Tough Luck (Hard Rock Roots) (27 page)

From the side of the stage, here she fucking comes, Naomi Knox. She's walking across the stage like this is all planned, no big deal, but I can tell it's not. She has her Wolfgang in her arms and an angry look on her face. Turner sees her and slips on a pair of shades.

“I don't know if you've seen the news, but, uh, some shit is going down around us.” He pauses and swings the mic around in a circle, snatching it back in his hand and growling into it, raising the hair on the back of my neck, chilling the crowd in a ripple that leaves them swooning and desperate for more. “I just want to say that whoever's behind this fucking shit better watch their ass.” An explosion of cheers, more chanting of Turner's name. He points out at the crowd, drawing his finger over sweaty faces and heaving chests. “Because we're onto him, and we're not about to lay down and take it. Boys.” Turner waves his arm and the other members of Indecency sneak out from backstage, Milo pacing at the edges biting his nails and raking his hands through his air. “To the limp-wristed, pussy fuck who's too afraid to show his face, your time is coming to an end. I will find you and when I do, you better watch your ass.” Turner pauses as Naomi plugs her guitar in, replacing Joel who just stands there with the lights reflecting off his bald head, mouth agape.

The other members of Indecency step in, all except for Trey who stands stiff at the edges of the stage. I keep going, playing the same phrase over and over again. Turner glances over his shoulder and Ronnie raises his hand. He's half-frowning, but when he switches his gaze to me, he smiles. Turner claps his hands in time with the beat, and then flips the mic up in the air, spinning it in a circle and catching it with his other hand.

“
Don't ever be afraid of me. I cannot see.
”

My body breaks out in goose bumps. This is the same song they played the night of the tornado, but it feels so different. Naomi isn't singing; Hayden is nowhere to be seen. And I'm on the drums.
I
am on the drums.

“Ain't no such thing as conventional in this life,” Ronnie says, lighting up a cigarette and giving me an encouraging grin. “Guess we roll with it.”

“
I can't see, and I'm blinded by your love.
”

Naomi closes her eyes and smashes her guitar against her pelvis, giving birth to the most wicked sound I've heard in awhile. If she didn't have Indecency to back her up, the whole thing would fall apart. I watch her take control of the whole group, even Turner, driving the force of the music, blending this patchwork quilt of players into one solid unit.

“
That day you walked away from me, I went down hard and I could not see. I could not see, and baby, you're fucking bullshit is killing me.
”

I lick my lips and lean into the microphone.

“
Tear us apart with your LIES and taste my HEARTBEAT with your cries.
”

Ronnie kneels down next to me, taking advantage of the shadows there, and slips his hand down along my thigh, stroking my sweet spot under my skirt with a drum stick, encouraging carnal beauty and raw screams to come from my throat as I join in on the backup vocals, taking advantage of every last molecule of oxygen in my lungs. My eyes flicker closed and I drop straight into a trance, feeling nothing but the beat of my drums and the hum of pleasure from below. When Ronnie slides the stick inside of me, my brain explodes into splotches of white color and the moans that escape my lips sound in time with the song. And the only thing I can hear is the beat of a single heart.

The pressure below intensifies, the movement inside of me speeds up, and an orgasm cracks me right in half just as the song ends, just as the notes fade away and the crowd erupts into a plangent roar that shakes foundations and moves mountains.

When I collapse, Ronnie takes over, and I swear to Christ, I can't hear any difference in the sound of the music.

“Are you fucking nuts?” Trey growls at Turner backstage. We're all sweating, dripping splatters across the cement floor. What a show. What a fucking show. I still don't really know what happened up there. All I know is that the chemistry in this room is intense. I feel connected to all the people here, like there are threads tied between us that can't be cut or the whole thing will fall apart. Sometimes when you get it right, you just get it right. This is it. This was the turning point we needed, and we put on the perfect performance to take advantage of that. Even Milo can't complain. The murmur of the crowd is like that of a contented child, well fed, dressed, ready for bed. We put these fuckers out tonight.

I look at Lola laying across a speaker, still trying to catch her breath even though she left the stage two full sets ago. The rest of Ice and Glass is gone. I have no clue where they went.

“The numbers don't lie, Trey. The reviews. The comments. I … you're trending all over the place. I'm getting calls in like crazy.” Milo sniffles and flicks his finger across the screen on his iPad. “I'm sorry you missed out on a song, but – ”

“What the fuck ever,” Trey snaps at him, turning away and moving towards the doors. A security officer steps in front of him.

“I'm sorry, but you're going to have to wait. I can't guarantee anything if you go out there.”

“Is it bad?” Josh asks from the corner, speaking up for the first time that night. His eyes are glittering though, and I can tell he's in fucking heaven. Must be nice to be that young, still a virgin from life's fucks, with all of this being presented to you. I envy the kid, but I also feel sorry for him. You never know when something bad might happen, and I don't think he's prepared.

Milo sighs and nods, closing the cover on his iPad.

“There are prices to pay for … doing things unconventionally. We underestimated the crowd outside. Just wait until I give you the go ahead. Until then, everybody stays here.” He moves away, and I sit down next to Lola, grabbing her bare leg and running my hand up her skin, just touching her. It feels so fucking good.

“Nice job up there,” Turner says, drinking a sip of water, swishing it around in his mouth and then spitting it back out onto the floor. I try not to roll my eyes. “You hear anything about your sister?” he asks, coming in close. Naomi scoots in beside us, dragging her drummer, Dax, by the arm. He looks like he got run over by a tractor trailer, but he played tonight. I have to give some serious fuckin' kudos for that shit. His eyes are a little cloudy, and he hasn't been filled in completely yet, but I don't say anything about him joining us. Turner, however, narrows his eyes and tightens the muscles in his jaw.
Idiot.

