by Trina M. Lee
Something Like Sorrow was Jett’s ex-boyfriend’s band. Though they’d broken up more than six months ago, she was still holding a grudge. I didn’t consider them much of a threat. They were mediocre at best, a power-chord band really.
The Molly’s Chamber boys made their way to the bus stop bench near the club. Their voices were loud, carrying down the street toward us. They carried on about how great their set had been, how they were going to win this thing.
“Gotta admire their confidence,” Jett mused, her heavily painted, red lips pursed in judgment. “I hope it doesn’t scar them too badly when we kick their asses.”
I smirked, but my snarky reply was interrupted by the vibration in the back pocket of my jeans. I retrieved my phone and read the text message from Tash demanding we get back inside immediately.
“Tash is having a fit,” I said. “She wants us back inside.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll get there. Tell her to have a drink. It’s the best way to numb out the nerves.”
I typed a brief reply that we were on our way. We had plenty of time until our turn to play, but Tash always got antsy right before each show. On stage, once the low, heavy tones rolled out of her bass, she was all good.
I watched as a few girls walked by the bus bench, receiving a few catcalls and whistles. One of the guys called out, “Hello, ladies.”
All of the girls ignored him but one. She called back with a flirty, “Hi, Sam.”
Without waiting for the girls to move out of earshot, Arrow nudged his buddy and loudly said, “Didn’t you bone that chick after The Pretty Reckless show last month?”
“Yep.” Sam chuckled. He had the tact to wait for them to move on before saying, “She got all weird and started calling me Daddy about halfway through. It was kind of fucked.”
The hot bass player with the mohawk laughed, spewing a stream of smoke from between his lips. “And yet, you know you’d do it again.”
Sam laughed as if his friend had told the best joke. “Well, yeah. What can I say? She was eager to please.”
“Classy bunch of guys,” Jett muttered, tossing the remains of the joint aside. “Let’s go back inside before Tash has a meltdown.”
I studied the bass player. His smile lit up his face as if a light were shining within him. It made him look a little less badass, like he might actually be a nice guy.
“Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
Jett gave me an appraising glance and nodded, her smile sly. “Ah, I see. Looking to get your world rocked, Spike?”
“Possibly. Doesn’t hurt to keep my options open.” My smile was more playful than sly.
“Just remember, he’s the enemy. For now anyway. No pussy for him until it’s all over.”
“Jett!” I protested, loud enough to draw Arrow’s gaze my way. Our eyes met, and for a moment, everything froze. He looked away before I could, a disconcerting relief.
We walked back down the street toward The Spirit Room. Jett continued inside while I fished a cigarette from my pocket and strutted up to the bus bench. Ignoring the other three guys present, I focused my attention on the bass player. I wasn’t about to be chased off by his nephilim friend.
“Got a light?” I asked, holding up my unlit smoke.
“Yeah, no problem.” He fumbled in the pocket of his tight pants and produced a lighter.
“I saw you guys play earlier.” I tossed my long, black bangs out of my eyes and leaned down so he could light the cigarette for me. I eyed the tip of a black tattooed feather that peeked out from beneath the collar of his jacket. “I liked it.”
I smiled, a flirtatious tug of my red lips. Ignoring the others who watched the exchange in amused silence, I enjoyed the way he looked me over with obvious interest. His eyes were a heart-stopping, fiery, amber gold. His gaze traveled over me, lingering on my cleavage before returning to my face.
“Thanks. I like that you liked it.” He watched me stick the cigarette between my full lips and take a drag.
“But as good are you are, we’re going to kick your ass.” I blew out a plume of smoke, watching it disappear into the night. “Seriously though, at this point, I think you guys might be our only competition.”
“Oh yeah? Well forgive me if we don’t take it easy on you.”
Arrow scoffed and snickered but didn’t say anything. I ignored him, feeling uneasy so close to him. The weight of his stare was intended to intimidate me. Well, fuck him.
“I’m Spike.” I offered the hottie a hand tipped with perfectly polished, black nails. That would only last until I picked up my guitar. Then it would become a flaky mess. “I’m the guitarist for Crimson Sin.”
