by Riley Scott
“I guess I should be going to get my head in the game and get ready for tonight,” she said, chugging the rest of her second beer and standing. She gave Chris one last look before turning to walk back to the bus. She wanted to linger, to ask more and she wanted Frank to leave the two of them alone for a bit.
“In a different time and a different place,” she whispered to herself, forcing her mind to view Chris as what she was—not as what Raven would like her to be.
Nonetheless, as she crossed the distance across the parking lot, she couldn’t help but replay Chris’s southern drawl in her mind and revel in the apparent gentleness—combined with just enough sass and tough edges—of the woman.
Once inside the sanctuary of her bus, she was relieved to find Pete sitting on the couch.
“Are you all finished up and ready to rock?” she asked, taking a seat beside him.
“We’re ready,” he said, offering her a swig of the bottle of whiskey in his lap.
“Not right now,” she said, waving it away. “Thanks, though.”
He looked at her curiously, prompting further response.
“I just want to make sure I’m on top of it all tonight,” she said, shrugging off any further questions.
Unfortunately, Pete didn’t take the hint. “It’s that hot PR girl, isn’t it?” he asked, nudging her with his elbow and smiling from ear to ear.
“Who said she was hot?”
“I did,” he said, “and so would anyone with eyes. After watching her interact with you at rehearsal, I think it’s safe to say she plays for your team.”
“She definitely plays for your team,” Joe called out from the back of the bus.
“So you were listening in?” Raven asked, laughing at the way these two often teased her with a one-two punch.
“Of course I was,” Joe said, sticking his head out into the hallway. “I just want the best for you. And I agree she’s hot but definitely likes the ladies.” He winked before disappearing.
“Thanks,” Raven called down the hall. “I picked up on that as well,” she said, turning her attention back to Pete. “They tried to get someone my age with shared interests. Makes you wonder if they placed an ad somewhere looking for a lesbian in her midtwenties who was attractive enough to make me walk a tighter line.”
Pete’s playful grin grew. “So you admit she’s attractive?”
She laughed, trying to play it cooler than she felt. “It has nothing to do with her,” she said. “I just like performing in Austin. It’s always a rowdy crowd and they’re fun. I want to give them their money’s worth.”
“You always do,” he said, standing and heading toward the back of the bus to his small “room.”
“Thanks,” she called out, genuinely grateful for the compliment. Although Pete was the newest member of the band, he had been part of it for six years. Like the others, he was like a little brother—always there to lighten the mood or defend her honor as needed.
Her head still swimming, she lay back on the couch in the common area of the bus, thankful to have a moment of peace and quiet. There was no doubt that having Christina around was going to change things. It always did. It was an all-or-nothing commitment on their part and it was one that had always gone to hell in a handbasket.
Sure, she usually helped set it ablaze, but that was beside the point. The fact remained that—no matter how hot this girl might be—she didn’t want her here.
She took a deep breath and started to hum the opening line of her new song, hoping the distraction would take her to another place. After mentally going through the words, she stood and grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the counter. Stepping outside, she lit one and took a deep drag. She inhaled the nicotine and let it sit deep in her lungs before exhaling a plume of smoke behind her.
The weight of her current dissatisfaction filled her to the brim and she tried to sort through the feelings. Whether it was a quarter-life crisis or something deeper, she had yet to figure out. Frank was right. She wasn’t fine. But she still couldn’t place what had sent her reeling so often for the past several months. Try as she might, she still couldn’t sort through her turmoil. It was too heavy for the moment, so she took another drag wishing the burden of failures to leave her be.
She heard the footsteps before she saw Christina’s approach and she felt her nerves tighten.
“Please don’t start in on how bad this looks on my image,” she said, turning around to face the newcomer. “It’s futile.”
“No,” Christina said, offering a shrug and a gentle smile. “I was actually going to ask if you had an extra.”
“You smoke?” Raven asked, narrowing her eyes to look the woman up and down.
“I quit,” she answered, the dimple on her cheek lighting up in a mischievous smile. “At least that’s what I tell people. I stopped about five months ago, but every now and then, when I’m stressed out, I crave one. I smelled it and I came to see if whoever had that smoky goodness could spare one.”
Still confused, but more than willing to cooperate, Raven pulled one from the pack and handed it over, lighting it once Christina had pressed it to her lips. Seeing her lips wrapped around the cigarette made Raven’s mind run wild again. She wondered if they felt as soft as they looked and if that sweet smile was even sweeter when they pulled away from a kiss.
“Thank you,” Christina said, taking a long drag and offering her a smile.
“So, I’m guessing there won’t be any of the talk about how I should put on a better front for the kids and not smoke?”
Christina shook her head, taking another drag. “Not from me,” she said, exhaling. “I mean, I believe that everyone makes adult decisions. I’m not here to transform you. I’m just here to make sure that the public sees the best sides of you and that parents aren’t running and screaming, ready to reenact the Salem Witch Trials after their kids come to see one of your shows.”
“What classifies as an adult decision?” She knew she was playing devil’s advocate, but if this woman was the real deal, the one who was going to stick around, she was going to have to be up to the job.