Lola struggles to sit up, rubbing at her face with her hands. She doesn't look happy.

“They didn't say anything to me, not a damn thing.” She glances around like she's looking for someone. “I'm getting a little worried to tell you the truth.”

“When are you supposed to meet up with them?” Naomi asks, putting a pair of sunglasses on her face. I follow suit. I'm guessing there are going to be a lot of photos taken tonight. I'd rather keep the attention off my face.

“Back at the hotel, I guess. That stupid cock sucking scrag, KK, doesn't tell me anything more than she has to. At some point, she'll come find me. All I can hope is that I didn't blow everything to shit tonight.” Naomi laughs and shakes her head.

“Not just you,” she says, and we all look at Turner. He raises his hands up in the air.

“I never said the fucker's name.”

“You could've compromised everything,” I tell him, keeping my voice low. Now we play another waiting game. First step, getting out of here without getting mauled. Or raped by fangirls. I shudder.

“Alright, up and at 'em,” Milo says, directing us like cattle with his hands. “I want everyone in a group right here. We need to make this quick. We don't have the space to pull in a second van, so everyone's riding together.” I grab Lola's hand and haul her to her feet. We're all dragging from the show, shuffling into place in front of the doors. I'd love to have a fucking hit right now. I had no idea how much I relied on outside forces to keep me going when inside, I was barren and empty. I'm having to build up an immunity to
life
for fuck's sake. That's pretty pathetic.

But at least there's Lola. She grabs onto my arm and rests her head against my shoulder while we wait for Milo to give us the all clear next to the white doors. Security guards flank us on either side and in front, ready for this group of fans to morph into something else, to become so entangled in the
us
that they forget the
me
, forget that they even have a voice to begin with. One bad apple can spoil the whole bunch. How fucking sad is that?

One of the officers gets a call on his radio, and Milo nods.

“Okay, go ahead,” he says, giving Turner an extra special glare. “But be careful. No autographs, especially on people's body parts.” He turns his look on Treyjan, too. Lola squeezes my arm in nervous anticipation. Being famous really isn't all it's cracked up to be. Pain is so personal and such a big part of life. But sometimes, people want to be alone to process their hurt, sort out their emotions. Where we're at in our careers, that might not be a possibility for much longer. “No fooling around. Just get right into the van and buckle up. We're getting out of here sooner rather than later. Is that understood?”

“Yes, mother,” Trey says with a roll of his eyes, stopping only because he doesn't see Turner doing the same. Milo nods, and the doors come open, spilling sound into our already fragile ears. I keep my right arm tight around Lola's waist and guide her out. The temporary fences on either side of us seem to be doing their job, at least for now. I have no fucking clue how much this shit must all cost, but we have a damn army now. Not just security officers, but police, too. Not sure if they're here because of the murders or just as simple crowd control, but I'm glad to see 'em.

“Remind me to write a book about this one day,” Lola says, clinging close to my side. I wonder if she's thinking about the other members of Ice and Glass who are only a part of this group in the same way a tumor's a part of a human body. Eating away at the insides, carving out a space for itself where it doesn't belong. “Might actually sell a copy or two of something as fucked up as this.” Her voice is almost drowned out in the screaming, the shouted endearments, the buzz of a good mystery.
Thanks a lot, Turner. You stupid fucking asswad. Now the whole world knows. The whole damn world.

I look around at the fans, the signs with our names scrawled across them. The shades keep the colors around me muted, blur the flash of lights and cameras. Turner and Naomi lead the pack, walking side by side down the narrow alley that's been carved out for us. Lola feels perfect by my side, like she was designed to fit under my arm. Small, fierce, and perfect. The air might be buzzing with danger, and the stakes might be higher than a tweaker on the pipe, but I feel good. Optimistic. Bad shit's happened, but it always does. We'll get through this, all of us together. Just one big, fucked up happy friggin' family. And Lola and I, well, we'll see where that goes. I have high hopes, I'll tell you that much.

The doors to the van slide open in front of us, and a second later, there's a sound, like a shot being fired. A single explosive noise that slices right through the groaning mob, cuts straight into my brain and literally splatters my face with blood.

People start screaming, dropping to the ground. I fall with them, hitting the concrete, desperately clawing at my eyes, wiping the blood away so I can see. So I can see who got shot. The only people around me are my friends, my family.
Turner, Naomi, Lola, Trey, Jesse, Josh.
Who got shot? Who? Who?

In the midst of the writhing insanity and the blood, Tyler Rutledge checks a name off his list.

To be continued...

Dear Reader,

Yep. Another cliff-hanger. Come on, you knew it was coming, right? But we're not here for instant gratification and shiny stories wrapped in plastic. We're here to fall in love with f*cked up souls, to wrap our spirits in rock, and sing to the beat of our own pulsing, thumping, bloody hearts. If it makes you feel any better, book four, “Bad Day”, will once again feature Turner and Naomi, and it releases on December 1st, 2013.

Real people with real problems need real answers.

I hope you'll stick with me until the end. If you can't, that's okay, too. Every person in this world is different, and everyone has their thing. This just happens to be mine. To those of you that are with me, I raise my glass in toast.

Let's rock the sh*t out of this, nab the killer, cut the cord, and find some happily-ever-sometimes.

Until next time.

C.M.

P.S. I love your faces. ;)

If you enjoyed this try Tasting Never (Never say Never #1)