“Rowen Cruz. I’ve heard good things about you guys. And I guess you already know that I play bass in Molly’s Chamber. This is Arrow, Sam, and Greyson.” He took my hand and gave it a warm squeeze while gesturing to his buddies with the other. “So… may the best band win.”
Goosebumps rose up on my arms. My stomach flipped. It could have been the natural response to a cute guy eyeing me up, but it felt like something else, like my subconscious was trying to communicate a message that my conscious mind didn’t want to receive.
“Most definitely.” I nodded a greeting to his friends, finding it hard to meet Arrow’s eyes. Being in such close proximity to him gave me the fuzzy sensation of static electricity. “Thanks for the light. Maybe I’ll run into you later. You can buy me a drink.”
Turning on a heel, I gave Rowen a flirty wink and sauntered off. Right away his friends started in on him, making inappropriate jokes. I could feel them watching as I went. Arrow’s gaze felt heaviest though.
Suppressing a shudder, I disappeared into The Spirit Room.
I joined the girls in the dressing room just upstairs from the back of the stage. It wasn’t the biggest, most luxurious dressing area, but it was divided into two rooms, one of which Rubi and Tash had claimed as “girls only.”
We spent the next thirty minutes psyching each other up and putting last minute touch ups on our hair and makeup. I peered at my reflection in the mirror that lined one entire wall. Scrutinizing the heavy, black-and-silver shadow framing my greyish-blue eyes, I decided it was in no need of work. I reapplied my favorite cherry red lipstick and spritzed on the citrus perfume that I loved but Jett hated. Leather cuff bracelets adorned my wrists. A spiked collar around my neck and giant hoop earrings made up the rest of my accessories.
“You should’ve worn something that shows off your wings,” Rubi said, catching my eye in the mirror as she ran a brush through her short, dark bob.
Wings were not a feature the nephilim were born with, much to my great childhood disappointment. According to Cinder, they manifested after one chose a side, when a certain level of maturity had been reached, or whatever. I didn’t really understand how it worked.
At the age of eighteen I’d been feeling rather dramatic about the whole awkward identity thing. So I’d gone out and gotten wings tattooed on my back. They were beautifully done. The black, precisely detailed feathers ended low on my back, on the curve of my ass. The only other tattoos I possessed was a small dragonfly on the side of my leg and the word `truth’ in a lovely script on the back of my neck.
Other than my ears, I was piercing free. Tash was the least modified of the group, having no tattoos or piercings at all. Jett was covered in ink but lacked piercings. They weren’t werewolf friendly according to her. The most notable tattoo she bore was the crescent moon on the left side of her neck, which marked her as a member of the local Doghead wolf pack.
“I was feeling mysterious tonight.” I turned to show Rubi the tips of my wings that peeked out through the space between the hem of my top and the low-slung waist of my jeans.
When we were all draped in leather, lace, and a hell of a lot of eyeliner, we headed downstairs to set up our gear. Jett conveniently disappeared to the bar. Singers were so spoiled sometimes.
We ran through sound check while a DJ kept the crowd occupied with some hard roc
k tunes. I tuned my guitar, plucking my way through the strings until they sounded just right. Jett returned right on time, with a waitress carrying a tray of shooters trailing her.
“Pre-show shot time,” Jett announced, swiping something pink and creamy from the tray and downing it without waiting for us to join her.
I helped myself to a Gladiator. The mix of Amaretto and Grand Marnier was one of my favorites. After a few of those, my nerves began to numb out. Tash grabbed one as well while Rubi abstained. She preferred to do her drinking after we played.
The stage lights dimmed, and the emcee stepped up to the mike. We got into position, ready and thrumming with anticipation. I stroked a hand lovingly along the neck of my lovely, black Gibson Les Paul guitar. It was my baby, the one thing I could not leave home without.
The emcee had barely said our name when the drums thundered into a steady rhythm. I joined in, and the sound was sudden, loud, and extreme. The stage lights came on, and we all but blew the roof off the place.
