“I’m not in the mood,” I said and looked at the stage.
It was all set up. I stared at Tatum’s drum set, wishing the band would just play. I needed the music to drown everything else out.
“Oh, come on, Maggs, don’t be like that.”
“Maggs? Who the...”
“What? You don’t like it?”
“No, not at all.”
“Just come with me tonight, I need the company.”
I looked at Danny. He looked pathetic and desperate, two seconds away from taking out his wallet and asking what it would cost.
“Not tonight.”
“Don’t be like that,” Danny said, “I know how you are... you like to party, so come party.”
“No, it’s not like that.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard.”
“I don’t care what you’ve heard.”
“I heard you like to make wild promises to people...”
Danny smiled and I pictured something else for a few seconds.
Always keep your promises, Maggie, okay? If not... well, that’s when bad things happen.
I stepped back and put my hands up.
“Get out here, okay?” I asked.
“What the fuck?” Danny asked. “You put out to everybody, what’s wrong with me?”
“Just... go somewhere else.”
“Everything okay?” another voice chimed in.
It was Scarlett, holding two beers.
I let out a breath and side stepped to be closer to her.
“Oh, are you protecting her?” Danny asked staring at Scarlett.
“Maybe I am,” Scarlett said.
I couldn’t believe this new Scarlett. She moved to her toes and for a second I thought she was going to throw down with Danny. The only thing that maybe stopped her were the beers in her hand.
“Fuck it then,” Danny said. “You’re fucking the band” - he pointed to Scarlett and then pointed to me - “and you... you are just fucking everything...”
I swallowed as pain rushed to my heart.
Before I could find anything to say, Scarlett threw beer at Danny. The bottle in her right hand shook and splashed, covering his face and shirt. Danny threw his hands up and cursed, then turned to rush away.
The lights then went out, leaving a soft purple glow on the stage.
“Here,” Scarlett said over the booming sound of the crowd cheering, “take the good beer...”
“No, don’t worry about it.”
I grabbed the beer from her right hand. It was wet and slippery and when I tried to drink it, it was all foam. Not that I really wanted to drink, I was more interested in the show.
The crowd cheered and where Scarlett and I stood we had the chance to see the band before everyone else did. We could see them in a small opening as they stepped to the stage. Scarlett screamed Tripp’s name and for whatever reason it made me wonder if she did the same when they were together, in bed.
Tripp grabbed the mic as a guitar hung from his shoulders. Logan walked up next to Tripp, holding his bass, already strumming a deep note that bounced through the speakers, cutting straight into my body. The sound, however, didn’t go nearly as deep as the feeling I had watching Tatum climb behind the drums. He sat and touched all the drums, making sure they were in the perfect position. He stood for a second to check his cymbals and then he sat, drumsticks in hand, playing with his lip ring. I wondered if he did that when he was nervous, excited, or both. I knew that if I had the chance to play with that lip ring, it’d be out of lust and seeking pleasure.
I shook my head and looked at the crowd for a few seconds, trying to calm my body. When I looked back to DownCrash, Tripp was turned, facing Tatum, nodding. Tatum’s eyes were wide and he smiled. He then slammed the drumsticks together in a four count that led off the show.
The guitar cried out in relief as Logan’s bass carried the tune right behind it. Tatum held everything together with a beat that each time he hit the kick drum forced my heart to match. Pounding, over and over.
Tripp played a note and put both hands to the mic as he started to sing. His guitar slowly died into a mild feedback with Logan carrying the song on bass and Tatum joining him. I recognized the song, as did the rest of the crowd, as they shouted the lyrics back to Tripp. Standing at my angle, there was nothing quite like it. I’d been to hundreds of shows in my life and the reaction DownCrash received could only be compared to some of the biggest bands in the world. Those who filled stadiums night after night, with a career spanning decades.
But here, DownCrash owned everyone.
