Clash

by Belle Aurora

  Connor started the conversation again. “I’ll tell ya, this one time, I managed to snag this dope little Filipina.” He growled low in his throat. “Now, there was a tight pussy.”

  From behind the binding, I scoffed and unintentionally made a face. Then, silence.

  When I looked up, Connor was leering at me.

  Oh.

  Hello.

  When he smirked and asked, “Why don’t you ever tell me off? I know you wanna,” I knew I was being baited.

  I dawdled, hoping their game would continue if I didn’t respond. This was not the case.

  Connor wanted an answer.

  My reply was hesitant. “Because you pay me to be quiet and not tell you off about your persistent use of the word puh—” I couldn’t do it. Yes, you can. I swallowed hard and whispered the awful word, “Pussy.”

  I felt faint. Never had I used such a vulgar word in my life. It was dirty and I didn’t feel right.

  Connor looked like he wanted to laugh. “It physically hurt you to say that, didn’t it?”

  I was sweating a little, yes.

  Annoyed, I put my book up and pretended not to hear the light chuckles coming from the table of men across from me.

  Boys were dumb.

  I waited for the kettle to boil on the stove in the bus’s kitchenette. I opened a cabinet and brought out the mug Hell had bought me on the last stopover. It said I love my job! and every time I saw it, I got the insane urge to laugh. Leaning against the cabinet, I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and tried to focus on the TV.

  Connor sat on the sofa, his phone in hand. Whatever he did on it was projected onto the huge television screen. When he saw me, he jerked his chin. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing much. Just making tea.”

  “Making tea? You really are from another age, aren’t you, Emmy?” He turned back to the TV. “How old are you again? Seventy-two? Seventy-three?”

  I rolled my eyes, poured boiling water into my mug and moved to return to my cubby but Connor stopped me. “Where are you going?” At my surprised expression, he waved me over. “I’m bored. Come watch something with me.”

  I didn’t normally watch a lot of television but there were tons of movies I hadn’t seen and the rest of the guys were doing their own thing, so… “Okay.” When I approached, I set down my mug of peppermint tea and sat down a foot away from him. “What are you watching?”

  His brow lowered. “Still deciding. The pickings are slim, baby.”

  Another stomach shimmy.

  Ugh.

  When he scrolled over a semi-familiar title, I asked, “What’s Sister Act?”

  “It’s about a lounge singer who gets in deep with the mob, so they send her to a convent to live with the nuns. She teaches them to sing, they all becomes friends and skip off into the sunset.”

  Well, that sounded delightful. “Cool. Put it on.”

  I should’ve known something was up when he sniggered. “Your wish is my command.”

  The opening sequence showed two pretty blonde women talking amongst themselves. They needed money to pay the bills and were running short.

  I frowned. This wasn’t exactly what I pictured but okay.

  The front door rang and the landlord appeared. He was not a nice man. It seemed he wanted the money now or the girls would be evicted. When the girls started crying, the landlord told them he wished they could figure something out.

  That was when the girls both got on their knees.

  I looked to Connor, a confused expression on my face, but when he looked at me encouragingly, I turned back to the screen.

  The women were unbuttoning the man’s pants and when his angry-looking erection was free, I shot up, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at Connor. My tone was shrill. “Connor, this is porn!”

  He tipped his head back and laughed openly.

  Shaking my head, I went to walk away but he grabbed my hand and pulled me back. He uttered a chuckling, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was the wrong Sister Act. It was an honest mistake.”

  I blocked my view of the TV and scowled. “You are a liar.”

  He grinned. “A little bit.” He held up his thumb and forefinger, peering through the tiny gap he’d left between them. “Only this much.”

  The fact was Connor loved to torture me.

  There was moaning happening now and my cheeks heated. “Turn it off!”

  “Okay. All right.” He hit a button and the screen went silent. “Sheesh. You act like you’ve never had sex before.”

