Victory RUN: Collected Victory RUN 1, 2, 3

by Devon Hartford

  I would do anything to

  (singsingsing)

  be a part of something like this.

  And to my utter delight and amazement, Julian had a huge hand in all of it.

  I wonder what other secrets he keeps?

  “Cut!” the director shouts. “That was unbelievable!”

  Everyone around him in the monitor area claps and cheers.

  “Cut, everybody!” The assistant director calls out into a bullhorn.

  The dancers on wires are lowered to the stage floor, followed by Layce. The gymnasts on the ground are applauding and congratulating each other with words and gestures. High fives, fist bumps, ass pats, shoulder nudges. They’re having a blast.

  So am I.

  (SINGSINGSINGSINGSINGSING!!!!)

  Chapter 101

  VICTORY

  I drive home that night in dire silence behind the wheel of my Altima.

  The Layce video shoot literally blew my mind.

  I was swept away by the fantasy and beauty and fame of it all.

  Layce’s music career is something most musicians, even successful ones, will never know. Heck, just making a living doing music to the point you don’t have to work a second job is more success than most bands ever have.

  But Layce has something incredible going for her career.

  I drive past Johnny and Karen’s apartment and keep going.

  I want to be alone right now so I can process what I’m thinking and feeling.

  Jealousy. Amazement. Envy. Awe.

  (sing)

  Jealousy.

  Maybe I’m going about this music career thing all wrong. Maybe I need to be a singer instead of a guitar player.

  (singsingsing)

  No. That’s insane. I’m never going to be a singer.

  (singsingsingsingsingsing)

  But maybe my music career needs some assistance.

  My phone rings and I pull it out of my purse.

  Julian.

  “Hello?”

  I’m glad he called.

  “I’m so sorry, Victory.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh,” he groans, “Sony took forever. That new girl they had me meet was terrible. I didn’t get out of the building until just now.”

  “That’s okay,” I chuckle.

  “Yes, but are you okay?” he asks, concerned.

  “I’m fine,” I sigh. A little melancholy about my music career, but I’m holding it together. But I don’t tell him that.

  “Would you like to get dinner? I haven’t eaten since lunch. There’s an amazing new place on La Cienega called Il Susso. I’ve been dying to try it.”

  I remember what happened between me and Julian in his Ferrari after we had breakfast at THE Blvd. Our hot and heavy outdoor rendezvous. As much as I’d love to talk about the music business with Julian tonight over dinner, I’m afraid if I go out with him, I’ll end up in bed with him.

  After the emotional roller coaster of being on set for Layce’s video shoot, I don’t know if I can do it.

  “It’s sweet of you to offer,” I sigh. “But I think I’m gonna go home to bed.”

  “Do you need company?”

  I was right.

  I mean, I don’t think Julian would try to seduce me or whatever. He’s been a perfect gentleman every step of the way. A slightly dirty, aggressive around the edges gentleman, but in the very best way.

  I remember his finger deep inside me…

  It’s so tempting.

  My phone beeps as a text comes in.

  “Hold on a sec,” I say.

  I glance at the text.

  It’s from Liv:

  I’m free to rehearse tonight. Wanna come over? We can write new music too. Got some fresh ideas.

  That sounds like exactly what I need right now. Liv and I haven’t had much time to work on the music we plan to play at L.A. Gunslingers. If we don’t get stuff finished, we’re never gonna be ready in time. And that means no chance of winning that $5,000 prize, which I could seriously use.

  I say to Julian, “I’m really sorry, Julian. Tonight just isn’t a good night. Can we do dinner another night?”

  “Is everything okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah, it’s fine.” I may as well tell him. I explain about Liv and finding time to write for Gunslingers, and finish by saying, “I really need to go over to Liv’s place so we can get to work.”

  “What is L.A. Gunslingers?” he asks with distinct curiosity.

  “Oh, it’s this battle of the bands thing Guitar Central hosts every year. I put together a band with Liv and a couple friends so we could play it.”

