I’m in the downward dog position as the instructor tells us to go into a high lunge. I rise and move into the position as a young man with spiky, black hair, eyeliner, and lipstick walks in front of me.
He looks like that guy who’s going to play at the charity event this evening. That Australian rocker.
An entourage of similar characters follow him. His band no doubt. His bright, blue eyes look right into mine as a smile spreads over his face.
“Hey there, beautiful,” he says with a thick Australian accent.
I’m sure he’s used to girls falling all over themselves for his attention!
I give him a slight nod. He pauses in front of me and stares at me. Which is annoying.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
This guy is something else, jeeze!
His pierced eyebrow raises, and he asks, “Really?”
The instructor wraps up the practice as the other girls in the group flock around the young man.
“OMG! It’s Kip Dixon!” one girl shouts.
I pick up my yoga mat and say, “Looks like you’re about to get mobbed, Mr. Dixon.”
I’m sure he’s used to it and loves all the attention the girls who seem to go brainless with his presence give him.
One of the bigger-breasted women moves in between Kip and me, screaming, “Please sign my boob, Kip!” She holds out a Sharpie and pulls her shirt down, exposing the top of her plump breasts for him to pick from. If he did.
I roll my eyes and try to walk away but find that I’m caught up in the crowd of girls who cluster together around the pop rocker. I try to push my way out of them but find it useless to fight against the throng.
A hand grabs my shoulder, and I turn back to find the painted boy pulling me along with him.
“Come on,” he says. “I’ll get you out of here.” His hand slides along my arm and he entwines his fingers with mine.
What the hell?
For some reason warmth creeps through me, right down to my core and I find it unsettling. I’ve held hands with guys before and this never happened.
Damn! I hope I’m not coming down with something like the idiot fever I just witnessed happening to my Yoga class over this dude.
Two burley men move in between us and the crowd of screaming girls.
“Back up now, girls,” one of the men says. “Kip will sign autographs in an hour, before he does the show.”
I flow along with the spiky haired guy and his band of merry misfits as they move along to the auditorium. One of the other guys laughs and looks at Kip. “Guess your little idea of mingling with the masses went awry,” he says.
Kip looks at me and winks. “Not entirely,” he says as he gives my hand a squeeze. “Looks like I found me a girl.”
What? He hasn’t found anything!
My head snaps his way, and I say, “Afraid you got the wrong girl, Mr. Pop Rock.” I pull at my hand but he holds it tight in his.
He snickers. “Mr. Pop Rock?” he asks as he gives me a million dollar smile. “Been called lots of things, not that though. I take it you don’t care for my music?”
I shake my head.
“It’s loud and I find the lyrics obnoxious,” I say as I tug once more for my hand to be released but he still holds it tight in his. “Tell me, do you think as highly of yourself as your songs claim?”
His songs are filled with lyrics about how big his dick and balls are. I’m sure his ego is even bigger and I doubt his dick is anything so great to write songs about either.
Like most men who have small wankers, they tend to make more out of their appendage than men with normal size penises do. The way this guy sings about how huge he is and how great a fucker he is and how many lucky, lucky females have got to taste his magic juice, well, let’s just say I bet that the bulge beneath his tight leather pants is a roll of socks.
“Well, it depends on which of the songs your speaking of, Miss, uh, I don’t believe I caught your name,” he says.
“I could throw it at you, not that you’d ever remember it,” I say as I tug hard at my hand.
He lets it go and looks at the guy with purple spikes in his hair who walks beside him.
“You ever seen anyone like her, Bobby?”
Bobby shakes his head. “No boss, never.”
Kip looks back at me and says, “Toss it to me anyway, gorgeous.”
I glance at him. “It’s Peyton Reed,” I say then look away. “I’ll let you get to your business of entertaining the throngs of screaming nymphos.” Taking the chance to get away from the group, I slip past one of them and walk away.
“See ya around then, Peyton,” Kip shouts.
