Rock Me Deep

by Nora Flite

  Her body knotted up. “Took care of...?”

  “Holy shit!” Sean shouted, the van turning onto the street where the Paramount theater was. I didn't need to ask what was wrong. The mob outside was massive.

  Pressing my phone to my ear, I dialed quickly. “Brenda,” I said when she picked up, “What the hell is going on?”

  “Drezden! Please tell me you're all okay!"

  “We're fine," I said, eyeballing the shouting people outside our windows. "Lola is with us, we're right outside. Tell me what's going on."

  The edge of her voice wavered with excitement. “We managed to delay the show. Everyone is super pissed, but we did it. Can you—I mean, would you guys still play tonight?”

  Lola had been leaning in, listening to the call. Grabbing the phone from me, she shouted into the receiver. “Yes! We'll do it!”

  Sean was staring at me, slowly shaking his head in wonder. “Tell me what's happening.”

  Pulling the phone back from Lola, I allowed myself to smile. “Guess the show must go on.”

  Rolling down the windows, we parked the van where the security teams guided us. The walls of fans, all screaming a mixture of joy and anger, tried to swallow us as we approached the venue. All we could do was wave, knowing it was impossible for those people to understand what any of us had been through.

  It's good we were able to wash all the blood off at the motel.

  Wouldn't that have made an interesting photo for the news?

  ****

  Porter and Colt smashed me in a hug when we got backstage. With Lola, they were far more gentle, their voices merging as they asked too many questions.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Did Johnny really do this?”

  “Are you sure you want to play?”

  “What happened to him, where is he now?”

  It was Brenda, slicing between them and shoving them aside, that ended the parade. Turning, she held Lola by the shoulders, stared into her stunned face. “You really want to play tonight?”

  Gulping air, Lola narrowed her eyes. “Yeah. I'm ready.”

  “How did you manage to delay the show for us?” I asked in wonderment.

  Her ruby lips coiled upwards. “I promised everyone free tickets to your next show. Better than trying to handle angry refunds on this, trust me.”

  Out in the auditorium, the roar of the crowd grew. They were savage, starving for what they had longed for. I understood their feelings.

  We did a quick wardrobe change; clean clothes for Lola and myself, makeup to hide some of her marks from the tussle with Johnny.

  I wanted to know more about what had happened, but really, the details didn't matter.

  Lola was safe now.

  “Here,” Brenda said, offering the girl her purple guitar. “Take it, tune it, do what you need to in ten minutes.”

  Hoisting the instrument into place, Lola's face twisted in a brief flinch. She saw me looking, then glanced away hurriedly. “Listen, Drez. That new song... can we even perform it?”

  “I know all the words by heart.” I took a slow step towards her, studying how she held the guitar. “You could probably keep the tune close enough that no one would notice. They haven't heard it before to compare, after all.” She was focusing on her fingers, the floor, everywhere but me. “That's not the issue, is it?”

  She said nothing.

  “Lola... what's wrong?”

  Hanging her head, her dark hair covered her face. “I think my shoulder is hurt bad. Holding my guitar, it's painful.”

  Brushing her tresses aside, I tried to read the pain in her blue gaze. “You still want to do this?”

  “Yeah. If I can. After everything, I really want to try.”

  My lips closed on hers, the kiss a mere blink. “Then let's try.”

  Voices were calling out around us, people telling us where to go, what to do. For a moment, we stayed there and only existed with each other.

  The cheers outside the curtain took it all away.

  Together we moved, standing on our marks, straightening up to handle the wave of energy. Behind me, Porter and Colt settled in, their faces all smiles. It was unfair to them to lead with our new song, something they had no part of, but...

  Looking over, I saw a bead of sweat on Lola's temple. If she's in pain, I want to give her this. She wants it so badly.

  Everyone else had to come second to that.

  Holding the mic, I spoke into it with a smirk. “Hello, Seattle.” The explosion was immense. The room was a powder keg. I was the flint to light it up. “I'm sorry you had to wait so long for us to perform. But it was worth it, right?” I gestured around, roared into the speakers. “Because we're fucking right here! Four and a Half Headstones, and we've got a new song for you!”

