Authors: Natalie Barnes
Everything I Want (4 page)
Frankie starts pulling out all these great-looking corsets. Some are made up of dark leathers and others of red satin and silk, with an overlay of lace. Stunning! All of these pieces are absolutely stunning, and I want them all. I was dazed until Tristan’s deep voice snaps me out of it. “You sure you should be making her look like a whore?” He’s giving Frankie a stern look then looks over to me with his dark eyes.
“Don’t be silly, Tristy.” Frankie giggles to himself then looks at me, rolling his eyes. Tristan looks pissed. Yep, there’s the guy I remember! I was wondering where he was hiding. Not! “I’m the professional here, boy. If I needed advice in heavy metal or whatever, I would ask you. But… This is fashion and it’s what I do. Mm-kay? Now go run along with the other boys.” Frankie has his hands now on his slender hips, giving a little shake. He is clearly not intimidated by Tristan’s wrath. I admire Frankie even more.
“I just don’t think you should be having her shit hang out all over the place. She’s a fucking musician.” Tristan growls, ignoring me completely now. Oh, now, Tristan has gone and done it. Frankie takes a couple steps over to him and starts waving his hand in his face. All the guys at the other table look up for a second before returning to what they were doing. “Excuse fucking me. Lux called me, okay? Why? Because I’m fucking awesome, okay? And last week, Lux showed me the video of them in Chicago, and this girl was pretty much wearing the same garments on stage.
It’s called a show!
So you no need to be here.”
My mouth has now literally hit the floor. Fuck Tristan for trying to judge my costumes. I have to remind myself later to give Frankie a much appreciative hug. Tristan turns and gives me the shit eye before walking over to the guys’ section. I have no fucking clue what possessed him to even be this way over wardrobe. I look over at Frankie. “Thank you,” I whispered to him. “Baby doll, it’s no problem. I worked with him a few times. He never got this involved before but always had little remarks to say. Now let’s go to hair and makeup and get you ready to rock. Because girl when I’m done with you, you’re gonna fucking own the shit.” We both laughed, and I followed him through the next area to start getting ready.
I’m sitting in the dressing area that they have designated off from the other side of the warehouse. Black curtains hanging from standing iron rods are the only things that are covering me. Stand up lights and a makeshift vanity are the only things back here with me. The stool I’m sitting on is hard and very cold. Very uncomfortable.
This girl named Kelsie is doing my hair. She’s dressed in an oversized white see-through blouse tucked into these tight black high waist slacks. Her pants kind of reminded me of the movie
Cry Baby
when the grandmother called the girls from the Drapes pants “hysterectomy pants.”
Kelsie has on these seven-inch, red Mary Jane pumps that make her legs look so long. The way she has her hair and make-up done reminds me of Dita Von Teese. She’s brushing, blow drying, and curling my hair. Good thing I have thicker hair because if not, I would be kind of worried about going bald with the way she’s pulling on it.
Frankie leans in with his little, black makeup palate and brush. “Pucker up them Jolie lips, hun.” He starts painting on this red, red lipstick. He won’t even let me look into the mirror yet until he’s finished with me. And it’s already been over an hour.
I hear the guys behind the curtain getting kind of restless of waiting. I asked twenty minutes ago if Caleb wouldn’t mind going on a beer run for them since I didn’t really know how long it was going to take me.
“All done. Wow! My best masterpiece yet. Girl, you’re gonna break lots of hearts and give a whole lotta hard-ons.” Frankie’s grinning and clapping to himself. What did he just say? I laugh because he’s so blunt and full of fun. I love people who are themselves and don’t give a rat’s ass about what anyone else thinks.
“Hey, Frankie, do you mind grabbing me a beer? I’m getting kind of uncomfortable and would like to have one, just while I’m waiting to get done.” Frankie’s shaking his head with a little smile on his plump lips.
