by Regina Frame
The thing was, she had no idea how much I'd love to have that special someone—someone to share my days and nights with, to cuddle up to after a show, instead of empty groupie pussy. I wanted someone in my life that loved me for me, and not for who I was or what I could give her. I wanted someone who could live with the good, the bad, and the ugly of me.
Three: "We’ve all read about Linc's struggle with drugs and alcohol. What about the rest of you? Do any of you struggle with addiction?" she asked, red lips pulled into a thin line, waiting for my answer.
"Well, first of all, I'd like to say that Linc is doing great in his recovery and we couldn't be prouder of him. As for me, I drink a little but, nothing in excess. I've spent some time in rehab, everyone knows this, but it's all under control. We're rock stars, so it's always available everywhere we go. It's just something we have to work hard to control. We all have our own demons, and as for the other members of the band, that's not really my story to tell." I could tell by the look on her face that she expected more of an answer from me, but she wasn’t getting it. Rock stars partied. Everyone knew that. Did we take it to extremes sometimes? Yes. That was a given.
Four: "I know all the girls are dying to know . . . boxers or briefs?” She arched her perfectly sculpted brow and leaned in closer to me. I couldn't believe she just asked that damned corny question.
"Commando." I looked at the crowd and wiggled my brows suggestively, while they cheered. I snickered to myself and thought about how Linc would have answered that question. He would have said, "Free Ballin’," and not been the least bit ashamed of it. He was a PR nightmare, but the ladies’ loved him for it. Me, on the other hand, my mother would be calling me the minute I walked off the set, for being what she would call ‘disrespectful’ on national TV in front of thousands of people.
Five: “What’s your most memorable rock star moment?" She asked, glancing up from her stack of note cards in her lap.
"That would be Star and Shar, the kinky twins I met last month in Atlanta. That was a fucking good time. Literally." I laughed and shook my head. Yeah, I could expect a call from my mom after that one. "Hello, ladies." I said, looking into the camera.
"Nah . . . I’m just kidding." Not really. "That would have to be getting nominated for Best Album. It just doesn't get any better than that," I said.
"I love you, Levi!" A scream came from the crowd. I shifted in my chair so that I was facing them, instead of the host.
"I love you, too," I said with a wink. I ran my damp palms over the knees of my jeans.
Six: “What's the most memorable place you've played as a band?"
"That would have to be the time we were asked to play at Star Side. We thought it was probably a cool bar and with us just starting out, we were hungry for exposure. Therefore, we didn't ask many questions, and keep in mind, it was also before our band's name became Dirty Affliction. Imagine our surprise when we showed up at the Star Side assisted living facility." She placed her hand over her mouth in shock.
"I can honestly say that groupies come from all ages, if you know what I mean." I threw my head back and laughed, but cringed on the inside when I thought about how arthritic fingers grabbed at my clothing.
"Oh my!" She tucked her chin and giggled. "Why didn't you guys just leave once you realized it wasn't a bar?"
"Well, we were starving artists. We needed the money for expenses and a gig’s a gig," I explained and she giggled.
Seven: "What's it like living on a tour bus with three other people? What do you do in between venues?"
"When Linc was traveling with us, he and I'd write lyrics." That was if he wasn’t too drunk or stoned, which happened to be more likely, than not. "We watch TV or play Xbox. Chance seems to be obsessed with Halo. Honor Collins is touring with us while Linc is on break. She usually fills her time by reading or playing video games with Chance.”
Eight: "What's the most embarrassing song you have on your smartphone?"
"I can't tell you. They'd revoke my man card.” I loved John Mayer's song, 'Say What You Need to Say.'
Nine: "On a more serious note, if you weren't a rock star, what would you be doing?" It was the more personal questions like these, which I wished I didn't have to answer. It might seem like an innocent question that the fans were interested in, but they didn't realize the emotional turmoil it opened up inside of me.
"I'd probably be in law enforcement of some type." I replied shortly, not wanting to go any further with this topic. It hurt too much.
"That's interesting. Wasn't your father a police officer?" she asked curiously.
"Yes, he was. He was a well respected officer." I felt the knot begin to form in the pit of my stomach. I desperately wanted to change the subject and I thought she could tell, because she ended the conversation on that note. Thank God.
Ten: "One final question. If you could describe each member of the band in just a few short words, what would they be?"
"Well . . . Let's see. Linc has always loved the women. Sorry about that, Honesty," I said to the camera. "Chance is a jokester. He's forever pulling some shit on everybody. Jinx is the warden. He's the one trying to keep us all in line these days. I haven't really known Honor long enough to put a label on her, but Chance calls her sparkles, so I'll go with that one."
"What about you?" she asked, cocking her head to the side, anxiously waiting for my answer. That was just it. With me, what you saw was what you got.
"I'm just me," I said. She laughed with slight irritation, wanting more of an response than I was willing to give, yet again.
"I think you're so much more that what you're willing to say, but I'll let it go at that. What are the plans for Dirty Affliction over the next few months?" She shuffled her note cards before laying them flat in her lap.
