by Flite, Nora
“Did Johnny really do this?”
“Are you sure you want to play?”
“What happened to him, where is he now?”
It was Brenda, slicing between them and shoving them aside, that ended the parade. Turning, she held Lola by the shoulders, stared into her stunned face. “You really want to play tonight?”
Gulping air, Lola narrowed her eyes. “Yeah. I'm ready.”
“How did you manage to delay the show for us?” I asked in wonderment.
Her ruby lips coiled upwards. “You'll be pissed, but I promised everyone free tickets to your next show. Better than trying to handle angry refunds on this, trust me.”
Truthfully, I wasn't pissed. Looking at Lola, at the vibrant way her delight danced on her face, how could I feel anything but joy? She's so happy she gets to play.
Out in the auditorium, the roar of the crowd grew. They were savage, starving for what they had longed for. I understood their feelings.
We did a quick wardrobe change, clean clothes for Lola and myself, makeup to hide some of her marks from the tussle with Johnny.
I wanted to know more about what had happened, but really, the details didn't matter.
Lola was safe now.
“Here,” Brenda said, offering the girl her purple guitar. “Take it, tune it, do what you need to in ten minutes.”
Hoisting the instrument into place, Lola's face twisted in a brief flinch. She saw me looking, then glanced away hurriedly. “Listen, Drez. That new song... can we even perform it?”
“I know all the words by heart.” I took a slow step towards her, studying how she held the guitar. “You could probably keep the tune close enough that no one would notice. They haven't heard it before to compare, after all.” She was focusing on her fingers, the floor, everywhere but me. “That's not the issue, is it?”
She said nothing.
“Lola... what's wrong?”
Hanging her head, dark hair covered everything away. “Fuck. Drez, I think my shoulder is hurt worse than I thought. Holding my guitar... it's painful.”
Brushing her tresses aside, I tried to read the pain in her blue gaze. “You still want to do this?”
“Yeah. If I can. After everything, I really want to try.”
My lips closed on hers, the kiss a mere blink. “Then let's try.”
Voices were calling out around us, people telling us where to go, what to do. For a moment, we stayed there and only existed with each other.
The cheers outside the curtain took it all away.
Together we moved, standing on our marks, straightening up to handle the wave of energy. Behind me, Porter and Colt settled in, their faces all smiles. It was unfair to them to lead with our new song, something they had no part of, but...
Looking over, I saw a bead of sweat on Lola's temple. If she's in pain, I want to give her this. She wants it so badly.
Everyone else had to come second to that.
Holding the mic, I spoke into it with a smirk. “Hello, Seattle.” The explosion was immense. The room was a powder keg, I was the flint to light it up. “I'm sorry you had to wait so long for us to perform. But it was worth it, right?” I gestured around, roared into the speakers. “Because we're fucking right here! Four and a Half Headstones, and we've got a new song for you!”
I waited until the world stopped screeching. Then, holding up my hand for silence, I whispered into all their ears. “I hope you enjoy it.” Reaching down, I lifted the guitar I'd placed at my feet. The audience hadn't seen it; they went crazy all over again.
Hooking it in place, I took the time for them to settle down to tweak the strings. I'd tuned it before, but I wanted to be sure.
I wanted everything to be right.
In the dead silence, Lola began to play. It was a haunting melody, all ghosts and dust dancing from her fingers. It reminded me of our skill difference; commanded me to take hold and play to my best.
Breathing in to control my muscles, I followed her lead. Our notes flowed together, twirling through the air, burning on flesh. She was perfect, ever perfect, and if my fans didn't see it after this...
They never would.
“Beautiful in defiance,” I hushed, “wicked in how you claw. Come to me again, so close... you're mine, don't see these flaws...” From the moment I'd announced creating a song with Lola, I'd been brewing with ideas. I knew exactly the kind of song I wanted to make with her.
Did anyone ever imagine I would write a love song?
Looking over, I glimpsed the focus on Lola's face. Her lower lip was sucked in her teeth, fingers wild, elegant on her strings. She was exerting herself, but the pain she was going through vibrated in waves.