“Do you wanna ruin my beautiful lip work? Hmm… What about I track you down a straw? But. Be. Very. Careful.” He turns on his heel and pushes the curtain to the side. All of a sudden, I hear Frankie scream. “Eeek!” All of the guys start laughing, and off into the distance, I hear Roger’s low mumbling.
“I’m not changing my shit! It’s pretty much the same shit on that table.”
Frankie’s heel boots go clicking off in Roger’s direction.
“
It’s a shoot!
Change into wardrobe!” Some more mumbling is going on, and then I hear Frankie again.
“Fine. Fucking whatever! But I don’t want my fucking name on his name when it comes to stylist.” Frankie bursts back into my little area. I thought there for a minute that he was going to take the whole rod down when he threw open the curtains the way he did when coming back here. He blows out a breath of air then blows up pieces of his hair that got in his face from him storming through the curtains. He hands me my beer with a straw in it. I grab the beer from him and smile. I never had a Coors with a straw in it. I laugh to myself a little. I look back up to him and say, “Thank you.”
“You’re sweet. But that barbarian, Roger… With his oil stained pants! I mean, I picked out some damn good pieces.” He’s shaking his head now and heads toward the curtains again. He stops right before he reaches them and turns slightly. Peering over his shoulder with this up-to-no-good look and says, “I think you look like the rock goddess that you are. Everyone will think so. Well, everyone but maybe… Tristan.” He gives me a quick wink of his eye before disappearing back through the black curtains again.
What in the hell is that supposed to mean?
Kelsie is done with my hair and just finishing up with some spray. Frankie is all excited to turn me in my chair. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.” Frankie whispers in my ear, and I slowly open my eyes and gaze at myself in the mirror.
Wow!
“Oh my god!” I’m shaking a little, trying not to cry and ruin my makeup. “You like it, huh?” Frankie stands beside me, crossing his arms.
“Of course! I fucking love it!”
I’m staring at myself in the mirror. My eyes are the very first things that get my attention. My sapphire blue eyes are all dolled up in this very intense, smoky look. I have these individual eye lash pieces on, making my eyes even more prominent.
My full lips are painted this burlesque red color that make my teeth even more stunning. My thick walnut brown hair is blown out and full of soft waves. Kind of looks like a mix of “just fucked” hair and supermodel. I absolutely love it!
I stand up from my chair and turn slowly, checking myself out in the full-length mirror. “Not too shabby.” I turn around quickly and see Matt. He’s smiling then takes a drink of his beer. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. But… If you look like that every time we perform, me and the other guys are gonna have to work double time keeping you safe.”
I smile at his sentiment. He’s sweet. “Don’t worry, Matt. We don’t have Frankie with us on tour. And I sure as hell don’t know how to do all of this detail.” Frankie is now sitting on a stool off to the right of me, smiling. “Maybe Cinderella’s
fairy
godmother
may join you.” He uses his fingers to air quote fairy.
I go back to checking myself out once more in the mirror. I’m wearing this black leather strapless corset that hooks in the front and matching black leather mini shorts; it’s very edgy and normally something that I would never wear. These bloodred stilettos with metal spikes for heels add some color and even more edge to the outfit. It’s kind of funny that Frankie said I look like a rock goddess because now that’s how I feel, wearing this outfit. It’s like changing identity or something.
I start pulling on my elbow-length leather gloves that have the finger parts cut out and turn to Matt. “Give me one more minute to finish my beer.”
“Sure thing.” Matt winks and then nods at Frankie. “I’m gonna let Jay, the photographer, know we’re almost ready. Oh, and one more thing.” Frankie takes a couple steps closer to me. “You look absolutely beautiful. Don’t let anyone make you feel different.” He then walks out of the curtain. Why does Tristan come to my mind when Frankie said that?
That’s probably because when I walk out of here, he’s going to shit!
Actually, I kind of like that idea. Take that, motherfu—
Stop it.
I say to myself. I definitely have liquid courage going on. Breathe. It’s just some pictures. Okay, here I go!
