Only minutes earlier, I’d been in the green room with the guys when Noah poured shots. I watched them each take a shot and down it. When Lee spotted me, he pointed. “Emmy didn’t get a shot.”
“Oh,” I startled. “That’s okay.”
But Noah was already pouring another small glass. Surprisingly, it was Connor who spoke. “It’s tradition. We cleanse ourselves before every show.”
I took the glass, now filled with an amber-colored liquid, and stared at it.
Hell must have taken my silence for discomfort. “Don’t make her if she doesn’t want to.”
“Emmy, you don’t have to,” uttered Noah, reaching for the glass.
But I pulled back, opened my mouth, and tossed back the shot. I started to speak. “Your traditions are—” I started to cough as my throat began to burn. Tears filled my eyes as my gut warmed. I wheezed out, “Your traditions are very important to me.”
Oh my God, what did I just drink? Pure ethanol?
It burned.
Now, at the side of the stage, I watched the opening act ready themselves. Up until last night, I hadn’t known there was an opening act at all.
“Hot stuff, coming through.” I jolted at the husky feminine voice, and when I made eye contact with the tall woman, she threw me a wink. Three other women followed, and I knew this was them.
The Ultra Violet Vixens.
The women looked utterly vicious.
Each of them wore leather in some way, shape, or form. They all wore identical army boots, and each of them had their hair dyed a different shade of purple. Actually, violet, I guess.
I’d never seen anything like them. They were awe-inspiring. And when they started to play, I quickly realized they were more than just a bunch of pretty women with purple hair.
I immediately liked them. Their sound was raw but feminine. Melodic but heavy. And when the petite lead singer screamed into the microphone, the entire stadium shook from it.
They sang eight songs, and forty-five minutes later, they were unplugged and thanking the crowd for coming out. As they passed me, I called out to their backs, “You guys were awesome.”
All at once, they turned to face me. The shortest member with the longest hair spoke first. “Thanks.” She glanced at my pass. “Who are you with?”
I held out my hand to her. “Left Turn. I’m their assistant. Hi, I’m Emily.” I don’t know why I added, “But you can call me Emmy.” It was probably because I’d unknowingly been christened with the nickname, more so because I actually liked it.
She took my hand. “I’m Beth. Nice to meet you.”
The tallest woman narrowed her eyes at me a short moment. Her hair was the most vivid violet I’d ever seen, and she wore it teased. “What’s up? I’m Cherry.”
A woman with striking gray eyes smiled at me. Her hair was short, almost buzzed, and the color was light lavender. “Hi, I’m Pearl.”
The last woman had black roots that blended into a darker shade of purple. Eggplant, I’d call it. She took my hand, shaking it with a grin. “Hey, how you doing? I’m Ettie.”
They seemed nice. “And you’re The Vixens.”
Beth nodded, waving her arms out to the women surrounding her. “And we’re The Vixens.”
“I’m rather new to the rock scene,” I admitted grudgingly. “But I love your sound. The crowd was lapping it up.”
When a crewmember came to speak to them, I was thoroughly dismissed, and when I went to turn back to the stage, a gruff-looking Cherry spoke up. “Hey.” I turned and she jerked her chin. “We’ll see you around, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Surprise shook me, but only momentarily. “Yes, definitely.”
I waved as they left and, for a single moment, all I could think about was what the people in high school would think of me now, hanging out with rock stars and doing shots with the most sought-after heavy metal band in the world.
I snorted, shaking my head. “They’d never believe it.”
Heck, I could barely believe it and I was living it.
From strict routine to unpredictable in less than a heartbeat. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?
Chapter Eight
Cum on Feel the Noize.
Emmy
Time on the bus was strange. Some days, it went by quickly and other days, it felt like we’d never reach our destination. Today, I lay on the floor in front of the TV playing the 3DS Lee gifted me. Connor on the sofa sat behind me, strumming on his guitar, while Noah sat at the booth, working on his laptop.
