Kissing Vicious

by Brooklyn Ann

  Afterward, he pulled away with a watery sigh. “Thanks, Kin.”

  “Anytime.” She squeezed his hand.

  Everyone remained silent as Gaffer paced through the bus making phone calls.

  Brand broke the mournful hush with the dreaded question: “What are we doing about tomorrow’s gig?”

  “I don’t know.” Quinn sighed. He looked like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Kinley longed to go to him and pull him into her arms. “I think we should go on. It’s not fair to the fans to lose the whole show but…” He shrugged helplessly and looked pointedly at Curt’s huddled form.

  Sensing the scrutiny, Curt looked up sharply. “The show will go on. Lefty would have wanted it that way. But you’re going to have to do it without me.”

  “Curt—” Tony began.

  The guitarist waved him off with a shaky hand. “I need to get my ass in rehab now. The bus is going to drop me off at the train station on the way to the gig. Kinley can take over for me until…until I’m better. She knows our songs better than anyone I’ve ever met.” Meeting Kinley’s gaze, his eyes burned with feverish intensity. “Can you do that for me, Kin?”

  Swallowing a lump in her throat, she nodded in spite of her doubts that she could take his place. Would Gaffer and the rest of the band allow it? As if in answer, they all nodded, though some of the road crew frowned—especially Phil.

  “I’ll do the best I can,” she answered, voice quavering.

  “What kind of bullshit is this?” Phil demanded. “If anyone should step in for Curt, it should be me. I’ve been guitar tech for this band longer than that bitch.”

  So fast it was almost frightening, Curt leapt from his seat and punched the roadie in the face. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I beat the shit out of you.”

  Hold his bleeding nose, Phil fired back, but his retort was muffled and unintelligible.

  Curt drew back his fist to hit him again, but Gaffer charged forward and stood between them.

  Grasping Phil by the shoulder, the road manager snarled, “If we didn’t need a guitar tech so bad, I’d fire your ass right now. And if I hear one word against Kinley again, I’ll fire you anyway. Now get the hell out of here and be grateful you got your old job back. And try to fix that attitude. Curt just lost his best friend and we all lost one of our own.”

  Phil slinked off to the back of the bus, slamming the partition door so hard that one section jolted out of its roller.

  Joe shook his head. “Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with that guy?”

  Curt retreated back to his bunk, wrapping a blanket over his shoulders, all of his avenging fury depleted. Despite shivering like he had hypothermia, the guitarist smiled. “You’re a good woman, Kin. I’m sorry for all you’ve had to put up with from Phil and I’m sorry about the times I was an ass.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” She smiled back. “You were just doing your job.”

  He laughed, then broke into a coughing fit. When he recovered, he blew his nose and shook his head. “If you hadn’t been here, we would have been screwed.” He lowered his voice. “There’s no way in hell I would have let Phil stand in for me. He could never nail even half my riffs.”

  “Not to mention the fact that he’s a drama llama,” Tony added.

  Brand laughed lightly. “Who knew that letting this chick kick Harry’s ass would end up saving our tour?”

  The rest of the band looked at her and nodded in solemn agreement. Quinn was the first to hold out his hand. It was a formal gesture compared to their previous intimacy, but it fit the moment. “Welcome to Viciöus, Kinley.”

  She placed her trembling hand in his and squeezed. Brand and Tony followed suit. Quinn passed out beers and they drank a toast.

  Just like that, she was part of the band. Kinley struggled to smile. Her deepest dream had come true, but it tasted like ashes in her mouth.

  ***

  When the bus arrived at the gig, Kinley got up to join the crew. Quinn grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. “That’s not your job anymore.”

  Her face turned bright red as the others laughed. “Oh, sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’re all strained tonight.”

  And wasn’t that the truth. His own hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His senses had been operating in shell-shock mode since Gaffer told him that Lefty had died. And my last words to him were, “Fuck you, Lefty.” His heart ached with regret and remorse at the thought. Before he lost it and started crying like Curt, he returned his focus to the matter at hand.

