I don’t think I’ve ever bawled so hard in my life.
* * *
Something my dad hadn’t thought of, though, was that I would be out of the house in a few short weeks. Our tour was going to start at the end of August and I’d be gone for months. Then again, maybe that was why he’d wanted to make peace.
He never said another word about my piercing, and I grew to love it, just as I knew I would. We celebrated my birthday low-key on July twenty-eighth and then my parents surprised the hell out of me. I hadn’t expected any gifts or, at the most, something small. Material things didn’t mean a lot to me and never had, and I know it was because of the way I was raised…but what they got me was a thing I would cherish forever.
After we ate cake and ice cream, dad went to their bedroom and told me to close my eyes. When they let me open them, he was holding in front of me a black Gibson Flying V, a beauty of a guitar. They knew I’d always wanted a V guitar but—holy shit!—I knew how much those damned things cost. They weren’t cheap—not by a long shot. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God, you guys! You shouldn’t have.” I hugged them both, giggling and grinning from ear to ear.
“We thought you should have it,” mom said. “You know, for your tour and all.”
I sat down and laid the guitar on my lap, stroking her shiny black finish. I couldn’t wait to take her upstairs and play her. “These guitars are so expensive, though…”
Dad winked. “I’ve been checking out pawn shops here and in the Springs for a while—oh, and eBay. Finally got a hell of a deal. It was still a pretty penny but I couldn’t pass it up. Not for my punky.”
I played that guitar so much that night, my fingers throbbed and hummed, but this baby was going to be in the video. She sounded amazing and looked even better. My old classic Fender Strat would still have a special place in my heart and was what our audience would hear on the CD…but now I had a guitar that was as sexy as I planned to be on that stage.
I could hardly wait.
Chapter Thirty-one
WE WERE INSTRUCTED to bring three changes of clothing. So what did Barbie do? She brought five. Because she was lead vocalist, she acted like she was exempt from all rules. She even said as much.
Also as instructed, we met on the stage—again, the one at the studio, where we would also be performing for an audience two nights from then (and that footage would also be included in the video). Barbie was shouting, “Just a minute. Justaminute! My hair’s fucked up. I need two minutes.”
“Hurry up, Ms. Bennett. Time is money, and these two cameramen aren’t cheap.”
One of the guys, a big dude with a waist like a watermelon and a beard that belonged on a bush, just shrugged, like he could care less what he was doing, as if propping his foot on the chair so he could rest his camera arm over his leg was just as good as filming a bunch of teenage wannabes—maybe even better.
Well, was he in for a surprise. I knew we’d shock the shit out of him. I only hoped the amps were cranked to max.
While waiting for Barbie, Peter came up onstage to give us some general directions. He’d been going on and on and I was only half paying attention. “Don’t focus on the cameras. Pretend like they’re not—” I looked up when I realized he’d stopped mid-sentence. That was when I noticed that he was staring at my nose piercing, then over to Vicki’s mouth (because she was playing with the fucking thing, squeezing the ball between her teeth), then back to my nose. “What the hell did you little sluts do?”
Oh, fuck. There was the asinine name calling again, and I didn’t know that I could take it anymore. I was pissed from the get-go. “What the fuck does it look like, Peter?” I laced as much acid around his name as my voice could handle.
“I never said you girls could get pierced. Or tattooed. And don’t, for the love of God, stretch your ears!”
Vicki’s temper was fueled by my own. “Why the fuck not?”
Damn, it was cool using the F-word around grownups and not having them blink. The teachers at the high school would have never tolerated our mouths.
Peter’s voice was calm, the only indication that he was angry as hell his nostrils that were rigid, flared in place. “Because.” He blinked, inhaling the air in his lungs before he lowered his voice, even calmer than ever. For some reason, that made him seem scary as shit. I would almost rather he yell at me. “Do you remember the little girls on the back of your album cover?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Do you remember our conversation about why I want to play up the fact that you’re teenagers?”
It washed over me like a waterfall. Vicki and I said Yeah at the same time.
“If you have tattoos and piercings, you look older. You look old enough to have them. Yes, I realize you can and do have them, but you need to look as young as you can for as long as you can. Your youth will be part of your initial appeal. Once we’ve won the world over with your first album and tour, people will love you for you. Until then, we need to sell you however we can.”
Liz gritted her teeth. “Sell us.” She was angry but she didn’t say a word.
Peter ignored her. “I’m not going to make you hide or get rid of your piercings, but no more. Got it?” I nodded. As much as I disliked the man, I trusted that he knew what he was doing. The more I was around him, the more I was convinced that he was going to accomplish what he’d promised. And I and my girlfriends around me would reap the rewards.
“And no fucking tattoos. That goes for all of you. Capisce?”
Vicki muttered, “Eh. Whatever.”
She’d almost gotten away with it, but Peter heard her. “Capisce, Ms. Graham?” He got close to her and, man, he was intimidating as hell. I could see it on her face.
“God, yes. Capisce. Jesus.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, as I was saying, don’t focus on the camera. Pretend like you don’t know they’re there. Barbie, I know you want to change your clothes a lot, but there will be no costume changes until I say so. Got it?”
