The problem? All that flirting we did in January and February just started to remind me of what a hot guy Brad was. We’d spent some breathtaking moments together in the past, and I’d never forget them. I think if we hadn’t had that past that my brain never would have gone there. We were still just “buddies” offstage like always, but Ethan hated the onstage antics. He never said a word, but I could see it in his eyes. The biggest problem with that was I knew it could potentially detract from the illusion. Or maybe that was part of what the audience liked about it—watching Ethan simmer and roll his eyes might have been funny.
In March at a concert, I sang “Happy Birthday” a capella to Brad, and I did it a la Marilyn-Monroe-singing-to-JFK. In the third line, I exchanged “Mr. President” for “Hot guitarist.” By the end we got a lot of cheers, but I could hear the girl fans going wild too. I even saw one girl in the audience lift up her shirt.
Once the noise died down, I heard a guy with a bass voice yell, “Whatcha gonna give him for his birthday?”
I cocked an eyebrow and smiled and then said, “I bet you’d like to know, but it’s not something we should talk about in public.” And then we went on to the next song.
And all that had done was make the flirting worse, because I’d actually seen how Brad looked at me when I sang him the modified Happy Birthday song. So it was starting to get to him too. And what drove that point home even more than the way he’d looked at me was the way it was starting to spill over into our personal lives. In fact, I’d known for a while that Brad had an occasional night away. He was a young man with needs and desires, but unlike the other three guys, he never brought them home. As I started paying more attention, I noticed that he hadn’t actually stayed the night elsewhere in months. What did that mean?
Well, I knew, but I chose to ignore it. Unlike the way I’d ultimately felt about sweet Clay, I thought Brad and I had a lot more in common, were a lot more compatible in a lot of ways, and I based that on the fact that we’d been friends and even roommates for a long while now. But Brad and I had made that agreement so long ago, that we wouldn’t fuck up the band with a relationship.
Still…Ethan and I had gone there, and it hadn’t ruined the band.
No…but Ethan was so fucked up that we all just worked around him, and his relationship with me had been just another one of those things. Something with Brad, though…that could be a potential wreck. Why? Because if we didn’t work out, one of us would be hurt. I was still young, and I believed it would be a bad idea, so I didn’t even want to try. And I got the feeling Brad felt the same way, that he didn’t want to even have the chance to hurt me, so he kept his distance.
Onstage, though, there was no stopping us.
One night in April, we had just finished a song, and someone threw a condom onstage and it hit me on the arm. It was still in its wrapper, and when I went to pick it up, I realized I had been showered with them. There were several on the stage around me. I said into the mike, “Glad to see you folks are practicing safe sex.”
Brad cozied up to his mike but looked over at me. “Not very safe if they’re throwing them up here instead of hanging onto them.”
Some guy in the audience that I couldn’t see yelled, “Let me at ‘em. You’ll never be the same, Valerie!”
Wow. That was huge…that a fan knew my name. That meant people were paying attention. They must have been logging into Facebook and also checking out the new website Nick had designed for us. They might have even been buying our CDs. So I smiled but was at a loss for words. Brad was still poised and ready, though, and didn’t hesitate. “Now why the hell would she want you when she’s got my sexy bod?” I started laughing as the women in the audience went wild, screaming and tittering. “And she’s never been the same sense.”
I regained my figurative footing and looked over at him, eyeing him up and down. Jesus Christ. Yeah, he had a beautiful body, and he was sexy as hell. If I hadn’t been on display, I might have sighed. Instead, I winked at him and finally grabbed onto some words. I waggled the condom package at him and said, “You know, Brad, I don’t think this would fit you anyway. You need the large size, right?”
He started laughing, and I knew no one in the audience could tell, but I actually made him blush. The screams from the girls died down and he said, “Hit it, guys.” Guys actually meant Nick, who’d have to lead us off with the beat. But the song started with Ethan on the guitar—Brad would join a little way in. Brad walked right over to me and took my face in his hands and laid a smoldering kiss on me. He caught me totally by surprise.
But I let him. And, aside from seeming like an even better kisser than he’d been before, it was as though no time had passed between us. He let go and started shredding on cue, and I doubt he or anyone else knew how he’d left me breathless. In fact, the effect he’d had on me was cool, because I usually belted the beginning of this particular song and all the way through, but instead I sang it low and breathy for the first verse, trying to get a hold of myself.
Maybe flirting with Brad onstage wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Chapter Thirty-five
BRAD WAS ONCE again working on something big, and that was a good idea. The energy was waning again, and I’m sure it was because most of our audiences were familiar with us. They knew our music—even when we threw in some new stuff—and had seen us enough that we weren’t exciting anymore. I figured if we were playing the same venues month after month, it was bound to happen. So Brad, once again, was looking to broaden our scope. He asked me if I could afford to work fewer hours at my job. I knew I could, especially if we continued to make more money playing gigs. He was going to branch out to other states then, but he knew we’d need extra time for travel. The band was my number one priority, I told him, so he could do what he needed to. My boss was a bit of a pain, but I could always trade shifts with coworkers when I needed to, and he wouldn’t say shit about it.