  I waited until the world stopped screeching. Then, holding up my hand for silence, I whispered into all their ears. “I hope you enjoy it.” Reaching down, I lifted the guitar I'd placed at my feet. The audience hadn't seen it; they went crazy all over again.

  Hooking it in place, I took the time for them to settle down to tweak the strings. I'd tuned it before, but I wanted to be sure.

  I wanted everything to be right.

  In the dead silence, Lola began to play. It was a haunting melody, all ghosts and dust dancing from her fingers. It reminded me of our skill difference; commanded me to take hold and play to my best.

  Breathing in to control my muscles, I followed her lead. Our notes flowed together, twirling through the air, burning on flesh. She was perfect, ever perfect, and if my fans didn't see it after this...

  They never would.

  “Beautiful in defiance,” I hushed, “Wicked in how you claw. Come to me again, so close... you're mine, don't see these flaws...” From the moment I'd announced creating a song with Lola, I'd been brewing with ideas. I knew exactly the kind of song I wanted to make with her.

  Did anyone ever imagine I would write a love song?

  Looking over, I glimpsed the focus on Lola's face. Her lower lip was sucked in her teeth, fingers wild, elegant on her strings. She was exerting herself, but the pain she was going through vibrated in waves.

  She can't keep this up for long, I thought desperately, singing for all the world like a man with a message. But what can we do? What other choice is there? The crowd, our fans, they'd waited so long to hear Four and a Half Headstones.

  What could sate them but this?

  “Wrapping, coiling, merging with the world...” Like she'd suggested, we punched our guitars, jolted the air with wild music. The energy was frantic, my heart rocketing inside my chest with nowhere to land. “Come to me again! Again, you're mine... you're mine...”

  Lola's face was bloodless. This is too much, I thought in a panic. As the song came to a close, I saw her breathing heavy. Dogs trapped in cars panted less.

  Something had to be done.

  Off to the side, just backstage, I caught Sean Cooper looking on.

  “Thank you,” I said into the mic. Wiping sweat from my brow, I smiled over the crowd, forcing myself to hide my anxiety. I'd decided what I had to do, but there was a chance it would blow up in my face.

  One more look at Lola cradling her shoulder was all the convincing I needed.

  Clearing my throat, I gestured for Lola to come close. “Lola and I wrote that song together. I've never done that with someone before.” Warily, she approached. “I've also never done this.” Bending forward, I slid the guitar off of her. She was stunned, everyone was, but I looked again backstage. Sean stared right back. “As much as I want Lola to keep playing, she's been injured. She can't.” The audience made various sounds, all loud; I talked louder. “Instead, there's someone here who's wanted to play with us for a long time.”

  Lola was shaking her head, trying to get my attention. Sean's hand on her shoulder startled her.

  I said, “Sean Cooper.” With purpose, I offer him her guitar. “Lola's brother, and lead guitarist for Barbed Fire.”

&nbs
p; No one knew what to do. Brenda was waving her arms at me, Porter and Colt were looking ill, and Lola...

  She yanked her guitar away from me before I could stop her. “Thanks everyone,” she said into my mic, “But my brother has his own guitar he can use.”

  The tension was shattered by their solid embrace. My grin went high as the crowd cheered. Lola exited, but she took a spot backstage where she could watch everything.

  Winking at Sean, I asked, “You think you're finally ready for this?”

  He strummed a note. “If I'm not, you're the one who'll be paying for it.”

  Throwing back my head, I laughed at the ceiling. “You said you knew some of our songs.” I set my guitar on the floor, out of the way; I felt so much lighter. “Know Black Grit?”

  In answer, he plucked the beginning. The fans heard it, screamed wildly in anticipation. Filling my lungs with air, I looked over my shoulder at Colt. He saw my nod, pounding his drums to herald the opening of the song. Twisting back, I glimpsed Lola looking on.