I lift my arm and give him the peace sign as I walk away.
Silly boy thinking he can treat me like he treats all the groupies! I’m not one to get star struck!
Kip
Tripping over a crack in the sidewalk as I watch Peyton Reed walk away, the stumble ignites laughter from the guys in my group. “Shit, Kip!” Bobby says with a fake southern drawl. “I think that little filly done stole your heart.”
I punch him in the back. “Shut it, Bobby!”
My heart can’t be stolen; it beats for me and me alone!
As we get to the door of the auditorium, I look back to see the girl. Her shoulder-length, blonde curls bob as she walks away. My eyes travel all the way down her curvy body and I take in a deep breath. “Such the girl next door.”
Bobby grabs my arm and pulls me inside the building.
“But those pretty light brown eyes were something huh?” he asks.
I sigh. “Yeah, they have little green flecks in them and those long, lush lashes, not a bit of make-up on and she glowed, mate.”
“Bet she’s a country girl, don’t you?”
I nod. “Probably going to be a veterinarian or something noble like that. No wonder she looked at me as if I was a drug dealer or something,” I say with a laugh. “I’m sure she’s a Sunday school teacher or some shit.”
Bobby pokes me in the ribs and says, “You’d most likely hate her if you got to know her. Which you won’t, not on our crazy tour, and she doesn’t seem the type to hang out in L.A.”
I shake my head. “Nah, L.A. and her most likely wouldn’t get along.”
But I don’t live exactly in Los Angeles. My mansion is a bit outside of town and there’s even empty stables at the back of the property, so she might like it.
The band’s manager, Silas, pops out of a side door and motions for us to come to him. “Wonder what Silas has up his sleeve for us tonight,” one of the other band members named, Troy, says.
Silas claps his hands as we make our way to him.
“You ready to hear tons of this sound in a little while guys?” he asks.
Simultaneous and lackluster yes’s we all give and Silas frowns. I pat Silas on the back and say, “We’ll get hyped, dude, no worries.”
“Follow me,” Silas says as he turns to go back in the door he came out of. “Let’s get you guys something to eat. They put out quite the spread for you. A lot of shrimp as usual as I assume people from Texas think Australians love the stuff, because there is a boat load of it.”
Five cities in Texas so far and every single one of them has fed us shrimp!
We all plop down on chairs around a table and wait for Silas to tell us about the show he expects us to put on. I speak up, “Get on with what you want us to do, Silas.”
Silas smiles and sits down. “I want you to pick a girl from the audience, bring her on stage, and do that slow song, ‘Ask Me to Kiss You’.”
I squint and lay my forehead in my hand, then say, “Man, I hate to do that. It’s so damn awkward.”
The last girl cried the entire time and then I had to kiss her and it was all gross!
“The audience loves it,” Silas says. “You haven’t done it in over a year, and this is for charity, remember. We can get the school to announce it and put out some flyers, it should get more people in here to listen to you guys and make
more money for whatever the hell it is they’re donating the proceeds to.”
I sigh. “I get to pick her, Silas.”
“Agreed,” he says. “Now the next order of business. Dallas got pushed back so we have a three day weekend after this gig. So feel free to get out to some of the clubs in Austin or whatever you want to do, ‘cause the night and next three days are yours. Be sure stay in the area, please.”
“Isn’t tonight graduation for this place?” Bobby asks.
Silas nods and Bobby slams fists with me, and says, “College graduation parties will be everywhere. Get ready to party, dude!”
I laugh. “Once we wash this crap off our faces, we’ll be able to roam amongst them all, and no one will be the wiser. Freedom at last.”
Well, I did just have a few days of freedom, but that was different. Now I can party like the rock star I am!
Silas taps his fingers on the table and asks, “Is it really so bad, Kip?”
“The money’s fantastic. The lack of privacy and getting mobbed everywhere we go when we’re in full attire is tiresome.”
