Rock (Hard Rock Harlots #4) (11 page)

“Yeah? Well,
Richard
can fuck himself if he thinks for one second I’ll bow to his little bitch simply because she has more money and more pull than I do. Ain’t nothing ever gonna change the fact that she’s a shit musician. Which gives me all the more reason to blow her ass away on stage tomorrow night. And the night after. And every fucking night until the Grim Reaper comes to take me away.” I turn to the stars above, give them my two middle fingers and scream, “You’ll never take The Rock outta this girl, motherfuckers! NEVER!”

I swear on The Rock and all that’s holy, I will
die
before I bow to Lizzie Smith and her doctrine of incompetence. I’d rather lose everything I worked for, burn every bridge, and go out in a blaze of motherfucking glory than submit to this bullshittery.

I’m donning my shitkickers. Bitch better be ready because Letty Dillinger ain’t going down without a fight.

I
didn’t get
any lovin’ last night after the shit I overheard on Banging Betties’ bus. I couldn’t let go of my anger. Shades said he understood, but it feels like I added another layer of stress to our already stressed relationship. When will I learn?

Jillian’s acting very … cool this morning. It’s all I can do not cut loose and go banshee on her, but I’m keeping my temper on a short leash. I’m gonna give her a chance to come clean if she will.

Leaning against the “kitchen” cupboard, she pours a cup of black coffee and sips. I grab a dry powdered sugar donut and settle my ass into my bunk, catty-corner to her and stare. She stares back. Neither of us says anything for a while.

She’s the first to break the silence. “What were you doing in Lizzie’s bunk last night, Letty?”

I choke on my breakfast, spewing white powder in every direction. I wipe my mouth and fix my most accusing gaze on her. “Spying on you. What else?”

She nods curtly.

“You have nothing to say? I thought you were gonna ‘shut me up.’” I make air quotes, dropping sugar snowflakes all over my lap.

I can’t decipher her poker face. Ever since we hooked up with Banging Betties, it’s gotten harder and harder to read her. She’s just … flat. Except when Lizzie’s around.

“Megamusic TV sent a documentary crew to follow the bands on this tour,” Jillian states, carefully neutral.

“Yeah, I saw them yesterday. Also noticed that Anna chick has her tongue so firmly implanted in Lizzie’s asshole, she’ll need a pair of pliers and a gallon of lube to remove it. Your point?” I stuff the remains of the donut in my mouth and dust my hands over the floor.

Jillian sighs. Disgust shadows her sunken cheeks. There’s my old girl. She sets her coffee cup down on the counter and leans close to me. “My point is you need to be on your best behavior when they come knocking.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “Because your buddy Dick doesn’t like it when I upset his little princess? Fuck him. Fuck her. And fuck you.” I stand, eager to brawl, so full of attitude I’m probably glowing red.

A wave of pink ignites her glower in perfect time with the heavy exhale bowing her nostrils. She gets up in my grill, and I’m ready to rumble, fists pumping at my sides.

“Listen to me and listen good.” Her voice drops with deadly calm, but the steam pouring off her paints a different picture. “You do not want to tangle with him, her, and
especially
not me. I’ve put up with your attitude on this bus for almost a year. I’ve held your hand through the rough times. I’ve kicked your ass when you deserved it. I pushed you to the top when you wanted to quit. You fuck this up now, and you can find yourself a new manager. I’m sick of cleaning up your messes, Letty.”

What the fuck got into her?

“Messes?
I
make the messes around here? Who’s banging the Betty over on that tour bus?” I point out the window to the pink lipstick tube on wheels. “Who sold us out so she could suck that Betty’s dick, huh? What’s the allure, Jillian?” I cross my arms and shift weight between my feet. “She must be giving you some
goooood
head to get you to turn against your own band.

“I got an idea. Since you’re doing so much for them, how about you go over there and join their little Cult of the Inept and Shameless? Then you can have your Betty 24/7 and you’ll never have to put up with my sucky attitude again.”

“Don’t. Tempt me,” she hisses the words between clenched teeth.

“Whoa.” Jinx approaches, hands out, ready to split us up. “What’s going on?”

I keep my sights targeted on Jillian and sneer. “Why don’t you ask
her
?”

A knock on the door interrupts our fracas. Great timing because I was seriously about to tear a bitch up, and I ain’t talking about Jinx’s pussy.

Jillian steps back and cocks her head to the side with a quick jerk. Toombs calls from the front of the bus, “Documentary crew …?”

And just like that, Jillian’s composed, calm, and smiling. “Yeah, let them in.” She walks to the front, leaving me a pissy, sputtering mess.