She can't keep going, I thought desperately, singing for all the world like a man with a message. But what can we do? What other choice is there? The crowd, our fans, they'd waited so long to hear Four and a Half Headstones.
What could sate them but this?
“Wrapping, coiling, merging with the world...” Like she'd suggested, we punched our guitars, jolted the air with wild music. The energy was frantic, my heart rocketing inside my chest with no where to land. “Come to me again! Again, you're mine... you're mine...”
Lola's face was bloodless. This is too much, I thought in a panic. As the song came to a close, I saw her breathing heavy. Dogs trapped in cars panted less.
Something had to be done.
Off to the side, just backstage, I caught Sean Cooper looking on.
“Thank you,” I said into the mic. Wiping sweat from my brow, I smiled over the crowd, forced myself to hide the anxiety brewing. I had decided what to do, but there was a chance it would blow up in my face.
One more look at Lola cradling her shoulder was all I needed.
Clearing my throat, I gestured for Lola to come close. “Lola and I wrote that song together. I've never done that with someone before.” Warily, she came closer. “I've also never done this.”
Bending forward, I slid the guitar off of her. She was stunned, everyone was, but I looked again backstage. Sean stared right back. “As much as I want Lola to keep playing, she's been injured. She can't.” The audience made various sounds, all loud; I talked louder. “Instead, there's someone here who's wanted to play with us for a long time.”
Lola was shaking her head, trying to get my attention... then she froze. Turning, she saw who I was gesturing at.
“Sean Cooper.” I held Lola's guitar out to him. “Lola's brother, and lead guitarist for Barbed Fire.”
No one knew what to do. Brenda was waving her arms at me, Porter and Colt were looking ill, and Lola...
She yanked her guitar away before I could stop her. “Thanks everyone,” she said into my mic, “but my brother has his own guitar he can use.”
With his mouth in a serious line, her brother walked onto the stage, guitar in hand. They passed each other, the tension shattered by a solid embrace. My grin went high as the crowd cheered, Sean moving to take Lola's place.
“You think you're finally ready for this?” I asked him under my breath, covering the mic.
Wrinkling his forehead, he strummed a note. “If I'm not, you're the one who'll have to pay for it.”
Throwing back my head, I laughed at the ceiling. “You said you knew some of our songs.” I set my guitar on the floor, out of the way; I felt so much lighter. “Know Black Grit?”
In answer, he plucked the beginning. The fans heard it, screamed wildly in anticipation.
Filling my lungs with air, I looked over my shoulder at Colt. He saw my nod, pounded his drums to herald the opening of the song. Twisting back, I glimpsed Lola looking on from backstage.
Those wonderful blue eyes were stuck on her brother. They glistened with affection so fierce, it threatened to overflow. In the yellow lights, her fond smile was pure gold.
With my chest full of gratification... I opened my mouth and sang.
Epilogue.
Lola
The sun tickled along Drezden's back, highlighting t
he deep indent his spine made. It led the eye over his hard muscles, guided my fingers down to the top of his jeans. Gently, I skirted around the edges of starkly black ink.
It had been two days since the final show. Afterward, he'd taken me to get my shoulder checked out. The best part was how he carried me, half-asleep, into his hotel room. In those late hours, Drezden sat me down and told me what I'd wanted to know.
His dreams, his fears, his history...
How his father had grown jealous.
And worse, how his mother had gone deaf from the resulting damage of the attack. The woman who had cared for him so much, pushed to get him where he was, couldn't even hear the powerful music he lived to make.
The man I loved told me everything until my heart weighed so much, it crushed my lungs, left me breathless and awash in tears. Together we lay there that night, hands knit at our hips between us. The two of us, we'd both felt so much hate growing up.
We knew what drew us together from the start.
He'd wanted to show me the old scar his father had left on him. The area was covered in a new bandage, flesh swollen, red with what he'd had done while he was back home.
Now, days later, lying on his bed in the tour bus, I studied the tattoo Drezden had marked his body with. What he'd done to prove, not just to me, but to himself, that he was ready to be with me. He'd raked his soul raw under the needle.
Honesty, I thought, tracing the edges of the curling letters. He'd carved the word right into his skin. He hadn't needed to go so far, and yet... for Drezden, there was no such thing as too far.
