Wild Heart

by Tripp Ellis

  Wild Fury’s old van sagged in the lot, ready to be put out to pasture. It had its fair share of dents, scrapes, and rust spots.

  The usual group of metalheads and stoners hung out by the entrance to the practice hall. They wore lots of leather and studded belts. Black fingernail polish and heavy eyeliner. Their red eyes widened when they saw the new van.

  We hopped out and strolled toward the entrance.

  "Awesome! Totally awesome!" a kid said, squinting through long black hair that fell into his eyes. He high-fived JD.

  We pushed inside and made our way down the corridor that smelled like a combination of fresh herb and incense. The rumble of other bands practicing seeped through the walls.

  We pushed into Wild Fury's practice studio, and the guys were prepping their gear. Dizzy and Crash packed their guitars in cases. Styxx broke down his candy apple red drum set. There were glum faces all around.

  "Dude, we have a major problem," Styxx said.

  JD's face crinkled. "What is it?"

  "We'll have to rent a moving van or something. Our van won't start."

  JD shook his head dismissively. "Not an issue."

  Styxx's brow knitted together. "What do you mean, not an issue?"

  "I have it all taken care of." Jack smiled.

  The guys looked perplexed.

  JD kept the secret while we helped them pack up. We loaded the gear onto a dolly and began making trips to the van. When the band stepped outside, they didn't notice the new vehicle at first and started hauling the gear toward the old van.

  "Where the hell are you going?" JD asked.

  Styxx looked at him, perplexed.

  JD pointed to the new vehicle. "Open your eyes."

  Jaws dropped, and eyes bulged from sockets.

  "Holy shit!" Styxx uttered, awestruck.

  JD grinned.

  "Where the hell did that come from?" Dizzy asked.

  "Just a little something I've been working on." JD escorted them to the van and gave them a tour. He clicked the alarm, pulled open the doors, and cranked up the engine, giving them a little taste of the snarling beast.

  There were astonished smiles all around, and the guys in the band gawked at their new transportation, which also served as an advertisement for the band.

  "I guess this means you're sticking around," Styxx said.

  "Did you really think I'd leave you guys and go on tour with another band?" JD asked.

  The guys exchanged a look and said in unison, "Yeah."

  JD scowled at them playfully. "No way! We are all in this together. In it to win it. It's Wild Fury or bust."

  That put smiles on their faces. They all high-fived each other, then continued to load the vehicle. We made a few trips and stuffed all the gear aboard, then crammed inside and headed over to the venue.

  Sonic Temple was the premier rock venue on Oyster Avenue. Home to local bands and touring national acts, it had become a regular spot for Wild Fury. They headlined every few weeks.

  JD pulled the van into the parking lot behind the club and killed the engine. The band spilled out and began loading their gear inside and prepared for a sound check. It was still daylight by the time they finished, but the sun was plummeting toward the horizon.

  We left the venue, and JD took the band out for a pre-show meal. The guys wanted steaks, so Jack treated them to Cowtown. It was a family restaurant where you could get sirloins, fillets, ribeyes, mesquite grilled burgers, spicy curly fries, baked potatoes with all the fixings, and a host of side dishes like mac & cheese, sautéed mushrooms, green beans, and fried onions. It was Western themed with cedar plank walls and black and white pictures of longhorns.

  We kicked around a few ideas for the next music video. After the success of the last one, the band didn't put up much of an argument about the direction JD wanted to take it.

  The steaks were tender and juicy, and the guys put them away like they hadn't eaten in days. They might not have. Even with the success of the last video, and the millions of streams, the royalties hadn’t trickled in yet. And when they did, the band would only receive small fractions of a cent per stream—and that was keeping 100% of the royalties as independent artists. The deals were worse for signed artists that gave away up to 92% of their royalties.

  Jack had set up an LLC for the band and handled all the finances, tracking expenses and revenue. They had yet to make a profit, but that was about to change when the royalties from All I Need were deposited into the account. It wasn’t about the money, anyway.

  “So, there’s some business I’d like to discuss,” JD said in a serious tone.

