The Devil's Tattoo: A Rock Star Romance

by Amity Cross

  “When you’re ready, pansy boy!” Frank yelled at Dee, who was oblivious as usual.

  When he was finally good to go, we got on with the sound check, and I could feel nervous energy tingle through my veins. I didn’t open my eyes the whole time we played, the chords so familiar my fingers just flew over the strings as the words tumbled out of my mouth. I was on autopilot, and when the song ended, I could scarcely remember playing it at all.

  “Zo Zo,” Frank called out to me, snapping me out of my haze. “Get up here, sweetness.” He patted the top of the bass drum. “Gotta make sure it doesn’t fall over.”

  I jumped up on the step, stood on top of the drum, and gave it a little wobble. “Steady as she goes.”

  It was Dee’s idea to amp our show up a little for this tour. Up until a few gigs ago, I’d pretty much just stood on stage and played, hardly moving a meter away from the mic. We closed our set with a fast and dirty rock ‘n’ roll song, and there was a perfect lull right before it ended where he said it would look pretty sweet if I jumped up onto the kit and played the last few bars up there.

  He’d been right, of course. Dee was like a rock god and knew all the best moves. A photo had been published online, and to my surprise, I kinda looked good.

  One of the tech guys came along as I wiggled the bass drum around, and Dee eyeballed him. “Move this kit and you’re dead. She falls off and breaks somethin’, you’re mine.”

  “Take a chill pill, Dee.” I smiled apologetically at the guy, and he shrugged. I handed him my guitar and jumped back down onto the stage.

  We unplugged all our pedals and guitars as the drum kit was rolled off the stage on its little platform so The Stabs could do their thing, but they didn’t seem to be in any hurry as they loitered in front of the stage.

  Two had become the complete set of four while I’d been balancing on top of the kit. I could feel them watching us, but I did my best to ignore them for now and concentrated on what I was doing. Truthfully, I kind of felt intimidated. They were on album number three, so they’d been around for a long time already, and we’d just started. This was familiar territory to them, while I felt like I was making every rookie mistake in the book.

  When we wandered off the stage, they came up to us and introduced themselves. Thankfully, for now, Will Strickland was absent. They all seemed very nice and welcoming and offered to give us some pointers if we needed anything. Pete was their guitarist and vocalist. He was tall and wiry, and his dirty blond hair hung in his eyes, pushed forward by a black hoodie that seemed to be perpetually over his head. Sticks was their drummer, and he reminded me a lot of Frank. He was just as muscled and rough around the edges, but he smiled and was nice to talk with. And Louie was their other guitarist. He had a slick haircut combed back into a quiff, so he and Dee had a lot to talk about, and there were various tattoos on his arm and one on his chest, which peeked out from his V-neck T-shirt. Where mine were Japanese style dragons and flowers, his were traditional roses, pinup girls, and what looked like an eagle on his chest.

  We made ourselves scarce from the backstage area and sat together on the stairs toward the back of the room while they set up. As they did their sound check, I leaned my chin against my hand, letting my fringe fall into my eyes. As a complete set of four, they looked quite good together. I watched them run through a few songs just like we had earlier, and my gaze didn’t miss a beat. As they adjusted their equipment on stage and tested mics, I took everything in…even Will Strickland’s ass when he bent over. It was rather nice.

  Dee elbowed me. “They’re quite efficient, that lot,” he said as they finished up.

  “They’ve been doing it for a while.”

  “Do you still have a crush on him?”

  I almost choked on my own spit.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “I never said I did,” I hissed. How the hell had he worked it out? I thought I’d been quite clever and stealthy.

  “Well, you had better figure it out, Zo Zo.”

  I frowned. “Why?”

  “Cos he’s coming this way.”

  Before I could do anything, Dee jumped to his feet and walked away as fast as he could, leaving me in the lurch. I swallowed hard and glanced back toward the stage. Will was walking toward me, and I mean, it was just me. Everyone else had bailed—probably on purpose—and I wondered if I really was that obvious.

