Tattoos & Tears (Complete Collection)

by Amiee Louise

  She chuckles softly, and I look up at her with tears brimming in my eyes.

  “Jesus Christ, I miss her so fucking much, Rubes. She was my reason to get up on stage, my good luck charm, and now she is gone. It has been a year since we last played a gig. How the fuck can I get up there and sing, when I don’t believe in what I’m singing about?”

  My hands start to shake uncontrollably again, and she takes my hands in hers.

  “I miss her too, babe, so bloody much. I’ve still got her number stored in my phone. I sometimes call it just to hear her voice on the answering machine, but it’s normal to grieve. It’s only been a year, no one would expect you to be over her. It takes time… Time can be a healer. That’s what all those self-help books say, right?”

  I look her in the eyes, and I can see the hurt. That very same hurt that I’m feeling right now. My heart is thundering in my chest, and I’m still shaking.

  “How can I go out there and face the fans, Rubes, I’m a fucking mess without her.”

  A stray tear rolls down my cheek; she wipes it away with her thumb.

  “We’re all going to be there, front row centre, me and your family. This gig is for her. You need to go out there and give them a show, give her a show, perform for her, show her that you’re still the same Sam Newbolt that she fell so in love with.”

  I stroke her face and she smiles. She gets to her feet, and I stand up, towering over her slight frame. She cuddles me tightly.

  “Knock ‘em dead, Bolt.” She pulls away and winks. “For Peyton,” she whispers, and I smile, grateful for the pep talk and the shoulder to cry on.

  Christ, I need to get my shit together.

  “Thanks, Ruby.”

  She brushes my arm and blows me a kiss.

  “Anytime, babe.”

  She leaves the dressing room, and I emerge from behind her.

  “Have you been hogging my woman, Sammy boy?”

  Jax laughs and slaps me on the back. Ruby cuddles him.

  “Just giving Sam a well-needed kick up the arse, babe.”

  She laughs, and Jax squeezes her. My heart constricts seeing the two of them so loved up. I am happy that Jax is finally happy and settled down, but I take a deep breath to quell the jealousy that’s bubbling in the pit of my chest.

  That should have been Peyton and me.

  “Come on, Bolt, let’s go and give them a show.”

  I walk with Jax and Ruby down the corridor, and I can hear the fans screaming for us, the noise is deafening. Ruby kisses Jax, wishes us luck, and leaves to take her seat. Donovan thrusts a microphone in my trembling hand and hands Jax his signature Schechter Blackjack guitar. Lucas is spinning his drumsticks, psyching himself up, and Brody is tuning his guitar.

  “Are we fucking ready, boys?” Brody shouts. “Let’s rock.”

  Jax and I go out first and take our places in the centre of the stage. Jax strums the opening guitar riff, and my adrenaline starts pumping. I notice my hands have stopped shaking as I lift the microphone up to my mouth. Seeing the sea of fans instantly suppresses my nerves, and I take a long calming breath before singing the first line of a classic of ours. As I sing the opening line, I feel as if I have never been away from the spotlight. My adrenaline is pumping, and I feed off the crowd’s raw energy. I close my eyes and let the lyrics wash over me until I am consumed by the music. I get to the end of the song and step to the front of the stage, looking out at the sea of fans that have turned out here for us tonight.

  “Good evening, Madison Square Garden, how the fuck are we doing tonight? We’re Rancid Vengeance; it’s so fucking good to be back up on stage in front of you all. Are you ready to rock? Let me hear you scream ‘hell yeah’.”

  The crowd breaks out into a rapturous ‘hell yeah’, and a grin spreads across my face.

  “Yeahhh! Let’s fucking rock this place to the ground, give me a riff, Flash.”

  I growl, and Jax breaks out into an impressive guitar solo, his flawless guitar skills never fail to impress me. He gives me a wink of encouragement; Brody joins in and moves fluidly across the stage to stand back to back with Jax. Lucas pounds a drum beat, and I start to sing.

  “I am lost to the music, lost to the void, lost to my eternal fucking sadness. Somebody, please throw me a lifeline.“

  I lose myself in the music, closing my eyes, letting the lyrics wash over me. As I hit the chorus Jax’s signature guitar riff fills the venue. I open my eyes, looking out at the sea of fans singing back to us and holding banners up for us. That’s when I see her, this woman staring intently at me. She has short red hair; she is wearing a red Rancid Vengeance hoodie, leather shorts, and a black beanie hat. She isn’t cheering, singing or moving to the music, she is just standing still, her hollow eyes are focussed solely on me. She notices me staring back at her, and she starts to move through the crowd. She moves exactly like Peyton. I freeze on the spot. It can’t be, it can’t possibly be her. Can it?

  5

  Sam

  My heart is thundering in my chest, and I somehow manage to make it to the end of the song, whilst frantically scanning the crowd for another glimpse of her. In my fucked up brain, I actually start to question my own sanity.