I pull open the heavy curtains, making sure not to make eye contact with Tristan. I start taking steps closer to the guys when I notice Lux is here. He’s right in the middle of a conversation with Jared and Cory before he stops mid-sentence. He’s staring at me with wide eyes. Suddenly I hear Roger say, “Damn, girl!” I glance over to my left and notice Roger standing there, wearing exactly the same thing he came in with: bike oil-stained jeans with an old, dark-colored Metallica shirt that he ripped the sleeves off himself. His shoulder-length, curly, light brown hair is pulled back tight into a low pony tail with a dark blue bandana on his head. Matt looks handsome, wearing a black suit with his dark undershirt unbuttoned at the top and pulled out from his pants. His dark hair is messed-up looking. Cory is wearing ripped, dark blue jeans and a white T-shirt. The tattoos on his arms and hands are all showing. His blonde hair is shaved close to his head. He’s got that Eminem thing going on a little. I peek over him and notice Jared. He’s wearing form-fitting black jeans with a leather jacket and a black and red shirt underneath. His dark hair is styled as if he was going out on the town or something.
I’m starting to feel just a bit silly hearing all the compliments and whistles from the guys until Tristan’s low, dark voice speaks up. “You look like Taylor Momsen.” I glance over to him. He is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. What an asshole! Right when I start opening my mouth to say something, I get cut off by Caleb.
“What the fuck ever, man!” Caleb turns to me and says, “You’re smoking!” Tristan’s tendons in his arms and neck flex as he stands tall. Grabbing a beer from the table, he rolls his eyes. “She dresses the same as the kind of chicks you hook up with, so what’s the fucking difference?” Caleb turns back, speaking to Tristan.
I know Tristan is a rock star, and it’s pretty obvious that he has hooked up with many women; but I can’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy when Caleb said that. Why should I even care about the asshole? Damn beer for making me feel this way. Yes, I already had my six-pack of beer and this is how I get? Girly and shit?
“All set?” We all look over to Jay, the photographer, and his assistant. He walks up to us explaining what ideas he has and is asking us our points of view on things.
I’m leaning against this jacked-up sheet of metal with one leg propped up on it. My other leg is standing on some broken concrete that looks like someone took a jackhammer to it. Trying to keep my balance in these damn shoes while trying to look sexy is tough shit.
Jay is kind of annoyed with me because I guess I’m not doing the poses right. I’m not some damn model; I’m a singer. He is even shorter than Lux, and he looks Sean Connery-ish. I see his assistant bouncing all over the place, from picking up cables to changing the lighting and moving some of these metal props around. He does a lot. I don’t know his name, but he’s a big guy like Roger and Tristan.
“Okay. I want Sophia in the middle. Roger and Cory take to her right side. Yes, good. And Jared and Matt, go to her left. Okay, good. Now, Sophia, put your arms up on Roger’s and Jared’s shoulders but just your elbows. I want your forearms coming out and your wrists loose. Good. Okay. Now tilt your head back and up to the side a little. Bend your legs slightly.” I do as he tells me, having my chin up and my head slightly cocked to the side. I squint my eyes a little, trying to appear more badass or maybe sensual. Whatever way it comes out, I don’t really care.
As Jay starts snapping, I take a quick glance with my eyes to Tristan. He’s now sitting in a chair leaned back with his arms still folded in front of him, but this time, I notice him watching me. Well, glaring coldly to be exact. But I have to admit it; I like the attention he’s giving me, even though he is an asshole. I like that he notices me. Just then, I have the urge to push my chest out a little more and move my head slowly to the other side.
Getting my pictures taken like this and the Coors light in my system, really makes me feel powerful. Less than a week away, I will be performing onstage. And I can’t wait.
I’m leaning against a cool cement wall. My left leg is propped up behind me. The fluorescents are very dim and flicker every so often. I hear the guys down the hall in the dressing room partying. I really should be in there with them, but I’m so fucking nervous right now. So I decided to wait out here in the hall and have some time to think to myself. I look down at what I’m wearing. I’m in my “stage clothes,” which consist of something that someone might wear in the bedroom privately or at a strip club, to be honest.