“Done,” I whispered, setting the lotion aside. “It's looking good. Very clean.”
Propping himself on his elbow, he curled me against him, teeth seeking my bottom lip. “It's not as elaborate as yours.”
I smiled around his kiss. “The meaning is just as important.”
“You like it, then?”
Wrapping my fingers in his hair, I held him steady. The green of his eyes was like fresh grass, new and alive. “I like you.”
Zeroing in on my gaze, Drezden ran a thumb over my cheek. “Stop acting so tough. You don't like me.”
My heart hiccuped. In that second of confusion, he took advantage; leaned in, swallowed my oxygen with a kiss that ate away my understanding of the world. I don't like him? I heard him exhale, felt his stubble on my flesh. No. He's right.
Pushing him away, I gathered the inch of air between us. It was small, but for what I wanted to say, it was enough. “I love you, Drezden.”
“That's better.” He covered me like smoke, took me down into the blankets. I was happy to suffocate there, but he wouldn't let me. His tongue found mine, brought fire to my veins. There was no way to die when he gave me such life. “Lola... I love you, too.” His teeth flashed. “Fuck, I really do.”
Circling my arms around his neck, I held him on top of me. Our chests caressed, hearts throbbing faster and faster. “Of course you do,” I whispered. “Why else write me a love song?”
His body tightened. “You knew when I sang it.”
“I knew when I read the lyrics in your notebook.”
He wasn't ashamed. The edges of his lips fought between amusement and consuming me. Being sucked into that wicked mouth... I could accept that fate. “You're amazing, Lola.”
The blush ran from my toes and beyond. “Hardly. Couldn't even finish the final show.”
“That wasn't your fault.” Stroking my hair, Drezden put his chin on my head. “Besides, you'll have plenty of more shows to perform. Plus a new CD to record, we'll want to release one with you on it.”
He didn't say 'and not Johnny,' but I heard it. The memory of being kidnapped, of how Johnny had twitched and terrified me... No. I'm stronger than that. I'll move past it. Nothing would taint my first tour.
I'd have new memories before everything was done. Memories. Leaning up, I sought out Drezden's soft mouth. I'll cherish every memory from this tour.
When I'd started out weeks ago as a roadie for my brother, I could never have expected that I'd end up here. Yes, I thought, shivering under Drezden's expert fingers, I never expected any of this.
Lola Cooper.
God damn rockstar.
My world could never be the same...
And I was just fine with that.
THE END
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~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
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A USA Today Bestselling Author, Nora Flite loves to write new adult romance (especially the dramatic, gritty kind!) Inspired by the complicated events and wild experiences of her own life, she wants to share those stories with her audience.
Born in the tiniest state, coming from what was essentially dirt, she's learned to embrace and appreciate every opportunity the world gives her.
She's also, possibly, addicted to coffee and sushi.
Not at the same time, of course.
Check out her blog, noraflite.blogspot.com, also email her at [email protected] if you just have some questions!
-Nora Flite
Did you love The Body Rock Series Box Set? Then you should read Only Pretend: A Novel by Nora Flite!
From USA Today Bestselling Author Nora Flite:
If you hated your life—wanted to prove to the world that you could change—how would you do it?
I had a plan. I also had no family, no friends, and definitely no jerk of an ex-boyfriend who thought I was boring.
I was tired of being me.
In Vegas, I could be anything.
And then I saw him.
His hungry smile wanted a taste of the new me.
Only a boring person would have said no.
It was reckless to follow a stranger to his bed. Dangerous to take the drink he handed me. I thought the worst regret I'd have would be a hangover, a walk of shame through the hotel.
Except I didn't wake up in the hotel.
Or in Vegas.
I doubt my face will end up in the news. “Woman missing,” the headline would say. “A stupid person who thought she could be someone else.”
I'm not someone else. I was only playing pretend.
Too bad he was playing for keeps.
--Author's Note-- This is a very dark romance novel with themes that could make readers uncomfortable. Be wary, it contains violence and beyond-steamy content aimed at mature audiences.
Read more at Nora Flite’s site.
