by Joy Eileen
It may have seemed silly a waitressing job gave me such relief, but I knew I needed this. It brought me one step closer to becoming whole.
I felt safe here, at least until I remembered what was waiting for me. I hoped Kill and the rest of the testosterone wall were able to handle Jason without too much grief.
Jessie gave me a reassuring smile as she put her arm around my waist. “It’s all good now, Faith.”
I wanted to ask her how she could possibly know, but my ears were assaulted with wild screams.
My four saviors were onstage; the dance floor was now inundated with alcohol-infused women screaming and writhing for the band’s attention. The music temporarily made me forget about Jason as I thought back to what I had heard about the JackholeS.
I should have guessed the boys at the table were the band who had all of Portland’s panties damp from the mere mention of their name.
Mr. Snuggles was the drummer. His tattooed arms moved as if they had a life of their own. With a smile on his face, he looked content to be exactly where he was.
The guitar player was none other than Mr. Mischief. His face lit up with humor and you could tell he loved the attention being thrown at him; literally thrown at him, as one of the drunk women tossed her panties toward him.
The panties hit his guitar, and he plucked them off, burying his nose in them. This created a maelstrom of noise as the rowdy women went crazy. I rolled my eyes at his theatrics, laughing at his energy.
The bassist was The Professor. With his face no longer buried in a notebook, I could finally see his hazel eyes. Every time he looked up, women screamed at him in an attempt to keep his beautiful face directed forward. It didn’t sway him, and no matter how loud they were, he always returned to his instrument.
Then there was Mr. Moody. He looked bigger than life onstage as he cradled the microphone. He moved with panther-like grace, and the crowd, which I thought was already rambunctious, went riotous.
A dimple appeared on his cheek, cinching his beauty to perfection. His dark glasses had been removed, revealing his light green eyes; they exuded sexual energy and confidence, causing goose bumps to break out over my body.
Just one look from those hypnotic eyes, and you knew he could fulfill your every desire, and some you didn’t even know you had.
“Thank you all for coming out tonight,” Mr. Moody said into the microphone, a half-smile in place.
The crowd went silent to hear what he had to say, but then erupted back into a cacophony of noise.
The deep timbre of his voice bee-lined straight to my vagina, making her pant and search for chocolate. I had to hold back a groan as his words caressed my skin. The microphone amplified his words, hitting every one of my erogenous zones.
We were still behind the bar staring at the magnificent foursome when Jessie interrupted. I was embarrassed when she broke into my inappropriate thoughts.
Instead of wondering what had happened with Jason, my thoughts were centered on the gorgeous rock god in front of me. What the hell was wrong with me?
“The bassist's Daniel Copper. Everyone calls him D.” She nodded her head to the man I had dubbed The Professor.
“The guitarist's Jet Stone.”
I gave her an incredulous look, making her smile.
“His real name's Jetson. Don’t ever mention it, or he'll make your life a living hell. He made a waitress run out of here in tears when she called him by his real name by accident. The drummer's Donovan Gilmore, Van for short.”
Her eyes went soft when she mentioned Van, and I wondered if she didn’t have a thing for him. It made me laugh to think of the southern belle who refused to curse, falling for a tattooed bad boy.
“And you've already met Killian Taylor.”
We stood and listened as they sang a song I'd never heard, but from the crowd’s participation, I must have been the only one. I was amazed at how good they were. They complemented each other perfectly, and Kill’s rich voice provided my ears with a mythical creature called an orgasm.
While performing a fast rock song, the whole bar pulsed with energy, making the performance extraordinary.
“They’re really good.” I couldn’t hide the surprise in my voice. I wasn’t expecting to hear such an amazing band in a tiny bar, and I now understood the hype. Seeing the fans scream and sing along as they segued into their next song, I didn’t expect them to have gigs at Ray’s much longer.
“Yep,” Jessie replied, popping the P at the end. “They're getting offers for bigger venues. It won’t be long before those boys are plastered everywhere,” Jessie said, reiterating what I had just been thinking.