Hell was in the kitchenette, making himself a sandwich, and when I noticed, I frowned. “I could’ve done that for you, Hell.”
He paused mid-chew and when he responded, it came out garbled. “ ‘S okay.”
My frown deepened and I said a mildly affronted, “My job is to assist. You’re not letting me do that.”
His brows rose at my testy tone. “Sorry.”
I turned back to my game. “Next time, let me make the darn sandwich.”
Connor piped in. “You can make me a sandwich, Emmy.”
“No.” I kept playing my game.
I heard the amusement in his tone when he asked in mock surprise. “Why not?”
Ha. He thought I was stupid. “You just want me to get into the kitchen so you can tell me that’s exactly where a woman belongs.” I lifted my head and shot him a wide smile. “Not falling for that a second time.”
Noah laughed, looking back at us. “Once bitten…”
Twice shy.
You know it.
A light silence followed then Connor began to play a song on his acoustic guitar. The tune was lovely, almost hypnotic, and I looked up at him while he played. His deft fingers moved over the strings, plucking then strumming, and I couldn’t help but give him my full attention.
And he loved the audience.
He started to sing, and my entire body broke out in goosebumps.
He was good.
When at long last the song ended, I clapped lightly and asked, “Did you write that?”
Connor laughed, and he laughed for a long time before he saw the seriousness in my manner. He searched my face a while before he frowned. “‘House of the Rising Sun’?” At my light shrug, he uttered, “No. Funnily enough, no one really knows who sang it first but Eric Burdon’s version is fire. It’s a classic.”
“Oh.” How was I supposed to know that? “Thanks for sharing it with me. I liked it.” I rolled back onto my stomach, playing the game, humming the song I’d just heard.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Connor get up and head to his cubby. He was gone a long time but when he returned, he joined me on the floor, lying beside me. “Here,” was all he said when he handed me the shiny, black rectangular MP3 player. There were a pair of earphones wrapped around it and, wearing a confused expression, I took it from him. When I unraveled it, he took one earphone and put it into his ear then waited for me to do the same. I did, and he scrolled through the playlists until he landed on “House of The Rising Sun” by The Animals. Before he hit play, he muttered, “Educate yourself, baby.”
The song started to play and with a small smile, I closed my eyes, taking it all in.
When I opened them again, Connor was lying on his side, watching me openly with a smile as I hummed along to the song. The song ended and Connor plucked the earphone from my ear. “Well?”
My head tilted as I thought about it. “I liked yours better.”
“Emmy.” He chuckled in disbelief. “You can’t beat a classic.” Then, suddenly, he stopped laughing and pursed his full lips. “Although, flattery will get you everywhere.”
I rolled my eyes and picked up the MP3 player, putting the earphone back into my ear. “What else do you have?” I scrolled through but the more I looked, the less I actually saw. “There are too many songs. I don’t know what to pick.”
Connor leaned his head against mine and I turned to him, my eyes smiling, wat
ching him pick a playlist for me. “I got one I know you’re gonna love.”
The playlist was called Best of 80s and the first song began to play. Immediately, my shoulders started to move to the beat and when Connor watched me, grinning, I uttered a sunny, “Oh, I like this.”
“I knew you would.”
“What’s it called?”
“‘Sussudio.’ Phil Collins.”
I loved it and I sadly wondered where it had been my entire life. It was so catchy and jovial, and it made me feel like dancing. Of course, I didn’t, but I wanted to.
Song after song played. “Jump” by Van Halen. “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell. “Need You Tonight” by INXS. “Jessie’s Girl” by Rick Springfield. “Another One Bites The Dust” by Queen. “When Doves Cry” by Prince. “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey.
Connor took me through a bunch of them and I loved them all so much that I just knew I’d been born into the wrong generation. I felt like I now lived for the 80s and when the MP3 player beeped through the earphones, then again and again, Connor checked the display. “The battery’s dying,” he said gravely.
