by J. M. Nevins
He glared at her and tried to be mad at her comment, but her laughter was infectious and he started laughing. He finally looked at her and shook his head, grinning. “Why is it that you’re one of the only women aside from my mom that believes in me? Why is that?”
She grinned. “I know talent when I see it, Foxx.” She knocked back another shot. “And you’ve got talent in spades. C’mon, let’s get out of here before I won’t be able to walk across that highway anymore.”
He chuckled. “Ok.”
She leaned over the bar again. She waved to the bartender. “Bye, sweetie. Thank you so much for taking such good care of us. Can I give you a kiss?”
He smiled and leaned over. She gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek and smiled at him. “You’re a good man. Really now, how much do I owe you?”
He shook his head, still smiling. “It’s on the house. I’ve seen lots of pretty girls come in here and not one of them was even a fraction of as nice to me as you were or as grateful. Just your company was enough.”
She smiled. “Thanks, but I certainly can’t walk out of here without giving you a proper tip.”
He nodded. “Ok. I’ll let you do that much.
She grinned. “Good.” She slapped down a twenty-dollar bill on the bar. “Thanks again. Take care.” She followed Sully out.
He grabbed her hand as they stood on the side of the highway watching a large semi truck speed past. They saw another one in the distance. He squeezed her hand. “Can you run it in those heels?”
She chuckled. “You bet. Let’s go!”
They ran across the highway laughing. He made his way toward the stairs that led to the their motel room. She stopped him. “I don’t know if you’ll wanna do that. It’s either the sticky floor or the dingy bathtub. I’m opting to sleep in the van.”
He looked at her. “I can’t let you sleep in the van by yourself. There’s enough room for both of us in there, plus I’ll be near my guitar. That always makes me sleep better.”
Kit giggled and pulled the keys to the van out of her small purse. She unlocked the side and slid open the large, heavy door. She stepped in and sat on the first row of seats in the back. Sully climbed in and shut the door behind him, headed to the second row of seats, where he laid down.
He threw the blanket to her. “I’ll be ok without it.”
“Thanks, babe.” She reclined back and lay it over her. She stared up at the roof of the van. “Sull? You asleep yet?”
“No.”
“Why did she dump you?”
“’Cuz I’m out here and she’s back there. She thinks what I do is a joke. She told me I’m not a musician, just a singer with a cute face and a nice ass. She told me I should abandon music altogether and be a model instead because it pays better. She doesn’t want a starving artist boyfriend.”
“Bitch!”
He chuckled. “Maybe so, but it doesn’t make my heart hurt any less.”
“Sorry, baby. Better you found out sooner rather than later. She doesn’t deserve you. Onwards and upwards.”
“Kit-Kat?”
“Yes, darlin’?”
“Can we find some time to play guitars together tomorrow or at the very least before you leave. Just a little jam session, you and me.”
“Absolutely. Music’s all we got to get us through in this world, baby. And I’m all for using it to its maximum capacity.” She cuddled into the seat and dozed off.
He chuckled. “Me too. Hey, Kit, will you go out with me when we get back?” All he received in response was silence. He wondered if she was thinking about it. He sat up, peered over the seat, and noticed she was out cold. He chuckled and laid back down, easily drifting off to sleep.
Sully and Kit both squinted as they sat up sleepily the next morning, awakened by the sound of the sliding door opening. Bryan and Remo pointed to them. “There they are. Made a play for the van.”
Kit glared at Bryan. “Better than the stinky ass floor of the roach motel room. What time is it?”
“Ten. Check out time in an hour. Better hop on the shower if you want it now. I think by the time Jimmy’s done all the hot water will be used up, but you’re free to have at it.”
“Charming. Sounds fun. I love a good, cold shower.” Kit chimed sarcastically. She put her hand to her head. “Ugh.”
Bryan chuckled. “Pretty Kitty got a nasty hangover? What did you do last night? Go party at the biker bar?”
“Yes.”
He snickered. “Nice.”
