Chapter 6
Justin
We’re almost done with our second set. Though my lower back has been on fire all night from my new ink, the pain can’t destroy the high of performing. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. Being the center of attention fills me up and leaves me high. It’s my only real addiction. I could sing forever, with the crowd below me and the guys playing music next to me. Even sex comes after this high. Unfortunately, the rush is almost over since we’re about to start the second to last song of the night.
The lights dim and I pluck a pair of sunglasses from the pocket of my open shirt, stepping back to Gabe’s drum set so that Romeo and Sam can have the stage for the intro. One of our originals, the song is slower and more bluesy than most of the stuff we play. Romeo, who writes most of our music, has a thing for blues, folk, and combinations of the two.
The crowd sways and moves to the beat. Some hardcore fans, knowing the song, shout and whistle in excitement. As the opening bridges into the repeating chords of the chorus—Romeo also likes to start songs with the chorus—I walk to the microphone, grab it, and share it with Sam as all four of us sing the first words.
The volume of the guitars drops and the drums pump a slow beat behind me as I walk away from Sam, who’s bouncing like normal to the edge of the stage, singing the first verse low like a whisper. The crowd crushes forward. Some chick’s hands grab on to the edge of my boots, which hang over the edge of the stage, but I keep singing. Rabid fans don’t bother me—they get me more pumped up. After another repeat of the chorus, I step back behind the drums again while Romeo plays the solo. Leaning on Romeo, we end the song with one more round of the chorus.
As the song fades, the crowd roars.
I slide the microphone back into the stand and lower my glasses. “You guys rock! With that response, I’d like to stay here all night!” Their response is deafening. “But we’ve left a classic for the end.”
When I step back, Romeo breaks into a charging riff and the crowd goes wild, recognizing Lit’s “My Own Worst Enemy.” Sam, Romeo, and I jump together to the beat, and the crowd is soon copying us. I’m pumped with unquenchable energy as everyone sings with me and raises drinks at the refrain. It’s the perfect hard-driving song to end the evening.
Tilting the microphone stand over the edge of the stage, I sing the last line as the whole room bounces with us. On the last note, the lights cut out. The masses below the stage go wild. The lights come back on. The four of us bow in a line at the front of the stage. The chant of “More! More! More!” rings out, but Romeo put a stop to giving in to the “more” chant after the first six months. If it were up to me, we’d always do more.
Backstage, Sam passes around the obligatory bottle. At my turn, Gabe shoves it at me. I snatch it from the immature little prick and take several swigs. My inked back hurts more now that the high of performing is wearing off.
After we load up Romeo’s van, he’s off to see Riley. He’s one whipped asshole. The rest of us head toward the closed-off balcony—most of the places we play are old movie theaters turned into bars—but some guy stops me at the foot of the stairs.
“Hey, man!” he shouts over the recorded music playing. “I wanted to say thanks for the tickets. The show rocked.”
I’m trying to figure out who the hell he is when I notice the Dragonfly Ink logo on his T-shirt. Then my stupid ass notices his piercings and tattooed arms. Damn. I’d been hoping Allie changed her mind. Obviously not. But I force the tightness from my face. “No problem…”
“Todd,” he fills in, and gestures behind him. “This is Mac. The old man only inks part time.”
With his gray beard, Mac looks like he’s closing in on sixty. Compared to everyone else I saw working at the shop, he’s an odd choice, but I’m guessing he’s good because Allie appears to take her business seriously.
Noticing people slowly gathering around us, I take the first step and say over my shoulder, “Come on up and have a drink with the band.”
Without hesitation, they follow me up. Sam, Gabe, and a bunch of girls already wait in the balcony area, standing at tall tables. Mara comes at me and throws herself into my arms. I give her a long hug, enjoying the way she’s rubbing herself against me, then grab two beers from the tray on a table and give them to Todd and Mac. After grabbing my own beer, I introduce them to Mara, who’s now glued to my side.
