“Oh,” he grimaces. “That’s over an hour away. Without traffic. And it’s Saturday, which means beach traffic.”
I lean my head against the seat cushion, “I know. Do you know anyone who owns a helicopter?”
He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t.”
“Why isn’t this working out for me tonight?”
Kellan shrugs his tattooed arm, which rests on the steering wheel of my Altima.
We head back to The Cobra Lounge.
If worse comes to worst, I’ll still have Olivia with the backing tracks on her computer.
It worked once.
I hope her car doesn’t break down too.
No, that’s ridiculous.
What are the chances of that happening?
Chapter 120
VICTORY
We make it back to The Cobra at 7:40pm.
Time to spare.
It takes fifteen minutes to find parking. But that’s okay, neither of our bands goes on stage at eight.
Kellan parallel parks my Altima then shuts the engine off. He says, “What’s the game plan?”
I’m already thinking ten steps ahead, “You need to find Cannonballs and grease her wheels.”
He chuckles lasciviously, “I bet she’s totally greasy.”
“Greasy with STDs,” I smirk.
“I told you I wear condoms.”
“You need a Hazmat suit for someone like her. Unless you hose her down with a power washer first.” I scowl, “Do you even know her name?”
He snickers, “I never know their names, Gigi.”
I’m tickled as always when he call me Guitar Goddess.
He asks, “What are you going to do?”
“I think I need to wait in my car until Liv gets here.”
“What if that Guitar Central guy puts two and two together and realizes the badge he took from you is the same band your friend Liv is in? He could’ve torn up all your badges.”
“Shit!” I gasp. “You’re right!”
“Maybe you should come in with my band. I still have Switchblade’s badge. If you wear the disguise, they might let you in.”
“What about my stage costume?” I look down at it. “This is a one of a kind deal. It stands out.”
Kellan gazes at my body appreciatively, “The way you wear it, that’s for damn sure.”
I grin, “I know you want to have sex with me Kellan. All you have to do is say the magic word, and I’m yours…” I start giggling.
“Is the magic word, ‘We’ll form a band AND have sex?’”
I laugh softly, “No. Just the sex.”
“Sorry, Gigi. I’d rather have the band.”
“You’re sure stubborn,” I smile. “How do you ever manage to get laid?”
He snorts, “Are you kidding? I’ve got Cannonballs waiting for me. I have pussy-a-plenty any time I need it.”
I wince, “You would screw her?”
“I will if I have to,” he laughs.
“It’s your funeral,” I say dismissively. “Anyway, do you think I should change?”
“Do you have extra clothes?”
“No.”
“What if you take off your jacket and put my Testament shirt over your bra top? Then it’ll just be your pants.”
“That could work!” I shoulder my jacket off. “Gimme your shirt.”
Kellan pulls the black t-shirt over his head, revealing his naked muscled arms, chest, and abs. And all those sharp inky tattoos of his.
I’m in a studded leather bra top with skin tight studded leather pants, sitting across from a gorgeous guy, who wears nothing but sexy leather pants. We’re sitting in my car on a random neighborhood street in the Hollywood Hills with no people around.
He stares at my cleavage and sighs, “You are so fucking hot, Gigi. I can’t stand it.”
“Hotter than Cannonballs?”
He snorts, “Of course. Don’t you know that every night, after her clockwork motor winds down, Cannonballs has to go back to the Wax Museum where they store her and wait until they wind her up again the next morning?”
I grin gleefully, “I was thinking the exact same thing!”
He frowns, “You were?”
“Totally!”
He laughs suddenly, “Do you think her clockwork pussy has a kung fu grip?”
“A what?” I giggle.
“It’s an action figure thing.”
I gave him the “you’re crazy” look.
“G.I. Joe?”
I shake my head.
“I had one when I was a kid.”
I chortle, “I think you need to see a doctor about that.”
We both laugh for a moment.
And then we’re both silent.
We stare at each other’s near nakedness.