  My brain stroked out. “I’ve had a… sex.”

  His brows rose. “You’ve had a sex?”

  “Yes.” Oh my God. “Many.”

  Why, Emily? Why?

  Connor bit his tongue in that way I liked so much and crossed his arms over his chest. “Go on.”

  “No.” I was already standing once again.

  With a huff, I snatched up my tea and hid out in my cubby till the bus stopped.

  Chapter Seven

  Rock You Like a Hurricane.

  Emily

  The second the bus stopped, Craig called out over the speakers, “Okay, you maggots. It’s been a long ride but we’ve arrived. Welcome to Arlington, Texas.”

  When the guys commenced whistling and cheering, I clapped along with them. It was exciting. This first leg was the longest part of our journey. According to the schedule Amber had sent me, any other time we were on the bus would now be anywhere between one and nine hours at a time and after being stuck on this impressive but dull thirty-six hour bus ride, that was more than okay with me.

  It was time to check into the hotel.

  See, this confused me. When Amber mentioned hotels, I didn’t understand. I assumed the whole point of the tour bus was to use it as accommodation but after listening to Amber’s explanation, it kind of made sense.

  She said that if the guys always spent the night in a hotel room, especially after a show. It helped them rest easy and use the facilities. The bus was only for travel purposes. This way, the guys could get a good night’s sleep, eat well, shower, and be ready to move on.

  Apparently, the one and only time the guys forewent a hotel ended in disaster when Noah lost his voice due to the constant recirculated air-conditioning running in the bus.

  No Noah equals no show equals bad news.

  I got it.

  When the bus doors opened and we stepped out, the screams began.

  It was so loud, so sudden, that it hit me like a hundred paintballs to the chest.

  The shrill, piercing shrieks of what I guessed was hundreds of women, and some men, sounded through the air, and while the guys seemed to take it in stride, I couldn’t seem to take in a full breath. With a hand to my chest, I followed them out, and the jarring screams would not stop.

  I was shocked to see the amount of people waiting on them.

  The guys scattered, heading to the barriers to take photos with people and sign the gear fans had with them. And I just stood there, mouth agape.

  This is insane.

  From behind me came, “Emily?” I spun to find a man in a suit, smiling down at me. “You’re Emily?”

  All I could do was hold up my media pass which I wore around my neck. My name and photo were clearly printed on it, and the man waved me over. “I’m Martin. We’ve been emailing.”

  This was Martin. “Oh, yes.” Warily, I looked back at the guys and once I was certain there was enough security around to keep them safe, I followed the man inside. “I take it everything’s ready for them?”

  “Of course,” he stated with a bold smile. “This isn’t my first rodeo.” Well, it was mine, and I was overcompensating. “I’ll just get you to sign here for me and I’ll give you your room keys. Five of the penthouse and two of the others, as ordered. It’s well stocked but if you need anything, do call down.”

  “Extra towels,” I told him, remembering Amber’s strict instruct
ion that each guy have three fresh towels a day. “Lots of them.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “Not a problem.”

  I took the keys in hand just as security escorted the guys in. When they passed me, I fell in step with them and we entered the elevator. Using the cardkeys I’d just been given, I slid one down the slot then hit the golden P button. The second the doors closed and I was sure we were out of sight, I spun on them.

  “That was crazy!” I blinked into their shit-eating grins. “Is it always like that?”

  “Worse,” they all said at the same time.

  “Wow,” I muttered, unable to get a grasp on living like this. “You guys are bigger than I thought.”

  They laughed at my stunned disbelief and when the elevator doors opened, I stepped out first, unlocking the penthouse and letting myself in. Eyes wide, I slowly walked into the suite and murmured, “Oh my God.” I twisted back to find Noah. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You guys are way bigger than I thought.”

