Everything I Want

by Natalie Barnes

  Caleb holds the door for me as we start to leave. It’s nice to know that his guitarist has some fucking manners. Two vehicles are out front parked in the street. Both of them are SUVs with tinted windows. I so don’t want to be in Tristan’s vehicle. I notice Caleb entering the first one parked. I see Matt and Cory opening the doors to get in. Shit! I have to hurry so I can get a spot. When I approach, I notice the back of it has trunks and cases filling it.

  “Hey, girl! Over here.” I hear Roger yelling, holding the front door of the second SUV open for me. Damn! I mumbled some profanities to myself and rolled my eyes. Stop acting like a brat! I scold myself. “No, no, that’s okay. You can take the front. You’re bigger than me. I can squeeze in the back with Jared.”

  “Don’t be silly. Ladies first, remember? Now get in.” Roger’s pulling the tender gentleman card, but right now, all I feel is annoyed. “Someone get in!” Tristan leans forward onto his folded arms that are resting on the steering wheel. I take one last look at Roger and give him a little scowl. All that’s given back to me is a cheesy grin that’s on his face. I take my seat in the SUV, reaching up to grab the seatbelt.

  “Sophia, do you mind moving your seat up a little?” Roger asks me. I buckled myself in and reach for the button on the side to move my seat forward. “You know, Roger, you should have just sit in the front like I said. You’re much bigger than me.” I’m so close to the dashboard now. Roger isn’t the slimmest one in the bunch (if you know what I mean,) and he’s very tall, too.

  We turn onto the freeway and head north. I have no idea where we’re going. The only parts of LA I’ve seen in the past month are the studio and the hotel. Yes, I know. I’m lame. The guys tried getting me out a couple times, but all I could focus on was doing my best job on the album. Roger and Jared started talking about some club they went to the other night.

  Reaching forward in my seat, I push the button for the radio. I really don’t want to hear about their sexcapades. Tristan glances down at my hand. I find a station that’s playing Alice in Chains, “Hole.” Great song. I’ve always loved ’90s rock music, especially those from ’94 and down. I turned it up a little louder when Roger started talking about some easy whore he slept with. Ugh! Guys are such pigs! That’s why I made sure never to be one of those girls. I’ve only been with a few guys and I’m proud of it. Like literally three. But I can say sometimes it was definitely tough.

  There’s something about Layne Stanley’s voice during this song that makes my nerves start to shiver. I look over to Tristan, and I noticed how he presses his right palm, rubbing up and down on his upper thigh. Just the little action of what Tristan does brings the image of his rough hands on my body. The thoughts of what could be are teasing my skin. Oh my god! Change thinking process now!

  I stared out at the freeway when, all of a sudden, I hear Tristan’s voice. “So . . . You like Alice and Chains, huh?” What is this? Is he actually being nice? It’s probably because Roger and Jared are in here so close. I look up at him real quick and notice his right hand combing through is thick, curly hair. He looks so damn hot right now. “Yeah” is the only thing I could get out of mouth right now. Damn, my stomach. He makes me so nervous. He glances down at me and uses his index finger to slide his sunglasses back into place on the bridge of his nose. I can’t keep staring at him, so I turn and gaze back out the window.

  “What other bands do you like?” Wait, is Tristan actually making conversation? That’s nice.

  “Well, I like pretty much alternative and rock. A few of my favorites are Deftones and Pantera, Avenged Sevenfold, In This Moment, and you guys . . . ” Why oh why did I just admit that? Shit. Shit. Now his head is going to be even bigger. I take a quick glance up at him. He has this little half smile playing on his lips. Wow! He is so hot wearing those aviator sunglasses, his wavy hair falling around his broad face, his tight gray T-shirt that compliments his muscular chest so perfectly . . . Mmm . . . Damn it! I have to stop letting my thoughts run away with me. I press my thighs together to stop the dull ache that’s been growing between my legs since I got into this damn car. That’s it! Roger has shotgun on the way back.

