Everything I Have (Everything I Want #3)

by Natalie Barnes

  Jared was freaking out this morning when he heard about a few other bands playing today who he wanted to see. So I’m sure he set off to find them. I don’t know why, though. Once he comes face to face with any of them he’s going to be quiet. I mean, he still sometimes gets that way around Undead and this is our second time touring with them.

  Today is the first time in a while that I actually feel hung over. And that sure as shit didn’t happen last night. Fuck. I hope this isn’t the start of the beginning stages of being sick all the damn time. I don’t know how far along I am, but if I were to guess, I would say it has to be a decent amount of time since the fucking stick showed the positive results before the three minutes were even up. First my breasts, and now this…

  Peeking into the fridge, I pull out another water and decide to slip a couple pieces of bread in the toaster. I really don’t want anything at all, but I figure I have to have something in my stomach. Shit. Even the smell of the toast is making my stomach churn. As I’m lightly buttering it, Frankie swings open the bus door, a bag hanging around his neck as his other hand is holding the strap to one of his larger duffel bags.

  “Hey there, princess.”

  He blows a kiss at me as he whips his neck to the side, causing his long, flat ironed bangs to flip to the side of his face. Frankie already looks great in tight, light wash jeans with a simple gray, V-neck t-shirt. His nails are painted black, of course, and he is sporting a pretty fucking sweet watch, a stainless steel Tag Heuer with a black dial. It sparkles when the sunlight pouring in reflects off of it.

  Frankie traipses over to me as his black leather flip flops smack against the linoleum.

  “So, how’s it going girl?” he asks me as he starts laying out the makeup on the table.

  When he finally looks up at me, his face drops as he covers his mouth with his hand. His voice is muffled from his fingers.

  “Damn, girl. You look like shit.”

  Nice, Frankie. Nice.

  “Thanks, Frankie.”

  “Sorry, girl.” He twists his wrist in the air. “It’s just, well…you look like shit, basically.”

  My mouth drops open, glaring back at Mr. Heart, who closes his mouth and shrugs, giving me this cute, shit smirk.

  Rolling my eyes at him, I pick up the remote for the surround sound off the counter, turning on some music so Frankie doesn’t have to feel like he has to keep talking to fill the void. Nothing More’s Jenny fills the silence. He pats the seat on the bench.

  “Ready?”

  Taking a seat, I place my toast on the table, using the back of my hand to push some of his brushes off to the side.

  “Did you start taking vitamins yet?” he asks me as he begins applying the makeup primer on my skin, dabbing it softly on with a sponge. Shaking my head no at him, I remain quiet. He pauses for a moment and steps back, giving me this disapproving look as he does his signature duck lips. Resting his wrist on his hip, he starts tapping his foot.

  “What, Frankie?” I mumble before forcing another bite from my toast.

  “Girl, you need to take that shit. The baby needs it,” he scolds me softly, probably trying not to piss me off too much since we’ve already had a wonderful start to the day.

  “I know,” I say, barely getting the words out of my mouth since it is full of this dry, disgusting toast.

  “Okay, then.”

  Frankie drops it, pepping back up, continuing with my face again. Even though there’s music on, he stills hums a completely different song to himself. His face is right in front of mine and I take in the light, clean scent of his cologne. His eyes move around, carefully concentrating on whatever part of my face he’s applying the primer to.

  “Make sure you do your Kegels,” Frankie says quietly, not even batting an eyelash.

  “Excuse me?”

  I lean away from him as his hand hangs suspended over where my cheek was a moment ago. Stepping back, Frankie motions with his hands over his groin.

  “Well, you know.” He shrugs.

  My mouth is closed tight as I wait for him to finish where he is going with this. Rolling his eyes at me as if I’m the one who should be getting it, he tucks a piece of his blond hair behind his ear.

  “Tighten your jay jay up.”

  Huh?

  “Where in the fuck did that come from, Frankie?”

  I shouldn’t be at a loss for words right now since it is coming from Frankie after all, but shit.

  “My mama said that after she had moi,” he rests his hand over his heart, batting his eyelashes. “Every time she would laugh or sneeze… she would pee herself.”

