Front Man: The Complete Trilogy

“Sara,
come on! We'll be late!”

Sara
Lansbury took one final look in the mirror and sighed. She loved her
new bangs, but today they just didn't want to behave. Running her
fingers through her long, dark hair, she smiled ruefully at her
reflection. In her skin tight leather pants and artfully distressed
t-shirt, she knew she looked good.

“Sara!
What are you doing up there?” Her best friend Erica was growing
impatient. They'd been looking forward to this evening for so long.
With one final swipe of lip gloss, just for good measure, Jessica
grabbed her bag and dashed down the stairs. Erica was standing by the
front door, hand on hip, jangling her car keys. Sara and Erica had
met on their first day of high school, and been firm friends ever
since.

“If
we miss the support act because you were messing about with your
hair, our friendship is over,” Erica teased, draping Sara's
jacket over her shoulders as she hustled her out the door.

“As
if you care about the support band! We're going to see Compass,
that's all that matters.”

Sara
grinned. She had followed Compass ever since they released their
first single, “Back Track.” The minute she heard Jack
Carter's deep, growling voice, singing about regrets and lost love,
her heart melted. She had dragged Erica straight to the mall to pick
up the album, and spent the rest of her allowance on a near life size
poster of the band. Jack took up most of the foreground, cradling his
electric guitar, his deep brown eyes seeming to look right at her.
His strong hands gripped his instrument, delicate fingers ready to
tease beautiful sounds from the strings. As she lay in her bed,
letting the music wash over her, Sara could almost imagine Jack was
right there in the room. She studied his flawless face, with its
razor sharp cheek bones, framed perfectly by a sweep of dark hair.
Sara imagined Jack stepping out of the poster, sweeping the soft toys
off her bed so that he could slide between the sheets with her. His
soft lips touching her own, Jack's lip piercing grazing her flesh as
he gently eased his tongue into her mouth. Just the thought of it
made Sara feel strange, sort of hot all over. She pictured herself
peeling off his black t-shirt, running her hands over the smooth
muscles of his torso, tracing the lines of his tattoos with her
fingers as he kissed her deeply. Sara's breathing grew heavier as she
gave herself up to the fantasy, Jack peeling her night dress off,
exposing her already plump breasts, kissing her all over. The
delicate spot between her legs was tingling, and she felt a rush of
moisture soak her panties. Tentatively, she slid her hand down her
body, feeling the wet spot on her underwear, applying just a little
pressure. The slightest movement set off a wave of pleasure that
coursed through her, and a tiny moan escaped her lips. She slid her
fingers through her soft pubic hair, seeking her swollen clitoris,
desperate for more pleasure.

“Oh,
Jack,” she groaned under her breath, imagining her idol
lowering his head to her desperate pussy, pleasuring her with his
lips and tongue. She rubbed her clitoris in circles, her eyes locked
on the ceiling above her bed, Jack's soulful expression heightening
her excitement. Seized by her passion, she thrust first one, then two
fingers into her pussy, frantically fucking herself as she imagined
Jack above her, filling her to the brim with his thick, hard cock.

“Jack,
oh Jack,” she groaned again, feeling the orgasm building inside
her as she arched her back, pushing her fingers deeper inside
herself. She moaned, grinding the heel of her hand against her
sensitive clit until she finally exploded, every muscle in her body
quivering as her pussy clenched around her fingers. Panting, dripping
with sweat, Sara sank back into the bed as the tiny aftershocks ran
through her. She gently eased her fingers out of her pussy and lay
still, gazing up at Jack's beautiful face. One day, she promised
herself, she would have him for real.

Five
years later, and at least part of Sara's dream was about to come
true. Erica had entered a phone-in competition with their local radio
station, and against the odds, been the lucky tenth caller. The prize
was two backstage passes to see Compass at City Stadium. It was the
final stop on the North American tour, before the boys headed to
Europe. The girls had been beside themselves with excitement for the
past couple of months. They had slept in line for festival tickets,
paid extortionate amounts on internet auction sites and lingered
outside stage doors into the early hours, all in the hopes of getting
close to their heroes. But the closest they had got was when Erica
touched the bass player's hand from the front row of their charity
gig in Boston. Tonight, they would finally be backstage, mingling
with the stars. Sara had played over what she would say to Jack so
many times in her mind, but she still couldn't decide on the best
approach. She didn't want to seem too forward, like just another
slutty groupie, but she was scared of seeming like a shy idiot...or
clamming up completely. Just be yourself, she repeated to herself
like a mantra, as she stared through the window of Erica's beaten up
Honda. Rain drops clattered against the
wind-shield
,
but the crummy weather couldn't dampen the girls' spirits. They
turned the new Compass album up as high as the cheap stereo would
allow, and sang along to every word at full volume.

***

“Jack, are you in there? Open the
hell up!”

Jack
stayed slumped in his chair, head in hands, breathing slowly in and
out. If he could only get rid of this nauseous feeling, everything
would be okay. But Jared was the last person he wanted to see at that
moment; his manager's attempts to calm him down only every made him
more nervous.

“Well
you better not have a girl in there, cos I'm coming in!”

Jack
sighed inwardly as Jared bounced through the door clutching a sheaf
of paper. Despite being in his early fifties, Compass' manager seemed
to have boundless energy, and expected the same from the band. No
matter how worn out they felt, Jared was always behind them, pushing
them forward, forcing a good performance out of them. Jack knew they
couldn't have succeeded without him, but sometimes he wished he would
just take a holiday.

“What's
up Jared?” he grunted.

“Still
feeling sick?” His manager asked, taking in the front man's
pale face and grumpy expression, “you've got to learn to deal
with these nerves man, I hate seeing you like this.”