  I stood as he approached, determined to get through this with my dignity intact, but he was just too good looking, and the way his hair was falling into his eyes…

  “You’re…”

  “Zoe,” I said abruptly, snapping out of it and almost falling down the stairs. My back was to the stage, and I hoped the light was hiding the massive blush that had crept over my face.

  “Yeah, I know.” He hid a small smile, signaling it didn’t.

  I was kind of surprised he knew my name, but considering the band had asked for us to tour with them, he probably did. “I would like to say I know your name, but I don’t.” Total lie.

  He laughed at my bluntness and said, “I’m Will.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Boldly, I looked him up and down, and he smiled in a way that would have melted the knickers off any groupie in a ten meter radius.

  He took my hand and shook it even though I didn’t offer it to him. If this were one of those soppy romance novels, I would have thought he was trying to find an excuse to touch me, but it wasn’t, and the whole thing was probably just weird. It still didn’t stop the sparks that flew up my arm as his hand clutched mine.

  Behind him, I caught Simone giving me a vigorous thumbs up from where she was setting up the merchandise table. When he realized I was looking at something over his shoulder, he dropped my hand and glanced back. She turned around quickly, pretending to tape a shirt to the wall.

  I bit my bottom lip and began to back away awkwardly. Will looked back at me, a confused expression on his face, and I couldn’t help but feel stupid. The last thing I wanted was for him to work out I had an unobtainable crush on him. Rejection on day one of the tour would be painful, and I would have to live with it for five weeks straight.

  “See you around,” I stuttered and pretty much fled the scene.

  See you around? See you around? It was like one of those teen movies where the popular boy deigned to speak to the unpopular, slightly geeky girl, and all hell broke loose.

  It was strange how one tiny encounter with Will Strickland made me crash back down to earth. Like all the work I’d done in the last few months had been nothing but a facade. I was awkward and shy again. I hoped when the lights went down, and I stood on that stage later, that the new Zoe would come back out with a vengeance.

  For the rest of the night, I managed with quite some skill to avoid Will like the plague. I stood side of stage and talked with the guys from the support band and to the venue staff, monopolizing their knowledge. It was amazing how far I’d come, even to me. Before Dee conned me into joining the band, I wouldn’t have been confident enough in myself to even approach anyone, let alone talk to them.

  Standing at the side of stage also afforded a good glimpse of the crowd that had amassed. I hadn’t really focused on ticket sales, but Chris told me that it was a sellout. That meant almost eight hundred people had crammed inside the venue and would see us play. And bloody hell, did we play. We got such an overwhelming response it picked up my mood significantly.

  Glancing to the side of the stage mid set, I was surprised to see Pete and Will watching us, and when they saw me looking, Pete smiled, and Will gave me a little wave. All I could do was grimace and look away as we went into another song.

  Don’t get sucked in, Zoe. Don’t get sucked in.

  When we finished, I exited off the opposite side to them and began to put away the gear as the changeover began. As our stuff came in, we packed it away into their hard cases ready for tomorrow. We had to be up early for a flight to Brisbane, and everything had to be secure and ready to go.
r />   After the gig, the bar stayed open. A few stragglers and the rest of the bands hung around talking to fans and each other. Not really into that scene, I helped Simone clear the merchandise table and pack the remains of our stuff away.

  “You guys killed it tonight,” she said, bright and happy. “We made a bunch off merchandise, too. Almost everything I brought is gone.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised. “That’s awesome.”

  “There’ll be like fifty hot-looking guys out there with Devil’s Tattoo T-shirts tomorrow.”

  “Ha.” I laughed.

  “Oh, hey,” Simone exclaimed when a guy stepped behind the table. “This is Dean, The Stabs’ manager and merch table bitch.”

  “Hey,” he exclaimed with a grin and held out his hand. “Zoe, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said, taking his hand and shaking it. Appropriately, he wore a Stabs shirt and scuffed jeans, and he sported a full beard that made him look a little rough around the edges.