“I suppose that depends on who you ask,” Christina answered, her words coming slowly, thoughtfully, as if she was taking extra care to place them just right. Raven appreciated the gesture, waiting patiently as Christina took her time. “I’d say that an adult decision can be anything really, anything that we would rather not have the public be a part of. You are an adult and you can do what you please, but there are some things that we don’t often showcase to the younger generation—drinking heavily, drug use, smoking, casual sex and the like. I want you to be you, but it doesn’t really matter what I want, because it’s your life. It’s just my job to try to deliver a positive image to the public. What goes on behind closed doors doesn’t really matter, unless it gets out into the public eye.”
“Are you talking about the thing with Snapchat?”
“Among others, yes,” Christina said, nodding and looking away for a moment.
“I know it looked bad,” Raven said, sighing heavily. “But I won’t apologize for it.”
“We don’t have to talk about it now,” Christina said, holding her hands up to stop Raven’s explanation. “In fact, I don’t want to talk about it before your show. I want you to be at the top tonight, ready to go. We can talk tomorrow and we’ll hold a strategy session. We can determine what you are and are not willing to do from the things I propose before we tackle any of it.”
Raven wanted to believe her, but she couldn’t. She just shook her head. “Fine. But I’m not apologizing. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Raven saw a faint flicker of defiance in the woman’s eyes, but Christina formed her lips in a tight line and nodded. “I’ll see you after the show,” she said. “Thanks again for the smoke.” With that, she turned in the opposite direction, her cigarette still in hand.
Her frustration grew with each step Christina took away from her. She wanted to understand the woman like she
understood most people. At the core, she believed that most people were fairly one-dimensional, but there was far more to Christina and her gentle approach.
She threw the cigarette on the ground and smashed it under her sneaker, shaking her head and hoping that, at some point, the earth beneath her would feel a little steadier than it had today. Ever since Christina arrived, everything seemed tilted, muddled and unsure. And she felt as though she had even more to deal with internally than she had when she woke this morning.
* * *
Surrounded by the haze from the fog machine, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, only to open them and revel in a sight of which she’d never tire. Smoke curling around her face and seeming to dance in the light as the show kicked up, she let herself feel it, let herself get lost in the beat of the drum, in the swirl of neon lights accosting the crowd.
With Paul kicking off the show in a drum solo, she felt it all in the depths of her being—every beat, every light flash, every second a reminder that she was right where she belonged. Tapping her foot and beating the microphone against her leg in sync with the drum, Raven knew that this was going to be an incredible night—one for the books. She allowed herself a glance to the front row for affirmation and she knew that her feelings were justified.
Swaying to the beat and grinning from ear to ear, she saw a group of young women tapping their beer cups against each other, basking in what could only be described as unadulterated ecstasy. Joe and Pete joined in, making the music swell and come to life. Not wanting to dull the pulse of electricity raging through her body, her mind betrayed her and curiosity won out as she glanced back to her “VIP” guest of the evening. She looked to the right of the stage, willing those concerned, but striking green eyes out of her mind. When she couldn’t shake the memory of how they had bored into her soul earlier in the day, as if she was reading every thought and instead of judging, asking nicely to be let inside, she glanced to find Christina in the crowd.
As she searched, she recalled Christina’s words about trying to be the person her fans thought she was. She remembered the sadness in her expression as she had turned away, cigarette in hand, knowing that Raven was exactly who Christina didn’t want her to be. Like a moth to a flame, she spotted her at the left of the stage. She masked her move with a covert wink to an enamored male fan in the front row and continued to tap her foot along to the beat of Paul’s pounding on the drum.
There, in the middle section of the front row, she fixed her eyes on what was quite possibly the most intriguing, most perplexing and most beautiful sight she had ever seen. Closing her eyes and moving with the music, Christina was on her feet, wearing a smile comparable to that of a child at Disney World for the first time. If there had ever been an inspiration factor—a muse—Raven was pretty sure she had just locked in on it.
Thankful for her cue, she needed no further urging. Belting from a deeper place than any she’d felt in recent years, she immersed herself in the music.
“Tonight,” she sang, letting her raspy voice hang in the air, reverberating in the smoky haze. “Let’s burn it down, let’s forget the price of fame.”
As she sang, she simply couldn’t fight the urge to look back at Christina’s section. To her surprise—and much to her enjoyment—Christina looked more at home than Raven had seen her so far. Gone was the out-of-place and uncertain woman filling the PR job, and in her place was a confident woman, at one with herself and the music. Her blond hair was swaying and no longer perfectly in place as she danced, and her face was the symbol of pure joy as she sang along, never missing a beat. The woman was free, at peace and so alive. Raven was certain she had never seen a more emblematic vision of what it meant to feel the music.
“Let’s get lost in it all, get lost in nothing short of you screaming my name,” she sang out, for the first time singing to one person and only one person, caring only that Christina felt the words. As though the entire crowd had faded into the distance, she stared, riveted by her newly discovered muse. She serenaded Christina as though she was singing the last song that would ever cross her lips.