Sully rubbed his head and chuckled. “Dude, she got us hooked up with shots of whisky. It was pretty cool. She used her feminine wiles on the bartender and voila, free!”
Bryan helped her out of the van. “I’m always so impressed with your repertoire of skills, Kit-Kat.”
She smirked. “Why thank you, Bryan. I can sleep better at night knowing that now.” She walked away, headed toward the stairs to go up to the room.
He laughed and jokingly hissed at her followed by a low growl, making a claw with his hand. “Ooh, cranky Kitty this morning.”
Sully hopped out of the van. “Don’t mess with her too much today, guys. She was pretty cool last night, listening to me spouting about my chick drama.”
Remo frowned. “Aren’t you always spouting about your chick drama?”
Sully glared. “Whatever.”
Two nights later, they rolled into Jacksonville, Florida. Four shows in Jacksonville were on the books, each one completely sold out courtesy of the Florida State University Delta Gamma chapter. This was by far the biggest publicity scene they had ever witnessed. Girls threw themselves at Sully with ten times the determination and ferocity of his following back in Los Angeles. He loved it. Signing female body parts was now part of his nightly duties and he relished it. This was the stuff he had always dreamed of.
In Jacksonville, he was a full-blown rock star. He had his fair share of fun with the co-eds of Florida State and Kit let he and the rest of the band do whatever they wanted, as long as they were back in time for the next show or rolling out to the next city. And as far as Sully was concerned, Kit knew this was the best medicine for healing his broken heart. She hoped the attention of these girls would push Dahlia permanently out of his mind and keep him focused on his career.
After they wrapped Jacksonville, they headed south to tackle more shows in Florida, stopping outside of Gainsville on their night off. They had made major progress as far as mileage went, but they were ready to be off the highway. They got settled into another cheap motel and found a local dive bar that was within walking distance. They walked in and were happy to find rock music playing instead of country for a change. AC/DC’s ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ blared from the jukebox.
The guys took up two out of the four pool tables in the back and Kit headed for the bar. The road had worn on her by now and she was beyond exhausted. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in a while. She had slept on the nights when the guys went out on their escapades in Jacksonville, but it hadn’t been enough to make up for the serious sleep deficit that had been building up since the end of May.
Mid-August was approaching quickly. She was scheduled to fly out of Orlando in three days, which left her exactly one day to recover before starting the fall semester of her second year at UCLA Law. She had no idea how she was going to make it through.
She bellied up to the bar and ordered a beer. It was too hot in Florida in August and she found that pounding beers suited her better for quenching her thirst than sipping scotch on the rocks. The bartender pushed it toward her and she thanked him, seizing the bottle by the neck. She chugged it back, oblivious to what was going on around her.
A bar fight broke out between the three guys who surrounded her. One of them threw a punch, grazing Kit’s cheek and knocking the beer onto her. It spilled onto her chest before it dropped to the ground and broke into pieces. She reacted instantly and shoved the butt of her hand into one guy’s face, almost breaking his nose. She spun around at lighte
ning speed, knocking out the other guy with a powerful roundhouse kick to the side of his head. She then spun around again to the other side and knocked out the last guy with a sidekick.
The band saw the fight break out and were headed to the bar to save Kit, but stood there motionless along with the rest of the bar patrons, mouths gaped open in awe. All three men that were inflicted by her powerful kicks and punches had been knocked to the floor. One of them had a split lip, while the other guy’s nose bled profusely.
Kit scowled down at them angrily and pointed. “Don’t you ever treat a lady like that, ever! You hear me?”
They all nodded their heads vigorously and scurried to get away from her. She straightened her mini-skirt and huffed. She looked at the bartender, completely composed now. Her voice was even and melodic when she spoke. “Can I have a beer please?”
He pushed it to her hastily with a frightened look. “It’s on the house, Miss.”
She looked around and noticed everyone staring at her. She yelled, “What are all of you looking at? Haven’t you ever seen a girl defend herself before?”