  The table quieted, and all eyes fell on JD.

  “I’ve talked to the guys, and we all agree,” Jack said to me. “We want you to be our manager.”

  Surprise washed over my face. My eyes flicked from JD to the rest of the guys for confirmation. JD had occasionally referred to me as their manager when speaking with groupies. I figured it was his way of including me in the band and conveying some of the enigmatic magic that the band held in the eyes of adoring groupies. But I never took it seriously.

  “Yeah, man,” Styxx said. “You knocked it out of the park with the video, and it was a good call creatively.”

  “I’m flattered, but I’ve never managed a band before. I don’t know anything about it. Are you sure? You guys have had offers from real managers with real connections.”

  “We trust you,” Styxx said. “And that’s all that matters.”

  “I don’t even know what to do,” I said.

  “Neither do any of us,” Dizzy said. “We’ll all learn as we go.”

  “As this thing gets bigger, I’m gonna need help coordinating shows, handling merchandise, and overseeing marketing,” JD said. “We want to bring you on as a full partner. 1/5th of everything.”

  I lifted an impressed brow. “That’s very generous.”

  “It’s not generous. It’s fair,” JD said. “It’s going to be a lot of work.”

  “You need to look after us,” Crash said. “Keep us on track. Keep us from getting fucked by sleazy promoters and too fucked up on party favors.”

  It was a huge responsibility. “I’m really honored guys. But I need to think about it. I certainly don’t want to let you down.”

  “If we thought there was a possibility of you letting us down, we wouldn’t have asked,” Styxx said.

  I paused for a long moment. There was no telling these guys no. “I guess I’m your manager.”

  There were smiles and cheers all around. We all lifted our glasses and toasted to the new partnership. I hoped I wasn’t biting off more than I could chew.

  After we filled our bellies, we tabbed out, left Cowtown, and headed back to Oyster Avenue. JD parked the van at Sonic Temple. It was early, and the band wouldn’t go on for several hours. The guys decided to kill the time at Blackbeards, and we made the short walk down the block.

  It was a pirate themed bar built to look like a galleon with heavy cannons, shrouds, masts, and riggings. There were barrels of rum, and the cocktail waitresses wore skimpy little pirate costumes. The bar was a direct competitor to Mutiny which had a similar aesthetic. There was a lot of eye candy and it wasn’t a bad place to spend a few hours before the show while the band got sufficiently lubricated to go on stage.

  Wild Fury had decided not to make themselves too available before shows. They wanted to keep a little mystery about them instead of loitering around Sonic Temple, drinking with fans. They’d save that for after the show, but they wanted to build pre-show suspense.

  We hung out at Blackbeard's for a few hours, then made our way back to Sonic Temple around 10:15 PM. The line to get in circled the building, and the rumble of the opening act filtered into the street. The crowd grew larger with each show. There was a lot of teased hair, heavy eyeliner, short skirts, long legs, and stiletto heels. Glossy red lips and low-cut tops that showcased ample cleavage. It was exactly the kind of audience you wanted to see at a rock 'n' roll conce
rt.

  We were in for a helluva night.

  13

  Lipstick Revolution finished their set, hauled their gear offstage, and Wild Fury set up.

  The rockers thundered onto the stage at 11 PM to roaring fans with hands stretched toward the heavens. They screamed with excitement. Styxx stomped the kick drum. Dizzy struck a power chord, and his guitar growled. Crash plucked his bass, laying down the groove. A wall of amplification pummeled eardrums. JD grabbed the mic and howled, “Are you ready to rock?”

  The crowd cheered with enthusiasm.

  “I can’t hear you?”

  They screamed even louder.

  “Say what?” Jack held the microphone toward the audience, and they hollered louder still.

  Styxx pounded out a fill on the snare drum, and the band broke into the first verse of Iron Heart. JD’s blistering voice filled the venue.

  I hung out and watched the show while Jack pranced around, howling into the mic and flipping his long blond hair in true rockstar fashion. Dizzy and Crash head-banged, grinding out thunderous tones on their axes. Styxx twirled his drumsticks and beat the drums like a madman. Colored lights swirled and slashed the air. Fog billowed from the stage.