“Oh no,” I was genuinely upset by this news.
He plucked the earphone from my ear. “Don’t fret. I’ll charge it. You can listen to it tomorrow.”
But I was positively outraged. “Tomorrow?”
Connor grinned. “Yeah, tomorrow.”
Oh, this just wouldn’t do. I sat up. “Lee?”
“Yeah,” he called out from the back.
“Do you have an MP3 player?”
Lee responded, “Sure do.”
“Can I borrow it? And, more importantly, is it fully charged?”
“Yep. And yep. Come grab it.”
My relief was palpable. “Oh, thank God.” I pointed to Connor. “Stay there. I need your mega eighties song knowledge.” I ran in my socks, grabbed the golden MP3 player, and returned in less than a minute, throwing myself down next to Connor then thrusting out the device and letting out a desperate sounding, “Help.”
“All right,” Connor murmured. “Don’t shit a brick.” He went through Lee’s songs before going straight to the online store. “We good. I’ll sort you out, Emmy.” I waited as patiently as I could. Connor added song after song and he made a thoughtful sound. “I’m straying a bit here into some earlier stuff but I think you’ll like it.”
“I don’t mind. Just hurry.”
Soon after, I would learn that Queen were one of the best bands to have even blessed this crazy world with their music. When Connor told me the lead singer, Freddie Mercury, had died in the early nineties, I felt severely depressed. Especially when Connor played “Don’t Stop Me Now.”
I wasn’t even ashamed for being so suddenly overwhelmed that I began to cry.
“Baby,” Connor said when he noticed, turning to me. “Why the waterworks?
“I’m sad.” More tears fell but I turned on my side to face him. “Freddie was way beyond his time.”
“He was,” he agreed quietly. “They weren’t ready for him, for what he brought to the industry. But here we are, years after his death, listening to his music.” He gently wiped my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Being moved to tears. I think that says a lot. That’s why music is so important, yeah?”
I simply nodded, because the thickness in my throat made it hard to speak.
“Bohemian Rhapsody” came next and I closed my eyes, taking in the lyrics. The sudden change in pitch caused my arms to break out in goosebumps. Connor ran his fingertips across them and I sighed softly. I know. I was a mess.
Too far into my life, I was beginning to understand. Connor was right. This was why music was important.
It was a sad song but I loved it on another level. Lying on my back, I let the tears leak out the sides of my eyes.
I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all.
Oh, God.
I felt that. I felt it deeply.
“Genius,” I whispered emotionally and Connor blinked at me, a small smile curving his lips. He watched me without shame, taking in the expressive emotion I couldn’t hide, and he seemed to revel in it.
When the song finished, I blew out a long shaky breath from between my lips and swallowed hard. I turned to Connor and found a slight frown creasing his brow.
“What is it?”
He shook his head slowly. “Sometimes I forget why we do this.” He twisted to lie on his back, putting a hand behind his head. “You just reminded me.”
The conversation waned after that. We listened to Queen’s greatest hits in complete silence and although I was an emotional wreck, I was secretly overjoyed to have somebody to share this experience with.
Even if it was Connor.
Connor Clash was an enigma. He could be the rudest person you had ever met, but he could also be sweeter than pie. It was all rather confusing and one fateful day on the bus, eight days into the tour, I found the courage to ask him a loaded question.
“Why are you the way you are?”
He chewed his gum loudly, snapping it in an irritating fashion. “Why so serious?” He popped the gum again then smirked.
“I don’t know,” I told him with a light shrug. “I think I’m getting to know everyone pretty well, but you…” I smiled keenly. “I still don’t know you.”
“No one does.” He returned my smile and bit his tongue cheekily. “You wanna make out, Emmy?”
I was coming to realize this was something Connor did. When a situation started to get out of hand, he would make a brash and crude comment to turn the tables and regain control. Once I learned this, Connor became much less frightening. I felt like I finally understood a small fraction of his complex being.