  We take a right toward our exit. “Well, thanks” was all that he said back to me saying that I liked their music. Okay? I guess? We’re at a stoplight now, and this gorgeous car pulls up next to us. I think it’s a Ferrari? Yeah, it has that dancing-looking horse emblem on the hood. Shit. When I actually notice it, there are a lot of nice cars around. I see one of these kinds of cars every once in a while back home, but rarely. Sports cars in Michigan equals not so good. One word: winter. As I’m thinking of all of this, Tristan pulls me out of my train of thought.

  “We’re about five minutes away now. There will be some costumes at the site. I think a stylist will be available if anyone needs help or anything.”

  “Wait. Like what kind of costumes? Halloween and shit?” Jared stupidly asks.

  “No. Unless you want to wear that shit. Basic shit you know? I think the only one with really any choices here is her.” Tristan uses his thumb and gestures toward me.

  “I tell you guys what. I’m not changing my fucking clothes. I could care less.” Roger speaks up from the back.

  “That’s probably because they won’t have anything in your size,” Jared says then busts out laughing.

  “I’m not fat, you fucktard! I’m big-boned. Fuck! My dick alone wouldn’t be able to fit into the bitch pants you wear.”

  “Sure, Roger,” Jared says to him, still laughing.

  “All right, children, knock it off.” I have to talk to them like this sometimes. I glance back over to Tristan, and he’s smiling a little. He’s so unbelievably attractive when he’s like this.

  We arrive at the location. These are warehouses? Detroit always comes to mind when thinking of warehouses. Like the Packard Plant. Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I’m going to have a little talk with Lux about setting some video shoots up in Motown.

  “So what’s going to happen now exactly?” I ask Tristan. “I mean . . . I— We’ve never done anything like this before.” Tristan pulls off his shades and his eyes are a little softer now.

  “There will be a stylist and photographers. That kind of shit. All you guys have to do is get ready, and they will direct the rest. If you have any ideas, make sure to let them know. Lux won’t be stopping by so that’s why I’m here to make sure it goes okay.”

  “Sounds easy,” Jared says.

  I climb out of the SUV and start walking over to meet up with Cory and Matt. They’re laughing at something Caleb just said.

  “You’s ready?” I asked them both. “Yeppers,” Matt says then looks down at me still trying to control his laughter. What the fuck did Caleb say that’s so funny? All of a sudden, I hear a very flamboyant voice in the background.

  “Hello, hello, hello!”

  This really tall, thin man with long, blonde hair comes out. He’s wearing black leather pants with a matching leather vest. He has a red bandana tied around his neck. He’s wearing heavy black eyeliner and his fingernails are painted dark red. Oh, boy! I hope the guys behave themselves, or I’m going to freak. I hurry up and turn around to face them, quietly speaking to them.

  “Better fucking behave yourselves!” I turn back on my heel. Tristan chuckled at my comment to the guys. He must know, when we go out in public sometimes, it is like a fucking zoo.

  “Ooh la la. You’re so fabulous! I’m Frankie. Frankie Heart.” He winks at me then embraces me in a big hug. Wow, okay?

  “And you must be my Sophia. And these are the boys, hmm?” They all look uncomfortable while Frankie checks them out. Roger and Jared are trying so hard not to laugh. Cory just has this confused look on his face, and poor Matt . . . Well, I don’t really think he knows what to think. Actually, I think Matt might be a little high when I get a better look at his face, what with his bloodshot eyes and all. “Give me names of da boys.” Frankie gestures his delicate hand to them.

  “Well, this ha
ndsome man right here is my drummer, Roger.” I smile and grab Roger’s hand to pull him closer. He seems to be dragging his feet a little. “Roger.” Frankie stretches out his delicate hand for Roger to grab. Roger takes his hand and shakes once firmly.

  “Ooh . . . Love the grip! Gotta hold onto them sticks tight, huh?” Frankie says teasingly. Everyone but Roger burst out laughing, even Tristan. Roger doesn’t know what to do or say but nod. “Yeah, I guess.” He’s trying not to be rude, and I can tell Frankie is just pulling his chain a little. “This is my bass player, Jared.” I nod over my shoulder to Jared. “Nice to meet you, Jared. OMG! I love your pants!” Now Roger starts wailing from laughing. Jared glares at him. I had to hurry up and change the subject fast before these two start ripping into each other. “This is Matt. He’s one of my guitarists.”

