Guitar Freak

by Candy J. Starr

  “Dude, check her out. She plays bass nearly as good as I do.”

  She had something, that was for sure. There weren’t many bass players who commanded all the attention onstage. Not even Elijah. But when she played, your eyes were drawn to her. They ran through a song with her screaming the backing. That song hadn’t been on the demo, but hell, she had a powerful set of vocal cords. She pissed all over that smarmy front man with his bland voice. I’d have kicked him off vocals and had her doing all the singing if I were them. But it was none of my concern.

  At the end of the song, she swung around with her bass, flashing her panties. Hell, the crowd would eat that up. Maybe it wasn’t intentional, but I wouldn’t put money on that.

  By the time they’d finished the song, Elijah was ready to go.

  “Come on. Berlin is waiting. Unless you want to moon around over that chick all day.”

  I nodded and made a move. There was a van waiting for us, and one of the local guys came with us. As we drove around, he told us a bit about the history of the place, but I stared out the window, barely listening to him.

  That girl. Everything about her irritated me. Why hadn’t I checked out the opener more thoroughly? We’d had a couple of options on the short list, and I’d been wrapped up in getting the album finished. The support we’d booked had canceled just before we were due to leave for Europe, and we’d needed a band who could pack up and join us fast. That was still no excuse for my lack of attention.

  The way she’d sucked on that lollipop and the pantie-flashing—so blatant. If she thought this tour was going to be a fuck fest, she could think again. Maybe that would work with Elijah—well, for a one night only, then he’d tire of her and move on to a willing groupie or two. It’d have nothing to do with the rest of us.

  Her playing was way too sloppy. Even if she was good, she lacked consistency. You could see that straight off. Would she even stand up to the pressure of touring? You could only get by with attitude alone for so long.

  I twisted in my seat, facing Elijah and Crow sitting behind me.

  “Hey, Elijah, do you know that chick’s name?” I asked. Not that it mattered one bit.

  “Which chick?” Elijah asked.

  A shot of irritation ran through me. He knew perfectly well which chick I meant. He was just being a dick, wanting me to spell things out.

  “The bass player,” I said.

  Elijah got out his phone and checked her out. I could’ve done that myself.

  “Polly. Wow, she used to date the lead singer, that smarmy-looking bastard. They broke up recently. No wonder there was a bit of tension onstage.”

  God, that made things a heap worse. The whole situation was a huge drama just waiting to happen.

  “Miles, he’s the lead,” Elijah added. “Strikes me as a bit of a dick.”

  “I guess we don’t need to have that much to do with them. They can stick to their space, we stick to ours.”

  Crow and Elijah exchanged looks.

  “What’s that about?” I asked.

  “You’ve paid more attention to this chick than you have to any woman in the last twelve months. Face it, buddy: you’ve been in your little songwriting cave so long, you’ve practically become a monk. We were wondering if your dick had actually dropped off. But an on-tour fling, that might do you the world of good.”

  I sat up straighter.

  “I’m asking because she’s on the tour with us. From a purely professional point of view. That’s all.”

  Elijah gave a fake cough. “Suuuure.”

  I huffed and turned back to the window. Berlin was an interesting city, for sure. So many historical buildings and all that.

  Suddenly, Elijah slapped me on the shoulder.

  “Wake up, Damo. This dude is going to take us to the best kebab place in Berlin.”

  Elijah rubbed his belly. That guy thought of nothing but his belly and his cock, but I wondered if this tour would work out. Maybe I needed to check out the second option on the list of openers, just in case. This band, Wreckage, would end up being just that. Maybe we could even get a local band. There had to be some young, hungry up-and-comers in this town, only too willing to work with us.

  It wasn’t that I had any issue with chicks in bands. Just that chick, in that band.

  The van came to a stop.

  “Damo, stop fantasizing about that chick and get a kebab.” Elijah rolled his eyes. “Jeez, stop thinking with your cock. And you say I’m bad.”

  He and Crow laughed a lot as they got out of the van. I huffed and followed them, pulling my jacket around me.