  Those wonderful blue eyes were stuck on her brother. They glistened with affection so fierce, it threatened to overflow. Her fond smile was pure gold.

  With my chest full of gratification... I opened my mouth and sang.

  - Chapter Thirty -

  Lola

  The sun tickled along Drezden's back, highlighting the deep indent his spine made. It led my eye over his hard muscles, guided my fingers down to the top of his jeans. With loving precision, I skirted over the fresh ink on his skin.

  It had been two days since the final show. The second the performance was over, Drezden had taken me to get my shoulder checked out. He'd ignored everyone clamoring for his attention, bulling his way past the crowds. His entire focus was on me.

  I'd been fine—the doctor said it was minor muscle strain. Pain killers quickly soothed me. That was great, but the best part came later when we were finally alone.

  In his hotel room, he sat me down and told me everything.

  His dreams, his fears, his history...

  How his father had grown violent. How his mother had sustained enough damage during the attack that she'd become deaf. The woman who had pushed to get him where he was couldn't even hear the powerful music he lived to make.

  He told me everything until my heart weighed so much it crushed my lungs, left me breathless and awash in tears. Together we laid there, hands knitted at our hips between us.

  Now, days later, lying on his bed in the tour bus, I studied the tattoo Drezden had covered his father's scar with. He'd raked his soul raw under the needle. Honesty, I thought, tracing the edges of the curling letters. He'd carved the word right into his skin.

  He hadn't needed to go so far, and yet... for Drezden, there was no such thing as too far.

  “Done,” I whispered, setting the lotion aside. “It's looking good. Very clean.”

  Propping himself on his elbow, he curled me against him, teeth seeking my bottom lip. “It's not as elaborate as your tattoos.”

  I smiled around his kiss. “The meaning is just as important.”

  “You like it, then?”

  Wrapping my fingers in his hair, I held him steady. The green of his eyes was like fresh grass, new and alive. “I like you.”

  Zeroing in on my gaze, Drezden ran a thumb over my cheek. “Stop acting so tough. You don't like me.”

  My heart hiccuped. In that second of confusion, he took advantage, swallowing my oxygen with a kiss that ate away my understanding of the world. I don't like him? I heard him exhale, felt his stubble on my flesh. No. He's right.

  Pushing him away, I fought for the inch of air between us. It was small, but for what I wanted to say, it was enough. “I love you, Drezden.”

  “That's better.” He covered me like smoke, took me down into the blankets. I was happy to suffocate there, but he wouldn't let me. His tongue found mine, brought fire to my veins. There was no way to die when he gave me such life. “Lola... I love you, too.” His teeth flashed. “Fuck, I really do.”

  Circling my arms around his neck, I held him on top of me. Our chests caressed, hearts throbbing faster and faster. “Of course, you do,” I whispered. “Why else write me a love song?”

  His body tightened. “You knew when I sang it.”

  “I knew when I read the lyrics in your notebook.”

  The edges of his lips shifted between amusement and wickedness. “You're amazing.”

  The blush ran to my toes and beyond. “Hardly. Couldn't even finish the final show.”

  “That wasn't your fault.” Stroking my hair, Drezden put his chin on my head. “Besides, you'll have plenty of more shows to perform. Plus a new CD to record, we'll want to release one soon with you on it.”

  He didn't say 'and not Johnny,' but I heard it. The memory of being kidnapped was a wretched thing. But I'd have new memories before everything was done. Leaning up, I sought out Drezden's soft mouth.

  When I'd started out weeks ago as a roadie for my brother, I could never have expected that I'd end up here. Yes, I thought, shivering under Drezden's expert fingers. I never expected any of this.

  Lola Cooper.

  Fucking rock star.

  My world could never be the same...

  And I was just fine with that.

  Thanks for reading!

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  Brenda's Story

  Looking in the mirror of that questionable quality but oh-so-cheap downtown boutique, I thought two things to myself.

  One: When would it be my turn to find love?

  And Two: Were my eye-bags always this big?