Jinx grasps my upper arms. “You gonna tell me what happened?”

This is the first time we’ve talked since our sexcapades yesterday, which peppers things with an extra shake of awkward. “Later.” I start for the door to get some fresh air, but she stops me.

“Now.” Jinx nods toward the back of the bus. I huff and follow her while Jillian makes like everything is peaches and cream at the front end. Rax and Eve tumble out of their bunk and join the party, curious, bed-headed. I vaguely wonder what kind of nastiness they achieved behind the bus last night. Shades steps out of the shower behind Jinx and me, dragging the scent of the latest flavor of Axe shower gel to my nose, and snaps a towel around his waist before I get a good look at his peen.

“What’s all the yelling about?” he asks. Water tames his dark hair, dribbles down his chest, and disappears into the white terry cloth hugging his hips. What I wouldn’t give to be one of those droplets on a mission to infiltrate the towel’s defenses …

I shake my head and glance at Jillian, laughing and schmoozing with Anna, the reporter, and her camera guy. Shades follows my gaze, and he straightens. “Want me to get rid of them?”

“No. I’ll play nice.” At least, while the camera rolls.

Eliza ascends the stairs with Gabrielle on her hip. She catches Shades’s eye and waves. He returns the gesture, then looks at me. “I’m gonna get dressed and see Gabrielle for a few minutes. Okay?”

The hope in his raised brows beats down the rising jealousy, and I calmly remind myself he loves me. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Shades kisses me quickly, shrugs into a T-shirt and jeans, and kisses me again, longer this time. Much better. I visually bite into his tight ass as he makes his way to Gabrielle. He takes her from Eliza and rubs noses with her. His bright white smile beams like a lightsaber.

Okay, maybe a man with a baby
is
a turn-on. Especially a hot, tattooed rock star man with a baby.

Jinx sits me down on the couch, out of view from the rest of the crew. By the sound of it, Anna’s interviewing the guys. It’s doubtful they’ll hear us talking back here.

“About yesterday—”

“We’re not supposed to talk about Birthday Club,” I say.

Jinx covers my hand with hers. “I need to. Just this once, and I’ll drop it.” She focuses on the floor as she continues. “I wanted to say thank you. I mean, not only for the …” She pauses. Blushes. Bites her bottom lip and holds it down for a few beats. “Not only for what you did for me—which was great—but for what you did for Toombs.”

“Toombs? What’d I do for him?” I’m truly puzzled. Seemed like all the
doing
came from his end. Those beads … Meee-ow!

She lifts her chin, and a pair of warm brown orbs settle on me. “You made it … comfortable. You let him know everything was okay. With me. With us. With … I don’t know.” She pauses and closes her lids for a few seconds before continuing. “He needs things I can’t give him. You and Rax, you filled a … gap.”

I bust out laughing. Damn, if that wasn’t a Freudian slip. “Yeah, Rax filled a gap, all right.”

I track the blush splashing from the top of her head, down her shoulders, until it disappears under her tank top. No bra. The outlines of the barbells through her nipples give me a lady stiffy. I lick my lips, temporarily forgetting about how pissed I am at Jillian.

“I didn’t mean like that,” she says softly. She hesitates. “Just know I appreciated what you did. For both of us.”

“No problem. And there’s always next time. If Birthday Club continues, I’m up to bat in a few weeks. Feel free to slip me a quick text outlining your secret fantasies. I’d certainly take them into consideration.” Shit. Though I meant to make a joke, the proposition was too forward of me. I value Jinx’s friendship more than what she can do for me sexually. Although, sexually speaking, having a taste of her a couple of times a year would be awesome.

“I—I might.”

Gulp.
“Wow, Jinx, you’re full of surprises.”

She sprouts a wry grin. “So are you.” She fiddles with my hair and drops her gaze to my mouth where it lingers a little longer than necessary. Giddy girly giggles tickle the pit of my stomach into a frenzy. Fuck me, we are gonna have FUN on my birthday.

“If Toombs needs help getting you to squirt again, let me know. I’m happy to offer my services any time. In a professional capacity, of course.”

She exhales dreamily. “That was … incredible. I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve got the magic touch.” She shivers and rubs the goosebumps sprouting on her arms.

The nuclear reactor between my legs heats up. “I think it’s best we stop this conversation now before it runs off the track, and I shamelessly molest you on this couch,” I advise, half-joking, half-serious.

She nods. “Yeah. Good idea. Change of topic. Jillian.” She looks as if she’s trying to convince herself to move on. I’m right there with her.

