With Vengeance (3 page)

Cliff whistled. “Damn, I could hit that all
night long. What do you think, Klem? Should we keep her?”

Klement nodded. “Yes, but
not
so you
can bang her. I want to get some actual work done. Katana has all
of our songs down better than our other candidates. So for fuck’s
sake keep your hands to yourselves and maybe we can get this album
recorded on time.”

Cliff’s eyes narrowed, and his chin jutted
out like a rooster’s beak. “You may call the shots in the studio,
but that doesn’t mean I can’t fuck her brains out when we’re off
the job.”

“That’s correct,” Klement replied mildly,
though the mental image made his fists clench. “I don’t give a shit
what you do as long as you put out a decent album and keep your
nose and veins clean. After Lefty, I just can’t.”

Cliff’s competitive aggression fled as fresh
grief settled onto his features like a funeral shroud. “I know,
man. And I haven’t touched the dope since, I swear.”

Roderick cut in. “I miss Lefty too, but we
still haven’t figured out who’s going to replace him.”

“If Katana works out…”

Cliff snorted. “Oh, c’mon, the studio is one
thing, but onstage? I mean, we can’t have a chick guitarist. We’d
be a laughingstock.”

Klement crossed his arms. “You’ve heard her
shred. She has Lefty’s riffs nailed to the point where she sounds
just like him. Are you telling me you’d rather have a substandard
guitarist just to appease the more sexist faction of our fan
base?”

The singer frowned. “I think more than just a
faction would be pissed.”

“They’re going to be pissed no matter who we
tour with, because it won’t be Lefty. I want to at least replace
him with someone good,” Klement countered. “Besides, I think most
fans aren’t as shallow as you’re making them out to be. Rage of
Angels has been outselling us since they debuted, and they’re three
chicks and a gay guy.” Klement envied the latter, in fact. The kid
was an incredible bass player.

Shaking his head, he ticked off his list.
“There’s also Otep, Halestorm, Warlock, and many others. White
Zombie had a female bassist until Rob Zombie went solo. And don’t
forget that when Kat’s friend Kinley stepped in for Viciӧus she
upped their sales by twenty percent, despite all the shit-talking
on Rocktalk’s site.”

“Okay, I get your point.” Cliff ran a hand
through his hair. “So you think she’ll do good for us?”

“Maybe. If she can handle herself on a big
stage. She’s only played small shows in clubs, but you’ve all seen
the videos of her performing.” God she was so vibrant, so alive,
so—

Roderick interrupted that dangerous line of
thought. “Yes, she’s a talent, in more ways than one, but only on
the vids. In here she resembled a bloody wax statue.”

“That’s because those songs are new to her,”
Klement argued. “Not to mention the fact that this is her first
time in a studio. She was too busy concentrating on playing the
songs right, not on having fun with ’em, which is what we need from
her at the moment. Then we can see if she loosens up enough to give
a good show.” He prayed that she could. He didn’t want to audition
another guitarist. He wanted Kat.

The intensity of his desire gave him
pause.

Because she’s talented,
he reiterated
to himself.

Cliff waggled his eyebrows. “Ten bucks says
she gives me a good show tonight.”

Roderick offered his hand to shake. “I’ll
take that bet.”

“C’mon, Rod.” Cliff laughed. “You know they
always go for the singer. Quinn got a piece of her friend. Now it’s
my turn.”

The drummer frowned. “Hey, now, some of the
ladies pick me first. They love my accent. You can’t compete with
that, Yank.”

Klement rolled his eyes at both of them.
“I’ll see you guys at my place. When you get there, just come in. I
got a tech support call.”

Cliff shook his head in bemusement. “I don’t
know why you still bother with that shit. It’s not like you need
the money. What are you worth now, twenty-six million?”

“I’ve been working with some of these clients
for years,” Klement answered over his shoulder, already heading out
the door. “It doesn’t feel right to ditch them. Besides, we
probably won’t be famous forever. Eventually we’ll go out of
style—or, if we’re lucky, just get too old. I like having something
to fall back on.” Okay, his client base had been pared down to his
sisters and one other lonely website, so it wasn’t exactly making
him money anymore, and he really didn’t need any more money, but
whatever.