Yes. It was a small victory but a victory nonetheless.
“I think that’s sad.” He heard what I said and slowed his chewing. My face aired my dejection. “To have so many people love you and watch your every move but to have nobody really know you. It’s kind of depressing.”
“Wow, that’s deep,” he stated, his brows rising. “You sure know how to make a man’s testicles retreat into his gut.”
From the seat behind me, Noah spoke. “Don’t do it. Don’t try to enter his psyche. You’ll get lost in there and we’ll never dig you out.”
Connor blew a bubble until it popped then grinned cheerfully. “A scary place to lose yourself, baby.”
I didn’t like that I liked him calling me baby. The catch was if I told him I didn’t like it, he’d do it to annoy me, so I said nothing.
“He’s complicated,” Lee chimed in. “A puzzle wrapped in a riddle.”
Connor nodded, keeping his eyes on me.
Noah added, “It’s hard to explain. Yo, Hell, what did you call him a while back?”
“What? Oh, hang on.” A moment passed, and Hell yelled back, “An emotionless fucktard.”
Connor’s face screwed up and he responded, “Ah, rude.” Then he looked at me and clarified sincerely, “Also true though.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me. These guys were crazy, and I was fast becoming invested in them. There was something about this group. They were so different but no matter how singular each man was, they came together to create this spectacular, well-oiled family unit. And I adored that.
Leaning across the table, I narrowed my eyes at Connor and muttered, “Who are you, Connor Clash?”
He met me move for move, leaning over to meet me. He searched my face a long while before he leered. “Just another wet dream.” His chin jerked. “You gonna think about me tonight, baby?”
I wanted to show him I wasn’t scared of him. Sadly, I slunk away at the last moment. He’d won this round and we both knew it.
Blowing me a kiss, he winked then sat back in his chair.
We openly stared at each other until the next stop. One way or another, I would get to know Connor Clash.
Famous last words, if I ever heard ‘
em.
Hell was hiding me. I was in his cubby, the top bunk, and he lay in front of me on his side as I remained squished in the corner. Anyone who peeked in would only see Hell’s bulky frame. It was the perfect spot.
Why was I hiding?
Because Lee was looking for me.
We were fourteen days into the tour and earlier in the day, I’d borrowed—stolen—his Nintendo Switch. From behind Hell, I played the red and blue console, muting the sound and turning down the illumination until it could barely be seen.
“Emmy.” This was Lee and he sounded far away, so I kept battling.
From behind the gigantic wall of man, I snickered, and Hell shushed me, throwing his spare pillow on top of me.
I heard Lee ask Noah, “You seen her?”
“Not recently.” Lies. Noah lifted me, giving me the boost I needed to climb into Hell’s sleep hole.
“Emmy!” Lee called out then muttered an infuriated, “Where the fuck could she have gone? It’s a bus.”
Connor sounded preoccupied. “Maybe she’s taking a dump.”
As I lay on my belly, I lifted my head and let out a sound of pure outrage. Hell’s body shook and I nudged him. He prodded me back and kept chuckling. His stomach grumbled and for a split second, I got anxious.
I whispered urgently, “I swear to God, Hell, if you fart…” He burst into laughter. Not very reassuring. My stomach turned at the thought of being trapped in Hell’s Dutch oven of stink. “I’m not kidding. I’ll vomit.”
“Emmy, I know you have it! Come out, kid.”
Cupboards opened then closed then Connor guffawed. “What? You think she’s just chillin’ out in the fridge?”
“I don’t know,” Lee sounded engrossed. “She’s small. She could be anywhere. Like when you lose your gerbil. You damn well know it’s not in the freezer but you’re still gonna check.”
Hell let out a bark of laughter.
“What’s he cackling at?” Lee questioned.
Noah covered for us. “He’s watching something on his phone.”
From beside him, I threw my hand over Hell’s mouth and whisper-hissed, “You’re giving us away!”
Clash Page 9