  “Gross!”

  Frankie’s just standing there, towering over me as he grins widely down at me. I pinch my eyebrows together, thinking, what the fuck did he just say? Squatting down, he rests his hands on my knees, giving them a quick squeeze.

  “Welcome to mommyhood, girl.”

  He winks at me before going back to applying whatever else he has going on my skin, humming all the while.

  By the time my hair and makeup are done, I have to use the bathroom. I leave Frankie laying out different pieces for today across the sofa, pulling each one up first and studying it as he pushes his index finger to the side of his cheek.

  I finish relieving myself, which by the way, felt amazing. I thought the peeing all the time thing was right when you were about to have the baby, but just in this last week, I’ve been finding myself going more. What really sucks is when I kind of feel the urge on stage. There’s no way in hell I’m pulling a Fergie. Uh-uh. Nope. I would run off the stage first before letting that shit happen. Some say it was her sweat, but I don’t know. I only know I’m not doing it.

  Squirting some soap in my hands, I start rubbing them together as I lean over the sink. My eyes flash up to the mirror. I don’t know why I’m staring, it’s not the first time I’ve seen myself all done up by Frankie, but now it just feels different. Not bad different, just different. He's given me smoky eyes with eyelash pieces along with nude lips. My already prominent cheekbones are even more so now. My hair is full of loose waves that actually smell pretty fucking good. I’m going to have to ask what he used.

  That’s when I catch a smirk of my own, laughing back at me in the reflection. I feel good. Well, technically, I still feel kind of hung over, but even with all that’s going on, a sudden rush of contentment washes over me.

  It’s funny how it does that. One minute I’m kind of cranky, the next I want to say 'fuck it' and chill. I like the latter way more. Giving myself a quick nod, I’m ready to get out there. Not just the bus, but the stage, life... everything. I feel pretty damn good right now.

  Shutting off the water, I wipe my hands down the sides of my tank as I spin around. Stepping back out in the hall, Frankie has the remote to the surround sound in his hand, using the other to wave me closer.

  “Okay, I got something.” He snaps his fingers, twisting his neck to the side, smirking at me. “I locked the door, so you’re good to go.”

  He nods his head to the side. Then he flips through different stations ’til he screeches out loud, causing me to jump.

  “Yes!” He bounces on his heel before looking over at me as he turns up the volume. Madonna’s Papa Don’t Preach. “Fucking love it.”

  “That’s nice, Frankie,” I tease him back as I make my way over to the clothes.

  Frankie starts bobbing his head to the music, snapping his fingers as he belts out the lyrics. After twirling around, he stops.

  “Finally! I have a friend that’s going through this.” He claps excitedly. “You know? Just like her music video, you all in trouble and shit. He’s the sexy bad boy, and girl…”

  “Papa don’t motherfucking preach, mmmkay.” He twists his bony wrist around as the watch dangles from it, pointing at me.

  He snaps his fingers with each word in front of him, side to side. I start laughing hard from my gut at his goofiness. I shake my head at him as I pick up each piece.

&nbs
p; “You’re awesome, Frankie,” I say, looking down.

  “Duh,” Frankie says in his valley girl voice.

  With my back to him, I carefully pull my tank top over my head. Again, the small friction from the material chafes against my tender nipples and I wince.

  “Shit,” I hiss.

  “What, girl?” Frankie calls out as he steps into the bathroom.

  Ignoring him, I start to very fucking carefully this time, pull over the looser fitting tee I’m wearing today. I don’t care, no fucking bra will go on right now. Let anyone give me looks or say she’s slutty or whatever. If they only knew right now how tender my nipples are. They can just kiss my ass.

  Turning around, I see the same, very small, cut off black jean shorts and the sheer, black tights. The ones I used in Tampa that have runs going down and tears going horizontally across my upper thighs. I like this look. Some pieces kind of fit for down here and playing outdoors, but he has some others that are more for indoor performances.

  To finish up the look, I slide on my black buckled boots that go up to a few inches below my knees. Kind of sloppy looking, but it’s one of the most comfortable pieces I've had in a long time. Frankie still puts me in heels, but he’s a little more conscious now. I told him he’s being paranoid, but he said I will thank him when my feet are so swollen from wearing them that he has to cut me out of them to even get the damn things off.