Silas stands and walks over to pat me on the back. “Let’s go eat. Tonight is yours after this little concert and you have a few days to be yourselves.”
To be myself again, but I just got back to being a rock star!
Peyton
Curling my hair a little and putting on a bit of make-up I get as glamorized as I ever get to go to the benefit concert. I’m a part of the committee who put it all together, so I need to be there for a while anyway.
I wonder what Kip Dixon really looks like. I mean he wears more make-up than any woman I know. And that hair, it could put an eye out. I wonder how many girls he’s stabbed with it over the years.
I bet he’s a real freak in the sheets!
Probably a different girl every night. None of the tabloids have ever said a thing about him having even one serious relationship and I think he’s like twenty-five or so. He’s about three years older than I am then.
His eyes are a really pretty blue!
Probably contacts though. He’s uber-fake, that’s for sure. I bet he’s unrecognizable without that make-up on. Who wants to live life like that?
He’s most likely really crazy and a huge druggie. I’ve never heard about him being like that, but I bet he is. All those singers and actors are into something bad, I bet.
I slip my feet into a pair of nude heels that I had picked out to wear with the red dress that my mother bought me to wear to graduation. It’s right after the concert so I have to be ready to go straight over there.
It’s tighter than I like and a little more revealing in the bosom, showing some cleavage which I rarely do on any other occasion. The door to my dorm room that I’ve shared with Kyla these last four years opens and in my roomie walks. Her eyes run up and down my body and she shakes her head. “Not those shoes.”
I laugh and knew if she caught me before I left she’d try to make me over. “They’re fine,” I say.
She takes a red pair from her closet. “Put these on and don’t argue with me, you know you’ll lose.”
She’s been known to wrestle me to the ground to get me to wear something she thinks I need to. As I don’t feel like getting into a match right now, I’ll do as she’s bossed. “Thank you for saving me from such an embarrassing thing as having on shoes that are so uncool.”
“Yeah, well, you’re welcome. And what is this I hear about Kip Dixon dragging you away from Yoga this morning?” she asks with a grin.
“Just that,” I say and shrug my shoulders. “The arrogant bastard couldn’t seem to believe I wasn’t completely freaking out when he talked to me.”
“Maddy was there, and she said he looked at you like you were something else and that you were a little rude. That’s not like you, Peyton.” Kyla takes me by the shoulders and has me sit back down in front of the mirror where she adds a few more curls to my hair.
“I wouldn’t exactly say I was rude. I did shoot him the peace sign as I walked away. That’s not rude now is it?”
“John said he heard Kip shout out to you and when you were walking away, the guy tripped and all his band mates laughed. I wonder if he’s smitten with you, little country mouse.” She sprays her hairspray over my hair and it makes it shine a little more.
“Smitten? Maybe with himself. The guy is just looking for a local piece of ass for the night. You know that.” I smile at my reflection and look down at the red heels that match my dress perfectly. “And you also know I’m not into giving that up to some fly-by-night pop star.”
Kyla rolls her eyes and digs in her jewelry box, pulling out a set of diamond earrings that her parents had gave her last year. Kyla comes from money and has always been very generous with sharing her things with me. She’s a sweetheart and I’m going to miss her. “Kip Dixon is anything but a fly-by-night pop star.” She places one of the earrings in my ear and smiles at how it sparkles.
“You mean because of who his father is?” I ask.
“No, I mean because he has the chops, honey.” She places the other earring in and I wiggle my head to make the light capture them both. “Those songs he sings now, they’re not anything he’s written. Did you know that?”
“Really? No, I didn’t. So whose big dick are those songs about?” I ask.
Kyla answers, “Somebody named E.P. Fleming. Kip can write his own songs. He had one before he got into this rock group thing. You remember, he was on the U.K. version of that talent show that’s still popular. He went on using another name so no one would know who he really was.”