  “Sounds interesting. Mind if I come?”

  “What, to Gunslingers?”

  “Yes. I think it might be fun to watch you perform on stage. I’ve only seen you in the studio, but I’m fascinated to know what you might be like in front of a crowd. I imagine you’re a spectacular performer.”

  “Thanks,” I smile. “If you want to come, that would be cool. But if I don’t finish writing the music with Liv, we won’t have a demo tape to submit, which means we won’t play. I’m kind of worried we’ve missed the cutoff already.”

  “Ahhh. I see. I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of your writing process,” he says compassionately.

  “You don’t mind if we do dinner another time?”

  “Not at all,” Julian says genuinely. “Whenever you’re ready, call me and I’ll take you someplace extravagant and incredible.”

  I smile, “I know you will. It sounds wonderful. I’ll call you.”

  “I look forward to it. And if you make the cutoff for this Gunslingers thing, let me know and I”ll come out to watch.”

  “I will. Wish me luck writing tonight!”

  “Luck,” he jokes.

  “Bye, Julian.”

  “Good night, Victory.”

  I end the call and drive to Liv’s so we can do some much needed song writing.

  I’m all inspired to work on my own music after what I saw on Layce’s sound stage. Her song ‘I Rise’ and the video gave me an idea for a song I’ve really been wanting to write myself.

  Chapter 102

  VICTORY

  The Dive Bomb bar in Silver Lake rumbles as me and Olivia wheel our amps around back to the dingy graffiti-tagged back door. Behind the building, a chain link fence topped with coils of razor wire surrounds the back lot of an auto body shop filled with cars in various states of disrepair.

  My kind of venue.

  Olivia says, “I’m so glad we got all that writing done the other night. I think we’ve made a ton of progress.”

  “Me too,” I smile. “At the rate we’re going, we might even have four or five songs finished before L.A. Gunslingers. That’s more than enough.”

  We stop at the back door of The Dive Bomb.

  “Totally,” Liv agrees. “I just hope we have time to rehearse them.”

  “At the rate you pick up stuff,” I say, “We’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks, Vee! You are so nice!” She smiles broadly, her painted red lips peeling back over her white teeth.

  When we reach the back door, she says, “Let me get the door for you.” She tries to open it, but it’s locked. She yanks on the handle several times with both hands, grunting and squeaking like a squeezable baby toy. “I think we’re locked out. Unless you brought the key?”

  “I don’t have a key,” I grin, “Why would I have a key?”

  “I don’t know, but you should,” she smiles.

  “It’s not like I own the bar, Liv.”

  “You should work on that,” she smirks.

  “Try knocking?”

  She does. “I don’t think anyone can hear me over the music.”

  “Try kicking,” I suggest.

  “I’m not kicking a dirty door with these boots!” Olivia wears shiny fuchsia Go-Go boots that match the vinyl belt cinched around her Go-Go dancer dress. The flared sleeve dress is an explosion of psychedelic colors that barely d
rops below her ass. “These boots cost me a hundred bucks used! You do it, combat boots,” she sneers.

  “These aren’t combat boots,” I point my toe and rotate my boot on the cracked cement. “They don’t have steel toes.”

  She rolls her eyes, “Do I have to do everything?”

  The door suddenly opens and Kellan walks out. He stops short, “What are you guys doing here?”

  I quip, “It’s open mic night, isn’t it?”

  He grins, “That it is.”

  “Why are you here?” I demand.

  “To play.”

  “Us too,” I smirk.

  “Hey, Aiden,” Olivia says to him.

  Kellan flashes me a quick look that says, “Does your friend have brain damage?”

  I ignore him.

  Switchblade walks out at that moment, looking like hot punker girl as always, and says, “Kellan, I’ll get the guitars from the car.”

  “Awesome,” he says. To me, “So, Victory, you came to rock the house?”

  “Yup.”

  “It’s gonna be rubble after we finish. Hope you don’t mind an empty house.”

  I shake my head, “You mean because you guys are going to suck so loud and hard, everyone leaves?”