"We're getting ready to record a new album, so we'll be in the studio for at least three months. Depending on how things go, it could be longer. Our label is working on a few things that I can't really discuss right now, but will be announced as soon as things become final. The fans need to check our website, follow us on Facebook, and on Twitter, for what's up," I said. Melissa plastered on her perfect smile and turned to face the camera.
"We have a surprise for everyone, so listen closely. WKDG and Dirty Affliction have two tickets, along with back stage passes, and invitations to the after party, for Friday night's show." People jumped to their feet screaming with their hands in the air, hoping to be chosen. It was insane.
"For the people at home, all you have to do is be the twenty-third caller, starting now. For those of you in the audience today, we have a special surprise just for you coming up right after the show!" she said, smiling for the camera. After a few more embarrassing questions and a few inquiries about the tour, the interview was over. Once I had the meet and greet over with, I got the hell out of there.
Peyton
"He's
so frickin ’ hot!" Jules said from her spot on the sofa.
"Who?" I asked, not looking up from the book I was reading on the opposite end of the sofa.
"Gah! You're not even listening to me, are you? I've been talking up a storm and your only response up until now has been, "Uh huh." I'm talking about Levi Cross, of Dirty Affliction! He's so frickin’ hot!" she said, dragging it out this time.
"He's okay," I replied, not glancing at the TV. Rock stars could be arrogant and spoiled. They were also cheaters. They’d screw anyone and everyone who was willing, and in their line of business, there wasn’t any shortage of vagina. No thank you!
"He's okay? He's okay! Are you blind? I mean look at those deep pools of blue. I'd drown in those babies any day. If you tossed me a life preserver, I'd throw it back. And those lips! I love a man with full lips," she said, licking her own.
"Uh huh." After everything I went through with my last boyfriend, I'd made the decision to only have fake relationships. You know, the book boyfriend type. They wouldn't break my heart. "Yeah, yeah. Hot," I said, rolling my eyes at her, bef
ore wrapping myself back up in my no heartbreak, book boyfriend.
"WKDG and Dirty Affliction have two tickets to give away. This includes the show, meet, greet, and after party this Friday night, where you'll have the opportunity to hang out with the band, along with other musical guests. All you have to do is be the twenty-third caller at . . ." The Barbie look-alike rambled off a number, and immediately Jules began punching it in on her cell with trembling fingers. Good grief! She was going to have a stroke she's so excited.
"Damn! Why do my fingers have to be so fat?” she growled, and rekeyed the number. If she won, I would have to call nine-one one, judging by how animated she was currently acting.
"Oh. My. God!" She screamed, bouncing on her toes. We're going to see mother frickin’ Dirty Affliction!" She screamed again. Nope that was not good for me. I let out a big sigh and before I could even protest, she spoke again.
"Don't even say you're not going, because you are. It's my birthday on Friday and I want you there with me!" Well, hell. That made me feel like shit for even thinking about saying no. "I know how you feel about musicians, but if you'll just do this for me, I'll never ask you to do anything else as long as I live! Ever. Ever. Ever." She finally breathed. Jules knew I disliked rock stars, because of my last boyfriend.
Teake’s band was offered a deal with Uptown Records. Then he dropped his friends and me, like we had the plague. We were no longer good enough for him. He ripped out my heart and took a big shit where it used to beat. It didn't seem to matter that we'd dated for almost a year and confessed our undying love to each other. Once it was announced that they had a record deal, women were coming out of the woodwork. What a fucking jerk.
"Fine. I'm going to hold you to that. So when Brad Paisley is in town next time . . . We're going!" She stopped her victory dance, turned around, and looked at me.
"Um . . . Okay. I love me some cute country boy." She rolled her eyes, laughed, and continued with her victory dance. "You do know he's married though, right?"
"Yes, I know Brad Paisley's married, and even if he wasn't, I told you, I'm not looking for a boyfriend."
"Get dressed, we're going shopping," Jules said, walking into the kitchen, looking beautiful in a pair of cut-off shorts and a pink fitted t-shirt. It was ten in the morning, and I was just now having my first cup of coffee. I really needed my coffee before any human interaction. She knew that already.
"For what?" I grumbled, while staring into the steaming mug.
"We need something to wear to the concert. You know, something that screams Rock N’ Roll groupie."
"I'm no groupie," I said, taking a healthy sip of my steaming coffee.
"Humor me, will ya! I intend to be in full-on groupie mode at that concert and you're going to be right there with me, even if it kills you!" She pulled her long, auburn hair back into a ponytail.
"Can I at least get a cup of coffee in me? Why you gotta be so perky so early in the morning anyway?" I didn't ever remember a time when Jules woke up grumpy, not even with a hangover. Ugh.
"Fine. But hurry!" She turned on her heel and walked back down the hall toward her bedroom, her ponytail swishing from side to side. I finished my cup of coffee, grabbed another one when she wasn't looking, and took it to the bathroom with me. I turned on the water in the shower and stepped in, letting the hot water wake me up. After showering, I pulled my hair into a ponytail and dressed in a pale blue sundress with my silver flats. If I was going to be forced to shop, I was going to be comfortable doing it.