But Brad, as usual, played band manager too and arranged a four-day multi-state tour much like we had done the year before. This one would be in July, and the first show would be in Nebraska, the last in Texas. We’d leave a day before to get there. Brad also managed to get three other bands to join.
In the meantime, Brad too was feeling our audience’s lethargy and started taking us out of the Denver Metro area into other Colorado venues. Again, though, it meant more travel, but it was nice to be exposed to new audiences and new energy. It did mean we were spending more money on gas, but our merch revenues went up again, so it seemed to pay for itself. Brad was socking away money for that professional-sounding EP, and I knew he was getting us closer, but we’d never get there playing the same old places, no matter how much our audiences loved us.
“Wanna go see Fully Automatic again?” I imagined one of our audience members saying.
“No, we just saw them last month and the month before. Let’s go to the movies instead.”
We wanted to be something people relished and looked forward to, and if they were tired of us, it would never happen. Yeah, sure, we had some hardcore diehard fans but not thousands of them. We had to make them want us again, so we had to branch out and expose ourselves elsewhere.
Mid-July arrived before I knew it, and my twenty-first birthday would arrive right after our four-day tour. I wasn’t looking as forward to the birthday as I was to the tour. I was jazzed. I didn’t know the last time I’d been this wired about a show. As for the bands that came along, I knew the guys, their music, and their faces, but we’d only played a few shows with any of them. I knew, though, like the last mini tour we did that we’d know each other a lot better afterward.
Brad planned out everything to the final detail, including a driving schedule. Zane, Brad, and I would take turns driving. When I asked Brad why just the three of us, he was brutal. “I plan to sleep when I’m not driving, and you’re the only two I can trust to be sober when you’re at the wheel.” When he put it that way, I was glad he was a bit of a control freak. And I
wasn’t complaining—he’d gotten us this far.
That tour passed quickly. We were lucky to sleep five or six hours a night before hitting the road for the next show. Our time schedule was tight, but none of us were complaining. I discovered Starbucks in Omaha and fell in love. It kept me awake enough to easily drive my entire shift, and when it was time to turn the wheel over to Brad, I couldn’t sleep to save my soul.
But finally the last night arrived. Brad and the other bands had sprung for three suites—each suite had two bedrooms and two baths as well as a living area that had a foldout sofa. And each bedroom had two beds. Most everyone figured we’d be partying all night long anyway, so no one cared much about the arrangements…except me. I wanted to make sure I, as the sole woman in the group, had a little privacy. A couple of the guys bitched that it wasn’t fair for me to have a bedroom with two beds and a bathroom all to myself, so I decided to just pay for my own room. It was down the hall from the suites, but that was okay. I understood where the guys were coming from, especially since a couple of them might have to even share a bed or sleep in a chair. And when I was too tired to party anymore, I’d be able to escape from the noise.
The party started as soon as we’d arrived back at the hotel. I was hot and sticky and jumped in the shower first. I considered not joining the party, but it was our last night as a group, and I wanted to have a little fun.
I was feeling a little worn out, though, and I knew if I drank, I wouldn’t last very long. So I poured a glass of water when I got to the suite where the party was. Of course, true to form, it was being held in the suite where my band—along with three or four guys from one of the other bands—was staying. We had to, once in a while, maintain our rep as party animals. I’d still hear on occasion about how I’d once been “so baked” I stumbled into my kitchen topless. I’d quit correcting people long ago. They believed what they wanted to believe anyway, and I sounded like less of a victim if I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders than if I admitted that my then-boyfriend (or, probably more accurately, the chick my then-boyfriend wanted to fuck) had dropped acid in my drink.
At this party, though, I was low key and mellow. I wandered around, making a point of mingling with as many folks as I could. I knew there would be a chance we’d play with any number of these guys again, and it never hurt to be friendly. There were a few fans in the suite too, mostly girls, so the place felt a little tight.
After an hour, I walked back in the kitchen to get more ice for my drink. Ethan sat at the table with some other guys playing quarters. As I started to walk behind his chair, he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me down onto his lap. I spilled a little water on his shoulder, but he just laughed.
God, he was wasted…but he looked cute. He winked and then said, his voice a little too loud, “Isn’t Val just gorgeous up on that stage in that cute shit she wears?”
A few of the guys smiled and nodded, and I said to Ethan quietly, “Please…don’t.”
He lowered his voice and his brows. “Don’t what?”
“Just…don’t.”
He placed his hand on the back of my neck. “I love you, Val. I want you. I need you.” His other hand wound around my waist.
My eyes searched his. Oh, no. He was just fucking with me. But why? His lips were on mine before I could even figure out what was happening. I put my hand on his chest while setting down my glass on the table. When he stopped kissing me, I had both my hands on his chest. “You’re drunk, Ethan. Let me go.”
“Don’t you love me back, Val?”
“You’re my friend, Ethan. And you’re drunk.” I didn’t want to embarrass him, but I did want him to release me. “Let me go.” His eyes searched mine, as though he couldn’t understand me. He wasn’t just drunk. He was on something else to, but damned if I knew what it was. I was no drug expert, but I could tell just from his eyes that he was on something. I raised my eyebrows, trying to silently communicate with him, begging him to let me up before I had to make a scene. And then Brad walked in and sat in the empty chair next to Ethan.