I’m wearing a black and lilac strapless corset made of satin and lace with cheeky black and lilac hipsters on. I have on a black garter belt that’s attaching these sheer black thigh-high stockings; I’m also wearing five-inch, black open-toed pumps. My black silk robe is lying on the concrete floor next to me, so I bend down carefully to retrieve it. I put on the silk garment and tie it around myself. I have plans to take it off during our opening number, “Scars.” Just when I tied it, I hear Tristan.
“Nervous?” I peek up at him through my long eyelashes. He’s looking down at me, and I see his chest moving up and down with his breaths. Tristan reminds me of a statue in Greece or somewhere over in that part of the world. His body is built well, and he is wearing these jeans that are a little loose and held on by just a plain black belt. His black T-shirt contours well to his upper arms and chest. I can see almost every muscle of his upper body straining through the thin cotton material. Tristan’s dark hair is messy, and his face appears that it hasn’t been shaved for a week or two. I like facial hair. I want to take my tongue and graze it up his strong jaw to feel the stubble. My mouth goes dry, and I didn’t realize that I’ve been staring. “You fucking all right?” he asks me with his right eyebrow going up. Since he is waiting for me to answer, I shake my head softly and clear my thoughts of him. “Yeah,” I respond quickly. “Just… Ah… Little taken aback by all of this, you know?” I gesture to where the crowd is waiting through the other side of the cement wall. Tristan looks up for a moment then looks back at me. And right when I think he is going to say something thoughtful, he ruins it by saying “Try not to fuck up tonight.”
All I can see are these dark carnal eyes searching mine. That’s it! I’m pissed off now. I’m not biting my tongue, no more. “What’s your fucking problem, dude?” I cross my arms and push my leg off the wall, looking straight up at him. It’s my turn to raise my eyebrow up at him. He does this hateful cackle at me that rolls out of the back of his throat, almost sounding like a growl.
Tristan takes a step closer, hovering over me. Damn, he smells so good! He smells of man, body wash, and a little whiskey. “Nothing’s my problem, but you are opening for us. And you wearing a robe and hooker shoes indicates to me that you might fuck up.” Tristan has this evil smile dancing on his face now, showing off his teeth and crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “It’s not what you wear, Sophia, but
if
you have talent.” I want to slap him. I want to slap him hard or bite him. Hmm… Wait, don’t think of biting ’cause that route leads my brain elsewhere.
Motherfucker.
The whole time I was in LA, I wore T-shirts and jeans, except the photo shoot, of course. And as far as talent goes… Lux noticed my band at a festival, heard my real voice—not one done up or played in studio. Before I can stop myself, words spill out of my mouth. “Why do you hate me so much?” Damn… Before I could rephrase, he says, “I don’t hate you.” He’s shaking his head and starts laughing harder; then he quickly turns all serious again. “I just think you’re annoying as fuck.” His eyes are so sharp and his words so bitter that they pierce me.
Tristan is studying me, trying to see my reaction. I give him my shit glare. I was beginning to open my mouth to tell him to kiss my ass when I was interrupted by a door opening and my guys pouring out, laughing. Tristan takes a step back, still with his half smile lingering on his broad face. He looks so cocky right now. I smile sweetly at him, batting my eyelashes, hating every second of this being fake nice crap.
“Ready, Sophia?” Cory’s walking over to me. He seems really ecstatic right now. Roger comes in, stepping in front of Tristan. Tristan is now in the background with his group coming over to him. Lux walks down the hallway to my left and shouts, “On in three minutes! Get your asses on stage.” Lux is also beaming right now. As we approach him, he starts giving us a little pep talk. I couldn’t help but feel the cold stare of Tristan’s eyes burning a hole in the back of my neck.