The song came to an end and Tripp didn’t allow any time to waste between songs. One after another, he played and sang. On most of the choruses, Tatum and Logan joined in, singing into a mic that had been placed next to the drums for Tatum.
I lost count of how many songs they had played but it must have been at least six before they took a quick break.
“How’s it fucking going?” Tripp screamed.
Tatum kicked the bass drum a few times and the crowd erupted.
“Awesome,” Tripp said. “Just awesome. Anyone want to hear a new song?”
Tripp turned his head left, then right. He looked over his shoulder at Tatum and shrugged.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Tatum said.
Hearing Tatum’s voice over the giant speakers warmed my body up.
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Tripp said. “Let’s try it again... does anyone want to fucking hear a new fucking song?”
This time the band got the reaction they wanted. The screams and shrieks, the crowd jumping, arms in the air, it was like telling everyone they had the lottery and were now all millionaires.
“That’s better,” Tripp said. He wiped his face and laughed. “Now, whether you know it or not, we’ve got some real talent up here... and no, it’s not just me.” Tripp laughed again and looked at Tatum, nodding. “This next song is something new we’re messing with. Hope you don’t mind, but my man Tatum is going to take it away...”
My mouth fell open.
Tatum was going to sing on his own?
I looked at Scarlett and she didn’t seem all that surprised. Why would she be? She probably had seen every band practice and knew all this already.
Again, the mild jealousy hit me.
I waited impatiently, watching as Tripp smiled again at Tatum. Something in Tatum's face suddenly looked so cute and innocent, a case of the nerves for sure. He looked vulnerable and for that he looked adorable. From our angle I could see it but I knew most fans in the crowd wouldn't.
Tripp nodded his head, slowly, counting off for Tatum to begin.
When they started, they pulled it off perfectly, Tripp strumming his clean guitar and Tatum gently tapping the hi-hats of his drum set. This continued for almost a minute until Tatum finally started to sing. When he did, Tripp's face lit up and he threw his right fist into the air but only for a second so he could keep playing the song.
Tatum's voice was beautiful. While Tripp's voice was a little higher and dare I say it, whiney, at times, Tatum's was all man. His voice had a purpose and after singing the first verse, Tripp took over. He sang the second verse and then Logan came in on the chorus where the entire song picked up life. I thought that was it for Tatum until the second verse came. Tatum picked up where he left off. I started to pick up on the meaning of the song... two people talking about the same person but in different lights. Their own views, opinions, and feelings. It was a great song, one that I definitely wanted to hear professionally recorded.
When the song came an end, the crowd applauded and Tripp yelled, "How about my man, Tatum?"
More cheers, the sound swelling in my ears.
"For the record, Tatum is single..."
The women in the crowd all screamed, hoping to be the loudest.
Scarlett elbowed me and leaned in. "That's a lot of competition."
"Stop it," I growled back, wanting to make it sound like it didn't bother me.
But
it did bother me.
It bothered me because Tatum was hot enough to go home with any girl in the crowd. It bothered me because Scarlett had already kissed Tatum, tongue and all. And it bothered me because I wasn't sure if and how I'd get a shot with Tatum, not with my reputation hanging in the not too far distance.
The last thing I would ever want, if given the opportunity to have Tatum, would be to lie to him in any way.
~4~
When Tripp made the announcement for the last song, the crowd had a mixed reaction of cheers and boos. I understood the feeling because by then my ears were throbbing from the sound, but I didn’t want it to end. I could watch them play all night if I had the chance.
Tatum stood from the drum kit and I moved to my toes, grabbing the shoulder of the guy standing to the side of me for balance. His arm went around my waist and I let it go for the moment. I wanted to see what Tatum was doing.
He started to hit the kick drum, a steady beat of thump, thump, thump, thump, long enough that I felt my head bobbing and saw the rest of the crowd getting into it too. Tripp took the mic and hit a loud power chord and let it ring out.