  Chapter 4: Polly

  I was sitting on the bench in the corner of the dressing room, hugging my legs and resting my head on my knees, waiting to go onstage.

  Miles paced circles around the dressing room. When he got stressed like this, he always paced. And then he fidgeted. I fucking hated that. I wanted him to sit down and let up for a while, give the rest of us some breathing space, but that would never happen. He never considered other people. It was all about him. He got that way before any gig, but tonight he’d ramped it up, checking and double-checking every single little detail. It was easiest to stay out of his way when he got like that. He loved having someone to take his tension out on, and I refused to be that person.

  I put my headphones on and drowned him out. Still, I could see him out of the corner of my eye. Even if I shut my eyes, I knew what he was doing. His nervousness radiated from him, crashing against me, and he made sure I couldn’t ignore him.

  My hands balled up. Once, just once, I’d love to punch him. Or kick him. Or throw him against the wall and make him see that there were other people in this world.

  Screw that shit. I stood up. I’d go for a walk around the backstage area. Maybe I could find a quiet space.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, the words spat out.

  According to him, I wasn’t supposed to leave. He wanted me to stick around and be an audience for his nervousness. The supportive one, sitting quietly while he vented. But those days were over. I wasn’t his girlfriend anymore. He could talk his crap to someone else.

  “I’m taking a piss. You have a problem with that?”

  He sneered, but he couldn’t exactly stop me. Jerk.

  I walked down to the bathroom. Hell, my makeup had smeared. That might be all punk rock as fuck, but I’d almost crossed the border into total slob. I grabbed some paper towel off the roll and rubbed at my face. I couldn’t fix it properly, not without going back to our room for my makeup bag, and that’d mean dealing with Miles again.

  I wanted to look perfect when I was in the spotlight, but dealing with Miles’ angst was too great a sacrifice.

  Once I’d fixed my eyeliner, I jumped up on the counter next to the basins. A quiet space at last. I leaned back, resting my head against the cold mirror.

  When I broke up with Miles, I’d have loved to walk away from him and his issues forever. I’d been tempted to quit the band. Make a clean break. I could’ve joined another band, or formed my own, with sane, rational people. But, worst timing ever, we got offered this tour. The decision had been taken away from me, and I couldn’t let the chance slip by. Instead, I just had to suffer through it. Putting up with Miles was the price I had to pay.

  One of the chicks working on the tour came into the bathroom.

  “Hi,” she said nervously.

  Hell, I made people nervous? What a trip. I wasn’t like I was a big star or anything. Just the bass player in the opening band. She gave me a sideways glance, then rushed into the cubicle. I wanted to call out, to tell her that I wasn’t so scary, but that would just make things worse.

  I checked my watch. Probably time to go onstage, anyway. I couldn’t hide out in the bathroom all night. I had a show to play.

  I walked up the ramp to the stage area and waited.

  I could see the crowd. I’d known this place was big, but now that it’d filled up, it was massive. I couldn’t do this show. N
ot in front of so many people. Not with this tension in my belly like I wanted to throw up or pee or both at once.

  Ah, who was I kidding? That buzz hit me, and I loved it. I needed to get out there and rock. Nerves were for the weak, and I’d never been weak. It was just a momentary lapse in my confidence. Once I had my bass strapped on, I’d be Queen of the World.

  “There you are,” Miles said. “We’ve been looking for you.”

  Surely I could be trusted to get from backstage to here on my own? It wasn’t like we all had to hold hands or travel in a pack.

  “Maybe you could let go a little and just trust me to do my job.”

  “Ready to go on?” Jax asked, always the peacemaker.

  “Born ready, buddy.” I shot him the finger guns. “Tonight is going to be legendary.”

  When we walked onstage, the response was lukewarm. Screw you, lukewarm people. You’d learn your lesson tonight. Then screams came from the front of the crowd.

  “Pollyyyyy! Pollyyyy!” a group of fans in Wreckage t-shirts called.

