A Blue Tale (2 page)

Willow dragged me here tonight in hopes I’d sign her favorite new band to my dad’s management company; technically, it was
my
management company now, even though I refused to call it that.  Savage Man had become mine four years ago on my eighteenth birthday.  Before that my mother almost ran it into the ground from the day her guardianship of me granted her the right. 

My dad hadn’t been a part of my life since all the glitz and glam took him from me when I was barely thirteen years old. Not nearly old enough to know how his absence would affect my entire world, let alone how he’d want me to lead his brainchild.

 Willow’s band, The Elle’s, was the first band I signed when I officially started working at Savage Man full time last month, after graduating college.  An all girl rock band, no one could go wrong with the way these girls looked, not to mention their amount of talent.  Simply, they kicked ass.  The only problem was the estrogen induced drama that occurred on a daily basis. But Willow had been the only constant in my life, and I’d do anything to help her achieve her dreams.

“Hey, are you even listening to him?” Willow whined.

“I’m listening,” I snapped. I was definitely listening, and his voice was impressive.  Clear and smooth, just like she’d said it was.

The bridge of the song played and the lead guitar picked up, sending chills dancing across my skin.  I moved to my left and on to my tiptoes, trying to peer over the tall stage, but couldn’t see the guitar player.  His half of the stage was too dark; the only beam of light focused on Duke, who was busy grinding his hips in the direction of every female he could find.

“Deacon Chastain.” Willow said with a huge smile.  “That’s who you’re looking for over there.  He doesn’t come out of the shadows very often.  Apparently he likes to sulk back there and be all broody.”

“He’s damn good.  Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

Her eyes gleamed with orneriness. “Because I wanted you to discover him for yourself. Just wait; there’s a hell of a lot more to see.”

Song, after song played and I still hadn’t seen more than a glimpse of Deacon through his shroud of darkness.  Still, the sounds that came from his guitar kept me entranced.  I’d stopped listening to the song as a whole, only feeling the vibrations of his picked guitar strings darting through my core.  They felt so familiar, like I’d never listened to anyone, other than him, play.

“We are Unforgiven, and we hope we rocked you as hard as you rocked us tonight.  If not, be sure and let us know, so we can tell you to go fuck yourself.” Duke shouted and the crowd cheered. “Ladies, don’t forget the line for the backstage freaky train forms to your left by the big bald security guard. As always, the last song of the night goes to our fearless founder and leader, Deacon.” 

I expected the crowd to go wild with more sexual favor declarations from the half-naked Barbie’s all around me, but there was only complete silence.  Duke dropped the mic with a shrill shriek, and the entire room immediately went black. 

A dim light from the back of the stage slowly arced across the venue, stopping and illuminating someone sitting on a bar stool with a black hoodie pulled over his head.  Now backlit, the figure became a dark and menacing presence. A microphone stood in front of him, waiting to be used, while a large guitar rested on his leg.  Willow pulled on my arm and moved closer.

“That’s Deacon.” She said softly into my ear. “This is their end of the show tradition - same song at the end of every show.”

The sound of his knuckles cracking filtered through the stillness as a bright spotlight illuminated the front of his guitar.  I gasped.  It was my guitar; my dad’s guitar.  I knew every single inch of my dad’s guitar and this was identical, even down to the bright blue details.  I felt my heart fall to the floor, shattering into a million jagged pieces.  He was another one, another guitar player obsessed with my dad.  I found them everywhere, or more accurately,
they
found me.  I think some of them had a tracking device attached to my ass with how quickly they could locate me.  I’d spent my life fighting off Kirk Savage wannabes.  Which never made sense to me—I’m his daughter, so their path to becoming my “Rock God” dad should not include them vying to be in my pants.

I heard Deacon slowly inhale then let out a long, steady stream of air.  Not a nervous gesture, but a prayer for strength.  He lightly strummed his guitar and the sound invaded my senses.  He played a slow, light melody that had tears burning my eyes.

His fingers moved over the smooth strings, creating one of the most genuine sounds I’d ever heard—every movement of his hand giving voice to the desires of his heart. I’d been around enough musicians to know that was the only way a mere human could compose such a melody, and in that moment, our hearts were beating to the same rhythm.