“No, I didn’t know that and how do you know so much about him?” I ask as I stand up and turn around to see how I look from behind. I find that the heels make my ass look terrific and it makes me smile.
“I am an art major and I read about all kinds of art. By the way, how is that manuscript coming along? You haven’t let me read it in about a month. Don’t you want my help in the first editing of it?” she asks as she rummages through her closet to find herself something to wear to the concert and graduation.
“I do, and I’ll get it to you this coming week. I have an interview with an agent at the end of June and I’ll want it as polished as I can get it, with your help, Kyla.” I say as I make my way out. I need to get to the table all of our committee is sitting at to make sure no one else takes it.
One last look in the mirror and I find I’m looking pretty good, for me anyway. So away I go to listen to Mr. Pop Rock make some noise with his band.
“See you at the concert, hurry up, I don’t want to sit alone very long.”
“I will, save me a seat by you,” she says. I close the door and head out.
I hope this doesn’t take too long!
Kip
The auditorium is a smaller venue than my band is used to playing. I’m watching from a door with a two-way mirror as people file in and take seats in the stands. I have to choose a girl to sing to, and so far none have grabbed my attention.
I signed autographs a while ago and no one caught my eye. The one I want to sing to will most likely not come to my show. She didn’t show up to get my autograph, and that tells me a lot right there. The thought of her makes my heart beat harder in my chest for some damn reason. I close my eyes and try to see her face again.
A hand on my shoulder makes me open my eyes before I get a chance to conjure her image up, so I look back to see who’s messing up my day dream. Bobby stands behind me and points. “Look who’s here, mate?”
My eyes follow his finger and land on Peyton as she sits at one of the V.I.P. tables in front of the stage. “Would you look at that,” I murmur.
Her shoulder-length blonde hair is curled and shiny. Diamonds sparkle on her earlobes and she has on a tight, red dress, that hugs her curves. Her light brown eyes with little green flecks sparkle almost as much as the earrings do. No make-up this morning when I first saw her, but now she wears some and the red on her full lips makes them look even more kiss
able.
“Makes sense, she’s at the main table of the people who brought us here to raise money for that charity,” Bobby says. “Did Silas ever say which one it is?”
My eyes never leave her as I answer, “It’s the one where kids with terminal diseases can make a wish for something and they make it come true. And she’s right there in the big middle of it. An angel she is, don’t you think?”
Bobby smacks me on the back. “Come on, Kip!” he says. “You need to let Silas know who you want to sing to and you just found her.”
Have I found her?
I pace back and forth backstage as I’ve never experienced more nerves than I have right now. Peyton said she doesn’t like my music, yet she sits right up front where we’ll be able to look at each other. I can’t look at her as I sing about the things I know she thinks are crude.
How will I avoid looking at her?
The first three songs I have to sing are about me being a bad ass, something that she had commented on, and disliked. There’s nothing I can do about the set. The fourth song is the one I’m going to sing to her on stage. I’ve told the band to slow it down to make it more intimate. The words to the song are a bit sweet, certainly much sweeter than anything else they let me sing.
Please let her kiss me when the song ends!
She’d be the first not to ask me to kiss her and that would be horrible. Surely she won’t leave me hanging like that on stage.
God! What if she does?
My stomach does flips as the band goes on stage and starts playing the first song. I swallow hard and put on my rock star attitude then walk onto the stage.
Please let me get through this without freaking out!
Peyton
I’m at a table up front only because I’m part of the group which brought Kip Dixon to our college to raise money for my favorite charity. I’ll be graduating in a few hours with my Bachelor’s Degree in Liberal Arts, then I will be off to my hometown an hour away where my parents are going to throw me a party.
This night is going to be long, and I only have to make an appearance at this concert because of my association with the charity. Only a few songs will I stay for and I hope that arrogant fucker doesn’t attempt to look down here at me and make goo-goo eyes at me or I’ll leave even sooner than that.
Hacked For Love & The Dom's Songbird Page 19