We follow Lux’s lead up the stairs, and all of a sudden, we’re on the stage. I can really start to hear the crowd now. Shit! I’m so fucking nervous right now! Maybe I should have smoked that joint with the boys or at least had a beer. I feel like I’m going to cry, puke, laugh, scream, or pass out all at the same time.
I’m rubbing my sweaty palms on my sides, with the silk robe on; I feel my palms starting to stick to the fabric. I know the guys are saying something to me, but I can’t process it. It’s all fuzzed out right now. It’s like I’m underwater or like I have cotton shoved into my ears. Shit! Why did Tristan have to say “Don’t fuck up”? I was so sure of myself that I wouldn’t, but now I feel like I might. I’ve sung in front of lots of people before, but nothing comes close to this. I mean, we’re in Las Vegas; and there’s sixteen thousand people waiting for us right now. Granted, they’re waiting for Undead Society; but this will definitely put a good word out for Dollar Settlement.
As long as you don’t fuck up.
Shaking my head, I’m telling my little inner bitch voice to shut the hell up. “All right it’s show time!” Lux starts clapping. Shit! I don’t think I’m ready yet. I feel Roger’s hands on my shoulders, trying to loosen them up a bit.
Jared walks up beside me and winks; then, he’s heading for the stage. Cory and Matt follow him. Damn it! I can’t pick my feet up. Shit! I’m so scared.
“Breathe, girl. Breathe.” Roger whispers into my ear. “You got this and hey… ” He nods, giving my attention to look up at him. He gestures with his head off to the side where Tristan and his band are making their way up the stairs. “Let’s show that fucker how Dollar Settlement does it.” Roger’s face looks like it’s going to break with the huge grin splitting his face.
I hurry and glance over real quick to Tristan then back at Roger. How did he know that Tristan pissed me off? Maybe because every time I’m around the guy, I end up in a bad mood. Well, Roger’s little talk seemed to work. I’m not as nervous as I once was. Now I’m in the mood to kick a little ass. I grab his hand and hurry our way onto the stage. It’s dark in the arena, and the rest of the guys are already in their places. I walk up to the mic and close my eyes tightly.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
I say quietly to myself a couple of times.
I reopen my eyes; and all I see are thousands of hands, lights from phones, and lighters. Wow! I cannot describe this. I will never forget this moment as long as I live. I don’t know why, but I look over my shoulder and see Lux in his suit, standing offstage and giving me the thumbs up; and Tristan’s behind him with his guys, just watching me intently. I look back to the front when I hear Roger start knocking his drumsticks together. Faded purple and dark blue lights turn on me. It’s showtime!
I begin the opening to “Scars”, soft and pretty-sounding; then as the song starts to progress, my voice goes a little deeper and I begin to wail. I feel this burst of adrenaline rush through my veins. I’m starting to move a little more, and the audience really seems to be enjoying us. I know my “revealing myself” part is coming up when I hear Cory change rifts. I put the mic back on the stand and hold onto it for dear life. I’m standing there, going back to my “pretty voice.” I sway my hips softly and start to slowly undo my robe. Tristan’s words filter in my head again.
I just think you’re annoying as fuck.
Well, fuck him. He wants to not like me for no reason. I’ll give that son of a bitch a reason. Suddenly, I hear Roger wailing on the double bass; and I know it’s time when Cory starts up again. I let the silk drape over my shoulders, baring my front to the audience and as I begin to holler into the mic the garment falls slowly to the stage. “Woo!” Thousands of screams start piercing my ears, almost over my own voice, and I love it! This is truly the best feeling I have ever felt in my entire life. Now, I’m moving effortlessly around the stage. When I’m up here like this—performing and looking this way—it gives me such a rush.
Now the song is ending. I walk back over to the mic stand to place my mic on it. As I’m holding onto it, I lean in to announce my band.
“How’s everyone tonight?” All I hear is more screaming, and my face feels like its breaking because of this huge grin I’m wearing on it. “I would like to say we’re Dollar Settlement.” I motion my arms behind me at my boys, who are waving and greeting the audience into their mics. Roger does this quick little double bass beat, showing off.