Jillian … Jillian …

Oh, right! Jillian. The bitch.

“I overheard her talking to their manager Richard last night. He told her to shut me up and warned us to stay out of Banging Betties’ way. We’re making them look bad with our awesomeness.” I pause to let the words sink in. “So, they can’t play, and I guess they’re pissed at us because we can …?”

Jinx’s forehead wrinkles. “I’ve been talking to Eliza and Beth, and I don’t think they feel that way. They both seem like genuinely good people.”

“It’s not them. It’s Lizzie. She hates me. And she’s fucking Jillian, which means Jillian hates me now too.”

Shock pops Jinx’s eyes wide. “Are you kidding? Lizzie and Jillian?”

“I haven’t actually seen the two of them … doing what you and I did yesterday, but Jillian left her cigarettes in Lizzie’s bed, and the bunk reeked of the perfume she wears. Pretty sure they’re fucking.”

Jinx settles into the couch cushion and pulls up a knee. “I don’t believe Jillian would sell us out.”

“I do.”

“Why? She’s done nothing but support us. Sure, she’s a little rough around the edges sometimes, but it’s because she believes in us. She pushes us because she wants us to be better than we are. To live up to The Rock’s expectations.” Jinx smiles a little.

Nobody on this bus thinks of The Rock in spiritual terms the way I do, but Jinx gets me. She may not agree 100 percent, but she understands.

“I want to believe Jillian’s intentions are good, but it really bugs me how stupid she gets when Lizzie’s around. I don’t want to lose her as our manager, but if it comes down to Lizzie or us, I’m pretty sure she won’t be picking us. Just saying you might want to brace yourself for the possibility.”

“It’ll work itself out. I’m certain.” Jinx pats my hand. “In the meantime, I say we keep doing what we’ve always done. Screw anybody who doesn’t like it.”

Or maybe
be
screwed by anybody who doesn’t like it.

“Jinx? Letty? Can you come here, please? Anna has some questions for you,” Jillian calls in her sweet,
Mommie Dearest
voice.

Here we go.

Break out the wire hangers. At least one of us is going down—not in the good way—and the fight’s gonna leave some nasty, lasting marks.

“
A
nna wants
to get your perspective on the tour and other stuff for the documentary. She’s especially interested in women’s roles in rock music. Jinx, you wanna go first?” The cigarette dangling between Jillian’s lips bounces on the hot air of her words like a postcoitus floppy dick.

Now, there’s a picture: Jillian, Queen of Lesbos, sucking off Gay Richard, the Floppy Dick, King of Betty Bangdom. Both of them are so full of themselves, yet neither gets what they really want. Yep, I’d sure as fuck frame that shit and hang it over the toilet in the bathicle.

“Uh, okay.” Jinx settles into the couch and rests her elbows on the table. Her hand shakes as she thumbs a gouge in the faux wood. Anna scoots in beside her while the cameraman maneuvers into place. I move out of the frame, leaning against the wall between the common area and the bunks.

“I’ll leave you to it. Back in about an hour.” Jillian pauses at the top of the stairs, brandishing her lighter. We lock gazes for a second before she disappears, presumably to bang one of King Floppy Dick’s Betties.

“Are you nervous?” Anna asks.

Jinx nods a little. “I’m not good with interviews.” Despite her wildness last night at the hotel, she’s a mouse in public most of the time. She prefers hiding, surrounded by her drums, distracting people with a smoke screen of magical banging. Her kit is her shield from the real world.

“Try to relax,” Anna soothes. “I don’t bite.”

I cover my snort. I’ll bet she has razor fangs like a vampire bat. You know, the kind that are so sharp, you don’t even feel them slicing you open until half your blood’s gone.

The cameraman nods at Anna, and she holds up the microphone. “I’m Anna DeVille, here with Jinx Hardwick, the drummer for Killer Buzz Float. Jinx, you’re an outlier in rock music. We don’t see a lot of female drummers in this business. What’s it like to be the backbone of the band … in pigtails?”

What the fuck kind of sexist question is this?

Jinx’s head quirks to the side, but she recovers quickly. “I don’t really see it as a male-female thing. I’m a drummer who happens to be a woman. My beats are the same as a guy’s. Give me a pair of sticks and something to hit, and I’m happy. There’s nothing in my DNA that makes me less of a musician than a man.” She shrugs.

I make slow clap motions at her and nod my appreciation. Perfect answer.

“Then, why do you think there are so few women sitting behind kits? Or, more broadly speaking, why do men dominate the music scene in general?” Anna asks.

