Текст книги "Rock Hard"

Автор книги: Olivia Cunning

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Chapter 27

Sed waited for the first commercial to interrupt the ball game before he took the beer out of Trey’s hand and set it on the side table. Trey took his eyes off the TV to gape at Sed.

“How long has it been since you picked up your guitar?” Sed asked.

Trey shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Can’t play it anyway.”

“You’re never going to play again if you don’t try. Do you expect to wake up one morning and be back to one hundred percent with no effort?”

“Lay off, Sed. I thought you invited me over for a beer and to watch a ball game, not to bitch at me.”

“Someone has to bitch at you. Lots of people rely on us for a paycheck. How are we going to pay them if we keep canceling shows? And how long do you think our fans will back us if we keep turning them away?”

“Our fans are awesome, Sed. Loyal ’til the end.” He grabbed his beer and chugged it in several swallows.

“If we keep canceling tour dates, the end is going to come a lot sooner than you think. No concerts. No new album. Do you want this to end? We worked our fucking asses off to get this far. You gonna let it go without a fight?”

“I am fighting.”

“I don’t see you fighting. I see you pussing out.”

Jessica wandered out of the bathroom, drying her hair with her towel. Her one towel. “Are we going out tonight? Or can I lounge around in shorts?”

“I vote for that outfit,” Trey said.

Jessica peeked out from under her towel. “Shit,” she muttered and wrapped the towel around her naked body.

“No worries. I’ve seen it before. Me and a couple million other people.”

Jessica shook her head at him. “Screw you, Trey.”

“If you insist.”

“Did I forget to mention that I invited Trey over?” Sed scratched his head as he looked up at Jessica from his recliner.

“Yeah, you forgot to mention that.” She headed for the bedroom. “I’m going to go slip into something more… more.”

Unable to take his eyes off her slim thighs, Sed watched her until she disappeared in his bedroom and then turned his attention back to Trey. What had they been talking about? Oh yeah. “You know I wouldn’t push you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

“Bullshit.”

Okay, he would. Someone had to. “Have you even been going to physical therapy?”

Trey scowled. “I go.”

“Let me guess how that goes. You flirt with your therapist for an hour and then you go home.”

He looked at the ceiling and grinned. “Maybe.”

“It’s obvious that you don’t care about the band anymore. What do you think I should do about that?”

Trey’s recently acquired tan lightened a shade. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

“Are you considering replacing me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you thought it.” Trey pressed the leg rest of the recliner down and stood.

“How long are we supposed to wait for you, Trey? You tell me.”

Trey headed for the stairs. Sed launched himself from his chair and took off after him.

“Don’t run away,” Sed demanded. “I need to know if you’re done. By the amount of effort you’re putting into your recovery, I’d say you don’t think the band is worth it.”

Trey turned and shoved Sed with all his strength. Sed stumbled backward and hit his lower back against the pool table. He pulled himself upright, giving Trey a wide berth.

“You know I don’t think that!” Trey yelled. “The band means everything to me. Everything.”

“Prove it.”

Trey shook his head slightly, turned and took the stairs two at a time. He stormed out of the condo and slammed the front door behind him. Sed took a deep breath and rubbed his face with both hands.

Jessica appeared at his elbow. “Did I hear yelling? Where did Trey go?”

“He had to go practice his guitar or something.”

“You didn’t bully him, did you?” Jessica’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Me?” He tried on his best innocent expression. “Of course not.”

Chapter 28

Backstage a week later, Sed clamped a hand over Trey’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Kind of late to change my mind now, isn’t it?” Trey adjusted his guitar strap into a more comfortable position on his shoulder and then stared at the pick in his left hand. He hadn’t been able to grip it for more than a few days, but he’d called their manager, Jerry, to reschedule tour dates despite everyone’s insistence that he needed more time to recover.

Now they had this sold out show to contend with. A packed venue of fifteen thousand. So Trey was correct, it was too late to change his mind.

“I feel a little rusty,” Brian said. “I hope I remember the set. It’s been almost three weeks since we set foot on a stage and we didn’t have time to rehearse this afternoon.”

“Like falling off a bike,” Sed assured him.

“Embarrassing and painful?”

“Exactly.”

Doing the sound check onstage, Jake strummed Brian’s guitar and played an intricate riff to ensure the instrument was tuned and responding to the amplifier. He earned a few cheers from the waiting crowd. Roadies loved to play rock star.

Sed looked over his shoulder to where Jessica promised she’d stand and watch the performance. She smiled at him and waved. He waved back. The groupies who’d gotten backstage passes from the roadies glared at her.

Sed glanced at Trey, who was limbering up his fingers. He still didn’t have full mobility, but he could play chords. Brian watched him, wincing when Trey attempted part of one of their dueling solos and missed every note. “If you can’t keep up tonight, just let me carry all the solos.”