  The penthouse suite was everything I thought it would be and more. There were four bedrooms, each with a king size bed in it, an outdoor terrace complete with outer dining set, two bathrooms, walk-in closets. There were three huge televisions, a lounge area with what looked to be the comfiest sofa to have ever been made, a workspace, and a spacious kitchen.

  As the guys each claimed a room, I checked the fridge. It was stocked exactly as it needed to be and when somebody knocked at the door, I looked through the peephole before opening it.

  A staff member carrying what looked to be ten towels entered. I smiled at how smoothly things were running so far. “Just set them down right here please. Thank you.”

  That was when Lee came out of his room, wearing nothing but a pair off boxers. “Are those towels? Good. I need to shower.”

  I blinked at his slim, fit body a moment before attempting to look anywhere but where he stood. The closer he came, the more anxious I became. Not knowing what else to do, I threw a hand up over my eyes. “Sorry, Lee. Go ahead.”

  He sounded amused. “You don’t have to do that, Emmy. Seriously.” When I uncovered my eyes, he stated a matter-of-factly, “By the end of this week, you’ll have seen all of us naked.”

  Really? My hand fell. “I will?”

  Lee grinned. “On tour means zero privacy. Besides—” He walked away, sliding his boxers down his legs and stepping out of them. “—I don’t mind.”

  Day one. I have seen taut male buns. And they were nice.

  I wonder what else I’ll see.

  That was when Connor walked out of his room, stark naked. I whirled around but it was too late. I’d seen it. All of it.

  Day one, continued. I have seen a flaccid penis. It was also nice.

  He strode past me, snatching a towel off the kitchen counter. “Hey, Emmy.”

  My cheeks were bright pink. I could feel them burning holes into my face.

  Cautiously, I turned, making sure to only look into his eyes.

  He grinned. “Wanna fuck?”

  My stomach bottomed out.

  What did he just say?

  Seeing the shocked expression on my face, he smirked hard then walked toward the second bathroom. “No? You sure? Okay. Maybe next time.” Before stepping inside, he threw me a lurid wink then shut the door.

  Noah stepped out of his room, shirtless, and when he caught sight of my pale face, he chuckled. “I thought you’d get away unscathed. Regrettably, you are in his sights and he is gonna torture you, Emmy.” I didn’t need to ask who he was talking about, when we both knew. A moment passed and he gently nudged my arm. “Do you want some advice?”

  Straightaway, I began nodding.

  Noah sighed. “As soon as he gets a reaction, he likes it. Shock treatment, it’s kind of his thing. I know it’ll be hard, but—” He shrugged. “—try not to react. Use your best poker face. And, hopefully, he’ll move on to someone else to torment.”

  “Okay,” I whispered, not liking those odds.

  “Want the good news?” When I peered up at him, he uttered, “You’re surviving your first day, and not doing a bad job either.”

  At that, I sighed then smiled. “That is good news.”

  “Why don’t you go up to your room and shower? Meet us back here at, say, five and we’ll go over to the stadium where you can watch us practice. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great,” I told him honestly, leaving four of the penthouse keys on the counter before taking one for myself. I left the suite, closing the door behind me and taking the elevator down to the twelfth floor, where my room awaited me. I was ecstatic to see that my luggage had already been delivered.

  First stop, the shower.

  The stadium was huge, and now that I knew every show was sold out, I appreciated the magnitude of these concerts. Truthfully, I’d find out tomorrow when I witnessed the first show from the sidelines.

  Noah assured me that no one had a better seat than I did. And that was exciting.

  As I stood stage-side, I watched the guys set up. A moment later, sound checks followed. Soon after, Hell counted them in and then they were playing.

  I was not prepared for what I felt as the solid riff, fast drumbeat, and deep bass flowed over me. One second, I was standing at the side of the stage and the next, my feet were leading me out, closer to a band I’d never heard of. And they were magnificent.

  Shame on me.

  While Noah played one set of chords, Connor played another. They overlapped and my body was on fire. I felt like my skeleton wanted to jump out of my skin, leaving my soft shell in a pile at the side of the stage.