I lock eyes with Kellan. His are on fire like always.
He’s going to kiss me.
I can feel it. I feel it from my toes to the tip of my nose and every destination in between. I’m tingling and ready for whatever he does next.
He clamps his eyes shut and grits his teeth and sighs. He leans his head back against his headrest and hisses, “I can’t, Gigi. I won’t. I want a band with you.”
Maybe I need to rethink my position on no sex with band members. Perhaps Kellan is the exception to the rule.
My phone rings and I jump out of my seat.
I blurt, “That must be Lucas calling about a cab!”
I answer, “Hello!”
“Vee!” Olivia cries desperately.
“What is it, Liv?”
“I’m still in Santa Monica!”
“What?! What happened?”
Liv cries, “My producer decided to go in a new direction at the last minute. We have a bunch of gospel singers coming in tonight to record backing vocals. I have to oversee vocal production.”
“Can you get out of it?”
“No! Not if I want to keep working for this guy. I’m his go-to girl, but if I bail on him, I become his no-go girl.”
I squeeze my face with my fingers. Shit. “Can you get your computer over here so I can use the backing tracks?”
“No, but I could email you the mp3 files!” she says hopefully. “If someone has a smart phone they can probably plug it into the mixing console.”
“That’s great! Will your keyboards be on the tracks?”
“Uh, no. Just the drums and bass and the harmony swells.”
I say, “And there’s no way you can get here with your keyboards?”
“I really doubt it. I’m so sorry, Vee. There’s nothing I can do.”
I sigh, “It’s okay, Liv. Just email me the backing tracks and I’ll take care of it.”
“Where do you want me to email them?”
“Ahh… Hold on a second.” I say to Kellan, “Can you get email on your phone?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I have Liv email you my backing tracks?”
“Sure.”
I say to Liv, “Email them to Kellan. I’ll text you his address when I get off the phone.”
“You mean Aiden?” she says with hopeful amusement.
“Yes,” I grin. “Just make sure you text me once you send the files to him, okay?”
“Okay. And I’m really sorry I can’t make it, Vee,” she says meekly.
I hear a man’s voice yelling in the background behind Liv, “Why aren’t you setting up those mics, Olivia? The singers are on their way over! Get on it already! Or do I have to find someone else to do your job for you?” The angry voice fades as the person walks out of the room.
There’s a long pause before Liv hisses quietly, “Sorry, Vee. I have to go. I’ll email you the files as soon as I can. Sorry,” she says nervously.
I sigh, “Bye, Liv.”
I end the call. Kellan tells me his email address and I text it off to Liv.
I turn to Kellan.
Shirtless Kellan.
His hot body is the last thing I can think about right now.
He says, “She can’t make it?”
I shake my head no.
“But you’ve got the backing tracks?”
“If she has time to send them.”
Chapter 121
VICTORY
Kellan’s bass player buddy Dubs and his drummer Joaquin rap on the window of my Altima twenty minutes later. He called them and told them where we were. Kellan already put his shirt back on, and I have my jacket back over my bra top.
Me and Kellan both step out of the car.
“Qué pasa, homes!” Joaquin smiles at Kellan.
I briefly met Joaquin and Dubs in the back of The Dive Bomb during open mic night. But we didn’t talk for more than two minutes before they loaded out their gear.
Joaquin looks me up and down in my stage costume and drawls appreciatively, “Hola, chica!”
Dubs bites his lower lip while he stares at me brazenly. He snaps a pimp hand gesture and jeers, “Woo, you fine, girl!”
I watch Kellan closely, wondering if he’ll say something jealous.
He smiles proudly at Dubs, “Right?”
Dubs asks Kellan, “She your lady now?”
Kellan shakes his head, “Nope.”
Dubs grins, “Get on that shit, dawg! Girl like her ain’t stayin’ single for long!”
Joaquin says to Kellan, “What’s wrong with you, ése?” He flicks a glance at me, “You should be hittin’ that shit ten times a day, homes!”