His voice rang through the calm bar and every eye was turned, hanging on his every word.  His voice was light and rough, his words ran together, just barely clear enough to understand.

Take her now; you need her more than I

She hasn’t ever truly been mine

Strike your claim; it’s been too long

I’ve been fighting, but you’ve won

There’s no way, don’t hide your eyes

Unused, unwanted, unclaimed

Some of my earliest memories were of me, sitting cross legged in the middle of my dad’s studio, intently watching the faces of musicians as they poured their heart and soul into their gift.  My dad used to say, if the fans didn’t feel like they’d lived an entire lifetime in his shoes after he performed, then he needed to find another job.  “Maybe an accountant,” he’d joke, “they don’t need emotions.”

Music has always been the driving force in my life.  It soothed my fears when I was overcome, and guided the way when I was lost.  I looked to music like a religious man looks to his God – and it had yet to let me down.  If Deacon’s face wasn’t covered by the darkness, I knew I would see every emotion evoked by his words.  Music was easy, life was hard.  Each haunting syllable he uttered crawled deep into my soul.

“Holy shit, are you crying?” Willow shrieked from beside me, and then laughed.

I touched my cheeks and felt wetness; I hadn’t even realized I was crying.  I wiped it away before turning to look at her.

“No, I wasn’t crying.  Are you crazy?”

“Bullshit Elizabeth, you were freaking cryin’ and don’t try to deny it.” She pointed her finger in my face and shook her head at me.

“Whatever, c’mon.” I said, looping our arms together and heading toward backstage. “Do you, or do you not, want to meet Duke?”

“Damn right I’m gonna meet him; gotta meet him before I can make him put a ring on it.” She said with a laugh.

Chapter Two

Eli Blue

I could hear Willow laughing like a girl in heat from the main dressing room.  She’d gotten her wish for the evening, and hunted down Duke, even though he’d been surrounded by girls at the time.  I didn’t stick around past introducing myself and setting up a meeting tomorrow afternoon with the band to discuss business - I had my own personal mission. 

I had a feeling regret would probably be the only thing I’d gain from this encounter, but I was determined to meet Deacon Chastain - the mystery man that owned a guitar identical to my dad’s, and could play it almost as well.  A shiver ran through my body thinking back to the sound of his heart wrenching voice in my ears.

“What the fuck are you doing in my dressing room?” That same voice, only much more angry, shouted from the doorway.

My head jerked in his direction and connected with achingly beautiful eyes.  They were the color of a clear sky on a summer afternoon; the clearest blue I’d ever seen, and I instantly knew I could lose myself in them forever.

“I asked you a question.  Stop staring at me like you want to hump my leg, and answer me.”

I turned to look behind me, in case someone else was in the room with me.  Nope, it was just me.

I stood from the couch and took two steps toward him.  I politely stuck out my hand, “Deacon? Hi, I’m –“

“I couldn’t give two shits who you are.” He snapped and shoved his way past me to the huge mirror hanging across the room. “The whore lounge is next door.”

“Umm, the what?” I asked because I knew I had heard him wrong – or at least I hoped.

“You heard me! The whores aren’t allowed in my dressing room, so get the fuck out!”

I stared at his reflection in the mirror.  His eyebrows were pressed together causing an ominous scowl to cover his entire face.  He stared directly into his own eyes.  I could read them, “You played your ass off, but it wasn’t enough.”  I’d seen that look many times, sometimes on my dad and sometimes on myself – the look of unbridled disappointment.

I finally let my gaze fall on the rest of his face, and oh what a nice face it was.  His jaw was strong and sharp; it was covered with dark stubble that made me wonder how rough it would feel under my tongue, against my body.  His shaggy brown hair brushed into his eyes as he leaned forward, pulling his black shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor.

His back was covered in an ornate black tattoo that trailed down one arm as it connected with various inked designs.  I clenched my hands into fists as my fingers ached to run along its edges.  He reached high over his head and I watched as his muscles stretched then rippled perfectly back into place. He let out a low growl causing my stomach to clench and a low whimper to slip from my lips.