  I like wearing pretty shoes sometimes, but I love that I can move around easier with this style.

  “Damn, girl.” Frankie whistles as he fans his face. “I fucking love it.”

  Smiling back at him, I make my way back to my room so I can check myself in my full body mirror.

  I’m such a girl sometimes, getting giddy as I check myself out. The t-shirt is a faded, washed olive tee that shows off a pretty decent amount of my belly. Now it’s time to embrace Frankie’s advice. Any little piece of clothing now that I wear onstage will be showing off my stomach.

  I’m not worried or scared about getting bigger, but hey, I don’t know if it will be like this again without some kind of surgery or whatever. The dark, distressed shorts barely cover my ass, nothing new there. But something about the jean material and the sheer tights that hug my legs actually makes this mix matched style look badass. I run my fingers through my hair as my eyes keep scanning the length of me.

  “Oh, you just love it,” Frankie says teasingly behind me.

  I smile at him in our reflection.

  “I do.”

  A sudden knock, well, more like a pound, on the door has me startled.

  “I’ll unlock it,” Frankie says as he walks out of my cove.

  I go back to checking myself out again. This would be a wonderful time to light a joint up, but instead, I walk out as well to get another bottle of water.

  “Holy shit, Soph. I’m going to start calling you Jared number two. Well, three, because Jeff is his second,” Roger laughs at me, clearly already having had a couple beers.

  Man, I miss that too. Just a light, feeling good buzz.

  “Please.” Frankie snaps his neck around, circling his index finger at him. “Looks like you need a few good hours too there, guy.”

  “Some of us are just naturally this good looking, Frankie,” Roger comes back, chuckling as he walks over to his bunk.

  Ignoring Frankie’s hushed insults, Roger goes on.

  “Just gotta grab some of my bud. We’re on in an hour, Sophia.” He tucks the small bag in his front pocket as he pulls out his wallet, sliding his pack of zig-zags in. “Fucking Eyes Set to Kill is out there right now. Fucking sweet!”

  Roger pats my back once as he walks by.

  “See ya later, Soph. Bye Frank-ie,” he calls out behind him as he exits the bus, raising his voice a few octaves as he teases out Frankie’s name.

  Frankie wiggles his fingers and waves at him before turning his hand over and flipping him off.

  “Buh-bye, dirty ass wipe.”

  Roger huffs once before shutting the door.

  Smiling at Frankie, I grab my phone off the tabletop and slide it into my back pocket before grabbing my water again.

  “I guess I’m gonna check it out, too,” I say to Frankie, who is finishing packing up his things.

  “Okay, girl. I’ll meet you at the hotel tonight. I guess everyone is going to hit up some different places tonight. We should go.”

  Ah, I hate fake drinking, but I can’t hide myself away, either. My infection lie has to come to an end now or they will get even more suspicious. Oh well, not going to worry about that now. I’ll do that later.

  “Sounds good.”

  I lean in and give him a peck on the check. Frankie coos for a second before going back.

  “See ya later. Thanks!” I call over my shoulder.

  “Yep. See you later, girl.”

  I climb down the steps. It’s a pretty fucking nice day out for fall. It’s in the high seventies. But still, the light mugginess of the heat hits my skin as I take the last step out. Damn, that’s going to be uncomfortable later when we go on. I’m going to have to find Steve and see if he will set up some more waters for me.

  Walking up closer to the stage, Eyes Set to Kill are jamming Broken Frames. Not even noticing it, my head begins to bang to the music as I hear the crowd. Like I said, the energy… it's fucking great! When they start winding up, Matt comes up beside me.

  “Almost us.”

  Looking over at him, I grin.

  “Yep.”

  He now looks over at me too, grinning just as wide.

  “This is fucking sweet, hey?” Matt asks.

  Nodding my head at him, I stare back out at the crowd.

  “So um, we’re bar hopping tonight,” he says hesitantly, his light blue eyes staring down at me with concern. “Would you want to go? I mean, are you feeling better, that is?”