The pang of jealousy that shot up my spine was unexpected, and certainly unwanted.
Kill strutted across the stage, making the women in the crowd who had clamored and fought to get up front feel vindicated. He looked down at them and gave them a half-smile while he sang, making them swoon from his attention.
He was born to be a frontman, and he would be packing arenas soon. As Kill belted out the last vocal of the song, the cheers increased along with his voice, until it hit the apex and fell away; the band, not missing a beat, followed his voice faultlessly.
Kill waited for Van to go into the next song and frowned when the drummer didn’t start the intro.
“What the fuck, Van? Let’s go; these people want to see us play, not diddle ourselves.” He looked at the crowd with a panty-melting smirk. “The diddling's for later.”
The women in the crowd went wild and more undergarments were thrown onstage.
Kill laughed and picked up one particularly skimpy hot pink thong. He put his hand over his face to shield his eyes searching the crowd for the owner. Kill held the panties up in the air. “You come find me after the performance.”
The women in the crowd once again erupted, making me roll my eyes. My stomach plummeted when I saw what a jerk Kill was. It figures I would be attracted to him. My taste in men was abysmal.
D walked over to his microphone on center stage. Kill gave him the death glare. I upped my opinion of him from jerk, to jerk with a temper, and promised to stay away from him. My vagina be damned.
“Hey everyone,” D addressed the crowd shyly.
Women expressed their love for him, making his cheeks turn beet red. Wondering what was happening, I stood up, looking over the sea of silicone and spandex.
When D looked straight at me, I had the same instinct as before; to jump in my car and drive as far away as I could. D’s face became an even darker shade of red as the attention became focused on him, but his eyes stayed fixed on me.
“We have a new waitress as of tomorrow,” he stated, and I considered crawling under the table.
“And she's fucking hot,” Jet added, causing some snickers in the crowd.
I turned to leave. Ray would understand when I didn’t show up to work the next day. Jessie halted my retreat by placing a shot in my hand, which I immediately slugged back, coughing as the harsh liquid slid down my throat.
Van got up from behind the drums and pushed Jet away from the microphone, muttering something.
“What these two dumbasses are trying to ineloquently say is we have a new waitress. I'm sure most of you witnessed what happened earlier, and how upset the douchebag was when we handed him the restraining order.”
Jessie took the shot glass from my hand, and replaced it with another, which I gulped down, breathing through the burn.
“He knows not to fuck with her, or he'll be messing with us.” Van looked pointedly at me, his eyes softening, as the crowd went insane. “I have sisters, and would want someone to help them if I wasn’t around.”
Jessie replaced my shot, and this time the fire was easier to deal with.
“We all have things going on in our life, and having people there makes it easier. We want you to feel safe here...”
He looked at me, and Jessie filled in the blank. “Faith.”
Van smiled. “Faith, you're a part of Ray’s fami
ly, and we protect family.”
The crowd let out a collective sigh. Some of the faces looked at me with support, while others were etched in pity, with a sprinkling of jealousy.
I told myself I didn’t care that the whole time his band was initiating me into Ray’s, Kill looked like he could live up to his name. His jaw was clenched so tight his dimple was visible, and fuck me if he wasn’t even more gorgeous.
I blew a kiss to the band. The crowd was so loud they wouldn’t have been able to hear a verbal response. Van winked at me, and Jet made a crude gesture with his hips, while D just nodded his head.
I sat down, the alcohol making my limbs feel fluid. Jessie kissed my cheek, sighing that Van was so sweet, as she went to her chair.
Trent smiled at me and winked when we made eye contact. I looked away just in time to see Amy bound out of her chair and kiss me on the opposite cheek. “See? Everyone loves you, Faith.”
Trent nodded at Amy's statement. I tried to remember why I should be worried when it came to him, but the alcohol flowing through me caused it to keep slipping by me.
I took a drink of the margarita that magically appeared in front of me.