  “The only sucking will be after we play,” Kellan says provocatively.

  I’m sure he’s referring to Switchblade and whatever he plans to do with her punk rock body when they go home together.

  “Ew,” Liv grimaces. “Victory, can you tell Chester the Molester here to move so we can wheel our amps inside?”

  I flash Kellan a grin, “What she said.”

  He asks, “You guys need any help?”

  Liv snaps, “Not the kind of help you mean.” She tugs her keyboard amp up the step and drags it inside.

  I push my Bogner combo up to the step.

  Kellan picks it up, “I’ve got it.”

  I say, “I can do it.”

  But he’s already lifted it and set it down inside the door.

  He walks away, smiling, “Have fun tonight.”

  When I get inside, Liv is already flirting with the guy who organizes the bands playing the open mic. It’s first come first serve, but a little flirtation always helps. The guy is handsome, has long flowing brown hair and wears a leather vest that reveals tanned, muscled arms. He looks like he’s used to flirtation.

  Liv literally runs her fingers through his hair and says, “I love your hair! So silky. And these arms! Wow.” She giggles. “What’s your name, hot stuff?”

  “Yes,” he quips.

  “It’s not Hot Stuff!” She swats his muscled arm.

  Muscles chuckles, “It’s Tracy.”

  They shake hands.

  “Tracy, I’m Olivia. And this is my friend Victory.”

  Tracy nods, “Hey. What’s your band called?”

  Liv turns to me, “What are we called, Victory?”

  “Ninth Street Nymphos?” I suggest.

  “Good enough,” Liv nods once and says to Tracy, “Ninth Street Nymphos.”

  He snickers and jots it down.

  “When do we play?” Liv asks him.

  “Hard to tell. We’ll play it by ear.”

  “If I play with your ear,” Liv reaches up and caresses her fingers across his ear and down his cheek, then his chest, where she parks it, “will that help our positioning any?”

  “It might,” Tracy grins. “But you’re gonna have to play with it a lot more than that.”

  Liv rolls her eyes, “Don’t spoil your luck, Dick Tracy.”

  He smiles, “I’ll see what I can do. But I’m not promising anything.”

  “Fine,” Liv relents. She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the stage.

  Tracy stops us, “You can’t go that way. You have to go around front.”

  Liv demands, “Do we get any royal treatment tonight?”

  “You get what you give,” Tracy jests.

  “I don’t give freebies,” Liv laughs.

  “Neither do I,” Tracy smiles.

  “Let’s go, Liv,” I say, “before Tracy puts us on the bottom of the list.”

  We walk around to the front of the bar.

  A row of motorcycles are parked along the sidewalk. A bunch of leather jacketed or denim vested biker types mill around bullshitting with each other.

  Liv waves at them, “Hi, boys!”

  They all eye her appreciatively. Several lean over slightly, hoping to catch a glimpse up Liv’s hazardly hemmed dress.

  I lean into her, as we walk through the front door of The Dive Bomb and mumble, “I don’t know why you even bothered wearing the dress, Liv, it’s so short.”

  “It’s the tease that pleases. If you show them everything, they get bored. But if you leave just enough to the imagination, and there’s the distinct possibility that a slight breeze will give them a show, they never get bored. And, if Tracy decides there’s not enough time for us to play tonight, I’m sure the Hell’s Angels outside will be happy to encourage him to let the girl in the too short dress play before the night is over.”

  “Good thinking,” I grin.

  We buy drinks at the crowded bar and stand in a corner, waiting for the music to start.

  The clientele is rockers and bikers and a few random citizens. Mostly young people. But the rockers are all ages.

  There’s even a silver haired guy with an older woman who wears what I think is a curly burgundy wig and a leather police hat. He and his woman both wear studded leather from head to toe and clearly belong together.

  “I wish Lucas and Logan could’ve made it,” Liv says as she sips on a Cosmo.

  “Me too,” I say and sip from my bottle of Sam Adams.

  “What was the problem again?”