  By this point in time, Wild Fury was a polished act that put on a show worthy of an arena. Girls threw bras and panties on stage. They would flash Dizzy, and he’d toss them guitar picks. It was like Mardi Gras.

  A cute little brunette bumped into me on the way to the bar. She was a little obvious about it. I didn't mind. I didn't mind at all.

  “I’m sorry," she shouted over the music, pretending like she hadn’t done it on purpose. Her eyes brightened with recognition. "Hey, I know you."

  I squinted at her, trying to put a name to her pretty face.

  "It's Phoebe,” she said. “You saved my dog."

  "I thought that was you."

  How I rescued the little pooch from certain doom was another story altogether.

  "I didn't know you were a Wild Fury fan," Phoebe said.

  "Jack, I mean, Thrash, is a friend of mine.

  Thrash was JD’s stage name.

  Her eyes widened. "Really? That's so cool. I'd love to meet him."

  "I think that can be arranged," I said with a smirk. “I actually manage the band.”

  “No way,” she said in awe.

  “How is Cooper? That's your dog's name, right?"

  "You remembered! He's doing well. Hyperactive, but well." Phoebe paused. "I was just going to get a drink. You want something?"

  Never one to turn down an offer from a gracious lady, I said, “Whiskey. Rocks."

  She smiled. "Coming right up."

  Phoebe took my hand and pulled me along as she squeezed her way to the bar. Her hand was soft and warm. It felt nice. I could get used to holding it.

  Phoebe had long dark hair and an adorable face. Big beautiful blue eyes, pouty lips, and a petite little figure that she showed off with a leather miniskirt that barely covered anything. Her fishnet stockings and stiletto heels accentuated her divine legs. She had stellar assets.

  It didn't take Phoebe long to get the bartender's attention—along with the attention of all the surrounding men—as she leaned against the bar, pushing her cleavage together. She had all-natural, positively buoyant endowments. She ordered our drinks and paid the tab in cash. She handed me my beverage and lifted her glass to toast. “To Wild Fury.”

  I concurred.

  We clinked glasses and sipped the fine whiskey. The warm amber liquid swirled around in my mouth, and lustful thoughts swirled in my brain.

  We moved away from the bar and found a little space near the rear of the club. The crowd had rushed the stage when Wild Fury began to play. Fighting the crowd by the stage took dedication and perseverance. It was hot and sweaty, and you undulated uncontrollably with the rhythm of the crowd, like drifting in a vast ocean. I preferred to hang back and watch the show from a distance. I was glad Phoebe didn't want to dive into the fray.

  The perky little brunette grabbed my arm, lifted on her tiptoes, and spoke into my ear. "I'm so glad I ran into you. I thought I might never see you again."

  There was an enticing sparkle in her eyes. Her gaze was full of possibilities. Possibilities that I’d like to explore.

  "Maybe it's fate," I said.

  "Indeed. This is twice fate brought us together.”

  “I risked my life to save your dog, you know,” I said.

  She smiled. “I know. How can I ever repay you?”

  It was a loaded question.

  After the show, the sweaty rockers filed off the stage, and I followed them into the green room, pulling Phoebe along, moving past security. An ice-cold tub of beer, and bottles of whiskey, awaited. The band high-fived each other, toweled off, and celebrated another successful show.

  I introduced Phoebe to Thrash and the band.

  The building vibrated as fans stomped and chanted for an encore. After a quick break, they took the stage again and did another hard-hitting three-song set.

  Wild Fury left the stage, then returned again for a second encore to finish the night.

  The crowd still continued to chant, even with the house lights on.

  There was no shortage of sultry vixens wanting to party with the band—the perks of rock 'n' roll. The band broke down their gear and partied with fans at Sonic Temple until the bar closed. We loaded the gear into the van, then moved the party back to the Avventura as usual.