I could barely hear his voice, but he said, “There a problem here?”
Ethan smirked. “No problem. Just tellin’ my girlfriend what she means to me.”
I struggled against his arm. “I’m not your girlfriend, Ethan. I haven’t been in a long time.”
“Why can’t we be again?”
“Why don’t you ask me when you’re sober?”
“You heard her, Ethan.”
“Fine.” He loosened his grip on me, and I stood while I had the chance.
I grabbed my glass of water and started walking away. I mouthed to Brad, “Thanks,” and kept walking.
“Aw, c’mon, babe.” Oh, Ethan, I thought. Sober up, for Christ’s sake.
I went into the living area of the suite. The place was almost bigger than our apartment, and so—even though there were a good dozen people in there—it didn’t feel crowded like it had earlier. In fact, there was room on the love seat and I sat down. I was going to finish my water and then head back to my room.
Brad joined me a couple of minutes later. “Sorry Ethan was being such a dick.”
I laughed. “Like you have any control over him. But seriously…thanks for the save. I appreciate it.”
“That’s what friends are for.” He had a shot glass and a bottle of spiced rum and he poured a shot. “Want one?”
I shrugged. “Yeah…just one, though.” He handed me the glass, and I knocked it back. As it traveled down my throat, I shivered.
“Sure you don’t want more?” He poured another shot.
“Positive. But thanks.”
He drank the shot. “So…you still love him?”
I felt my eyebrows jump up my forehead. “Ethan?”
“Yeah…who else? Jet?”
No, it wasn’t the rum making me consider being completely open with him. It hadn’t even begun to affect me. It was the fact that Brad had felt like the closest friend I’d ever had. Still, though, I’d been thinking of him in a more-than-just-friends way again lately, and I didn’t want him to know how I really felt about those other two men. “Ha. Love is a thing of the past. I don’t plan to ever give my heart to a man again.”
“Oh, stop that shit, Val. You’re talking to me. I’m your friend, and I know better. I know you’ve been hurt and you’re afraid of risking love again. Am I right?”
Yeah, so…he’d figured it out. Was I afraid of risking myself again? No…I didn’t think so. With Ethan, yes. But Clay…he’d helped me past that. Even though he and I hadn’t worked out, the man had made me believe that it was okay to risk, to take a chance. We’d had a beautiful thing, even if it hadn’t worked out to be permanent. Still, though…I didn’t feel comfortable talking about it with Brad. “That’s not it. I just don’t have a place in my life for a man. That’s all. Especially right now.”
He smirked. “You forget…I actually read your goddamned lyrics, Val. And I sing some of them. I don’t just give them lip service.” He started pouring himself another shot. “You are a romantic, whether you want to admit it or not.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay…so I’ll admit it. All right? But…so far, all real life romance has done for me is break my heart.”
“Makes for some good songs, right?” I smiled and shook my head, then took a drink of water. “And so now you’re playing this sex-starved goddess onstage. Does that validate your feelings? Or do you think you’ll find the perfect man by doing that?”
“What? Are you drunk too?”
He started laughing. “Hell, no. Not even close.”
“Well, bottom line…I’m not looking for the perfect man. I don’t want a man right now, perfect or not. That’s not on my agenda.”
“So what is?”
“Making our band successful, and…” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to finish. “And having fun.”
He smiled then, and I saw the twinkle in his eye. “What kind of fun?”
Oh…so stag
e Brad was visiting. I felt my heart start to thud in my chest. No. No. I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t fuck up what had become the best friendship I’d ever had…no matter how badly I thought I wanted to fuck him. But the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Any kind.”
He was sitting up, his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands pressed together in a praying fashion, his lips resting on his index and middle fingers. He grinned. “Any kind, huh?” He turned his head to look me in the eyes. “That could get you into trouble, Valerie.”
I sat up too, my face close to his. My voice was throaty when I said, “Don’t I know that.” And I couldn’t help but look down at his full, sensual lips. God…when was the last time we’d kissed? Like I could forget. It was in the back of his van that one summer night, before I’d joined the band. He’d promised to do incredible things to me then…then when I’d been a naïve, unknowing virgin. Now, though…I knew exactly what to expect, and just from what I’d remembered about Brad, I knew he’d be worth every second.
So did it surprise me when I was the one to make the move? It wasn’t the rum. It had been one shot, not enough to affect my judgment and barely enough to loosen me up. But I set my glass of water on the table and leaned forward. My lips just barely brushed his. Holy shit. He smelled so good. He must’ve showered before the party too. Not only did he smell clean, but he had some spicy cologne on that I hadn’t noticed until I got close. And I could taste the rum on him when I ran my tongue on his lower lip.
Oh, I’d grabbed his shirt into my fists and pulled him closer. What the hell? Maybe I was becoming my stage persona. I felt his arms wrap around me as he responded to my kiss. God, was he filled with passion. I imagined he had the power of a thousand horses in his body, and they hadn’t been out driving for quite some time. I could just feel that, and then I wondered when was the last time he’d gotten laid.
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