  My heart soared. They might be only about a dozen people among the thousands, but they were here for us. For me. Woohoo, die-hard fans. My favorite kind. I shot them the finger guns, and they screamed. Couldn’t beat that.

  When I picked up my bass, they screamed again. This would be a night to remember.

  “Polly! I love you!” someone screamed.

  “What about Jax?” I asked, waving my hand at the drum kit. “He needs some love too.”

  They screamed again. Miles gave me a sneer that dampened my enthusiasm. Of course it had to be about him and his ego. But screw him. He could find his own fans.

  “Drop it, buddy,” I said. “Let’s give these people the night of their lives.”

  At least his shitty attitude didn’t matter when the lights went down. Time to play. This was it. My life. Everything that mattered. I turned to Jax, and the two of us started up, Miles coming in on guitar a fraction of a beat too late. I ignored that. He did that sometimes as a mind fuck. Making us adjust our rhythm to match his.

  By the end of the first song, the heat had turned up on that initial lukewarm response. The more they cheered, the higher I got. I stepped forward and planted my foot on the fold-back speaker. Maybe I’d flashed my panties, but hey, if it got the crowd into us, I didn’t mind. You gotta do what it takes in this business. I winked at a guy in the front row.

  I swung back to Jax, but my gaze settled on Damo, standing at the side of the stage, watching. Arms folded and that superior look on his face. Fuck him. Fuck Damo and the rest of The Freaks. I didn’t need his approval.

  We moved into the next song and I fondled the mic stand, screaming my backing vocals. I was really getting into the set now. The crowd gave me the energy I loved, turning me into a crazy thing onstage. I loved this wildness. I hurled myself around the stage, not knowing what I’d do next. I had them. This was my show.

  Then I crashed into Miles.

  Hell, he glared at me as though I’d done it on purpose. The bass flew from my hands. There was almost a minute of silence until I got it back on me.

  Fuck. Just fuck. The magic had gone.

  Chapter 5: Damo

  That jerk knocked into her! Well, she’d done the knocking, but he’d purposely put himself in her way. That was their issue, but, obviously, personal issues came before music with them. It didn’t sit well with me. Sure, Elijah and I had our problems at times, but once we got on that stage, you could bet we worked as a team. People don’t pay to watch your passive-aggressive shit.

  I shrugged it off, then went back to our room. I didn’t need to see any more of that.

  “What’s the crowd like?” Elijah asked.

  “Pumping. First-night nerves?”

  “Not me. I’ve got nerves of steel.”

  Yeah, it was Crow who freaked. He had the worst pre-show nerves I’d ever seen. Once he got onstage, he was fine, but before a show, he was always doom and gloom. We used to try settling him, but now we just went with it. So long as he didn’t bug anyone else, he could suffer all he liked. The guy would never be all Zen.

  Matt was sitting in the corner with his girlfriend, the two of them talking quietly. He hadn’t brought her to any of the shows back home, but I guessed it had gotten boring sitting around in a hotel room here. I said hi but didn’t like to linger, since the last time I’d seen her, she’d burst into the room naked. Awkward as hell. At least they’d sorted out their issues. Even though I hated groupies around the band, a steady girlfriend like her was fine.

  Before heading back up to the stage, I checked myself out. I went for plain stage wear. T-shirt and jeans. Elijah loved the fancy gear. Not exactly sequins-and-feathers kind of fancy, but leather pants and tight shirts. He never minded a bit of eyeliner, either. It worked for him. I’d feel like a dick, dressing like that.

  When it was time, the four of us walked up to the stage. Matt walked beside me. Getting him for the band had been a stroke of genius. It took the pressure off me onstage, and his input into the album had been fantastic. He seemed to know the sound I wanted without my having to spell it out to him. In the short time he’d been with us, he’d become an integral part of the team.

  I took a deep breath.

  “This is an important show for us,” I said. “It’s got to set the tone for the whole European tour.”

  Matt grinned. I guessed I’d said that one or two times before.