  Is this the moment where I lose the plot completely? Where I start to see things that aren’t really there?

  I pull out my earpiece and step away from the microphone towards Jax.

  “I think I’ve just seen, Peyton.”

  Jax pulls out his earpiece.

  “Sam, mate, you’re just nervous that’s all. The first gig back after a year out...It’s just stress, trust me, please you have to stop fucking torturing yourself.”

  He brushes my arm in reassurance. I run my hands through my hair and sprint across the stage, towards where Cole is standing.

  “Cole, I think I’ve just seen Peyton, find her now,” I say sternly, and it isn’t a request. He looks at me as if I have lost my mind. Why won’t these people fucking believe me?

  “I’m on it, Sam.”

  He nods curtly, speaking into his earpiece. I stride back onto the stage, resuming my position at my microphone and replacing my earpiece.

  “I apologise for the fuck up, we were experiencing a few technical issues. This next song is a new one for us, it’s going to be featured on our new album, and it’s the first time we have performed it live. It’s called My Private Hell, and I hope you all like it. Give me a beat Axeman.”

  Lucas tosses his sticks into the air, catches them effortlessly, and pounds a relentless drum beat. The crowd goes wild, and my adrenaline starts pumping. This is what I have missed. Feeding off the audience’s raw energy is what drives me. I soak in their pure elation as I reach deep into their souls with each lyric I sing. We all perform each song as if it will be our last, and as the first half reaches a close, I feel as if we have never been away. As we make our way backstage, a passing stagehand hands me a towel and a bottle of cool water. I take a long pull from the bottle, and Brody rushes to catch up with me.

  “What the fuck was that all about, dude?”

  I look at him.

  “It was her, Brody, I fucking know it.”

  He places his hand on my arm in a gesture of support. He is about to speak when Cole strides towards us and stops in front of us.

  “We can’t find her, Sam. We’ve scanned every inch of the venue, are you absolutely sure it was her?”

  I scrub my hands down my face, and I start to doubt myself.

  Get it the fuck together, Newbolt, you’re losing the plot.

  “I was so fucking sure it was her,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else.

  “Fuck me, dude, you need to get laid!”

  Brody laughs, and I start to think that maybe he is right, because right now, I am in serious danger of being carted out of here in a fucking straight jacket. Brody takes his smartphone out of his pocket and swipes the screen with his finger.

  “I’ll give Amber a call, this sassy little redhead I know. She told me t
o look her up if we were ever back in the area. She can hook us up with a few hotties.”

  He winks and strides off down the corridor. Typical Brody. His heart’s in the right place, fucking shame his brain isn’t. As the second half of the show begins, we pull out all the stops. We share some cheeky banter with each other, interact with the audience and pull a few fans out of the crowd to join us on stage.

  “Madison Square Garden, you’re looking fucking beautiful out there tonight.”

  The crowd breaks out into frenzied screams, and I grin widely, revelling in their excitement. I step to the front of the stage and put my hand to my ear, they scream louder. Over the past ten years, I have perfected the art of commanding an audience, and it feels pretty fucking good to hold that power over them. As I scan over the sea of fans a girl holding up a banner catches my eye which reads ‘I love you Bolt, you inspire me’ I smile at the dedication of our fans.

  “Wow, boys that girl back there says I inspire her!”

  The rest of the boys chuckle.

  “Sweetheart, there isn’t a day goes by that we aren’t thankful for all your support. Your dedication inspires us, and you’re our inspiration to keep coming back and making music for you all. Because if it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be up on this stage in front of you now. You’ve stuck with us through everything, and we love you all.”

  The girl with the banner is jumping up and down excitedly and tears are streaming down her cheeks. I blow her a kiss and give her a wink; she practically melts in a puddle at the gesture.

  “Now, that’s enough of that soppy shit, let’s give these guys a show to remember,” I growl, and the crowd gets louder as Jax moves across the stage to stand back to back with Brody.

  Jax strums a riff, and Brody matches him. Seeing the two of them play so effortlessly together brings a smile to my face. These boys are like my family, and I’m grateful for everything they have done for me over the past eleven years. We are like brothers, and we have seen each other through some of the greatest and worse times of our lives.

  It is almost the end of the second half and the finale of our show. We have made every effort to impress and have put one million percent into every performance. We all come alive when we are on stage, and we complement each other musically. As a band, we have perfected our craft over the years, and we fit together like a musical jigsaw. We are all sweating abundantly from jumping around the stage, and I am actually starting to enjoy myself. I have missed being in the spotlight after our year away.

  “Madison Square Garden, you’ve been fucking amazing this evening, you’re all beautiful. This is our last song of the night, and this is the song that put us where we are today, so we’re going to fucking rock the shit out of it!”

  The crowd roars.

  “This is ‘Corrupted’, give me a beat, boys.”

  My heart is pounding, and my adrenaline is coursing through my body. I lift the microphone to my lips, and we rock as we have never rocked before. As the song draws to a close, we all come together at the front of the stage.