  “You guys were fantastic,” he said. “You gave the boys a run for their money, I tell ya. A girl like you playin’ rock like that?” He let out a slow whistle.

  My default response was to blush.

  “She doesn’t see it,” Simone told him.

  “Rule number one of owning that stage, Zoe, is to work everything you’ve got. A girl like you in a boys club like this is dy-na-mite.”

  I laughed and scratched my head. “Okay. Advice noted.” I pointed to the boxes of T-shirts. “Do you need help with these?”

  “Hell, no.” Dean nudged me toward the bar. “Go and party a little. You earned it tonight.”

  Instantly, I was accosted by a couple of guys who began to tell me how much they loved the gig and how much they liked ‘Walls.’ I shied away a little, but they weren’t over the top about it, and it made me feel a little warm inside knowing something I wrote spoke to them. I was nervous enough that I looked around while I listened politely, and I couldn’t help but curl my lip up in disgust when I caught sight of Will Strickland in full manwhore mode.

  He was leaning against the bar, talking to a pretty girl who was tall and willowy with long brown hair and was wearing short shorts with boots and a tiny little cut-up T-shirt. The kind of pretty I wasn’t. He was standing too close, and even though the music wasn’t very loud, he leaned in to hear everything she was saying like it was an excuse to press into her and feel her tits against his chest. When his hand settled on her hip, I bit back an annoyed hiss working its way up my trachea along with a pile of vomit.

  Why the hell should I be jealous? I was nothing like this girl, and I was obviously not Will’s type at all. Not even close. But something had snapped inside me, and this crush I had on him obviously ran deeper than I’d thought.

  I’d only spoken a handful of words with him, and this was my reaction? I was going mad, and it was only day bloody one.

  Dee sidled up to me as the guys I was speaking with moved off. He saw the look of rage plastered on my face and glanced over to where I was firing death glares, and he patted me on the shoulder.

  “You know,” he said. “At first, I thought they asked for us because of you.”

  My heart twisted. “They didn’t.”

  “Looking at that”—he nodded toward Will—”I reckon I was wrong. They want to ride on our popularity.”

  “Dee.”

  “Player,” he drawled, and I knew he was a little drunk.

  I took his drink away and said, “We’ve gotta get up early tomorrow for the airport, and I’m not going to nurse your hangover or your attitude.”

  “Zoe, don’t be cranky.”

  “You created this monster, so I’ll do what I want, thanks.”

  “Frankenstein,” he mumbled and pulled me in for a hug.

  “Frankenstein was the doctor. I assume you’re calling me a monster?”

  He slumped against me and rolled his eyes. “You’re hurting my head, Zo Zo.”

  “So if I’m Frankenstein’s monster, who does that make you?”

  “God.”

  “If you’re going to smite someone, God, smite Will Strickland.”

  Dee waved his hands around, and if I weren’t so annoyed, it would have been comical. “Sorry,” he said. “All smiteded out. Is that even a word?”

  “When you’re ready, God, let’s find Frank and Chris and blow this joint.”

  “And Simone,” he drawled. “She’s staying at Frank’s, too.”

  I glanced back at the bar, and this time, Will caught my eye. He was still wrapped up with the girl, so before I had to acknowledge him, I turned away, my expression cold. Not wanting to stay inside a moment longer, I walked straight out and up the stairs to the street outside.

  I couldn’t deal with another broken heart, and a guy like Will would smash it without even trying. I wasn’t sure I had one left to break, anyway.

  Deep, deep down, I hoped I didn’t get stuck sitting next to him on the plane or anywhere else. Operation ‘Get Over that Stupid Crush on Will’ was in full swing, and I didn’t intend to stop until this whole embarrassing thing was not even a blip on my radar.

  Chapter 5

  We were starting the Walls on Fire tour in Brisbane and traveling right down the east coast through all the capital cities and a few regional towns before hitting Victoria again, bypassing Melbourne via the country cities of Shepparton and Ballarat. Then on to South Australia for gigs in Mt Gambier and Adelaide before coming back the eight-hour or so drive from there to Melbourne for a final two shows before the tour officially ended. We had a planned twenty gigs to get through in the next month and a bit, and that didn’t include interviews and photo shoots along the way.