“Now I want all of you” I bring my hands, palms up, toward the crowd. “to let us know if we should keep playing by showing me some hands, and I want to hear some fucking screaming! And if all of you aren’t satisfied, then we’ll leave right now.” Just then, I see thousands of hands raising; and more screams are coming from the crowd. I turn to look over my right shoulder, and all I can see in the dark is the silhouette of Tristan’s massive body. I can tell he’s pissed. I give this little Cheshire smile to him and face the crowd again. “This next one is Boss.” I then hear Cory starting to shred on the guitar, and I know it’s time to wail again.
We’re just now finishing up our set, and I thanked everyone for being out here tonight. They are going nuts, screaming and chanting “Dollar Settlement.” The feeling I got tonight from performing is the best high I’ve ever felt, and I don’t want to come down.
I start making my way offstage. Some metal music starts blasting through the speakers, and the roadies start clearing our equipment and setting up Undead Society’s. I approach Lux, who is nodding his head to me. “You guys fucking nailed it!” He pats my sweaty back and then starts talking—well, I guess
shouting
—into Roger’s ear because it’s so loud in here. Tristan brushes past me kind of hard. Making me fall into Lux.
What the fuck?
You can tell my earlier comment at the beginning of the show got to him. Good. Lux looks down at me and all I could say—well, yell—was “Damn shoes!” Lifting my heel up to show him. He smiles and goes back to talking with the boys. Just then, the lights turn back on with this faded orange and red coloring, illuminating the stage. Tristan is standing in front of the mic with a guitar on his back. He leans down into the mic and starts his introduction. “How the fuck is everyone tonight?” I thought they were going nuts for us, but this was absolutely insane! Tristan’s deep voice rumbles through the speakers as if it was the sound of thunder coming. “Before we get started, that was some killer band, hey?” Everyone starts applauding again. Oh, he’s complimenting us.
Well, that’s nice.
Damn, he switches gears so fast! “Especially the chick. Am I right?” Where is he going with this? All of my band and Lux watch on patiently to hear what Tristan has to say next. My body begins to tremble. “Chicks like that remind me of one thing.” He turns to Caleb, who I notice, is starting to shake his head no. Oh no! What’s about to happen? Tristan’s laugh comes through the mic so dangerous and raw, I’m starting to panic. “Our first song of the night… Harlot.” His band then takes off starting to jam and the audience is roaring even louder than before.
I hear Frankie’s high pitched voice behind me. “What an absolute douchebag!” Cory looks over to me confused, but I’m paralyzed. Paralyzed at what Tristan just said to thousands of people. Paralyzed at him starting to sing hard into the mic. And paralyzed at how pissed I am at him, but I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from him either.
I stand there watching his whole set play through. In some songs, Tristan just wails through; and in others, he plays his guitar with the rest of the guys. Not once did he look my way to see my reaction. Cory and Roger went back into the dressing room real quick. I’m guessing to burn one. And it’s just Matt, Jared, and myself standing on the sidelines, watching Tristan’s band play.
Frankie steps in closer and whispers loudly in my ear. “I’m gonna make sure tonight at the after party that you’re gonna look like the ‘Harlot’ he says you are.”
What!
I turn to him with this disgusted look on my face. He must see my horrid expression because he leans back in. “Don’t worry, my sweetie. You will still and always be fabulous. I mean, when you’re not performing, your look is simple and pure as apple fucking pie. But tonight, with what that motherfucker did, I’m gonna make you look like a siren. Besides, it’s your first VIP event, and you have to rock it in character.” Frankie is smiling this little devilish smile down at me. I turn back for a moment to look over at Tristan, and he’s still just giving in to the mic.
“Sure, I guess. Why not?” I give up. Tristan is an absolute asshole, and I want nothing more than to kick his ass on the charts and on tour. On the charts will have to wait, but for now, I will have to upstage him. And I will. Frankie grabs a hold of my hand and leads me down the stairs.