“I wish I knew,” Jinx replies. “Maybe it’s a confidence thing. While I don’t think men are necessarily better musicians than we are, I do think they can be intimidating. A lot of outdated, preconceived notions about how a woman should look, dress, and act still dominate our society. As long as parents continue to instill ideas of inferiority and shame in their girls, nothing will change.”

Wow, look at Jinx being all Progressive Polly. I’m totally impressed. She’s rarely this chatty about anything.

“So, your parents were supportive of your choice to be a drummer?”

Jinx tenses. Crosses her legs under the table and wrings her hands in her lap, out of the camera’s view. “My parents support
me
.” She doesn’t elaborate. Probably because her dad is one of those aforementioned parents who think girls should be girls and not beating things—especially not tattooed, pierced men—with sticks. How she escaped the clutches of his sexist regime is beyond me, but I’m glad she did.

“Toombs Badcock was the drummer for Killer Dixon before he and his bandmates joined you and Letty Dillinger, two of the founding members of Cherry Buzz Float, to merge the two bands into one: Killer Buzz Float. What was the transition like?”

Jinx’s shoulders loosen a bit, and she smiles. “It was a little … difficult at first. Toombs is an awesome drummer. About a year ago, Cherry Buzz Float was touring with Killer Dixon. One night, both bands were missing guitarists due to some … unfortunate incidents. We were going to have to cancel the show, but Letty and I ended up jamming with Toombs and Shades on the bus. I had no idea Toombs could play guitar. When we realized we could combine our efforts and fill in the gaps, everything came together.

“Toombs and I collaborate when we’re writing music, but we still have our problems from time to time. We argue over beats. He wants one time signature when I think a different one would be better. In the end, we work it out, though.”

Anna raises a lascivious brow. “I’ll bet you do. It’s no secret you and Toombs are an item. What’s it like playing with your boyfriend onstage?”

Jinx’s cheeks pink, and she shifts in her seat. “I’d rather not talk about that.”

“Oh, come on! Your fans are dying to know more about your relationship,” Anna presses, nudging Jinx’s shoulder.

Jinx tips forward a bit, hair covering her face, and shakes her head. The aura of openness closes around her as she curls into herself. She’s entering shutdown mode.

I wave at Anna and vehemently wag my head back and forth, nearly snapping my neck.

She ignores me. “Toombs said you two share a bunk. Care to show us which one?”

Okay, game over. “She said she doesn’t want to discuss this. Ask another question, or be done with the interview.” I won’t have this bitch badgering my best friend.

“I—I think I’d better go,” Jinx says quietly. She stands and thunders down the steps before I can catch her.

“Jinx!” I yell from the door after her.

She keeps walking and shakes her head.

Fuck.

I turn and fix Anna in my sights. “That was beyond shitty.”

She shrugs. “Touchy-touchy.”

“You pull that crap with me, and I’ll get a lot more than touchy-touchy. Jinx politely said she didn’t want to talk about her relationship, yet you pushed it anyway. Don’t you have any boundaries? There’s a thing called ethics, you know.”

She rolls her eyes, holds up her hand, and studies her perfectly manicured pink nails. “She should grow a tougher skin.”

Man, this cunt is a piece of work. “Maybe, as a journalist, you should use a lighter touch when interviewing someone who’s obviously shy and nervous.” I force Anna’s hand down and pin it to the table so she’ll look at me. “Just so we’re clear. Ask me any intimately personal questions, and I will end this. The relationships in this band are nobody else’s business.”

Crossing my fingers behind my back, I hope she’ll exit the bus in a storm of fury so I don’t have to do the stupid interview at all. She doesn’t.

No, the bitch assumes the knowing gloat of a pig in shit and smiles at me, nose glistening brown, reeking of septic tank soup. “Are you ready for your interview, Ms. Dillinger?” She pronounces my name with an extra shot of zest in the snark.

“Absolutely.” I splat my ass to the cushion beside her, exuding attitude like testosterone in an unventilated men’s locker room. Let the twat do her worst.

After a moment of primping in a compact mirror, she faces the camera and nods. The red light flickers on. “Anna DeVille with Letty Dillinger, the lead singer of Killer Buzz Float.” She turns to me. “Letty, you recently joined the Get Your Rock Off Tour. What’s it like on the road with all these kickass bands?”

Well, that was a softball starter question. Okay … “We’ve only been on for a few dates so far, so we haven’t gotten to mix and mingle with the other bands much. We’ve spent a little time with Banging Betties. They seem pretty cool.”
At least two-thirds of them are.
“The DomMob show last night was sick. I hope to catch up with them now that we’re settling into our routine. Maybe play some hoops if we can find a court.”