Amy, unable to sit any longer, pulled me to the dance floor. I followed, grinning; the alcohol made it easy to forget everything for the moment. It had been so long since I could just let go.
The thought of Jason made my stomach roll as reality tried to push into my drunken fog. I ran back to the table, slamming the rest of my margarita, before turning to go back to Amy.
Jessie looked over at me and smiled. Trent put his hand on my shoulder before I could walk away. “Maybe you should slow down, Faith. You don’t normally drink, and you've been putting them away.”
Jessie removed Trent's hand. “Let her have tonight. You know if she doesn’t get hammered she's going to think about Jason.”
His face was not convinced as he chugged his beer and asked me if I wanted to dance.
The JackholeS were incredible, making me crave the dance floor. Jessie stopped Trent, and I shrugged as I made my way toward Amy who bounced around the dance floor like a pinball on crack.
Once I caught up to her, I was laughing so hard my knees were giving out, and I had to grab a hold of my amped up friend to stay upright.
Amy threw her head back, laughing along with me as we swayed together in a drunken rhythm.
Just then, the JackholeS switched to a slower song. Amy and I danced like seventh graders, giggling and leaning into each other more for stability than anything else.
Trent came over in the middle of the song, shaking his head.
“Dance with us,” Amy said, slinging her arm around Trent.
I followed her lead, and all three of us swayed to the emotional melody. Jessie joined us and got in between me and Trent.
The song ended, and we were still swaying in the middle of the dance floor, not changing when a faster song started. After a moment, Amy couldn't resist the beat and started jumping around clumsily.
Trent closed the gap Amy had made. I couldn’t stop laughing, and this time my knees did go out from under me. Trent and Jessie kept me upright, making me laugh even harder.
They maneuvered me off the dance floor and back to our table, with no help from me. I caught Trent giving me a worried look, and a hot surge of anger shot through me.
“Don’t look at me like that. I had someone try to rule me by giving me those faces, and see where that got me.”
Trent’s face went slack. He placed me in my chair and waited for me to stabilize before moving away.
“I’m sorry,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. I hoped he understood the gesture as an apology, and nothing more.
“No problem.”
I was grateful when Jessie interrupted our stare down, afraid Trent took my action as something more.
“Come on, let’s go find Amy. It’s time to put little Miss Margarita on a time out.” She grabbed Trent’s hand, but before he turned to leave on their reconnaissance operation to retrieve Amy, he said, “I would treat you like a princess.”
Jessie yanked Trent away while whispering in his ear. She kept looking back and forth between us as they walked.
My mind felt fuzzy, but seeing him on the receiving end of one of Jessie’s rants instead of me, made me laugh, causing me to almost fall over.
Right before I toppled off the chair, I was surrounded by a pair of strong arms. I looked up at the muscular appendages cradling me, and right into a pair of angry green eyes.
My sluggish mind realized I was wrong. Mr. Moody's eyes weren’t just green; they had flecks of blue scattered throughout them. I thought of changing his nickname to Mr. Asshole. Every time he looked at me he seemed to be angry.
“You got it there, Slick?” he asked, with no hint of amusement in his voice.
He retracted his arms slowly, allowing the heat radiating off him to sink into me. His warmth lingered everywhere he had touched. I resisted the urge to take his arms and thread them back around me, just to feel the electrical current his touch caused.
His stare felt just as potent as his touch. Wherever his eyes roamed, it felt like they were penetrating me. I couldn’t help but think I wanted something else of his to penetrate me as well. I blinked, needing to break away from his heated stare before I did something stupid, like pledge to be his sex slave.
Breaking our trance, he looked past my shoulder, no longer studying me. My body ached for him to bring his gaze back; sex slave didn't sound so bad.
“Yep, I'm fine. Thanks for the rescue there, Killer.”
He scowled, bringing his eyes back, making me giddy for garnering his attention again. His scowl may have been hotter than his half-smirk. I conjured up different scenarios to keep it on his face.