  Smiling up at him, I reach in and give a quick squeeze to his bicep.

  “Yeah, I am. I’ll be out.”

  I don’t know how I’ll pull this off yet, but something tells me that I should be out tonight. Matt nods his head.

  “Cool.”

  “Hey, I got some smoke if you wanna have some before we go on.”

  My smiling fading slightly, I cover it up quickly by grinning even wider at him, lying.

  “Nah, thanks. Just had some. Don’t want to be too dry out there.”

  I spit a small, kind of foamy amount onto the dirt ground, pretending to barely get any spit out of my mouth. Don’t ask me why, but my guys know how high I am by how dry my mouth is. Even if weed is supposed to be good for that, it still dries me up.

  Matt uses the side of his hand and laughs at me,

  “All right.” He nods again. “I’m gonna go and hit this real quick.” He points to his front jean pocket, indicating where the weed must be. “I’ll be ready in five.”

  He leans in and gives me a quick peck on top of my head before walking away to smoke. Gawd, I wish I could go right with him. Damn it.

  As I watch Matt walk off in the distance, a sly smirk forms on my lips when I hear Tristan’s deep voice behind me.

  “No fucking bra?”

  Fucking figures. Still smiling, I try the playful eye roll. My nice way of saying, “fuck you.” Folding my arms over my middle, I squint up at him, bummed out that I left my sunglasses on the bus.

  “Hi.”

  “What’s this?”

  He nods his chin up the length of me. Uncrossing my arms, I let them fall to my sides as I glance down at myself, shrugging causally when I do.

  “What’s, what?” I ask back in annoyance.

  When I look back up at him, Tristan's face is impassive. Great.

  “I know it’s for the show and all, but Christ, Sophia. At least put a damn bra on.”

  “I’m fucking sure I've worn shit way less revealing then this.”

  “Your fucking nipples were never showing!” he yells back at me, causing me to flinch.

  Fuck. I hope no on
e around notices. Not breaking eye contact with Tristan, I glare back up at him.

  “Fuck you.” I raise my hand. “My tits aren’t showing. And so what if they were?” I shrug, waving my hands up and down my body. “A whole lotta chicks wear way fucking less than this.”

  “My girl doesn’t show her fucking nipples!” he spits out through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched. He steps in so we’re just a breath away from each other, his voice so low, my skin radiates chills. “Damn it, Sophia. Listen.”

  His eyes are dark with warning as I stare at him. Fuck that!

  I step up on my tiptoes and circle my arms around his neck so I can whisper in his ear.

  “I’m yours. Your cock is mine,” I murmur seductively.

  I run my right hand down his neck and over his chiseled-as-sin chest, not stopping until I feel him under his jeans. Already getting hard. Good.

  “My pussy is yours.”

  I run my tongue slowly up his jaw to right below his ear. Softly sucking his earlobe into my mouth, I give it a teasing bite. Right when Tristan tries to wrap his arms around me, I step back. Tom is approaching us with his clipboard; it’s time for me to get up there. Tristan slowly shakes his head 'no' at me. But all I do is give him a big grin before leaving for the stage.

  How this entered my head, I don’t fucking know. Tristan’s obviously going to be pissed at me, but I do know one thing for sure. He’s hard for me. Good! That’s what he gets if he thinks he can just take over whenever he wants. I don’t fucking think so. I’m not mad, really. I’m just going to have fun with him for awhile. My body hums in vengeful delight.

  Chapter Eight

  Tristan

  Stubborn fucking female. I swear to Christ. I clench my teeth so damn hard, my jaw starts to ache. The band plays the heavy intro, banging their heads and getting the audience psyched. Any minute Sophia is going to be prancing around the stage with her fucking tits in full glory, bouncing. Goddamn. My dick throbs just thinking about those full, mouthwatering tits of hers.

  Then, she sings. Her voice is raw, dark and beautiful, blacking out all of this sudden bullshit. This woman holds my entire fucking being in the palm of her tiny hand, probably not even knowing that she can crush me to rubble. Sophia leans over her bended knee as she sings harder into the mic.