  “They had a paying gig at The Casbah down in San Diego in Little Italy.”

  “Considering we’re getting zero dollars for open mic,” Liv shrugs, “I can hardly blame them. At least we have backing tracks on my laptop. We’ll manage.”

  “Do you think we need to find guys who live in L.A.?”

  “Replace Lucas and Logan?” Liv gapes. “Not until I’ve hooked up with at least both of them!”

  “Did you say both of them?”

  She grins and nods.

  “You’re such a slut, Liv,” I grin.

  She nods proudly, “Yup!”

  I shake my head, pausing my Sam Adams bottle an inch from my lips, “Remember how well that worked out for me and Scott?”

  “I”m not going to move in with them! Just sleep with them.”

  I scoff, “And that’s not going to create band drama?”

  Liv winks at me, “Who said anything about avoiding band drama?”

  I groan and roll my eyes.

  A few minutes later, Tracy introduces the first band. They’re so totally forgettable, I don’t remember their name or their music. They play a couple of songs, and no one in the bar seems to be paying much attention.

  Liv says, “These guys probably sucked Tracy’s dick to play tonight.”

  I giggle.

  When the forgettable band finishes, they haul their gear off the stage and the second band goes to work. Their music is reminiscent of old Scorpions, but with a female singer, who is actually pretty good. The crowd really gets into it.

  “These guys are great!” Liv hollers. “We should have you be our front woman!”

  My eyes bulge, “Uh, no?”

  (never ever sing)

  “Why not?” she demands.

  I shrug my shoulders. “I’ll leave the front womaning to you, Liv.”

  I can’t get over how many people have been encouraging me to sing lately. It’s becoming something of a joke and it almost doesn’t bother me anymore.

  I’m not nearly as traumatized by Liv’s suggestion as I was when I watched Layce perform ‘I Rise’ at the soundstage and Julian asked me pretty much the same thing. It helps that the band on stage right now is just a Scorpions knockoff playing in a dive bar. They’re not particu
larly original beyond the fact they have a female singer.

  I’m much more excited about the original music I’ll be playing with Liv when we take to the stage tonight.

  Chapter 103

  VICTORY

  “All right everybody!” Tracy screams into the mic between bands. “Are you ready to be blown away?!”

  The Dive Bomb crowd cheers.

  “You all know Kellan Burns,” Tracy shouts.

  The crowd erupts with excitement and applause. I hear women screaming “KELLAN!!!” like he’s The Beatles.

  Liv shouts at me, “ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT YOUR KELLAN?”

  “HE’S NOT MY KELLAN!”

  “IF YOU SAY SO!” Liv grins.

  “Everybody welcome Kellan and his new band Suffer The Gun to the stage!”

  The colored stage lights flash and the whole band makes a shitload of noise. There’s a shirtless tattooed Mexican guy behind the drums. A handsome black guy who looks like he belongs in a Reggae band plays bass. Switchblade holds a George Lynch Kamikaze ESP. My respect for her goes up. Anyone who plays that guitar is cool in my book. I don’t know if she can play or not, but I’ll find out soon enough.

  Kellan strolls onstage with his skyburst blue Les Paul hanging from his shoulder. He’s shirtless now and I notice he has on leather pants and boots.

  The girls scream.

  They’re so shrill, I think my ears are going to bleed.

  But I can’t blame them.

  Kellan stirs me up just as much. I just don’t let it show. Too bad he’s with Switchblade.

  Kellan leans into the center stage mic, “What up, Dive Bomb! How are you guys tonight?”

  The crowd roars.

  You’d think Kellan’s band was the headliner based on how packed the place is. He must be a regular here.

  He growls, “You guys ready to rock?!”

  More roaring cheers from the crowd.

  “Hell yeah! Let’s live it uuuppp!!!”

  The band explodes into a driving riff that reminds me of We Die Young by Alice In Chains, but dirtier and sexier. Every member of the band is rocking out on stage, banging their heads, even their Reggae bass player. They’re incredibly tight.