He looked up, caught me staring, and once his eyes met mine they never deviated.

“Hmph, guess you don’t give up easy, little one.” He said tauntingly, as he spun around and strode toward me in three huge steps, as if invisible strings connected us, pulling him to me.

“Umm, I, no…” I stuttered.

“Shh.” He breathed as he placed one long finger over my lips; it smelled exactly how I remembered my dad – sweat mixed with metallic from the guitar strings.  “I guess if you want it that bad, I’m willing to give you a little taste.”

He pushed my back against the wall, leaning his body into mine.  I gasped and put my hands on his shoulders to push him away, but once my hands touched his warm flesh I lost all strength.  I felt my body mold into his, as he ran one hand down the length of my body before cupping my ass.

“Is this what you want?  You want my body on yours, my hands on all the places that should be sacred?” He whispered in my ear.  His breath felt like fire burning my skin.

He lifted my leg, wrapping it around his hip and pressed into me.  “Does my dick feel like what you wanted?  Are you imagining what it would feel like as I ram it into you?”

I gasped, and he pulled back to stare down at me. I don’t know what he saw, but softness flashed in his eyes for only a split second.  I could feel the tears welling as I struggled to contain my emotions.  With all my strength, I jerked my leg out of his grasp, and he let it go without a fight.

“What the hell is wrong with you, asshole? I’m not one of your whores you can molest anytime you feel like it.” I continued to lock stares with him, but could feel the sweat starting to bead on my face as my strength waivered.

“I don’t keep whores, so if you’re looking to get fucked tonight you’re in the wrong room.  You belong down the hall.”

“I’m not a whore, and I’m not looking to get fucked tonight.”  The lie rolled off my lips faster than I could stop it. True, I hadn’t started out the night looking for anything other than a new band to possibly work with, but my body suddenly seemed to desire something else.

 “You might not be a whore, but you’re definitely feigning for it.  I can smell the need all over you.”

He ran the tip of his nose from my collarbone, up my neck, stopping just below my ear to nip at my flesh with his teeth.  “You want it so bad you can’t force yourself to push me away, even though you’re trying hard to convince me you’re not like all the other girls backstage right now.”

Every inch of my body was humming so loud, I was sure he could feel the vibrations.  My mind was screaming for me to stop, but I felt my head lean closer, craving his warm breath.  He let out a deep laugh that sent chills through my body as he crushed even harder against me.

“Maybe I could rethink my ‘no whore’ policy for just one night – just for you.”

“You really like calling me a whore, don’t you?” I snapped.

“You don’t seem to be doing anything to convince me otherwise.”

He ran his hand from my knee, up my thigh, pushing my short skirt out of the way.  When his hand brushed my center, my ass left the wall as I pushed myself into him – yearning for his touch.

I heard a gasp come from the doorway. “Oh shit, my eyes!  I did not need to see that.” Willow shrieked.

“Awe fuck, seriously?  No girls from the shows, like, well
ever
, and then we finally get Eli Blue Savage interested in our band, and you have to go try and fuck her against the wall before she even signs us.” Duke said from behind Willow.

Deacon took several steps away from me, and the same scowl from earlier reappeared on his face.

“What?” he said confused. “Who are you?”

I offered my hand for him to shake, like I’d tried to do the minute he walked into the room, “Hi, I’m Eli Blue.” I said with a smile.

He swatted my hand away forcefully. “No you aren’t. I know what Eli Blue looks like, and you’re definitely not her.”

Willow and I both laughed.

“No, you know what Eli Blue used to look like, what I wanted everyone to think I looked like.”  I grabbed a hand full of my dark hair and held it out for him to see.  “This is what my hair really looks like, that bleach blonde shit was just for show; my mother’s doing in the pursuit of making her teenage daughter a star.”

“It really is her, man.” Duke added softly.

Deacon put his hand on my chin and lifted my face so our eyes connected again.  He glared at me for an eternity before finally releasing my face.

“Fuck,” he muttered and then disappeared down the hall.

***