Marked By The Devil

by Joanna Blake

  He held it up and the crowd exploded. He grabbed his shaft through his leather pants and tugged on it. The screaming got even louder, if that was possible.

  The lights dimmed and he started to wander offstage until he felt someone take his arm. He stumbled offstage and followed the signs to the greenroom.

  He needed another drink.

  “Here love, would you do something with this for me?”

  The girl standing by the velvet rope gave him a dazzling smile and accepted the statue.

  He grabbed a shot of tequila from the VIP lounge bar, dropping a fifty for the bartender. Drinks were free, but he always tipped the help. He grinned, throwing the lemon over his shoulder.

  Slow clapping from the corner caught his attention. Fucking Bruce. The biggest pain in the ass alive and one of his best friends.

  Hell, he was one of his only friends. His band. His mates from school. Kendall and Bruce.

  Everyone else was just a walk-on.

  “Well done.”

  Nick tipped his drink, sloshing most of it down his forearm. He licked his hand and chugged the rest of the shot. He held his hand out and the glass was magically refilled.

  “Thanks, mate.”

  He swaggered across the room. Bruce watched him, an amused look on his handsome face.

  “Congrats on the prize. The speech, not so much.”

  “What are you so happy about, you smug bastard?”

  Bruce’s expression cleared and Nick kicked himself mentally. Bruce was not happy. They both knew it.

  He hadn’t been happy in a long time.

  Nick knew he had his reasons, but to be that rich and famous and such a sourpuss… what a fucking waste. Still, Bruce had been famous longer than any of the three friends, and Nick knew it was wearing on him.

  Nick had his own way of handling the stress and strain of megastardom. Mostly alchohol and female companionship. He slapped Bruce’s back, determined to cheer his friend up.

  He just needed a little… perspective.

  “You know what your bloody problem is?”

  “What?”

  “You need to drink more.”

  He downed his shot and waved for another.

  “Bring two!”

  “I’m not drinking tonight.”

  “Right, right. More for me.”

  “Drinking isn’t the answer to anything, Nick.”

  “You’re such a mother hen.”

  Bruce just raised an eyebrow, cool and collected as always.

  “If you don’t want to drink, at least pop off with someone. You need to get laid, mate.”

  That was the wrong thing to say apparently. Bruce stood to go.

  “Hey wait mate, I didn’t tell you about Kendall.”

  “Okay, tell me.”

  “He’s got this bird, mate. Fit. Not one of us.”

  “She’s not in the biz?”

  “She’s a civilian, mate.”

  “We told him to keep it to the industry. Everyone else is just a fan.”

  “He doesn’t think so. He’s moved her in with him.”

  Bruce exhaled.

  “Is he happy?”

  “As a lark.”

  Nick made some whistling sound, like a couple of love birds.

  “Then leave it alone.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I have no one to go out trolling for chicks with now.”

  Bruce laughed, shaking his head.

  “You always said the women come to you.”

  “They do. Course they do.”

  Bruce held out his hand and Nick stood to shake it.

  “You know, some people actually want more out of life Nick.”

  Nick had no idea what to say to that. His friend was getting deep as the years rolled on. They used to get wild together. Now Kendall was settling down and Bruce was turning into a Buddhist Monk or something.

  “You’re fucking wise, mate.”

  Bruce just shook his head.

  “No. I’m not. I’m just tired. Enjoy your night.”

  Nick grinned.

  “Always, mate.”

  Nick partied the rest of the night with a couple of girls he met at one of the after parties. When he woke up at three o’clock the following day, he couldn’t even remember their names.

  Cockpit Excerpt

  Jagger

  Marines from all over the camp crowded around me as I dug into my trunk. My unit was going home, so I was giving my goodies away along with the rest of the guys. All the stuff that made living in the ass end of the world bearable.

  Skin mags. Smokes. Booze. A couple of dog-earred paperback novels. An unopened bag of socks my foster sister had sent. Dice.

  I even had a set of checkers.

  I was keeping my lucky deck of cards though.

  "And to you K-Dawg, I bequeath my prized possession. Racy redheads."

  I made a big show of handing Ken the magazine that had gotten me through a lot of lonely nights. I had a thing for redheads now. Ever since her.

  The fallen angel.

  Sweet Jenny, whatever her last name was.

  The picture I liked the best was one of a girl from the back. All you could see was her red hair and the curve of her ass. It almost looked like her. The one that had got away. It was a damn shame too.

  I'd thought about her the whole damn time I was overseas. I was tempted to go back to that base and try and track her down, even though it was two states away from my next assignment.

  I'd look like an idiot walking into a bar and asking about a girl with no last name that I'd met a year and a half ago.

  Fuck though, after the night we'd had it might be worth it.

  "Do I need gloves for this? Or maybe a hazmat suit?"

  "No K-Dawg. I jack off into a condom."

  "What the fuck for?"

  "Reminds me of the real thing dude."

  I reached into my trunk and pulled out a roll of rubbers.

  "Speaking of which."

  I tossed them into the crowd. The guys grabbed at them, acting like lunatics. Not that many of them were going to get laid over here. They'd probably end up making balloon animals out of them. But I knew they had to let off steam anyway they could.

  Hell, I did too.

  Gambling, running laps around the perimeter of the encampment, or just thinking about what I was going to do when I got back to the states.

  This time it was for good. My unit was being sent back. But I was going to be a pilot trainer for the duration of my service. For some reason, the powers that be had thought I would be good at it.

  It would be a big change, but I was ready for it.

  Truth be told, I was tired.

  "I'm going to miss you fuckers."

  It was true. That was the only hard thing about this. My unit was going home, but I had other friends here. Leaving these guys to face God knows what without me felt like I was cutting off a hand with a rusty saw.

  Still, not getting shot at was going to be a nice change of pace.

  Not that I was going to do what everybody else did. I'd seen it time and again. Single guys left and then the next thing you knew, they were popping out babies left and right. Even Joss had done it. The iceman himself had fallen in love with a pop star of all things, gotten hitched and started procreating.

  If he could crack under pressure, then the rest of these guys were toast. They might as well start picking out tablecloths. I, on the other hand, had things to do.

  Manly things. Things with women. With hard drinking. With my bike.

  I wanted to ride cross-country, hitting every juke joint I came across. I got a little misty eyed thinking about it.

  Hell, maybe I'd even find my little redhead.

 

 

 
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