  When we got up there, the openers had cleared the stage and the roadies had everything set up for us. Silence filled with anticipation hovered around the arena, the buzz in the air almost tangible.

  “Ready, guys?”

  The others nodded.

  As we walked onstage, the silence broke like the sky erupting into a summer storm, the thunder of applause deafening.

  I grinned. Overseas crowds were always an uncertainty, but this lot was welcoming us with open arms.

  Elijah grabbed the mic and screamed out some greetings. I preferred to leave the onstage banter to him. He worked the crowd with all those cheesy lines. I just felt like a dick when I tried a “we’re here to rock you” or the like. He had the sincerity to pull it off, though.

  Five nights here in Berlin and every show sold out. I had a good feeling about this.

  I strapped on my guitar. The knot in my stomach loosened. I always felt more comfortable with that guitar on. It was my security blanket. A barrier between me and the rest of the world.

  We kicked off with one of our older songs. Most of the crowd knew it. They screamed out the words, almost drowning out the vocals. By halfway through the song, I knew this was going to be a great night. Energy rolled from the crowd, feeding us, and we threw it right back at them.

  It was only when we’d gotten a few songs in that I noticed her. She stood in the shadows, quietly watching. Not smiling. Fuck that. I’d make her smile. People didn’t watch me play and not smile. I could rock the 17,000 people out there, and I could rock her too. She wouldn’t be so self-satisfied when we’d finished our set.

  I’d been all wound-up energy before that, but now I let it all go. The words screaming out over the crowd, the music winding them up, then holding them on the crest of that tension until they could barely stand it. Then, when I had them almost begging for it, we’d let it all go, the music crashing over them.

  Elijah grinned at me. He loved it when we played around the songs. I knew that no matter what I did, he’d go one better. Crow just settled into whatever the two of us were doing while Matty worked with us, adding in some innovations of his own. We were the perfect team. That love the crowd gave us was solid, like I could reach out and grab it in my hand.

  We finished to stomping and screaming and a mania working up the crowd.

  She had to be impressed by that. That song had been pure magic.

  But then I looked over at her. She was still scowling. Hell, what did it take?

  Then, all of a sudden, a smile broke out over her face. I hadn�
��t seen her smile before. It changed her whole face. The sullen fierceness disappeared. I wanted to keep looking, but I had music to play. I was still determined to get rid of her. The whole band had a sour vibe. I didn’t often make mistakes, but approving them for the tour had definitely been one of them. But I was glad I’d made her smile. Maybe more glad than I should have been.

  Elijah gave me a signal. He wanted to go into one of our faster songs. We had a ballad on the set list, but he was right. We had to keep this crowd charged now that we had them there. I gave a nod and turned to Matty.

  We plowed into the intro, a total wall of noise. Almost loud enough to drown out the screams. Hell, this was the best feeling in the world. The love came off those people like a palpable thing. All aimed at us. This was what I worked for—this feeling, this happiness. The chance to let people forget their lives for a short time and indulge in pure pleasure. There was nothing that beat that.

  I became charged, strutting around the stage to rival Elijah. He shot me a grin.

  When we finished, I looked over into the shadows. I wasn’t watching for her smile; she didn’t mean enough to me for that. But as much as I searched, I couldn’t find her. She’d gone. What the hell? I hadn’t seen her move, but she definitely wasn’t there.

  Why did I even care? It wasn’t like she meant a damn thing to me. Nothing.

  Chapter 6: Polly

  When I got to the dressing room, Miles was still in his silent brooding mood. He expected me to ask what was wrong, but I’d had enough of that. Half the reason I’d gone up to watch The Freaks was to avoid being around him.

  I went into the main backstage area and grabbed a drink. I could see Miles through the open doorway, so I stood with my back to him. A few of the PR people hung around, so I went over to chat with them. I considered going back to catch the rest of The Freaks’ set, but there’d been something in that guy’s eyes when he saw me that really bothered me. I hadn’t wanted him to see me at all. I’d wanted to hide in the shadows and watch. I wasn’t there to connect with Damo. Why had he even looked at me?