The door closed on Cliff’s response.

Klement crossed the parking lot to his ’58
Suburban, fighting off annoyance. He knew Cliff would probably win
his bet and seduce Katana. He’d seen the way she’d looked at the
singer, and he hated the sinking feeling he’d gotten when he saw
it. He wasn’t supposed to care. The last thing he needed was to get
involved with their new recording guitarist. Hell, at thirty-five
he was probably too old for her, too, and with all of his issues he
wasn’t suited for a relationship.

At least he didn’t have much to worry about
in that respect. Cliff was right. They
always
went for the
singer first. It had gotten to the point where it wasn’t even
satisfying to hook up with the groupies, knowing they were just
settling for him. He wasn’t usually too bothered, but for some
reason Kat’s crush on Cliff stuck in his craw. She’d even listed
Cliff as #1 on her website list of Top Ten Hottest Rock Stars. He
himself hadn’t made the list.

Klement’s stomach knotted. Quinn had been at
the top of Kinley’s list. Now those two were together. Was it an
omen?

The flatlands gave way to pine trees, cliffs,
and hills as he left Denver. His Suburban rallied up the
treacherous terrain. The winding roads seemed to match his
vacillating thoughts.

None of us should be fucking her, anyway.
That’ll cause us even more problems that we don’t need. I’m just
glad she nailed her audition so I didn’t have to break her heart by
telling her she couldn’t be part of the band. Besides, at least I
have a good friendship with her, even if she doesn’t know it.

He wondered what she’d do if she found out
exactly who had been providing tech support for Metalness.com ever
since the site first went live.

Shortly after passing a sign that read
WELCOME TO DARK SCORE, POPULATION: 130, his Suburban climbed a
steeply inclined driveway. Pressing the button to open the gates at
the top, he pulled up in front of his five-car garage. There he
couldn’t help but wonder if Katana had a vehicle able to make the
same trek as she’d need to do to come over later.

He set his keys on the cluttered kitchen
counter and made coffee before heading into his giant office with a
view of the Rockies. Firing up his computer, he logged in as
administrator to Metalness.com and assessed the problem. Yup, their
comments section was under attack by spammers again.

Turning his phone to speaker, he dialed the
website owner’s number. When she answered, Kat’s soft voice seemed
to caress him.

“Hi, IT Guy.”

“I told you this would happen,” Klement said,
immediately dropping into his tech-support voice, a gentle, helpful
tone with just a hint of the West Virginia accent he’d ridden
himself of when he moved west. “Chatzy is a crappy comments system.
Their captchas are illegible for humans but easy for robots to
learn.”

“I know.” Kat sounded undeniably abashed.
“Kinley wanted to save money.”

Klement laughed. “And look how that worked
out. Your comments section is exploding with offers for weight loss
pills and places for lonely housewives to hook up.”

A sigh echoed through the phone. “So, how do
we go about fixing this? Should we go back to the default?”

“No, your traffic is too high. I’ve written a
comment-moderation program that features custom captchas.
Legible
ones.”

Kat’s voice perked up. “Oh? How much?”

“Nothing. Aside from being the guinea pig to
test the prototype.” He’d given her free software more times than
he could count, but he didn’t like to dwell on that. Maybe it was
because he knew what it was like to work a second job while
struggling to gain traction in the music business. Or maybe it was
just because the promotion she and Kinley did for Bleeding
Vengeance led to new fans. “I want to see how it works on a high
volume site. I’m sending you the file now.”

“Oh, my God, I love you!” Kat exclaimed.

Warmth trickled down his spine. He wondered
what it would be like if she said that to him for real.

They worked together with their usual amiable
efficiency. As always, Klement admired her competence and aptitude
for this sort of thing. Most of his clients were morons when it
came to computers. Hell, some shouldn’t be allowed even to operate
them. Kat’s partner Kinley wasn’t as good, and she could be
impatient and short-tempered and have trouble understanding what
Klement considered to be the simplest instructions. Which was why,
to Klement’s everlasting relief, Kat had taken over handling the
tech issues.