  “Charmed, I’m sure.” Frankie winks at Matt. Matt’s more of the pretty boy of the group, so he does this all-American smile at Frankie; and I thought Frankie was going to have a heart attack. Matt loves fucking around with people. Stupid ass. But he is kind though. “And, finally, this is Cory.” Cory walks up to Frankie with his right hand extended. “He is lead guitar.” I stated before taking another quick glimpse at Tristan. Caleb and he are now standing behind me. Tristan has this sexy smirk playing on his lips with his arms crossed in front of him. Caleb just whispers something in his ear and Tristan nods. I wonder what Caleb just said?

  Frankie yells something towards the warehouse. But I didn’t make out what he just said because my mind was wrapped around Tristan and Caleb’s muted conversation. “Okay! So everyone, this is my assistant, Chloe. She’s fabulous. Now let’s play, shall we?” He claps a couple times. You can definitely tell he’s excited about this. Chloe is shorter and a little stubby. She has short, purple hair and her cute little dimples have piercings in them. She dresses like someone who lived in Seattle back in the early nineties with her baggy olive-colored pants and red flannel shirt unbuttoned at the top. She’s wearing what looks like skate shoes. She gives us a shy smile and a low wave.

  We head toward the warehouse where everything is set up and displayed. I instantly eye up a table and a rack, which I know is for me, and beeline right for it.

  “Chloe, darling, take these fine men to their tables. I wanna have some fun with Miss Ariel over here.” Frankie is circling his index finger at me. “She’s gonna be so much fun!” Chloe leads the guys away, talking with Roger. Tristan and Caleb then enter our designated area. My stomach flips again just seeing Tristan come through the door, staring back at me.

  Chapter Five

  Frankie starts pulling out all these great-looking corsets. Some are made up of dark leathers and others of red satin and silk, with an overlay of lace. Stunning! All of these pieces are absolutely stunning, and I want them all. I was dazed until Tristan’s deep voice snaps me out of it. “You sure you should be making her look like a whore?” He’s giving Frankie a stern look then looks over to me with his dark eyes.

  “Don’t be silly, Tristy.” Frankie giggles to himself then looks at me, rolling his eyes. Tristan looks pissed. Yep, there’s the guy I remember! I was wondering where he was hiding. Not! “I’m the professional here, boy. If I needed advice in heavy metal or whatever, I would ask you. But . . . This is fashion and it’s what I do. Mm-kay? Now go run along with the other boys.” Frankie has his hands now on his slender hips, giving a little shake. He is clearly not intimidated by Tristan’s wrath. I admire Frankie even more.

  “I just don’t think you should be having her shit hang out all over the place. She’s a fucking musician.” Tristan growls, ignoring me completely now. Oh, now, Tristan has gone and done it. Frankie takes a couple steps over to him and starts waving his hand in his face. All the guys at the other table look up for a second before returning to what they were doing. “Excuse fucking me. Lux called me, okay? Why? Because I’m fucking awesome, okay? And last week, Lux showed me the video of them in Chicago, and this girl was pretty much wearing the same garments on stage. It’s called a show! So you no need to be here.”

  My mouth has now literally hit the floor. Fuck Tristan for trying to judge my costumes. I have to remind myself later to give Frankie a much appreciative hug. Tristan turns and gives me the shit eye before walking over to the guys’ section. I have no fucking clue what possessed

  30 him to even be this way over wardrobe. I look over at Frankie. “Thank you,” I whispered to him. “Baby doll, it’s no problem. I worked with him a few times. He never got this involved before but always had little remarks to say. Now let’s go to hair and makeup and get you ready to rock. Because girl when I’m done with you, you’re gonna fucking own the shit.” We both laughed, and I followed him through the next area to start getting ready.

  I’m sitting in the dressing area that they have designated off from the other side of the warehouse. Black curtains hanging from standing iron rods are the only things that are covering me. Stand up lights and a makeshift vanity are the only things back here with me. The stool I’m sitting on is hard and very cold. Very uncomfortable.

  This girl named Kelsie is doing my hair. She’s dressed in an oversized white see-through blouse tucked into these tight black high waist slacks. Her pants kind of reminded me of the movie Cry Baby when the grandmother called the girls from the Drapes pants “hysterectomy pants.”