Completely unfazed by Raven’s attention, Christina was oblivious, seemingly lost in the music and entirely unaware of how she had enraptured the star of the show. Fueled by her apparent disinterest, Raven moved closer to the edge of the stage. Moving her body sultrily to the rhythm, Raven’s voice easily cascaded over the sensual lyrics of one of her favorite numbers.
She crooned and with each line, she rotated her hips with the words. “Don’t waste a minute baby, grab the gasoline, ’cause I know this destruction is what you love, you love seeing me come undone; light it up, watch it burn, rip the sheets, make me squirm. Light it up, make it rage, let’s blow up the night, with you calling my name.”
When Christina finally looked in her direction, Raven felt her body flare, turned on by the admiration of those sparkling green eyes.
Biting her lip during the guitar solo, she watched as Christina continued to enjoy the show, undeterred by Raven’s undivided attention. As Raven danced across the stage, the two locked eyes. When the final beats hit, she winked and turned her back, reluctantly understanding she had to entertain an entire crowd tonight. Briefly glancing back over her shoulder, she took in the depth of Christina’s smile and knew she would do everything in her power to have the woman as an audience of one—at some point. For now, she had a few more songs to sing and she had a crowd full of screaming fans.
From the back of the VIP seating section, she heard the first of what would likely be many marriage proposals of the night. “Marry me, Raven!” a man called out from the right of the stage. She shimmied her chest in response and pulled the microphone up to her lips.
“Maybe,” she said, huskily. “We’ll talk about your benefits backstage after the show and see if this truly is a match made in heaven.” With a wink, she shot Paul a nod, urging him to move forward with the next song, as the crowd erupted in laughter.
Through her regular set list, she felt at one with the crowd, completely at ease with everything. She was invigorated by the crowd’s urging, their swaying during her ballads, their jumping in her fast-paced rocker jams, their admiring eyes intent on her performance, their sheer awe with how the band meshed. As she performed, it was as if the rest of the world slipped away and all that mattered was the music. When it came time for the new song, she nodded to the boys, smiling and giving them her best silent encouragement.
“You all are in for a treat,” she said into the microphone, her voice somewhat hoarse from having added a few extra growls and yells for the crowd. Texas masses required a little more oomph than some. “We’re about to share something with you that only our bus guys, sound crew and a few others have been privy to. How do you feel about that, Austin?”
She waited, urged on by hundreds of screaming voices. “Good,” she said, smiling widely at the crowd. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. In that case, here’s our latest song. It’s a heartwarming little ditty called ‘Demons,’ and I think it might just bring a tear to your eye.” She paused for a moment to let her joke resonate. “On second thought, fuck that. It might just make you get up on your feet and sing out like the freaks that you are.”
Anticipation tingled her every nerve and she felt high as she glanced from face-to-face in the crowd. These moments—about to unveil something that she had poured her heart and soul into—were always a bit exhilarating, yet laden with anxiety.
“You are Raven,” she spoke the words within her head. “It doesn’t matter what they think.”
As if on cue, Paul hit the drum. She closed her eyes and let herself get lost, putting aside everything—the struggles of the past few weeks, the pressure, her own ego and definitely the thought of those hauntingly gorgeous green eyes. Tonight, she was here to do her job. She was here to entertain and to amaze.
Chapter Four
Even though the stadium lights had come on and the band had long since left the stage, Chris couldn’t b
ring herself to move from her seat. Around her, she heard people shuffling to the exit, yet she stayed sitting, staring dumbfounded at the stage.
It was no wonder people across the globe fell in love—or at least in lust—with Raven. The adrenaline from the talent and magnetism she had just witnessed still coursed within her, making her question how she had never made it to one of Raven’s concerts before. From beginning to end, slow to fast songs and through each ebb and flow, each interaction with the audience, Raven had bared her soul to her audience. Perhaps this was the only way she could interact openly and honestly.
Raven had probably made every fan in the room feel as if she was singing directly to them, as if she was their best friend. It was a feeling that Chris wished she could hold onto. As she looked at the microphone stand that had been in Raven’s hand, she wondered how one person could hold so much charisma and such pure talent—and be a such a spoiled brat.
Though she wanted to hold Raven on a pedestal, Chris figured it would be much healthier—and much wiser for her sanity’s sake—to recall how guarded, bitter and rough around the edges Raven could be in person.
Bringing herself back to the moment, she glanced around to see that the seats around her were mostly empty. At the end of her row, a man looked as stunned as she felt and it seemed that he wouldn’t be moving from his spot anytime soon. She laughed to herself, shaking her head and again wondering what it was that the girl had that made everyone so crazy.
Making her way to the bus, Chris found herself singing along to one of Raven’s sexier songs. As the lyric “rip the sheets” came off her tongue, she forced herself to stop and straightened her shoulders. She was not here to be a fan or to be sucked into the bizarre situation. She was here to do a job—to make the rest of the world see a new side of the bad girl who had given voice to their inner turmoil and made them all think about walking on the wild side. Though they resonated with her rebellion, she needed them to see a cleaner image and a well-rounded woman—not just an edgy and talented, but damaged rocker.