Our music was raw and in your face, but it was also catchy. The crowd was definitely into it. It tickled me when a handful of people crowded around the stage to sing along. They knew our original material, and a few of them even wore Crimson Sin t-shirts purchased from the merchandise booth run by Tash’s sister. Playing around the city for the past few years was starting to pay off.
Jett’s vocals were rough and gritty, her voice raspy and sexy but melodic as she sang:
Don’t tell me how to feel
We both know this isn’t real
If we don’t walk away
It becomes more than a game.
Jett was a real wild child, throwing herself down on the stage in a dramatic fashion before getting up and leaping into the cheering audience. She crowd surfed like a pro, eating up all the attention.
I was in the middle of a solo piece that I was particularly proud of when I felt that I was being watched. It was a ridiculous sensation considering that hundreds of people were watching us play. But this wasn’t that kind of watchful feeling. It was heavier, almost oppressive, like I was being studied.
Sweat broke out on my brow. My fingers flew over the frets, and the solo poured out of me. It had taken a shitload of practice to master the piece, and I couldn’t help the proud grin that lit up my face when it came out flawless.
I glanced up to scan the crowd. Right away my gaze landed on the Molly’s Chamber boys. They were gathered around a drink-laden table in the back. All of them were watching us very attentively, though none as intently as Arrow.
It was his studious stare I could feel crawling all over me. I felt something sinister in it. Our eyes met across the distance, but he continued to stare at me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was trying to make me fuck up our set. Well, fuck him. Some guys just can’t handle women that give them a run for their money.
No way in hell was I going to let the competition throw me off my game. Redirecting my focus to the crowd jumping up and down in front of the stage with hands in the air, I let the music sweep me away.
By the time we launched into the last song of our set, I’d pretty much forgotten about Arrow. The crowd was screaming. One guy shouted out, “I love you, Jett.” She blew him a kiss.
Unfortunately, that brought out the ugly side of a few audience members. An empty beer bottle flew through the air, hurtling toward me. Using the neck of my guitar, I deflected it like a champ. When a second bottle followed, Jett stopped singing and searched the crowd for the culprit.
“Got a fucking problem, asshole?” Jett spoke clearly into the mike, staring down into the crowd.
The rest of us kept the music going. It was going to take more than a pussy with a beer bottle to chase us away.
“What the fuck did you say to me?” Jett laughed, and the sound was deadly. “I don’t see you up here, cocksucker.”
Another insult was directed at her. The words “suck” and “trashwhore” could be clearly heard. Jett moved fast. She leaped into the crowd with fists flying. There was a commotion as people closest to the action rushed to get out of the way.
There was no suppressing my laughter. This was not the first time Jett had unraveled on a heckler.
We watched as Jett lay a beating on the loudmouthed idiot. Once she got him down, she straddled the guy and fed shots into his face with an aggression I wouldn’t have believed if I wasn’t seeing it. Security moved quickly to drag her off. Jett’s heckler lay on the floor with blood gushing from his nose.
Jett pulled free of the bouncer’s hold and ran back to the stage. The crowd cheered her on, feeding off the excitement of the fast beat down they’d just witnessed. The security guys looked uncertain, but in the end, they gave the heckler the choice to stay or leave. Embarrassed, he headed for the door. It was a safe bet that he wouldn’t mess with Jett again.
“Now that that’s taken care of, are we done, or does anyone else want to step up?” Despite her words, there was a smile on Jett’s face. She’d enjoyed that little incident.
We made it to the end of the song without further interruption. My blood was running hot when we finished. The crowd was all worked up, having enjoyed the display of violent werewolf temper.
I left the stage feeling damn good about our performance overall. Now that our set was over, it was time to party. Heading straight to the bar for a drink, I noticed Rowen nearby talking with a few friends. He glanced about, looking for someone. Me?
Instead of heading to the table that the girls had claimed near the stage, I slinked up behind Rowen. Feeling bold, I said, “Sex on the beach.”