Everyone scrambled to get back to what they were doing, with the exception of the band. She stuck a cigarette in her mouth as they approached and she struggled with her lighter, holding her beer. Jimmy hastily lit it for her, staring at her in amazement as he swallowed hard. She exhaled slowly and looked at all of them, noticing their facial expressions that reflected a mixture of fear, excitement, and wonder.
Remo’s brown eyes lit up and he smiled. “That was so rad! You’re our very own Kung Fu Fighter, Kit!”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Remo.”
She walked away, disgusted. As she strolled through the bar, she felt like a pariah. It was always the same reaction. When she had to use it, people got scared—precisely why she never used it unless she absolutely had to. She found a corner of the bar that was being monitored by a female waitress. She looked at her. “Can I please hang out here and have you feed me beer after beer after beer?”
The server laughed. “Absofuckinglutely. And good for you, girl. That’ll show ‘em. Wish I could do something like that. You’re my new hero, Supergirl.” She winked at her. “I’ll go get two beers for you. How’s that?”
Kit chuckled. “I would love that. What’s your name?”
“Tracy, doll. And yours?”
“Kit.”
“I like you, Kit. I’m gonna hook you up tonight. Be back in a sec. Stay put.”
Kit nodded and chugged her beer. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Sully walked up to her and pulled up a stool. He stared at her. She refused to look at him. “Hey.”
She finally glanced at him. “Save the stupid smart ass comments for another time. I’m not in the mood.”
He nodded solemnly. “Fair enough. Sorry, I was engrossed in my game of pool. I should have been there to protect you.”
Her face melted into a kind grin. “That’s ok. You can’t always be by my side twenty-four seven. I appreciate you wanting to protect me in the first place. That’s really cool of you.” She patted him on the knee.
He smiled as the server returned. She looked at Kit. “Is this one bothering you? I can make him go away.” She gave him a dirty look and handed Kit two beers, grinning at her. “They’re on the house, honey.”
Kit chuckled. “He’s harmless, Trace. He’s one of the good ones.”
She then smiled at him. “Well in that case, I’m gonna get you a drink. What’ll you have sweetie?”
He smiled. “I’ll have a beer too.”
She nodded. “Coming right up.”
He looked at Kit and grinned, perching forward on his stool. “So, I’m one of the good ones, huh?”
She chuckled and shook her head, chugging back half of her beer. “Yes. You know that. We’ve had a similar conversation before.”
“I wanna make sure that you never kick my ass like that, so what do I have to do to prevent that?” He gave her his most charming smile and she burst out laughing.
“Behave, Sully. Don’t be an asshole. I can’t imagine I’d ever have to use that on you. Remo may be another story, though.”
He laughed loudly. “That was good.”
Tracy returned with his drink. “On the house for you, honey, since you’re friends with Supergirl, here. And you’re awfully cute too.”
He winked at her. “Thanks.” He looked at Kit. “Supergirl, huh? I’d say that’s about right. You are pretty super. So tell me, Supergirl, where did you learn how to do that? Somewhere in central Krypton?”
She chuckled and shook her head as she grew serious. A flashback of her unsavory past crept up and she shoved it down as she stared at him, changing her focus to answering his question. “Try central Philly. Black belt, Taekwondo, don’t ask.”
He nodded and grinned. “Wasn’t gonna. Good to know. Can we license you as a weapon for our next tour?”
She giggled. “Maybe. We’ll have to see about that.” She winked and clinked her bottle with his.
CHAPTER 15
Kit stared down at her book and tried to focus, but felt eyes on her. She looked up and grinned, seeing her new boyfriend, Steve, smiling at her. Steve was also a second year law student at UCLA specializing in entertainment law.
They had met on the first day of school in one of their classes. She remembered him from the year before. They were on the same track, but her mind had been preoccupied with Seth so much that she didn’t give him a second look. Steve asked her out during the first week of classes and now, eight weeks later, they were an item.