She snarled, but it was evident that she was going to do as he asked. No matter what any of us felt about Peter, we were all beginning to trust him, believe in him—and actually want to make him proud.
The work on the video was grueling, and I was beginning to hate that fucking song. Take after take after take—different lights, different camera angles, different clothes. We’d started out by wanting to perfect this little thing or that little thing, and by the end we were all weary and wanted to be done. In fact, I was dreading playing the fucking thing at our little concert in a couple of days.
On our last take (“I promise we’re almost done, girls”—and at least he called us girls instead of sluts), CJ sauntered in the door and damned if I didn’t feel my energy level increase, and I probably played better for that take than I had in the past two hours. Not that it mattered. They weren’t going to use the sound from what we were doing today anyway. Peter had given us the option of having the song played on the speakers and having us lip sync and play air guitar or doing it for real, and we all voted for real. We didn’t want to look fake in the video.
More than playing well, though, I hoped I looked older than my now seventeen years. I knew CJ was hesitant about getting close to me, pursuing me, or even thinking about it because of my age. But he couldn’t be that much older than I was, could he? I finally allowed my eyes to drift to him, rake over him as I played the last chorus after my solo. He grinned at me, and I knew then that he couldn’t be that much older—a year or two, definitely no more than five. So why the hell would he shy away?
Well, my resolve was stronger than his will—I’d see to it.
When we finished that take, Peter said, “We’re going to need to do it again.”
Vicki threw her sticks to the ground. “Goddammit!”
Peter raised his eyebrows but his demeanor was cool like always. “We can take a ten-minute break while I review some footage, but we will do it again. Am I clear, Ms. Graham?”
“Y
es, sir,” she replied, but the sarcasm in her tone was difficult to miss. “I need a fucking smoke.” She stood and looked at me. “Want one?”
“Nah. I’m gonna chill in here.”
Vicki wiggled her eyebrows. She knew exactly why I planned to stay indoors. Barbie said something about touching up her makeup; Kelly had to pee; and Liz wanted to diagnose her axe. Me? I had a guy I wanted to see.
I put my guitar in its stand just offstage and walked around front. CJ was chatting with Guidry, who’d been running sound, and, just as I approached, Guidry said, “I’m gonna grab a drink while I have a minute. Nice job, Kyle. Looking good.”
“Thanks, man.” Then I looked at CJ. “What are you doin’ here?”
He grinned. “Free country, right?”
“Closed session.”
“I thought you’d make an exception for a big star like me.”
I tilted my head. Oh, my God, when and how had I learned to flirt? “Yeah, I think we will…for a big sexy star like yourself.”
“Sexy?”
Yep, I’d said it. “Video says it all, right?”
He laughed. “I guess.”
We started walking, maybe because of a need to remove ourselves a little from the group because, after all, who wants to flirt and make moves on someone else under the scrutiny of several people? “When are you guys leaving for tour?”
“Saturday morning.” We took two more slow steps before he said, “You?”
“End of the month…so, soon but not soon enough for my taste.”
“But you guys are doing a concert here on Friday night?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll try to make it.” We paused once we got backstage, past the area where Barbie was primping and preening. It was dark and quiet and I realized I had this man alone…all by himself and just for me. “Peter said something about trying to have our two bands do a show or two together near the end of our tour.”
My words came out fine but they didn’t sound right to my ears. “That would be cool.” My mind was other places.
His words didn’t sound right either because I think his thoughts were in the same place mine were. “Nice nose piercing, by the way.”
Maybe it was unnecessary because his face was already closer to mine, but I pulled the neck of his t-shirt into the ball of my fist and said, “Would you shut up and kiss me already?” I pulled him the rest of the way to my face but he was moving too. Still, like a fucking tease, he paused with his lips just centimeters away and his eyes scanned mine. He laced the fingers of his right hand through my hair, almost as if to anchor me, and I closed my eyes. I could feel the heat of his lips before they actually touched mine, and when they did, I felt my entire body tense up and my soul began to sing. My mouth opened to take him in and his tongue traced my upper one, teasing once more, making my body tense up again. My core felt like it was vibrating and catching on fire while my insides were turning into a puddle. I could feel my heart begin to thud in my chest as though it were going to explode, and I touched his tongue with mine. Holy shit, he tasted delicious, and I knew right then that I could do this all day. But then we stopped and I sucked in a breath, and it was hard to reach the bottom of my lungs. I forced myself to relax my hand and splayed my palm against the shirt on his chest. It was then that I noticed my panties were wet.
He opened his eyes, a tiny smile turning up the corners of his lips. “That what you had in mind?”
Still hard to breathe. “Yeah.” And speak. My mind was officially blown.
His fingers loosened their grip on my hair but he didn’t move them, and he stayed close to me. “Okay, Kyle. Straight up. How old are you?”
I couldn’t lie. “I just turned seventeen.”
I could see disappointment in his eyes and the smile on his lips relaxed. “Damn. I knew it.”