  Closer and closer, I crept until I stood in front of them. When Noah spotted me, he winked and then began to sing.

  My body was not on fire. It had long dissolved. I was a mess of guitar chords, a raw drumbeat, thick bass, and that voice.

  “Yes,” I whispered. Then I dropped my binder, balling my fists, and shouted, “Yes!”

  Surprisingly, none of the guys looked at me like the crazy person I clearly was. They continued playing.

  They played for me.

  Or so it felt.

  Once the song was finished, I clapped as hard as I could, and Noah chuckled into the microphone. “Thank you! Thank you! That was for our one and only fan, Emmy.”

  I cheered, laughing loudly, then cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled out, “More!”

  “More?”

  “More,” I hollered as loud as I could, laughing at the sheer delight of what this music was doing to me.

  “You heard her, guys. She wants more. Let’s give it to her,” Noah spoke into the mic.

  I moved closer when the music began and as the guitar riff shot through me, I closed my eyes. The drums followed. Unconsciously hugging myself, I smiled then laughed.

  I freaking loved rock.

  Who knew?

  My entire body broke out in goosebumps.

  Rocking myself gently, I let the mix of sounds flow over me. The bass was heavy, weighing me down, while the light finger work of Connor’s guitar lifted me. Noah’s commanding voice washed over me, holding me in place.

  Every single man brought an important element.

  Every instrument, equally significant.

  This was powerful. This was influential.

  This was music.

  And then I was sad. I felt poorer for never having heard anything like it before.

  Suddenly, the song took a turn, the guitar riffs turned lighting fast, and the drums followed suit. My heartbeat matched its pace. It was alarming, frightening, and I—like a moth drawn to a flame—struggled to get close enough to it.

  To them.

  Front and center, I raised my hands to grip my head, and mouthed, “Oh my God.”

  I was officially dumbfounded.

  What were they doing to me?

  Did they even know the affect their music had on people?

  Why weren’t more people
talking about Left Turn?

  One million albums sold?

  It should’ve been a billion.

  The song ended and I mourned its loss. I couldn’t hide my despondency. Noah picked up the bottle of water, sipping at it, and I shuffled forward, still in a trance.

  “Guys,” I stated, unsure of what to say. “I’ve never…. I don’t….” Placing my hands on my chest, I panted, “My body….” Finally, I ended with a thick sounding, “You’re amazing.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “But you already know that.”

  Lee looked incredulous. “You like that?”

  My voice was hoarse. “I loved it.” Trying to control my breathing, I revealed, “Nothing has ever made me feel like that before. Not ever.”

  Hell grinned then howled like a wolf. “Yes! Another one converted. One poor soul at a time, we’re taking over the world.”

  Connor looked at me strangely.

  I didn’t like him acting like a jerk, but sadly, he was cocky for a reason. “I’ve never seen anyone handle a guitar the way you just did.”

  “Like that, did ya?” He barely spared me a look.

  “It was…” Words left me. I found one that might fit the bill. “Breathtaking.”

  While Connor ignored me, Noah grinned happily. “I’ll get you an album.”

  My eyes widened. “Yes.” But then, “Actually, don’t worry about it.” When he silently questioned me, I shrugged. “I don’t have anything to play it on.”

  He lightly fingered the strings on his guitar, playing a repeated set of chords. “You have a smartphone now, Em. I’ll show you how to use it.”

  “Oh, no. That’s cool. I’ll work it out.” I didn’t want to be a hassle.

  Hell counted them in and Noah began to play. Connor followed, then lastly Lee. It was loud and I felt every chord booming in my chest but I’d listen to them till my ears bled.

  The next evening, I stood exactly where I’d started off the night before. I was stage side, best seat in the house, and I watched people file into the stadium.

  It seemed to take hours and just when I thought the arena was at capacity, more people were somehow squeezed in.