I can’t help grinning.
I agree with Joaquin and Dubs.
Kellan winks at me but says to Joaquin, “I’m working on it, bro. But I got a ways to go before I wear her down all the way.”
I guess he’s talking about the band thing? Because the sex thing with Kellan is a go. I really can’t figure him out.
Kellan changes the subject and says to Joaquin, “I see you bought some sticks?”
Joaquin holds up a Guitar Central bag with drum sticks poking out the top.
Dubs asks Kellan, “So, what up with all this shady ninja shit, yo?”
Kellan says, “Victory needs our help. You guys up for it?”
Dubs and Joaquin nod.
Kellan explains everything to them in detail then hands them their All Access badges.
Kellan asks, “You guys got it?”
“Solid,” Dubs nods.
“No hay pedo,” Joaquin says.
Dubs turns to him and frowns, “What the fuck that even mean, Joa?”
“What?” Joaquin asks. “No hay pedo?”
“Yeah,” Dubs nods. “Ain’t pedo mean fart? You sayin’ you ain’t fartin’?”
Joaquin laughs, “Yeah. But it’s slang for ‘no problem.’”
Dubs grins, “Farts are always a problem, dawg. Especially yours.”
“Chinga tu madre,” Joaquin drawls.
Dubs glares at him, “You talkin shit about my momma?”
Dubs is taller and more muscular than Joaquin by a lot.
Joaquin doesn’t care. He says confidently, “Yeah, homes. I tear her shit up every night, ése.”
“No you didn’t,” Dubs growls comically.
Kellan chuckles, “Shut the fuck up, both of you. We got work to do.”
I pull my Fender case and my Line 6 amp out of my trunk and hand them to Dubs and Joaquin to carry.
Kellan says to the guys, “Tell the Guitar Central guys guarding the back door that this is our gear. They shouldn’t give you a problem.”
“Got it,” Dubs says.
“Vamonos,” Joaquin says and the two of them walk toward The Cobra holding my guitar and amp.
Kellan says to me, “I’m gonna go find Cannonballs and work my magic. When everything is ready, I’ll text you. You should probably put your mask and the KFC bucket on before you get too close to The Cobra. And maybe put your hair up so no one recognizes it.
“Okay.”
Kellan pulls off his Testament t-shirt once again and hands it to me.
As much as I’d like to jump him, we really don’t have time for a quickie. Not that it would do any good with Choir Boy Kellan Burns.
I take off my jacket and drop it in my trunk.
Kellan holds up an All Access badge, “This is Switchblade’s badge. Her name is on it. I’m sure no one will ask, but if they do, you’re Switchblade. Got it?”
I nod.
“See you in a few,” he says as he walks down the street toward The Cobra.
“Don’t you need a shirt?” I call after him.
He stops and turns, “Naw. I’m good.”
Yes he is. I admire the beautifully sculpted muscles of his back as he strides down the street.
Maybe my ‘no sex with band members’ policy is becoming outdated. I’ll have to convene a meeting with my internal committee after the show tonight and see if we can’t reach a treaty of some sort.
When Kellan is gone, I go to work putting up my hair under the KFC bucket.
Chapter 122
VICTORY
The crowded line of ticket holders beside The Cobra is now slowly walking toward the front doors as I walk past them. I’m sure security is busily checking everyone for guns, knives, booze, and drugs down at the main doors.
The KFC bucket is on my head covering my bunned up hair, and the white plastic mask is covering my face. I wear Kellan’s Testament t-shirt over my bra top. The shirt smells like him and makes it hard to concentrate on the plan at hand, but I manage. I still have my skin tight low-ride lace-up black leather pants and black stripper heels covered in silver spikes.
I don’t have a mirror, but I have no doubt I’m reasonably sexy from the neck down and completely ridiculous from the neck up. It’s not like I have much of a choice.
