. “Ugh!” she groaned, which took me by complete surprise.
What in the hell? Did she just yank part of her hot little body away from me? I’m fucking Jag Steele. She’s a girl, which means she should be foaming at the mouth right now. She’s pissed and she’s hot. This is the one I want to fuck tonight. No, this is the one I’m going to fuck tonight. I know how to handle girls. This one’s no different. I’ll listen to her bitch about why she’s pissed. Then I’ll give her a smile, a suggestive wink, and she’ll be tripping over herself to get out of her panties – which I bet are silk thongs. Right? What the hell, of course I’m right. But damn she looks pissed, and fuck is it hot. I can’t fucking stand up right now because she’s giving me a soft long. When I get her backstage, I am going to tear that shit up. I will fuck the angry right out of this girl.
Fanning her ticket in front of my face, I curled the sides of my mouth up again, then cleared my throat. “I refuse to give you this ticket back until you smile. Women aren’t allowed to have a bad time when I’m involved.”
“You want to know why I’m pissed? Because it’s my freakin’ sister’s twenty-first birthday, and this is what she wanted for her birthday. To meet you!” She let out an angry groan and was almost yelling as she continued, “I’m only here because I’m the DD and had to come along for the ride. I don’t really like your music, and could absolutely think of five-hundred better ways to be spending my Friday night than standing here in front of you listening to your narcissistic banter!”
She flipped her hair behind her shoulder. And I sat, slack-jawed, trying to figure out what the hell to say to her besides “fuck off.” I cleared my throat to let something spill out of my mouth when I heard a girl scream like a banshee from across the room. “Roxy! What the hell are you doing?” A tall, slender brunette came running up and spun the pissed-off girl I now assumed was Roxy around. I sat there, my jaw clenched while I grasped for an appropriate, PR-approved reaction.
The livid little firecracker yanked Roxy’s arm, but Roxy just pushed her away. “Layla, let go of me. Damn it. I told you I didn’t want to come. The only reason I got in the damn line is so I could sell the ticket on eBay to some stupid fan.”
Layla flung herself at the table. Her arms reached across it and her fingers curled underneath the edge of the table, brushing against my stomach. “I – am – so – sorry. My sister’s crazy. And a stupid bitch!” She quickly shot a glare over at her sister, then turned back to me, all smiles. “Please don’t be offended. I love you. Like, seriously, would have your babies love you. You are amazing. Sexiest man ever to walk this freakin’ world. If the rumors are true and you really do have herpes, I’ll make a shirt that says, ‘I got my herpes from Jag Steele, where’d you get yours?’”
Narrowing my eyes, I said, “I can assure you I don’t have herpes.” I had to defend my dick.
Rush busted out in maniacal laughter. “Fucking told you! T-shirts! I told you.”
He continued to laugh, and before I could even respond to that ironic comment, the crazy girl was snatched away from the table by her raging lunatic of a sister.
“Oh. My. God! Really? Just grovel at his damn feet, why don’t you? I’m sure he’d screw you right after he gets through sucking his own dick. He’s just a fucking guy, Layla. Get a damn grip. Stop being such a whore!”
Layla let out an angry scream. “You piss me off. I don’t even know why you bought a ticket for yourself anyway, besides the fact that you wanted to suck the fun out of this for me and are the only person responsible enough to drive me home. Oh, and the only person I know that doesn’t have a life! God!”
“Because I’m all you’ve got. I’m your fucking mother, your father. That’s why!” Roxy shouted.
The two continued to argue, and everyone in the venue swarmed over to the table. Before long, every girl there was yelling at one another.
“Holy fuck!” Rush said, his tone dripping with excitement. “We are about to see one hell of a bitch fight!”
Stone hopped over the table and approached the estrogen-fueled, ovulating mob. “Hey, ladies. Calm down…” They paid no attention to him, and he was swallowed up in the group of screaming girls.
Rush chuckled. “Your bro’s about to get trampled. It’s not safe to step away from the table like that. He’s about to get raped, lucky bastard.”
The shouting grew louder, and Stone continued trying to break up the screeching group of women while the rest of us stayed seated, fully entertained with it all.
Seconds later, Jules came scampering out from behind the bar, followed by several of the bouncers. “Hey! Hey!” she shouted.
“Hey!” one of the six-foot-five, wide-as-a-rhino, shaved-head bouncers yelled. The girls fell silent, all wide-eyed and looking up at the man. “You all need to calm down and go back to the designated area to wait to have your picture taken with the band.” The group broke up, and the man led them to the other side of the venue.
There I sat, with the girl’s ticket still in my hand, offended and a little turned on at the same time.
Pax and Ru
sh had their heads on the table, laughing. Stone walked over behind me, put his hand on my shoulder, and leaned in toward me. “So. Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t it you who just an hour ago said something along the lines of since we’re rock stars we’ll never find a girl that’s a challenge again?” Smiling at me, he laughed. “I bet you ten thousand dollars you couldn’t get that girl to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation if you were dying.”
I narrowed my gaze at him and raised my glass to my lips. My eyes darted back over to the girl, who was now leaned up against a railing, arms still crossed, foot still tapping, and I took a gulp of my bourbon. Setting the drink down, I traced my thumb over the condensation dripping down the rounded glass. “I bet you twenty thousand dollars I can get her to suck my dick.”
Rush had come over to stand behind us, and he leaned down. “How old did she say the sister was?” He squeezed us, knocking our heads together. “Come on. Let’s get this shit over with and go get a bump.”
****
The entire time we took pictures, I directed ugly glares over at that girl. Her sister came up first, skipping over to us like it was the best damn day of her life. She locked her gaze on me and, in an unsuccessful attempt to be seductive, bit down on her bottom lip. She wedged herself between me and Stone and asked me, “Can I hug you?”
“Sure.” I shrugged. I’d had stranger requests before. I thought she was going to crush my ribs, she squeezed me so hard.
While we were getting our picture made, her hand slowly drifted down my back to the top of my pants, then down to my ass. She closed her hand, grabbing as much of my meat in it as she could. She squeezed my ass in her hand a few good times before I looked down at her out of the corner of my eye. She had gotten really pale. Her skin was blotchy, and it looked like she was about to fall out. Her grip loosened and she stumbled forward. I instinctually grabbed onto her as she collapsed, catching her head right before it smacked against the hard floor. The other guys and her sister rushed over. As I tried to lay her down, her eyes popped open. I went ahead and sat down on the floor, and her head fell back into my lap.
Jag (Pandemic Sorrow #1) Page 8