“I want everyone singing,” he said.
Tatum continued standing, playing the bass drum and when Tripp hit the same chord again, Logan did the same with the bass, adding that extra chunk of sound that rumbled the entire place. Tripp began to sing DownCrash’s most popular song and as told, the crowd sang back.
Tripp stopped after the first line and threw his guitar behind him, tore the mic from its stand, and leaned over the crowd, letting them sing. Logan hit a note every few seconds and Tatum carried the beat with one foot. The crowd sang and while it wasn’t exactly in perfect tune, it made me shiver with excitement to see. Three guys... three guys from campus... coming together to create a band, an experience, and music good enough and powerful enough that everyone learned the words and were desperate to sing it back to the band. People pushed and clawed for their chance to get anywhere near the mic to help sing. Tripp masterfully strutted along the stage, bent over, making everyone got their chance to help with the song. At the last part of the first verse he hurried back to the mic stand, put the mic back, and wiggled his shoulders, bringing his guitar back to the front of his body. He nodded, smiling, and I watched Tatum sit down at the drums, preparing for the chorus.
When it came, the band hit their stride, all three coming together and finishing what had to be the greatest DownCrash show of all time. They ran through the last song faster than I remembered it being but at the last chorus, they played it over and over and over, probably about ten times, Tripp calling for everyone to jump, to dance, to sing, to let go and live their fucking lives!.
Tatum sang with all his heart and my eyes couldn’t look away. The sweat poured down his face, his hair glistening against the lights. His t-shirt clung to his shoulders and chest, giving indication of the definition that waited. I wanted him to tear his shirt off. Instead, Tatum looked at me and smiled as he sang.
My body burned, inside and out, by the time the show ended. The heat was intense. Thinking about Tatum, thinking about DownCrash, looking to my right and seeing the eyes Scarlett gave Tripp, it just made me want it all even more. I didn’t want to be the party girl everyone thought I was. I didn’t want to have to face my past and all those promises. I just wanted to fool around with Tatum.
The band hit their last note and Tripp thanked everyone for being there. Hands were in the air, fingers wiggling, and Tripp threw his guitar pick into the crowd. A fury of pushing and shoving started and ended a few seconds later. Tatum then added to it by throwing a drumstick into the crowd. He then stood and looked right at me, pointing. My eyes went wide and I froze.
What was I supposed to do?
Tatum waved his other drumstick and smiled.
All my eyes could see was his lip ring and sweat. I wanted to taste both.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Tatum bit on his lip ring as he lined up his throw. He released the drumstick and I watched it flip over itself, over and over, and I put my hand up, hoping that first, I could catch it, and second, it wouldn’t hurt when it smacked into the palm of my hand. With a few inches to go, a hand shot out and grabbed the drumstick.
Some guy started cheering, drunk as anything, slobbering and stumbling in his groups of friends.
I heard Tatum bellow, “What the fuck?” but it didn’t matter.
I’d go home empty handed, in more ways than one.
DownCrash left the stage and Scarlett grabbed my arm.
“Backstage?” she asked with an excited look on her face.
“You go,” I said. “I’m going to head home.”
“Seriously? Maggie... going home?”
“Scarlett, please,” I said. “It’s just hard right now, okay?”
The place had started to clear out, but some people lingered to talk, drink, and enjoy the sound of the radio playing over the speakers that just a few minutes ago screamed the notes DownCrash played.
“Why is it hard?” Scarlett asked.
“Because I don’t want anyone to think the wrong thing anymore. And I don’t know what to do about it.”
Promises, Maggie, okay? We all have to keep our promises... or else...
I shut my eyes and sighed.
“You think Tatum thinks you’re some slut?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not. I don’t know. What I do know is that I’ve been up since like five in the morning and I’m tired.”
“What’s another hour or two?” Scarlett asked.