  He couldn’t bring himself to be angry at Curt for abandoning them in the middle of the tour. The guy would be useless in his grief-stricken state, and if he didn’t get clean, he could end up like Lefty.

  Still, it was quite a bomb to drop on the band—and on Kinley. They’d be lucky to get through a single song without fucking up, much less a whole set.

  Crossing his arms over his chest to hide his shaking, he faced his band and forced a confident tone. “We can do this. For Curt, for Lefty, for Bleeding Vengeance, and for the fans, we have to do this.” Finally starting to believe his own words, Quinn stood and met their gazes one by one. “We’re going to get on that stage and thrash like never before. We’re going to live up to our name. Got it?”

  Brand and Kinley nodded solemnly.

  “Damn right!” Tony shouted, surreptitiously wiping a tear from his eye.

  Steeling their nerves, they passed around a joint while waiting for it to be time for the sound check. Kinley declined to smoke and instead settled for a second beer.

  Quinn grabbed a duffel bag and tossed Kinley her backpack. “Time to get rolling.”

  Once security escorted them to the dressing rooms, Kinley whipped her face around to look at Quinn in horror. “What should I wear?”

  He grinned. “Your autographed Bleeding Vengeance shirt, of course. And those jeans with the studs on the sides. The ones that make your ass look spectacular.”

  She gave him a coy smile, but her mood quickly changed. “You really shouldn’t say things like that.”

  His smile faded. “What do you mean?”

  “People will find out about…well, us.”

  Oh God, not this again. “Would that be so bad?”

  “Yes!” Kinley’s voice rang with fear and frustration. “Especially now that I’m standing in for Curt. If it gets out that we’re, um, involved, people will think it’s just because of that.”

  “But Curt is the one who asked you to take his place.”

  Her lips curled in a bitter smirk. “Do you think anyone would believe that if they knew I’m fucking you?”

  He sighed. “No. But don’t you think it’s time to stop caring so much about what other people think?”

  She lifted her chin. “This isn’t just about me—it’s about the band. I don’t want you guys to suffer because of me. Losing Curt, even temporarily, is bad enough for your career.”

  Torn between being touched at her genuine concern for the band and reluctant acceptance of her logic, he spread his arms helplessly. “Fine, we’ll keep it under wraps a little longer.”

  Checking to make sure no one was looking, he seized her shoulders and pulled her towards him, claiming her mouth in a fiery kiss. He willed his embrace to convey all of his yearning and need for her. When he withdrew, he was gratified to see her gasping with desire. “But eventually the truth will come out.”

  She nodded stiffly and fled to the dressing room.

  Cursing under his breath, he strode into his own dressing room and resisted the urge to punch the wall. This tour was becoming a clusterfuck of epic proportions. First they’d lost Lefty, and hence lost their opening band, then they lost their own guitarist, who, yes, needed to get help, but who couldn’t have sought it at a worse time. And now they had a semi-experienced woman stepping into Curt’s shoes. A woman who would indeed be subject to scorn if word got out she was sharing the singer’s bed. A woman who made him so happy, he wanted to shout it
from the rooftops.

  Quinn was still cursing the sexist hypocrisy of the music industry when they gathered on the stage for sound check.

  Though her eyes were unnaturally wide and Quinn detected a fine tremor in her arms and legs, Kinley managed to display a modicum of confidence as she crossed the stage and lifted Curt’s B.C. Rich from its stand, meticulously double-checking the tuning. Sure enough, Phil didn’t have it right, but that was probably deliberate.

  Although he’d kept his mouth shut ever since Curt nailed him, it was patently obvious Phil loathed having to work for the woman he’d bullied these past few weeks. Quinn would have taken more satisfaction at that twist if it hadn’t been orchestrated by tragedy.

  When the instrument was to her satisfaction, Kinley turned to face the band. “I just realized that I’ve never officially played with you guys before.”