“I'll
be fine once I get on stage, you know that.”

“You'll
be better than fine, Carter, you'll be a fucking rock star. Like
always, right buddy?” Jared slapped Jack hard on the back, and
he willed himself not to throw up. He was always a wreck before gigs.
He had thought it would get better once Compass hit the big time, but
as the crowds and the venues grew, so did the intensity of these
nervous attacks. Nothing seemed to help; alcohol just made him vomit,
drugs just amplified the feeling. Besides, Jack didn't want to become
dependant on those things to perform. He'd seen it destroy so many
careers....he'd seen it destroy families.

“Now
don't freak out, but we've made a few changes to the set list,”
Jared went on, and Jack bristled. He hated last minute changes.

“We?
Do you mean Michael made changes?” Jared's expression told him
his assumption was correct. Jack's mood darkened even further. He was
so tired of Michael's petty little power plays, trying to throw him
off, fighting him tooth and nail for the spotlight. Michael was a
talented bass player, and before the band made it big, a solid
friend. But more than any of them, fame had gone to Michael's head.
He threw himself into the rock star cliché, throwing money
around, starting fights with other artists, and taking fans back to
his hotel room after every gig. He couldn't stand the thought of Jack
getting more attention than him.

“Look,
Jack, I know you two don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, but I
actually agree with Mikey this time round. We want to play new stuff,
sure, but you've got to throw some of your hits in there, that's what
the fans want. So we've put 'Back Track' in at the end of the set,
just before the encore.”

“For
fuck's sake Jared, we've talked about this! I don't want to sing that
goddamn song!”

“But
Jack-”

“I
said fucking no, okay? I just...I can't handle that. Not right now.”

Jack
looked Jared straight in the face, mentally pleading with him to
understand. To let it go, just this once. But for all his excellent
qualities, Jared was no mind reader.

“We've
already agreed on it Jacky boy...come on, do it for me?”

His
wheedling tone set Jack's teeth on edge, and his temper flared.

“Just
get the fuck out, Jared! Fuck off and leave me the hell alone!”
He snapped. Holding his hands up in supplication, Jared backed out of
the dressing room. Shit, Jack thought, looking at himself in the
mirror, I can be a real asshole when I want to be.

“Can
you see a parking spot anywhere?” Erica said, peering into the
gloom outside the car window.

***

Sara
squinted, searching for a space between the rows and rows of
vehicles. Just then, a black SUV reversed out of a spot a couple of
rows down, and Erica raced towards it before it got stolen. The girls
jumped out of the car, jackets held over their heads to protect their
hair from the drizzle, and ran towards the stadium entrance. As they
rounded the corner, Sara caught her breath. The line up at the door
was enormous, a great crowd of people snaking round the block.
Gaggles of teenage girls in band t-shirts batted their eyelashes at
older guys with tattoos and piercings. There were a few middle aged
couples, too, looking a tiny bit nervous amongst the rabble; Compass
attracted a diverse fan base with their entrancing sound. Sara had
even caught her Mum singing along when she played them in the car.

“Oh
look, that's where we need to be,” Erica shouted over the din,
pointing up to a sign that read 'VIP Entrance. The much smaller door
had no
line-up
, but was guarded by three
burly doormen in black suits. They looked sternly at the girls as
they hurried towards them.

“Line
starts over their ladies,” one of them said gruffly. Erica
rummaged in her bag for their passes, and held them out. The head
bouncer shone his torch on them, checking the fine print; did people
actually try to fake these things, Sara wondered?

“Lucky
prize winners, ey?” The bouncer said, finally cracking a smile,
“I guess you'd better come on through. The bar's open at the
side of the stage, or you can go hang out in the lounge until the
music starts.”

“Thanks
so much,” Erica gushed, and the doorman chuckled. “Just
you have fun tonight ladies.”

Sara
grabbed Erica's hand and gave it an excited squeeze as they passed
through the corridor, and into the brave new world of the VIP
section.

Beers in
hand, the girls wound their way through the crowds of people until
they were right at the side of the stage. Sara took another sip of
her drink. Between the lights and the mass of writhing bodies , it
was hot as hell. The warm up act had been better than Sara was
expecting; she might even look up their latest album. But now it was
time for the main event. Sara felt another little shiver of
excitement in the pit of her stomach. Not only was she about to see
Compass live, but she would be only inches from Jack Carter the
entire time. Suddenly the lights dimmed. Erica reached over and
squeezed her arm, and they grinned at each other.

***

“And
now, ladies and gentleman, the moment you have all been waiting for.
Please give a very warm welcome to COMPASS!” The end of the
announcement was drowned out as a scream went up from the audience.
Jack felt his stomach lurch. Frozen at the side of the stage, he
could picture the crowd, their expectant faces...don't think about
it, he told himself. Donny, the drummer, punched him gently on the
shoulder.

“Time
to go, Jacky boy. Let's do this.”

Taking a
deep breath, Jack steeled himself, and stepped onto the stage.
Somewhere beyond the smoke and the lights, the crowd roared. Michael
was at his microphone already, of course, turning on the charm as he
bantered with the crowd. Jack swallowed hard as he gripped his
guitar, willing his throat not to close up. Then Donny dropped the
beat, and Michael let rip with the opening chords. Jack's fingers
seemed to move by themselves, caressing the strings of his
guitar,coaxing out the beginning of 'Hard Times.” He let the
music carry him, lift him up, make his heart sing and his head clear.
And as he leaned in to the microphone, and another great shout came
from the crowd, he was no longer a nervous wreck, no longer his
heartbroken, angry, vulnerable self. He was Jack Carter, the man who
had sold a ten million albums, the man every woman wanted to be with,
the face on the cover of every magazine. He was a star.