Standing around one of the tables, we talk music for a while until we switch to ink. Mara’s mouth is quiet, but her body is as suggestive as hell each time she moves. Someone orders a round of tequila shots, and a minute later Mara and I are licking the salt from the same glass, feeding each other the shot, and sucking on the same lime. She wraps a leg around my waist as our lips touch during the suck. I’m liking it until I glance up and see Todd and Mac still holding their own shots and watching us enviously. That’s when the situation I’ve put myself in hits me.
They work with Allie. In fact they work for her. And Mara’s been hanging on me all night, practically fucking me with her clothes on. Definitely fucking me with her eyes. They might say something to Allie. Maybe even warn her away from me. Normally, I wouldn’t care if a woman turned me down because I’m promiscuous. I sure as hell don’t owe anyone anything. But Allie’s different. She’s a challenge. A challenge that now has a newly opened door for me—in the form of a fake date. Allie, hearing about Mara and me tonight, has the potential to shut that door. Business owner, talented tattooist, and college student, Allie is the whole package. The more I get to know her, the more I’m committed to the challenge she presents. Mara, on the other hand, is a way to pass the time.
A hot, wild way to pass the time.
Sam comes over and starts talking to Todd and Mac about ink while I weigh my options. Mara stays pasted to me. Damn, her tits look good. She must have one of those push-up bras on. The kind I like to leave on when we have sex. I mentally compare the two girls to each other. Sure, Mara’s hot, but there’s not much else there. Allie is also sexy but talented too and easy to talk to. Then there are her sad, guarded eyes. I want to rid her of the storm in her gaze, if even for a night. It’s become part of the challenge.
It takes only one more second of thinking about Allie’s eyes to realize that I want to get myself out of this predicament. I’ve never tried to get a woman to quit hitting on me. Oblivious to my thoughts, Mara leans close and whispers in my ear about leaving, then explores my neck with her lips.
I glance down at the amazing tits pushed against my arm. I conjure up Allie’s sexy voice. Mara’s teeth nip at my ear. I imagine Allie’s lip ring. Mara squeezes my ass. I imagine Allie’s rainstorm eyes.
I draw in a deep breath and shake my head no. “Can’t. Got to get up early.” That is true. Romeo has us booked tomorrow for another recording session. But Mara knows early mornings never stop me from staying out late.
She stays pushed up against me but starts to pout.
I shrug.
She glares.
I drain half my beer.
Finally, Mara jerks away from me, yanks her purse from a chair, and walks away without looking back. Both Todd and Mac watch her swaying ass disappear down the stairs. Good. They’ll remember she left without me.
We drink some more. Todd and Mac try to talk Sam into checking out the shop. He just shakes his buzzed head and grins, showing them the lame tattoos on his arm. Though he’s cut like a fucking bodybuilder, I swear the * is scared of needles. Girls are hanging around us, but none are as aggressive as Mara.
Sam switches to Sprite. He may be a heavy partier, but he never drinks and drives. I used to, back in my teenage years. Sideswiped a tree once. Totaled my motorcycle. Walked home. With a broken arm. It was the next morning by the time the cops showed up and tried to pin me with careless driving, but my parents threw a fit. At them and me. I didn’t give a shit, but liked the attention. Was probably looking for it. But with one hotshot lawyer, the case was dropped within a month. And once again I was off my parents’ radar. Yet after having several nightmares about not hitting a tree but a person, I never drank and drove again. Not even to get my parents’ attention.
The bar announces last call. I decline. Sam wants to go. He is all about getting home and doing his best tomorrow. The ass has bought into Romeo’s plans for our indie glory. Gabe already left with his stick-with-tits girlfriend. We give Todd and Mac some fist bumps and leave them at the table, which is still populated with girls.
We drive home, and my buzz dissipates at the thought of my lonely dorm room and my even lonelier bed.