  Tony shrugged. “That’s what the sound checks for. You can do this, Kin.” With that, he tapped on the cymbals and began drumming the beat for “Vanquished,” one of their most popular songs. Kinley began the shredding intro just as Quinn and Brand chimed in with the rhythm.

  For her first time, and with frayed nerves at that, Kinley didn’t do half bad. There was nothing Joe couldn’t fix with the mixing, anyway. Curt had made a good call.

  With no opening band before them, they only had a few moments to wait while the arena filled with fans. In light of the tragedy, the noise from the crowd was subdued.

  Once they got their cue, Viciöus mounted the stage.

  Fighting the lump in his throat, Quinn surveyed the anxious fans before approaching the microphone. “Thank you all for coming tonight. Bleeding Vengeance sends their love and regret for not being able to play.” He took a deep breath. “Tonight we honor the memory of Lefty Swanson. To our regret, Curt is not here, as he is mourning his best friend. We’re proud to introduce Kinley Black, who’s filling in for him until he’s recovered.”

  As the spotlight highlighted her, he met Kinley’s gaze and smiled. “Watch out—this woman can shred.”

  A few people booed. Kinley flinched before straightening her shoulders and smiling to those who applauded. Then she took Quinn’s cue and began the intricate intro to one of their most popular songs. The applause increased once she proved herself capable of matching Curt’s riffs. As Brand and Tony began the bass and drum rhythms, Quinn struck the first chord on his guitar and began to sing.

  For the most part, the show went smoothly. Except for an unfortunate C-sharp during a solo, Kinley’s performance was nearly perfect, and she brought her own unique energy in full force. Joining her at the edge of the stage for the dueling guitar solo, he couldn’t hold back his wonder. Playing with her felt so natural, as if she had been meant to jam with him right from the start.

  And most of the crowd seemed to be accepting her. Pride and relief rushed through him at that. He’d been afraid they’d bash her out of loyalty to Curt. True, there were a few surly faces, but the cheers from the rest overcame those objectors, especially when the band finished the encore, a Bleeding Vengeance cover, and took their bows.

  Backstage at the meet and greet, Quinn couldn’t hide his proud smile as Kinley conversed with fans and even signed a few autographs. She’d handled everything so well. His heart swelled in admiration, remembering, too, how she’d held Curt in her arms through his grief.

  Then, just before he checked into rehab, she’d recorded his announcement for his fans at his request and, after that, had gone straight to work on a memorial post for Lefty. And then, she’d practiced all their songs for hours until he’d taken the guitar away in fear that her fingers would bleed.

  She’d done so much and worked so hard for the band. Quinn only wished he had her to himself more often.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kinley huddled under an umbrella, freezing her ass off in a black dress as she stood with Quinn in the cemetery. Awe and grief warred within her as the members of Bleeding Vengeance said a few last words before their guitarist would be interred. All of the Big Six in thrash metal had attended Lefty’s funeral, along with several other well-known acts. Kinley knew that the heavy metal industry was a close-knit community, but seeing the evidence took her breath away.

  A crowd of fans stood outside the wrought-iron gates, solemnly holding banners and posters of the departed guitarist. A few religious crazies picketed the east side of the graveyard, spewing accusations that Lefty and everyone involved with metal were worshippers of Satan. They were quickly driven back by a group of mean-looking bikers.

  She’d expected a metal funeral to be a spectacle, yet this surpassed her expectations. As her gaze swept across scores of legends who had adorned the posters on her bedroom walls, she was struck again by those warring emotions.

  Looking up at Quinn, she said quietly, “It’s so surreal. I barely knew Lefty, though I’ve been listening to Bleeding Vengeance since their first album. And Kat cried when I told her he died. She’s idolized him for years, just like tons of other people. But none of us ever really knew him.” She blinked back tears. “A lot of people here were his friends and family. They knew him. And they are suffering more than any of his fans can possibly imagine.”

  “Don’t underrate your sorrow, Kinley.” He squeezed her hand. “The loss of the music that inspired you is a wound that will always ache. I was just a kid when Freddie Mercury died, and I even though I never met the guy, that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

  His understanding warmed her in spite of the chilling rain. Though she knew it was a bad idea, she let him keep hold of her hand.