  It was almost 3 AM by the time we got back to the marina at Diver Down. The boat was packed with stunning groupies and fans—all going through our stash of beer and liquor at a breakneck pace. Music pumped, and a few of our neighbors joined in the fun.

  A few others complained.

  We tried to keep the noise to a minimum. But that was like trying to silence a freight train.

  It wasn't long before the Jacuzzi on the sundeck was full of naked beauties. Water beaded and glistened on pert bosoms. Bikini bottoms floated among the bubbles and dangled from the ledge.

  There were plenty of guys that hung around, trying to pick up girls that weren't receiving the band's full attention. I didn't know half the people here, and the parties grew larger and more insane each time.

  Couples paired off and escaped to the guest staterooms to take care of business. Some people didn't even bother to find a private area. On the settee in the salon, a cute blonde had her head buried into a guy’s lap, trying to find out just how many licks it took to get to the center of a tootsie pop. Her head bobbed up and down while the dude sipped his beer. Even the fans were living like rock stars at a Wild Fury party.

  Phoebe seemed shocked by some of the antics. There was a sweet innocence about her. "Is it always like this?"

  I shrugged. “It gets a little crazy from time to time."

  "I'll say," she said. "You guys must be having the time of your life?"

  "You know, life is good," I admitted.

  “And this boat,” she said, admiring the appointments. “It's fantastic. I could only dream of living on something like this. It must be fun." She looked around. "Obviously, it's fun." She paused. "Why don't you give me a tour?"

  "I'd love to." I extended my arm, and she took it.

  I led her around the boat and showed her the galley, then took her below deck and gave her a tour of the engine room. The noise and music rumbled above. We were alone for a moment, and I think that was her intention.

  "My, what big engines you have," she joked in a naughty voice.

  I grinned. "They get the job done."

  "I bet."

  Her words were wet and slippery. Her blue eyes stared into mine, and her luscious lips beckoned and as she inched closer, never losing eye contact.

  I put my hand on the small of her back and pulled her close. Her supple body pressed against mine, and heat radiated. Her soft breath tickled my skin as her lips hovered millimeters away from mine, her sultry eyes piercing into me.

  We were about to collide when a
couple burst into the compartment. They stumbled in, their lips locked, devouring each other for a moment before they saw us. "Whoops, sorry! Didn't know this was occupied."

  The couple giggled and backed out of the compartment.

  "Is there somewhere more private we can go?" Phoebe whispered in a voice that took hold of my spine and ignited desire.

  14

  “This is really nice,” Phoebe said upon entering my stateroom.

  Located on the bridge deck and spanning the full beam, the compartment was regal. Her eyes took in the lounge area, the luxurious appointments, the flatscreen display that folded down from the ceiling, the queen-size berth.

  Buddy barked and bounced, longing for attention. Phoebe knelt down and loved on the little Jack Russell.

  He soaked it up.

  I pulled the curtains shut, giving us a little privacy. The dull rumble of the party filtered through the bulkheads.

  Phoebe stood up and sauntered around the compartment, pretending to check it out before circling back around to me. She slinked toward me like a panther and purred, “Where were we?”

  “Right here,” I said, pulling her close, finally tasting her sweet lips.

  Our tongues danced, and my hands traced every supple curve of her body. We smashed together, exchanging heat. The subtle scent of her shampoo filled my nostrils. Together, we smeared all traces of her cherry lipstick.

  Buddy watched, wagging his tail. He eventually got bored and climbed onto a chair in the lounge and curled up.

  Phoebe and I stumbled toward the bed and collapsed atop it, our lips locked. It wasn't long before her small leather skirt was above her hips, revealing her frilly lace panties. Our hips mashed together, and we tumbled around the bed.

  Things were definitely getting hot and heavy.

  My heart pounded, and I came to the firm conclusion that we had too many clothes on. I pulled off my shirt, and she ran her fingers along my chest, her manicured nails lightly grazing my skin. I helped her remove her top. With a well-practiced maneuver, I unclasped her bra. Her glorious orbs sprang free and reaffirmed my belief in a higher power.

  Phoebe was gorgeous, and she definitely lit my fuse.