“What’s the problem? How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Again, what’s the problem?” I quickly did the math. “It’s like a senior dating a freshman, right?”
“It’s not that simple, Kyle. You ever hear of statutory rape?”
“I’d have to tell.”
“No. I’ve heard stories.” He paused. “Besides…you’re young. You don’t necessarily know what you want.”
That pissed me off and I pushed my hand against his chest, but he hardly moved. “Bullshit. I know exactly what I want. I’m no idiot.”
“That’s not what I meant. Just…I can’t right now.”
“Chickenshit.”
He smirked. “Yeah, sure, okay. If that makes you feel better.”
“No, it really doesn’t.”
“Look, Kyle, I really like you. I do. But I can wait. Can you?” I knew I was frowning and I didn’t know that I could stop, but I blinked, trying to get a grip on my emotions.
“I don’t want to wait.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
I had to try another tactic. “I’m not a virgin if that’s what you’re worried about.” Oh, shit. And if my friends were right, that wasn’t necessarily a selling point. But, again, I couldn’t lie and, if I had my way, he’d find out soon enough anyway.
He shook his head and then ran a finger from my temple to my jaw before speaking again. “Can you wait?”
Oh, I could, but I’d meant what I said. “No.” I was hoping to call his bluff.
Instead, he said, “Sorry.” I’d dug in my heels and no way was I taking it back. I was young and fucking impatient, and I didn’t want to wait another goddamned year to be with him. It was now or never, and he’d already made his choice. “Friends?”
Well…no way was I going to shit on the relationship we had. I stood staring at him and breathed in and out through my nose twice before nodding. “Yeah, okay. Friends.”
He smiled then and said, “I guess we should get you back to the stage.”
I walked past him and did just as he’d suggested. “You shouldn’t have kissed me like that, CJ.”
He started to walk past me. “Maybe you shouldn’t have grabbed me.” Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have had the chance to kiss him—and that kiss was amazing. It only made me wonder what the hell all his moves were like…and I was even more upset that I wouldn’t know. For a while, anyway, but I didn’t want to wait.
All I could do now was try to drive him crazy by showing him what he was missing.
“A Song to Slit Your Wrists By” ~ Lita Ford
Chapter Thirty-two
ONE LAST MEETING, followed by our little free concert, and then we had a little downtime until we would hit the road.
I got to the venue at five as planned. The doors would open to the public at six, but we didn’t go on until seven. We all sat at one of the round tables in the hallway outside the studio area…waiting for Barbie. As fucking usual.
Peter didn’t say a word. Liz said, “My mom and dad and I have made up. They’re okay with me going on tour.” I could tell by the slight nod of Peter’s head that he already knew that. She was saying it for the benefit of us girls.
“Cool.”
“That’s it.” Liz whipped her phone out of her back pocket, swiped it, punched in her passcode, and started swiping again until she brought the phone up to her ear. I could hear someone on the other end say something. Liz’s voice was calm when she responded, “Barbie, do you know how rude it is that you are always late?” Barbie said something, and I could tell her voice was nonchalant at the moment, probably blowing Liz off like she did all of us all the time. “I don’t give a shit. You can be fashionably late to a party. This is your goddamned job, and I’m ready to start demanding that your pay be docked for every single time you’re late.” Oh, that set Barbie off. I could hear her ranting and raving on the other end. Liz rolled her eyes and hung up.
We hadn’t actually received any compensation as yet, but that was beside the point.
I and the other two girls started laughing. When I caught my breath, I said, “That’s totally not like you, Liz.”
She let out her breath through lips pursed but not quite closed, a sign that she was tense. “I’m at the end of my rope.”
Peter said, “Well, you’ve given me some ideas. Let’s see what her future performance is like, shall we?” He sat at the table and handed us each a folder with papers inside. “In the meantime, the early bird gets the worm, and I somehow doubt Ms. Bennett cares much about where we’ll be going. What you’ll see inside is a tour schedule—an itinerary of sorts—where we’ll be and when, and it includes days off and suggestions for fun things to do wherever we wind up having an extra day. It also tells you, at each leg of the tour, who the headliners and other supporting acts are. You’ll also find another paper that gives you suggestions for what you’ll want to bring along—things like clothing, toiletries, and more, as well as quantities. There’s also a set list, and we will have rehearsals the week before we get on the road. Oh, yes, and one of the other sheets of paper there goes over your daily stipends.”
Peter kept rattling on and on about everything in the packet, but I knew I could read it later if I felt like it. Right now, I was lost in dreamland. A fucking tour schedule meant that all this was real. Tonight, sure, I’d be playing to a small audience, but in a month, I’d be playing to giant audiences in huge venues.
I could have pinched myself and it still wouldn’t have felt quite real.
* * *
Loud rock music was playing, and when I peeked from backstage to see what the crowd looked like, I saw lots of colored laser lights reflecting off wisps of smoke. There were also ads flashing on the big screens on both sides of the stage. What fascinated me most, though, was all the bodies I could see crowded at the front, touching the stage.
On the Run (Vagabonds #1) Page 20