He was definitely more of a yuppie than Kit preferred, but he was nice, smart, and treated her well. He doted on her and she loved it, plus he was one of the smartest students in her class at UCLA Law. The second year of law school was proving much more challenging than she could have ever imagined and she welcomed his help. She was drowning.
Gypsy Tango was due back in town the following week. After their tremendous success in Florida, they worked their way up the Eastern Seaboard thanks to Alexa’s Delta Gamma network and sold out shows as far north as Boston.
They were now headed home to Los Angeles. Kit had managed to get them on the airwaves in a handful of cities throughout the country, especially on the Eastern Seaboard and in the Midwest, but she hadn’t yet cracked the Los Angeles market. She planned to change that very soon.
“Kit.”
She grinned, lowering her voice. They were studying in the law library and loud conversations were frowned upon. “What?”
“Let’s take a study break. We’ve run way over. Let’s go get something to eat.”
She didn’t have her wristwatch on that day and had no idea how much time had elapsed. She was sitting with her back to the clock. “What time is it?”
“It’s two.”
Her eyes widened. “Two o’clock? Crap! I gotta go.” She started shoving her notes and books into her backpack hastily.
He looked at her. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”
She shook her head. “I am more late than you can imagine. I have to go. Call me later.” She ran out, leaving Steve dumbfounded.
She pulled up at KNAC, a fairly new hard rock radio station located in Long Beach. She was twenty minutes late and hurried into the front lobby. She looked at the receptionist. “I’m here to see George Price. Malcolm Rossi sent me. Sorry, I’m a little late.”
The receptionist stared at her, completely uninterested. “Your name?”
“Kit McKenna.”
“Hold on.”
Once again, Alexa had helped move the needle for Gypsy Tango. Kit shared her frustrations of not being able to break through L.A. radio and get them airplay. L.A. radio for hard rock was one of the toughest and most competitive markets, with all of the bands that were rolling onto the Sunset Strip ready to pay to play on a daily basis.
What was already a crowded market was now overrun with band after band jockeying for position. Alexa had asked
Malcolm for advice and he was nice enough to set up a meeting for Kit with George Price, the general manager of the radio station.
The receptionist looked at her and motioned through the glass doors. “Go through those doors. George’s office is on the right.”
Kit nodded. “Thanks.” As she strolled through the doors, headed for George’s office, she heard ‘House of Pain’ by Van Halen ringing out in halls of the station. She grinned remembering Joe and their drive out to California that started all of this. She knocked on the doorjamb of his open office door. “George? Hi, I’m Kit McKenna. Sorry I’m late.”
He waved her in and shook her extended hand. “Friend of Malcolm’s huh? Malcolm’s a great guy. So, what’s this about?”
She slapped a cassette tape down on his desk. “Gypsy Tango. They’re the latest and greatest. You should put them in rotation on your station.”
He didn’t even look at the tape. He gingerly shoved it off to the side where it hovered dangerously close to the edge of the desk, a small trash bin eagerly awaiting its demise below. He stared at her like she was crazy. “You know how often I hear people say that to me? Who are you, one of the band member’s girlfriends?”
She looked him in the eye and chose to silently dismiss his condescending attitude and comment. “No. I’m their manager. They’ve been out on the road selling out shows all over the country. They’ve got airplay in five major markets on the East Coast. They should have airplay here. They have a huge following in L.A.”
He snorted. “Let me guess—another Sunset Strip hair band. Dime a dozen these days, sweetheart.”
She shook her head and grinned confidently. “No, not just another Sunset Strip hair band. You’re looking at the next major rock band that will be selling out the largest stadiums and arenas in the world. This is one of the most talented bands out there right now.”
He leaned back in his chair and eyed her carefully. “If they’re so talented, why don’t they have a deal? Why hasn’t Malcolm plucked ‘em up yet?”
She grinned. “Oh, Malcolm is interested and so are a lot of other labels. It’s a point of seeing who the highest bidder is.” She lied. They did have label interest, but Malcolm had never approached her about the band nor were they even close to inking a deal yet. She kept her poker face on, hoping he wouldn’t call her bluff.