  God, I could fall in love with this man.

  Kinley tamped down the dangerous thought and forced a teasing smile. “I never would have pegged you for a Queen fan.” However, it made sense, given his theatrical singing style.

  Curtis approached them, wiping tears from his face. “I still can’t believe my best friend’s gone.” He’d temporarily checked out of the rehab clinic to attend the funeral. Kinley ached for him and all the suffering he had to be going through. The guy looked like he’d lost twenty pounds.

  She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, knowing there was nothing she could say to heal his hurt. “How are you holding up?”

  “It’s the worst kind of hell.” His mouth turned down in a scowl, not wanting to continue on the subject of battling his addiction. “What about you? How are you handling being my stand-in?”

  Kinley sighed. “Well, I’m not you, so a lot of your fans are disappointed. Most have been cool, though. Other than that, I think I’m doing okay. At least I haven’t fucked up a set yet.”

  “But are you enjoying it?” The intensity of his gaze revealed the importance of her answer.

  “Oh hell yes.” Quickly she added, “But I can’t wait for you to come back.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m serious! I may be able to play well, but I have absolutely no creative ability when it comes to writing music. I’m just a good mimic and I’m fine with that.” She met his eyes and straightened her shoulders. “Viciöus needs you back to write new material, so I hope you get better soon.”

  Curtis regarded her with wide eyes. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re good people, Kin.” He hugged her and gave Lefty’s grave another mournful glance. “I better head back to the clinic. I’ll return some other time to leave flowers when the place isn’t overrun with a circus. Lefty would have laughed at this—” His voice broke in a choked sob. “I gotta get out of here.”

  The guitarist fled just in time. Before Kinley could blink, she and the rest of the band were mobbed by reporters expecting them to give beautiful sound bites about Lefty for their magazines and websites.

  The remaining members of both Bleeding Vengeance and Viciöus expressed their heartfelt grief at the loss of such a brilliant colleague. To Kinley’s surprise, Cliff burst into tears. But when the reporters started asking ab
out Curt’s absence, both bands clammed up, giving evasive answers. Quinn coolly told them to check out Metalness.com for the guitarist’s own statement.

  Before any in the media could recognize Kinley or inquire about her new position in the band, Quinn shunted them off and led his group away. The crowd around them slowly trailed out of the cemetery, sharing whispered condolences and recriminations. Kinley received respectful nods from Bleeding Vengeance and guys from other bands. Plenty continued to give her censorious looks for being a girl in a boys’ club, but she took comfort in the fact that so many were beginning to welcome her into the world she’d always dreamed of joining.

  A handsome, older man with long, curly brown hair and blue eyes approached them. Kinley squinted. There was something familiar about him. When he closed the distance, she gasped. It was Dante Deity, one of the forefathers of metal, a freakin’ god.

  To her relief, even Quinn and Tony were in awe of him. They practically stammered when he offered his condolences and then announced that his band would be finishing the tour with Viciöus.

  “You can’t open for us,” Quinn sputtered. “I mean, we opened for you, two years ago.”

  Dante chuckled and favored him with an ethereal smile. “Come on now. It would be ridiculous if you stopped being the headliner mid-tour. It’s bad enough you had to cancel a show for the funeral. Let’s just do our best to cheer up the fans.”

  Quinn recovered himself and straightened his shoulders. “I can’t thank you enough, man.”

  “Anytime. I know you’d do the same for me.” He gave Quinn a high five then looked at Kinley. “Is this the new guitarist I heard about?”

  Quinn nodded. “Kinley Black. Owner of Metalness.com.” He pushed her forward gently.

  Kinley almost fell. “I’m only standing in for Curt,” she said lamely.

  Deity bestowed that ethereal smile on her. He was only a few inches taller than her, but as far as she was concerned, he was a giant. He shook her hand. “As fellow stand-ins, we’ll have to do our best for Viciöus and their fans. But I know we’ll rock it, right?”