  Much to my relief, I was stuck next to Frank on the flight, and we made it to the hotel at the edge of the CBD with a few hours to kill before the gig. We had a tight turnaround, so we had to make do with no sound check and hope for the best. We were playing at Brisbane’s Hi-Fi Bar, so hopefully, that would sort itself out.

  Check in seemed to be a slow process for a busy Saturday afternoon, and we loitered in the lobby as the staff coded key cards for us. I leaned against the tours counter and flipped through some travel brochures—not that we’d get the time to see anything, but there were a lot of things about rainforests and tropical islands that looked like a great way to stop my gaze from wandering.

  A shadow loomed in my peripheral vision. Automatically, I glanced out the corner of my eye, and there stood Will with his wild sexy hair, and—now that he was close enough in daylight so I could see—stormy blue-gray eyes. My whole body began to tingle, and it unsettled me how attracted I was to him.

  “Hey,” he said, leaning against the counter.

  “Hey,” I said slowly, and it came out like I was suspicious. Well, that would be the truth.

  “I’ve seen you around. You know, before this.” He waved his hands around, gesturing toward the others.

  “Oh?” I tried not to let on that I knew exactly what he was on about.

  “There was this show at The Corner a while back,” he said, frowning at me. He seemed to think I would remember the awkward, sexy eyes he gave me and the odd eyebrow-raising incident. And that thing at our first gig. Of course, I remembered, but I wasn’t going to let on. It was months ago.

  “Oh, yeah. I was there,” I said nonchalantly, putting the brochure I had in my hands back on the rack.

  “I wanted to say hi to you, but your mates seemed rather protective.”

  “Who? Dee and Frank?” My eyebrows rose. “Yeah, well, maybe Dee, but Frank would probably push me on anything that looked my way.” Will looked confused, so I said, “He’s all for havin’ a good time if you know what I mean.” It didn’t seem to be going well.

  “Well,” he said. “It’s gonna be a great tour. I guess we’ll have heaps of time to hang out and get to know one another.”

  I’m not sure if he said it to be polite or to get away from the crazy person, so I just nodded. Dee chose that moment to come a
long and thump my room key on the counter, and I turned around to pick it up. Obviously, Will used the distraction to escape, so when I turned back, all I saw was his back as he went over to pick up his bags.

  “So awkward.” Dee shook his head at me. “I need to coach you on social interactions or something.”

  “Shut the hell up,” I hissed and pushed past him, picking up my bag.

  “Don’t be so bitchy, Zoe.”

  “Don’t be such a smartass.”

  I pushed the button for the elevator about a million times as if it would make the hunk of junk faster. I heard the rest of the guys loitering in the foyer as the door slid open.

  “Zoe!” Dee yelled at me.

  I turned and gave him a look, holding the door with a hand to stop it from closing. Everyone looked at me, and I felt my face going red. Shit, I could stand in front of hundreds of people on stage, but this made me embarrassed? What a dork.

  “Pick you up at six, bitch,” Dee declared, much to his own amusement, and I glared at him.

  As I stepped into the elevator, my gaze crossed Will’s, and he looked away before he had to acknowledge me. It stung more than I thought it would. Shit, at least I didn’t declare my crush on him, but somehow, I thought I might have done that already.

  Sometimes, I thought I was grateful for the human interaction, no matter how awkward it was. Hiding away for so long had to leave some kinks for me to work out, right? I just wished they weren’t so embarrassing.

  The day after the gig in Brisbane, we stood in the middle of the hotel car park, the early morning sun peeking over the top of the trees, and stared at our mode of transport for the next five weeks.

  It was a gold bus with a trailer attached to the back. Enough room to stick us all in and our gear. We weren’t rich enough to have a fancy bus with beds, so seats would have to do.