We ended up shopping for four hours. Then we went to lunch at Big Tom's Fat Burger. Finally, we headed home, exhausted. I was ready for another shower and a glass of wine, not to mention, some more of that steamy romance novel I'd been reading. Yum.
Friday Night Concert
Peyton
I
decided to leave my hair down. I ran the flat iron through it, letting it fall in silky strands over the top of my shoulders. I applied smoky gray eye shadow to make my light gray eyes pop. When I finished my hair and makeup, I slipped on my new denim skirt with rhinestones on the back pockets, a black fitted t-shirt, and a pair of black flats adorned with rhinestones sprinkled across the toes. I grabbed my black Coach wristlet and went in search of Jules. She was standing at the kitchen counter with a bottle of Patron and two shot glasses. She looked me over from head to toe with a confused look.
Eying my outfit she said, "This is a rock concert. I said to dress like a groupie. Nothing about you looks slutty." Thank God. I rolled my eyes and ignored her comment.
"Breaking out the good stuff, huh?" I pointed to the bottle and grinned. "Happy Birthday!" I sat the small gift bag on the table in front of her.
"You shouldn't have!" She squealed and pulled the pink tissue paper from the black bag. "I'm so glad you did, though!" She laughed as she hung the shot glass necklace around her neck. "Oh-my-god,” she laughed, staring down at the little pink penis that was made into the bottom of the glass. “I haven't even left the house yet and I've already gotten cock!" She poured her shot of tequila into the glass and another for me, before sliding it across the counter in front of me.
"It's not every day that I get you to lay down your book boyfriend and go out. Besides, it's been months since the breakup. It'll be good for you to go out and have some fun. Live a little. You have to come out of hiding some time. How many batteries have you and B.O.B gone through? I bet you've forgotten what a real cock feels like." She smirked.
"It hasn't been that long, and no I haven't forgotten what a real one feels like. I just don't need a real one right now. B.O.B and I are doing just fine, thank you. He's never let me down!" I said, jokingly. "And, he knows just what I like."
"We'll see." She grinned and slid another shot in front of me. "Here's to one of us getting lucky tonight, and that you have fresh batteries for B.O.B!" she said, throwing her head back and laughing. I rolled my eyes and tossed back the shot, enjoying the warmth of the liquid as it spread through my veins. "Let's get going. Our cab should be pulling up any minute now." Right on cue, the blare of a horn sounded from outside.
"Promise me one thing." Jules paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked over her shoulder at me. "Promise me that I'm not going to have to bail your ass out of jail because you grabbed some guy’s dick." She rolled her eyes this time and giggled.
"I make no promises." That was what I thought.
"Oh. My. God! Oh-my-god! We're here. I can't believe we're here!” Jules practically flung the door open on the cab before it ever rolled to a stop.
People were lined up halfway around the brick wall of the large building. There were half-naked women; some were holding signs professing their love. One woman with extremely huge boobs held a sign that read, "These boobs are for Chance!" in red glitter. When we finally reached the front of the VIP line, Jules gave the security guy her name. He flipped through a couple of pages on his clipboard before pulling out a couple of lanyards and handing them over to us.
"Follow me ladies," he said, and lifted the rope so that we could step through. A crowd of women behind us began to hurl insults as we walked off.
"That's right, bitches! We're going to party with the band, while you're out here, sweating your asses off!" Jules taunted them, while flipping her long, auburn hair over her shoulder.
"Really, Jules? You're gonna get our asses kicked before we ever get back stage." We followed the big guy down a long hallway and into the backstage area, where we weaved our way through techs, roadies, and tons of wires and equipment. We walked until we came to a door at the end of the hall that had a sign with the band's name on it.
"This is it, Peyton! This is it!" Jules dug her fingers into the flesh of my arm, hard.
"Shit, Jules!" I rubbed my arm where her fingers had been.
"Would you please just calm down. They're going to think you're some crazy person who has escaped the psych ward if you keep this up," I scolded.
I could understand her excitement for being so cl
ose to someone as famous as these guys. Except, all the fame did for them was ruin them. Reality became distorted and soon they were handed everything that was once beyond their reach—all because of who they had become. They gained access into places they wouldn't normally have been able to go. There were expensive gifts, multi-million dollar endorsement deals, the drugs, and alcohol, even the endless parade of women, who threw themselves at band. Being a rock star not only ruined the guys themselves, but also the people closest to them. I, for one, would know. The big beefy security guy lifted his arm and knocked twice, before the door swung open to the meet and greet room.
"Holy Shit. This is it. I'm actually going to meet the guys from Dirty Affliction!" Jules took a deep breath and turned to face me. "What are you doing?" She paused when she noticed I wasn't following her. "Aren't you coming in?" she questioned. There was no way I was going into that room.
"I'll wait out here." I took a step back against the wall. "Go ahead and get your autographs, I'll be here when you're done." She opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. "Go. Have fun." I gave her a little shove. She turned to look at the crowd of people in the room and a huge grin spread across her adorable face, before she disappeared into the crowd. I pulled out my cell and began to scroll through my text messages, when a deep voice sounded near my ear, sending a vibration of pleasure straight to my core.
