The Naughty One

by Michelle Love

  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 kissable.

  “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.

  The band has slipped onto the stage in the complete darkness and the music begins. Everyone has shown up except Kyla, so at least I’m not alone at this table. The lights dim, and I find myself searching for the lead singer. I stop myself and shake my head to clear it.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Kyla touches my arm as she takes the chair next to mine, and says, “Who you lookin’ for, Peyton? Your boyfriend?”

  I stick my tongue out at her. “Stop being a pest, Kyla. I’m just wanting to get the first few songs over so I can leave.”

  She smiles at me, and watches me for my reaction as a spotlight flashes and the tall, muscled man with jet black hair, gelled into random spikes swaggers to the middle of the stage. I have to admit he’s a sight to behold, but I have to remember who and what he really is, a player, bad boy, rocker who cares for no one except himself.

  He’d make me a notch on his bedpost, but that’s all he’d make me.

  His voice seems pushed to the limit immediately as he belts out the first words of the song, and Kyla watches me closely. She leans in close to my ear and says, “Your eyes are twinkling, Peyton. He’s good, isn’t he?”

  “His leather pants fit like a glove,” I say. “They must be very uncomfortable.”

  Kyla shakes her head and smiles. “Yeah, that’s what you’re really thinking about when you look at his jeans.”

  Yeah, well, so what if I was thinking something else. I’ll never admit it out loud that I’m beginning to wonder if that bulge is real or not. I know the muscles in his legs have to be real and that six pack under his tight, white, T-shirt has to be real too. His crazy hot biceps are real, that’s for sure!

  By the third song I have a new respect for the band as I can see just how talented the members really are, something which doesn’t come across on the radio versions of their songs. The idea that I might be wrong about him creeps into my head. Not that it matters.

  I know that I’m close enough for Kip to look down and see me, but he never bothers. It’s just as I thought, I was forgotten most likely before I even walked away. I think about something my father told me. Always trust your first instinct, it’s practically never wrong.

  So what if my first thought about Kip was that he was hot? My second one was that he’s a player, and that one has to be what matters the most.

  Someone tugs at my arm and I turn to find a short man with red hair. “Hi, Peyton,” he says, surprising me. “Could you come with me?”

  This must be something about the charity, so I allow him to lead me back stage. “What’s this about?” I ask.

  “Kip chose you,” he says.

  My eyebrows lift and my heart stops. “Excuse me?”

  “For the song he’s singing to a special young lady,” he says. “Surely you saw or heard about the song he’s going to sing to a girl for the charity. We decided it would help ticket sales, so added it to the set. Great idea, huh?”

  I nod as a pack of butterflies on steroids fill my stomach.

  “Do I have to do it?” I ask.

  The man smiles at me and says, “Aren’t you one of the people who put this whole thing together?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t have to be a part of the entertainment. I’m not doing it for the publicity,” I say. “Just to get money to help the kids get their wishes.”

  I never thought this would happen!

  “Don’t know what to say, Kip said he’d only sing to you,” he says. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint our guests would you?”

  Would I? I mean, who cares if I disappoint the audience or not? Then I remember that I’m a bigger person than that and about the only female Kip can’t rattle. I wonder how he’ll act with a girl who isn’t all screamy and fainty as he sings to her. It might be kinda fun to watch him and see if he squirms a bit.

  I shake my head and look back as Kip struts around the stage. Heat fills my body, and I fear that I might faint. I bite my lip, nervously as I wait for the song to end and my embarrassment to begin. A deep breath I take in to steady myself. It’s not Kip who’s making me so nervous, it’s the fact so many people are watching. Quietly I say to myself, “It’s for the kids, Peyton. Do it for them.”

  At least I look good. The bastard would pick me to do this, arrogant shit-head!
>
  After the song is over, the band plays softly as someone brings a chair on stage and Kip places a foot on it as he looks out at the audience. His leg is long and I can see his muscled inner thigh from here.

  He must work out a lot.

  “I haven’t done this in at least a year, but only for you, Texas State University,” he shouts then has to wait as the students scream for almost a full thirty seconds.

  I wonder if he did this just to get me back to him. This wasn’t planned before. Maybe I’m the one getting a big head. I’m sure it was planned, I’m not that special!

  He looks away from the crowd and towards me, seemingly searching for me as I hide behind the curtain. “As she is a big part of why we’re here this evening, I’m going to sing this next song to your very own, Peyton Reed.” The crowd goes wild as the red haired man pushes at me to go out to Kip who holds his arm out to me.

  As I’m pushed from behind the curtain, our eyes meet, and I know that I’m blushing as I walk out to him. I turn and wave at the audience then Kip envelopes me in his arms from behind. I look over my shoulder to find his face next to mine.

  “Hi,” he says in the microphone. “Remember me?”

  “Hello, and yes I do,” I say so quietly no one can hear me, apparently.

  “I need you to be a bit louder than that, gorgeous,” his words hit the microphone but fall warm on me ear, sending chills through my entire body.

  “Hello!” I shout, making the sound system squeal.

  Kip smiles and gives me a squeeze. “I didn’t mean to make you scream, baby.” The audience laughs and I turn a deeper shade of red. I’m sure my cheeks match my dress by now.

  The music begins to get louder, yet still flows gently. Kip lets me out of his arms and takes my hand, leading me to the chair. I sit down and he looks down at me and winks. The spotlight dims to that of a candle’s light and only the two of us can be seen by the audience I bet.

  His face, so full of make-up, comes close to mine, then he sings the first stance, “You know you want to.”