“Is that so?” He turned with a laugh, a raised brow, and his flirtatious smile. “Sounds good to me.”
I glanced pointedly toward the bar and smirked. “My drink. That’s what you can get me. Double vodka.”
“You guys really kicked ass up there.” Rowen waved over a passing waitress and ordered drinks. “But I’m sure you already know that.”
“I certainly do. But thanks for saying so. A lot of guys don’t have the balls. I think we intimidate them.” With a suddenly serious expression, I leaned in close. “Do I intimidate you, Rowen?”
He studied me for a moment, his smile playful and quirky. “You know… I’m not sure.”
I playfully tapped him on the nose. “You’re cute. I like you.”
We stood side by side, waiting for the last band to play. That strange feeling that I was missing something resurfaced. It was like I should know him from somewhere, but I couldn’t figure out where. The waitress returned with our drinks, and I was glad to have a way to busy my hands.
“The singer has no range,” I said when the final band kicked off their first song. “It’s really not helping the lack of a talented lead guitar.” I lifted the cherry from my glass and sucked the alcohol from it before dropping it back into the drink.
Rowen watched with stunned intrigue before shouting, “Right. And the drummer seems too talented to match well with the rest of them. But hey, I guess that works in our favor.” Rowen spied Sam approaching and shot him a look to keep on moving. I pretended not to notice.
“I guess we’ll know any time now.”
I was happy to stand there with him, drinking and waiting for the judges to announce which bands were moving to the next round. The loud music and crowd eased the pressure of making small talk. We leaned back against a small partition wall and waited.
The tension was mounting. It all seemed too much like the results portion of a reality TV show for my liking. When the last band finished, the stage lights came up, and my stomach tightened. The DJ kept the music going, but the tension in the room began to thicken as several eager young musicians waited impatiently.
Minutes felt like hours. I shot Rowen a questioning look and played with the cherry from my drink. “Feeling lucky, sucker?”
Rowen watched me slip the cherry in my mouth, then back out again. “I don’t think lucky quite sums it up. But yeah, I’m feeling pretty confident right
now.”
His friends were still gathered around their table. Catching Arrow’s eye, Rowen held his drink up in a gesture of camaraderie. Arrow didn’t look too pleased to see us standing there together, so I smiled brightly at him.
The lights dimmed, and everyone grew quiet. The spotlight lit up the emcee when he stepped up with a list of names in hand. My palms grew sweaty, and I held my breath.
Only four bands were going through. Crimson Sin was the first one announced. Relief rushed through me. I could have collapsed in a puddle of happy on the floor. I let out a little whoop and downed the last of my drink.
Rowen waited anxiously with his eyes locked on the emcee. His expression soured when the next band announced wasn’t his. Two more to go. When the third band’s name still wasn’t Molly’s Chamber, Rowen’s gaze dropped to his drink.
I found myself hoping they would get through despite the fact that I should have been pulling for them to fail.
“Molly’s Chamber.” The emcee said their name, and Rowen slumped in relief.
“Congrats, cutie.” I raised my empty glass to him in cheers before popping the lonely cherry back into my mouth.
“Thanks. Congrats to you too. You really deserve it.”
Arrow, Greyson, and Sam were suddenly there, voices raised in excitement.
“Fucking rights!” Sam shouted. “Just one step closer to a record deal.”
Rowen looked embarrassed by his buddies and their intrusive yelling. It was time for me to vacate and head back to my girls.
I pulled the cherry from my mouth and dangled it by the stem. Still attached to the cherry, the stem was tied in a perfect knot. Dropping the cherry into Rowen’s glass, I grinned slyly. “Congratulations, boys. I guess I’ll be seeing you next weekend. I can hardly wait.”
Chapter Four
My head pounded. My eyes hurt though I hadn’t even opened them yet. Rolling over in bed, I groped around blindly for my cell phone, dragging it off the nightstand and across my pillow.
Through bleary vision I made out the time. Almost noon. The scent of bacon helped me shake off the last remnants of sleep. My stomach growled, and I sat up, blinking until my vision cleared. What a night.