“You any good at basketball?”

“I do all right. Never played on a team or anything, but I had a few friends at home in the projects I used to shoot the rock with. I can still hit a shot from downtown. Might be short, but I got good arms for that shit.” I lift a hand and lob an invisible ball into the hole.

Anna laughs. “Well, now you’re playing with a different kind of rock. What have your experiences with your fans been like?”

“By far, the best part of this gig for me is being onstage, playing for our fans. Seeing all those faces—right there in front of us, screaming and singing along and moshing in the pit—
appreciating
our music?
They
make it so worth the effort. We bitch sometimes about our ruthless tour schedule, but the truth is, I wouldn’t have my life any other way. The fans are what matter. It’s all about The Rock.”

“And you do have some pretty rabid fans,” Anna says. “What are some struggles you’ve encountered as a band?”

“Writing new music is challenging. It rarely comes easy. You really gotta work at it and finesse the hell out of it. Lots of blood, sweat, and tears go into producing new material, and you never know what the payoff will be until the album drops.”

She nods. “It’s hard to stand out in the world of rock music. Do you ever have to compromise your principles to reach your goals?”

I inhale deeply and take a moment to frame my thoughts. “Look, everybody in this business has to get down on their knees and suck the dick of the Almighty Dollar at some point or another. You got bills to pay. You gotta make a name for yourself. You gotta whore yourself out to get attention. We’ve all been there.

“Question is, how long before your jaw clamps shut and knees lock, and you can’t get back on your feet? Learn how to
play
an instrument instead of taking the easy way out. You can only fake it for so long before people see through the act. You wanna make music? Quit trying to suck the money teat dry, and make some fucking
music
. If you’re just in it for the money, then at least be honest with yourself about it.”

“Wise words,” Anna declares. Man, she’s being a lot nicer about this than I expected. “So, you’re in it for the music and not the money.”

“Absolutely. I’d rather make art than house payments, but maybe I’m in the minority. Like the song says, it’s all about The Rock.” Then I sing the lyrics, “‘The Rock will always make you strong.’”

Anna smiles politely. “And what a great anthem for our generation.”

“Thank you,” I reply, covering my shock by sipping from the cup of water someone left behind on the edge of the table.

“Got any advice for kids who want to make a career out of playing in a band?”

“Yeah. Stop making noise. Start making music.”

Grinning, Anna consults her notes, and kablams me with, “How is it, touring with your boyfriend’s ex-wife, Eliza Guns, and their baby?”

And …
crash!

Heat burning up my neck, I face the cameraman. “Turn off the camera.”

He tilts his head to Anna, as if awaiting instructions.

“Don’t look at her. I said turn it off.” I shuffle out of my seat toward him. He backs up. I grab for the lens. He spins out of my reach, then points his gear at me as he retreats down a step. I swing my disgust around to Anna. “Shades’s and Eliza’s relationship is off limits for this discussion, and you damn well better keep the baby out of it. She’s an innocent, and I seriously doubt her parents would want her dunked in the shit pot you seem so fond of stirring.” I turn to camera dude who’s fixin’ to get his ass beat. Red light’s still on. The video’s still rolling. “Get that fucking thing off me, or I’ll shove it so far up your ass, you’ll be hocking up LCD loogies and sneezing digital pictures for a year!”

I curl my lip, ball my fists, and prepare to do battle. The guy stumbles down the rest of the steps and gallops across the parking lot. I whirl on Anna and thrust my finger in her face. “Jinx asked you nicely, and so did I. You blatantly
refused
to respect our privacy, and dragged a minor into the fray. I’ll be in touch with your boss about this bullshit. If I have to go to the president of your network, I will. You crossed the wrong bitch.”

Her knowing smile reflects a nonchalance that makes me even madder. She shrugs, grabs her purse, and skips down the steps without another word.

“You better hope you never meet me in a dark alley, you cunt!” I yell after her and finish off my tirade with a double-barreled bird.

Anna swings her hips, shaking off my anger like water over a duck’s head. A few seconds later, Lizzie appears from behind the Banging Betties bus. She intercepts Anna and glances to me, standing guard at the gates of Killer Buzz Float’s ride, hands on hips, legs akimbo, seething with such hatred, my heart feels like it’s gonna bust wide open. Anna tells her something, and a big, ruthless shit-eating grin spreads across Lizzie’s face like she just won the motherfucking Powerball jackpot.