She wasn’t begging me right then, she was trying to help me. And while I appreciated it, it only killed me more on the inside. I didn’t want to be helped. Or pitied. Or anything like that. I honestly wanted to go home and sleep. I wanted to let things blow over like they always did. Give it another couple weeks, maybe a month, and then I would just be Maggie again. Nobody would have any stories about me. Nothing about me getting crazy drunk, making out with a couple guys, and enjoying myself but never going too far. Like I said, they always made up the other stuff... which was because I let them make it up and maybe because I whispered dirty stuff in their ears, wanting to create a struggle between fantasy and reality.
“Let me walk you to your car then,” Scarlett said.
“No,” I said. “It’s seriously a few blocks away. Go enjoy Tripp and the band.”
I swallowed and Scarlett put her hands to my shoulders and started to shake me.
“You have to stop,” she said.
“Stop what?”
“Thinking about what you saw. I already told you like a hundred times. I’m sorry. If I knew you were into Tatum...”
“I’m not worried about that,” I said, lying through my teeth.
...promises... lies...
“You’re a liar,” Scarlett said.
I shook my head.
I kept my mouth shut.
“All you need to do is walk back with me,” Scarlett said. “You can bust into the room, walk up to Tatum, grab him, and kiss him. As much as you want, as hard as you want, as deep as you want. Then we’re even.”
“And then party-girl-slut Maggie is alive and well, right?”
Scarlett frowned. “Whatever then. I’m going to tell Tatum you were asking about him at least.”
“That’s fine.”
“Maybe I’ll slip in your number.”
“Yeah, that’s cool, because we’re in high school...”
Scarlett stuck her tongue out at me and walked away. She started out with a couple steps and then broke out into a jog. Whatever crazy connection existed between she and Tripp, they couldn’t keep their clothes on and their hands off each other.
I turned around and started to leave. I had the horrible feeling that I was completing the walk of shame and that everyone was staring at me. Nobody was but it just felt weird. I even stopped walking and purposely checked my cell phone, then looked around to see if anyone was actually looking at me.
When I saw that not a single set of eyes were upon me, I felt foolish. With my cell phone tucked back into my pocket, I left but not before looking over my shoulder one last time. But it wasn’t because I wanted to triple check for people staring at me, it was because I had to think about what could have been. If I had just gone back with Scarlett... I could be talking to Tatum. Enjoying myself even. Maybe even slipping in the truth about the crazy stories going around campus about me.
But seriously, did rockstars really care about that stuff?
The sidewalks and street were just as busy before the show. The only difference now was that with most of the people drunk, it was three times as loud. I couldn’t get away from there fast enough. I kept my head down and power walked, watching the blackness of the sidewalks in the dark and then watching the light of lamp posts flood around me. It was like a slow moving strobe light and as I focused on it, I replayed some DownCrash songs in my head. I thought about the show. About Tatum... about Tripp, about Logan.
I turned the corner and saw my car parked four cars down. From my angle it looked as though I had been parked in. I froze for a second and sighed. What a perfect way to the end the night. But as I got closer to my car I realized the car in front of my car left just enough for me to swing out. I knew I’d still need to go back and forth a couple times to make sure I could get out.
But at least I wasn’t stuck.
Score one for me...
“There you are.”
I clutched my key and turned.
The fantasy in my mind had Tatum standing before me, his eyes burning, his lip ring shining, and his hands eager to touch me. The reality, however, was much different.
It was Danny, and he was drunk.
“Danny... what are you doing here?”
“I’ve been following you,” Danny said. “Watching that little ass of yours shaking. Left to right. Left to right. Fucking teasing me all night.”
I backed up and bumped into my car. If I had back into my spot I could have slipped into my car. I held my key tight wondering if I could use it to defend myself. If need be. But that wouldn’t happen, right? That kind of stuff only happened on television and in the movies. Not in real life.
Torn to Pieces (The Boys of DownCrash #2) (new adult contemporary romance / rockstar romance) Page 2