The alcohol in my system convinced me if I stuck my tongue out, the scowl would stay. Not wanting to miss out on an opportunity, I did just that, making me erupt into uncontrollable giggles as he cocked his eyebrow at me. Damn it to hell, that move made him even sexier.
“Alright, you're cut off.”
“Alright, you're cut off,” I mimicked, causing the rest of the band, which I hadn’t realized were behind me, to crack up.
“Faith, come hang out with us before we have to go back up onstage,” Mr. Snuggles extended an invitation.
I stuck my tongue out at Kill again, and got up to walk over to them. I use the term 'walk' loosely, being more of a stumble.
Kill guided me to an empty chair.
Right before he released me, he whispered in my ear, “You better be careful about sticking that tongue out, Slick. Next time I see it, I’m going to suck on it until you moan.”
My lower abdomen churned molten lava, as my blood flowed triple its normal speed. The blood rushing through my ears, made it impossible to understand what Van asked me.
“What did you say, Mr. Snuggles?” I asked, causing the whole band to laugh. Even Kill chuckled.
“What'd you call him?” Jet asked.
“Mr. Snuggles,” I mumbled, my cheeks flaming red. Even with copious amounts of alcohol flowing through me, it did nothing to numb my embarrassment.
“Ahh, wittle Mr. Snuggles,” Jet cooed, throwing his arms around Van, as he tried to kiss him on the cheek.
“Get the hell off me,” Van grunted, pushing Jet away.
“Thanks, Faith,” Van sighed, pushing Jet away at another attempt to cuddle.
“Sorry, I kind of gave you guys nicknames when I first saw you. I didn’t know you were the band, and I was trying to get my mind off of…” I paused, reality bitch-slapping me in the face again.
Van reached out and put his hand on mine, giving it a gentle squeeze before releasing it.
“What’s my name?” D asked, changing the subject.
“The Professor,” I said brightly.
“Yeah, that’s about right. So I guess I would be The Sex God?” Jet said, making me laugh as I shook my head.
“Well, what else could it be?” he asked.
I truly believe he couldn't think of an alternative.
“Dickhead, dumbass, fucktard,” Kill ticked off names, and from the look on his face he could have kept going.
“Mr. Mischief,” I responded.
Jet seemed upset it didn’t mention his prowess. I hurried to explain myself.
“When I saw you, you just seemed to have trouble written all over you, and you were very comfortable with its presence.”
Jet smiled and took a drink of his beer. “Ok, I'll go with it, but I still think you should reconsider Sex God.”
I snorted and clamped my hand over my mouth, mortified.
“That’s bullshit. How come I get Mr. Snuggles?” Van pouted, and even though he tried to look tough, his sincerity shined through him, verifying his nickname.
“Because even though you look scary with your tattoos and bulging muscles, I could tell you have an amazing heart. So suck it up buttercup, you're Mr. Snuggles.”
“What’s Kill’s nickname? Please let it be worse than mine.”
I glanced over at Kill, and his eyebrow cocked up, waiting for me to answer. Thankfully, I was saved when I saw Jessie herding a still-dancing-Amy toward me as Trent trudged behind.
Jessie held Amy around the waist, trying to get her to stop bouncing. Her face wore a worried expression, and she avoided making eye contact.
“What is it?” I asked, not letting her cop out.
“Umm, I went outside to switch shoes, and I saw Jason sitting in his car.”
I took Kill’s beer bottle out of his hand and finished it, not caring about him cutting me off. Before the band could take a step toward the door, Ryan yelled at them that they were up. They overlooked her order, but I stepped in.
“Go finish your set. He isn’t going to come back in here. I'm sure he's just waiting for me to run out and beg him to forgive me, and that sure as hell isn't going to happen.”
Kill shot me a lethal glare.
“Go, play. You guys are amazing; I want to hear the rest of your set. You shouldn’t let your night get ruined by some drama from a girl you just met.”