  Sighing, I pushed at my skin, making a face. I look older than I should because of how much stress this industry puts on me. You would think that, once he'd started seriously dating someone, Drez would have finally alleviated some of the craziness in his lifestyle.

  Amazingly, he hadn't.

  Between fans, kidnappings, someone hijacking the tour bus, and a party one night that had involved a giraffe and three clowns—life hadn't calmed down at all.

  Maybe once he gets married? Fuck, that thought was probably crazier than everything else put together. I was still having trouble wrapping my brain around it. Drezden Halifax, a married man. I'd thought the wedding invitation was a joke until Lola had confirmed it.

  Someone knocked loudly on my stall door. "Hey! People are waiting to change! Hurry up!"

  Gently, I pushed my forehead onto the mirror. I'm doing just that: waiting for something to change. Tightening my jaw, I stood straight. No, what is this? I'm not sad, things are great for me! I've got money, status, a job the world is jealous of!

  What more could I need?

  Ignoring the tiny voice inside of me that said, "A serious relationship!" I kicked the door open dramatically. The lady who'd been knocking jumped back, her thin eyebrows shooting to her hairline. "All yours," I said, motioning like she was a damn queen.

  Her eyes flicked to the dress hanging in the stall. "Don't you want that?"

  I hadn't even tried it on. I hadn't had the courage to bother. "Nope! All yours, and honestly, green is totally your color." Pushing my sunglasses down over my face, I swayed past the gawking customers and out into the hot New York sun. My mental checklist burned as it realized what I was missing:

  No dress for the wedding.

  No date.

  And no clear idea on why I felt so pissed about all of that.

  ****

  I made it back to my hotel, grateful that the bar was open, even if I was the only patron.

  The bartender looked up, his smile going crooked. "Didn't I see you this morning?"

  Had he? Oh, right, I thought with dry humor. I had two mimosas before I went on my shopping adventure. Settl
ing on the stool, I propped my sunglasses on my head. "Good memory."

  "Just wait and see." He moved behind the bar, shaking things together until he placed a perfectly iced gin and tonic in front of me. His grin was too proud. "You wouldn't stop drinking these last night."

  Hesitating, my fingers paused by the glass. "Huh?" It was all I could say. Was I seriously drinking that much lately? If I thought back, it was obvious I'd been a bit more... loose with my habits since getting the wedding invitation.

  Sipping the drink, I gave him a smile. "It's perfect. Thanks." The guy winked, then went about pretending to be busy for the ghosts or whoever that were sitting at the bar, because as far as I saw, I was alone.

  Alone alone alone. Ugh. But, it was true. I guess this wedding is really hammering it home. Work was my husband, I was married to my job. I'd gone from managing Four and a Half Headstones to consulting for others, as well as playing a minor agent. I was richer than ever and busier than ever, and no one had forced me to slow down enough to realize how unsatisfying it was.

  But what could I fucking do? Online dating terrified me, and the only guys I ever met belonged to the music industry—and they were as messy as I was. Worse, usually.

  There'd never been a guy who'd held my attention.

  Well, that's not true. What about—I cut my own thoughts off at the stem. I was not about to moon over a guy I had no chance with. After all, I'd interacted with him on the sidelines for years. If he hadn't noticed me by now, he never would.

  Yup. That's right. I tilted my glass back and swallowed. Fate doesn't exist. I started to chuckle, my eyes lifting to scan the lobby. I was in the perfect spot to watch the doors and see everyone entering.

  That meant it was easy to spot Sean Cooper.

  Spitting gin and tonic onto the bar, I coughed violently. Holy shit he's here. I summoned him with my mind! Maybe fate was real, or maybe I'd just taken for granted that Lola's brother would show up for her wedding.

  It's fine, who cares if he's here. I cared. A lot. Shit, maybe I shouldn't let him see me. Wait, who cares if he sees me? Shit. He saw me. Sitting up on the stool, I dabbed as casually as I could at the gin and tonic spill while smiling at Sean.