He tried to tell himself he was only happier
to deal with her because it was easier, but he also couldn’t deny
the fact that he enjoyed talking with her. And even if it wasn’t
professional, before he’d learned the truth he’d been unable to
stop wondering what she looked like and if she was single. Now he
knew, and her intoxicating beauty played havoc with his mind. Not
that her looks would have played into her chance at auditioning for
his band. No, it was when he discovered that Kat was a guitar
virtuoso that his interest in her spiked to a maddening level—even
as it placed her out of his reach.

Once in a while, early on during tech calls,
they’d talked about subject material for Metalness. At first the
conversations stayed relevant to work: which music equipment stores
paid the best for affiliate advertizing, which bands were due to
tour or release an album soon—Klement was always careful to not
sound too knowledgeable—and when was the best time to run software
updates. But as their working relationship progressed, he’d noticed
that she plucked out intricate and enticing melodies on her guitar
as she waited for applications to install or scans to complete.
Klement’s curiosity was piqued. He’d thought himself the only one
to do that.

“You a musician too?” he’d finally asked.

“Yeah. Kinley and I play in an all-girl
Megadeth tribute band.”

Her voice had sounded defensive, as if she
expected him to laugh, and Klement thought it adorable. But he’d
also burned with curiosity. “You any good?”

“We get regular gigs.” Pride rang from her
voice. “And we get a ton of views on YouTube.”

He’d checked out the videos as soon as they
got off the phone. They were indeed good. But the video quality was
crappy and he’d found himself frustrated that he couldn’t make out
her features very well. Not that he could have seen much with her
hair flying as she head-banged like a pro. However, two things were
clear: She had a nice body, and she was ungodly talented. Good
enough to play in a professional band. So was Kinley for that
matter. The bassist and drummer had been acceptable but
forgettable.

Why were they wasting time in a small town in
Idaho? That would never get them a record deal.

Klement had broached the subject during their
next support session, and her laugh was light and musical yet
somehow brittle.

“Aw, we’re just doing it for fun.”

But he could hear the longing in her
voice.

Maybe some of them saw it as a hobby, but Kat
and Kinley looked pretty damn serious on that stage. And his
suspicions were confirmed during their next call when she sounded
so down that he broke off from his coding instructions and asked
what was wrong.

Kat’s voice had cracked with what sounded
like tears. “Our band broke up. The bassist is pregnant and our
drummer is getting married.”

“That sucks.” Band breakups were often worse
than any other kind. Klement sympathized, and he had tried to
soothe her. “I’m sure you’ll find replacements.”

She made a hopeless sound. “Do you have any
idea how hard it is to find female musicians who play metal?”

“Do they have to be female?” If he hadn’t
already had a band of his own, he would have been thrilled to play
with her.

“Yeah. First, it helped our gimmick.” Her
tone darkened. “Now Kinley and I have reasons for not wanting to
work with men.”

Apparently those reasons hadn’t been
completely solid for them both. Shortly afterward, Bleeding
Vengeance went on their next tour and Kinley ended up working as a
roadie for Viciӧus, the tour’s headlining band. Klement had wanted
to ask Kinley about Kat when he saw her, but he hadn’t figured out
a way without revealing himself to be their IT guy. So, he’d
watched with amusement and admiration as Kinley somehow worked her
way up the ranks with Viciӧus to guitar tech and ultimately a
touring musician when Viciӧus’s lead guitarist checked into rehab
after Lefty died. And, sure, Kinley was more than capable, but Klem
couldn’t help but think Kat should have been the one onstage
playing before masses of metalheads. So when Quinn Mayne, lead
singer of Viciӧus, called in a favor and asked him to try Kat out
as a replacement guitarist, Klement had been more than happy to
give her a shot.

As if reading his mind, Kat’s excited voice
brought him back to the present. “You know how I said I had a big
audition?”

Klement grinned. “Yeah?”

“It was with BLEEDING VENGEANCE!”

He bit back a chuckle at the audible capital
letters and feigned a gasp. “That’s awesome, Kat! I knew you were
meant to go big.” He didn’t have to fake his pride—or his
curiosity. Had she been intimidated? “How did it go?”

“I think I did okay. I’m supposed to go to
the BASSIST’S HOUSE in a few minutes to hear the verdict. And we
might even jam together!”