As I pass by a guy in an Anthrax shirt, he points at me and says, “Dude! That’s Buckethead!”
The guy next to him wearing a Joe Satriani shirt says, “Naw, man, Buckethead is really tall. And that’s a girl. See her ass?”
“Shit yeah, I do!”
I’m already past them, but I hear the other guy say, “You think she’s a butter face under the mask?”
“Probably,” his friend blurts. “Why else would she be wearing a mask?”
Not my problem.
I stop a half block up from the back entrance to The Cobra.
A few minutes later, I receive a text from Kellan,
Ready at the back door
I walk toward it, my heart accelerating. If this doesn’t work, I probably won’t get to play.
The long line of people waiting to get in the main doors blocks the alley leading to the back door, so I have to squeeze through the crowd.
Several other people call out, “That’s Buckethead!”
Once I pass through, I pause.
Cannonballs is pulling on the hand of the Guitar Central goon who was watching the back door. He looks generally dorky, and having Cannonballs hold his hand is blowing his mind. She leads him toward the line of people I just squeezed through.
The men waiting in line part like the Red Sea for Cannonballs, undressing her with their eyes. She ignores them, totally focused on smiling at the dorky Guitar Central goon like he’s Prince Charming.
I wait for them to pass.
Cannonballs says breathily to Dorky Goon, “Rob needs you up front.”
The goon says, “I thought I was supposed to cover the back door.”
“Change of plans.” Cannonballs gives him a flirty look, “I’m just doing what Rob told me.”
The goon gushes, “Okay.”
She leads him toward Sunset and I walk toward the back door. Before I knock, it cracks open and Kellan leans out.
“Come on,” he mutters and I slip inside The Cobra Lounge.
Kellan leads me down the crowded hallway, which is bristling with anxious musicians. I have no idea how many bands are playing tonight, but it’s at least a dozen or more. We probably have a long wait.
Dubs and Joaquin are standing at the end of a dark hallway with their gear. I feel relief when I see
my Fender case and amp.
“Buckethead!” Joa chuckles.
“Shhh,” Kellan whispers.
“You look funny in that mask, girl” Dubs says.
I frown, “You look funny without a mask, dog.”
Joaquin and Kellan jeer at Dubs.
Dubs shakes his head, grinning.
I want to lift up my mask because it’s hot, but with the bucket, it’s a pain in the ass. Good thing I wiped off all my makeup before I put it on. Otherwise I’d be a drippy raccoon by now.
I ask, “What do we do now?”
“Now we wait,” Kellan says quietly.
I check my phone to see if Liv has sent the backing track files. Nothing yet. Shit. I won’t have anything to play if I don’t get those tracks! I’m afraid to call her because I don’t want to get her fired, so I send her a quick text asking for the tracks.
Then I cross my fingers.
Not long after, someone on the P.A. says to the entire house, “Welcome to Guitar Central’s annual L.A. Gunslingers battle of the bands competition!”
The crowd cheers and whistles from the main room. They’re loud even backstage where I sit with the guys.
“We’ve got a lot of great bands tonight!”
More cheering.
“But only one of them will win the $5,000 grand prize!”
More applause from the audience.
Is that Rob the Knob making the announcements? I can’t tell for sure because of the subtle distortions of the vocal mic over the P.A., but if Rob’s the master of ceremonies, he’s never going to let me play.
Joaquin asks me, “You playin’ with us tonight, ésa?”
I shake my head, “I don’t know your guys’ music.”
“Too bad,” he says. “I saw your shit on video. You shred, ésa.”
“What video!” I hiss and shoot Kellan a look.
He shrugs, but I get the distinct impression he’s holding something back.
The announcer says, “Will you please welcome our first band of the night to the stage! Poisoned Princes!”
At the end of the hallway, I see four guys in black walk past, heading toward the stage with guitars in hand.
The crowd cheers and the band plays. They sound like any other random seven string growler metal band. I tune them out.
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