  Kelsie has on these seven-inch, red Mary Jane pumps that make her legs look so long. The way she has her hair and make-up done reminds me of Dita Von Teese. She’s brushing, blow drying, and curling my hair. Good thing I have thicker hair because if not, I would be kind of worried about going bald with the way she’s pulling on it.

  Frankie leans in with his little, black makeup palate and brush. “Pucker up them Jolie lips, hun.” He starts painting on this red, red lipstick. He won’t even let me look into the mirror yet until he’s finished with me. And it’s already been over an hour.

  I hear the guys behind the curtain getting kind of restless of waiting. I asked twenty minutes ago if Caleb wouldn’t mind going on a beer run for them since I didn’t really know how long it was going to take me.

  “All done. Wow! My best masterpiece yet. Girl, you’re gonna break lots of hearts and give a whole lotta hard-ons.” Frankie’s grinning and clapping to himself. What did he just say? I laugh because he’s so blunt and full of fun. I love people who are themselves and don’t give a rat’s ass about what anyone else thinks.

  “Hey, Frankie, do you mind grabbing me a beer? I’m getting kind of uncomfortable and would like to have one, just while I’m waiting to get done.” Frankie’s shaking his head with a little smile on his plump lips.

  “Do you wanna ruin my beautiful lip work? Hmm . . . What about I track you down a straw? But. Be. Very. Careful.” He turns on his heel and pushes the curtain to the side. All of a sudden, I hear Frankie scream. “Eeek!” All of the guys start laughing, and off into the distance, I hear Roger’s low mumbling.

  “I’m not changing my shit! It’s pretty much the same shit on that table.”

  Frankie’s heel boots go clicking off in Roger’s direction.

  “It’s a shoot! Change into wardrobe!” Some more mumbling is going on, and then I hear Frankie again.

  “Fine. Fucking whatever! But I don’t want my fucking name on his name when it comes to stylist.” Frankie bursts back into my little area. I thought there for a minute that he was going to take the whole rod down when he threw open the curtains the way he did when coming back here. He blows out a breath of air then blows up pieces of his hair that got in his face from him storming through the curtains. He hands me my beer with a straw in it. I grab the beer from him and smile. I never had a Coors with a straw in it. I laugh to myself a little. I look back up to him and say, “Thank you.”

  “You’re sweet. But that barbarian, Roger . . . With his oil stained pants! I mean, I picked out some damn good pieces.” He’s shaking his head now and heads toward the curtains again. He stops right before he reaches them an
d turns slightly. Peering over his shoulder with this upto-no-good look and says, “I think you look like the rock goddess that you are. Everyone will think so. Well, everyone but maybe . . . Tristan.” He gives me a quick wink of his eye before disappearing back through the black curtains again. What in the hell is that supposed to mean?

  Kelsie is done with my hair and just finishing up with some spray. Frankie is all excited to turn me in my chair. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.” Frankie whispers in my ear, and I slowly open my eyes and gaze at myself in the mirror. Wow! “Oh my god!” I’m shaking a little, trying not to cry and ruin my makeup. “You like it, huh?” Frankie stands beside me, crossing his arms.

  “Of course! I fucking love it!”

  I’m staring at myself in the mirror. My eyes are the very first things that get my attention. My sapphire blue eyes are all dolled up in this very intense, smoky look. I have these individual eye lash pieces on, making my eyes even more prominent.

  My full lips are painted this burlesque red color that make my teeth even more stunning. My thick walnut brown hair is blown out and full of soft waves. Kind of looks like a mix of “just fucked” hair and supermodel. I absolutely love it!

  I stand up from my chair and turn slowly, checking myself out in the full-length mirror. “Not too shabby.” I turn around quickly and see Matt. He’s smiling then takes a drink of his beer. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. But . . . If you look like that every time we perform, me and the other guys are gonna have to work double time keeping you safe.”

  I smile at his sentiment. He’s sweet. “Don’t worry, Matt. We don’t have Frankie with us on tour. And I sure as hell don’t know how to do all of this detail.” Frankie is now sitting on a stool off to the right of me, smiling. “Maybe Cinderella’s fairy godmother may join you.” He uses his fingers to air quote fairy.