  “We’ve been Rancid Vengeance, hope you all enjoyed the show, goodnight and keep fucking rocking.”

  We all salute and exit the stage. We all remove our earpieces and move down the corridor towards the dressing room. As we enter the dressing room, we are all totally pumped after the show. We all pop open some beers, and we all gather round to make a toast.

  “Welcome back, boys!”

  Brody shouts, and we all clink our bottles together.

  “Let’s go out and fucking celebrate.”

  I take a long pull on my beer.

  “I don’t know about you fuckers, but I need a shower.”

  Brody chuckles.

  “Aww, I didn’t know you felt that way about us, dude!”

  We all laugh, and I love the banter we have between us, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I consider myself lucky to have these boys in my life, and I’m grateful for their friendship.

  The rest of our entourage entering the room followed by my family and Ruby interrupts us. They all congratulate us on an epic show, and as I observe their animated conversations, my phone vibrates, signalling a text message. I pick it up from the table and swipe my finger across the screen. The message is from an unknown number.

  The person who kidnapped me is close to you

  Meet me at West 110th Street

  Near the Blockhouse at Central Park

  Come alone

  Peyton x

  My eyes widen, as I read the message and my blood chills in my veins. What the fuck? Willing my legs not to buckle underneath me, I tuck my phone in my pocket, and I make eye contact with Jax, who is looking at me questioningly. I ignore him and stride purposefully out of the dressing room. The text message is really from Peyton, and it was really her in the crowd. She is alive, I know she is. A smile spreads across my face at the thought; I am going to get the opportunity to hold her in my arms once again. As I make my way down the corridor, I see Donovan pushing an equipment case, and I call out to him.

  “Donovan.”

  He spins around.

  “Sam, how’s it hanging, mate?”

  I nod.

  “Yeah, all good, thanks, look, dude, I need a favour?”

  He smiles and nods enthusiastically.

  “’Course, man, go for it.”

  I clear my throat.

  “I need a car.”

  He nods.

  “Here, take the keys to my bike; it’s parked in the underground garage.”

  I am impressed. We should really make more effort to get to know the people who work for us.

  “I didn’t know you were into bikes?”

  Donovan grins at my interest.

  “Yeah, man, I always hire a bike when we come on tour. I like to ride on my days off.”

  I nod and smile as he hands me the keys to his motorbike. Jackpot.

  “Cheers, man, I owe you one.”

  I wink, and he grins.

  “Anytime, dude.”

  I walk through the corridor and down a flight of stairs into the private underground parking garage. I click the key fob and the lights flash, I use that to locate the bike which is parked in a lone bay. It is a shiny lime green and black Kawasaki Ninja 300. Nice. I make my way over to the bike, fasten on Donovan’s black skull helmet, put the keys in the ignition and start up the bike. A few moments later I’m roaring out of the underground garage and into the busy New York traffic. I have a loft apartment in Soho, Manhattan so I navigate the New York traffic like a pro and make it to my destination in ten minutes.

  My heart is thundering in my chest at the prospect of seeing her again. I have so many questions I want to ask her, so much I want to tell her; most importantly, I just want to hold her in my arms. A part of me is angry that she let me and everyone else think she was dead, but another part of me is relieved and happy that she is really alive. I slow down as I approach my destination and come to a stop at the side of the road. I dismount the bike and kick the kickstand into place. I pull off my helmet, hooking it to the handlebar and I walk slowly down the street, scanning the area cautiously as I go. With every step, my heart beats that bit faster, and I tuck my hands in the pockets of my leather trousers. I make my way to the place where the text message said, and I look around. Every sense I possess is on high alert, and I can’t help but feel like something is off. The area is dark and dimly lit, I feel a sharp blow to the back of my head, and everything is plunged into darkness.

  6

  Peyton - 1 Year Ago

  “Please, please just stop.”

  I sob, but I know it won’t do any good. That is all I can think. I have never wanted to die as much as I do right now. Please, just put me out of my misery, and fucking kill me now. I am in so much pain, I can’t see straight. My vision is blurred, my head is spinning, I can feel the warm trickle of blood running down various parts of my body, and my whole body feels like it is shutting down.

  How the fuck did I
even get here? How the fuck did we get here, boo? You are the only one who is keeping me going right now, you are the one keeping me sane, and keeping me fighting. I will not give up boo, I promise you. I am imagining your tiny fingers wrapped around mine, your sparkling green eyes like your daddy’s, and your sleepy dimpled smile, as you look up at me so helplessly, loving me unconditionally. You are my shining light, my reason not to give up, and my reason to keep breathing. In, out, in, out...that’s it. Come on, focus.

  “Wake the fuck up, bitch.” His sharp slap to my face jolts me back to the here and now. His wide beady eyes come into focus, he is enjoying this. He is enjoying watching me suffer. “Are you ready for some more, bitch?”