“I’m not a fucking invalid.” Trey scowled.

“No one said that,” Brian said. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

Trey glanced at Sed, who dropped his gaze to the floor. Yeah, that was mostly Sed’s fault and he knew it, but fans only remained loyal for so long, and while most everyone understood why they’d cancelled tour dates and refunded tickets, it didn’t make them happy.

“I’ll be fine,” Trey said.

Jake signaled them into position. Sed stuck his earpiece in his right ear and a sound-muffling earplug in his left. He’d be able to hear the band and instructions from the sound crew from the earpiece. Now he heard mostly, “Check. Check. Check.” He gave Dave a thumbs up to let him know he could hear him just fine.

Brian and Jace settled their instruments into place and moved to the side of the stage. A slightly green Trey followed them. Eric stood just behind the drum kit, ready to take his stool as soon as the lights went out. Someone thrust a microphone into Sed’s hand. The adrenaline rush hit him like the most powerful stimulant on the planet.

He lived for this shit. The music. The crowd’s adulation. Their energy. He owned it and it owned him.

The stadium lights went down and the crowd cheered. Another rush, more powerful than the first, kicked Sed’s heart rate up another notch.

The three guitarists trotted across the stage in the dark. The beat of the bass drum thrummed through Sed’s chest. A low blue light illuminated the floor, lighting the stage enough for Brian and Trey to find the foot pedals that switched out their various amps, and for Sed to find the set instructions taped to the floor. The musical intro to the first song was rather long, giving Sed time to hum and warm up his vocal cords for that first scream. Like Brian, he felt a little rusty. His voice a little coarse.

Trey did fine shredding chords in the intro and the crowd cheered. Though good, Trey’s playing was more reserved than usual. Thready.

With too little rhythm guitar to balance it, Jace’s bass riff sounded more pronounced. But when Brian entered with his signature finger-burning note progressions, fans wouldn’t notice Trey’s playing lacked his usual skill.

At the end of Brian’s intro, Sed raced across the stage, his low growl increasing in volume until it broke into a loud battle cry. The crowd screamed when the lights suddenly went bright and they recognized he’d entered the stage. God, he loved these people. All fifteen thousand of them.

Sed sang with his usual enthusiasm, stalking from one end of the stage to the other, raising his hands to encourage the crowd to participate. All the while, the music playing in his ear sounded off. Not terrible, just sort of weak. He glanced at Trey, who’d already broken into a sweat. Not normal for him. He usually rocked on his heels and strummed each chord with gusto. Tonight he had a hard time keeping up.

Shit. Shouldn’t have pushed him so hard. Sed knew he was responsible for this entire fiasco. He’d made Trey feel guilty and uncertain of his place in the band. Sed had just been trying to encourage him, not force him into taking a step he wasn’t ready to take. But they had a show to finish. He hoped Trey could hang in there for nine more songs. No one expected him to be as good as he usually was. Just there. Singing his occasional back up vocal. Strumming chords the best he could.

Brian finished his solo, and the segment where Trey usually accompanied him sounded entirely hollow. Sed glanced across the stage to see Trey staring at his hands as if they were on fire. Brian noticed as well. He quickly made his way from stage left to stage right and talked to Trey out of hearing range of the microphone. Trey shook his head. Brian said something else and Trey nodded. Trey pulled a guitar pick off the tape on his microphone stand and picked up on the series of chords that made up the majority of the rhythm guitar section. He managed to play it consistently until the end.

“How are we doing tonight, Salt Lake City?” Sed called into his microphone. He held the mic toward the crowd and put his hand to his ear.

The crowd responded with loud cheers.

“Are you ready to get crazy?”

More cheers. He glanced at Trey, who liked to talk to the crowd. He and Brian were in deep conversation near the drum kit. Trey looked upset. Brian, ever Trey’s rock, just kept talking him down.

“As you’ve probably heard, we’ve had to cancel ten shows over the past few weeks, but Sinners is back to rock Salt Lake. How do you all feel about that?”

More cheers.

“Hey, Trey, why don’t you come say something to the fans? I think they’ve been worried about you.”

Trey gave him a scathing look and stepped up to the microphone. “Hey.”

The roar from the crowd was deafening.

“He’s still not back to his usual bad-ass self, but he said he couldn’t stand to miss another show. Is that what you said, Trey?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

Brian wrapped an arm around Trey’s shoulders and spoke into the microphone. “He’s feeling kind of slow these days. I think they sucked half his brain out through this hole in his head.” Brian pointed to the ugly scar that ran a semi-circle around the side of his head. At least the staples were gone now.

Trey didn’t respond to the barb. Yeah, something wasn’t right. Best leave him alone. They might as well continue and get this over with.

“You know what I think?” Sed said into the mic. “I think it’s time to climb the gates of hell.”

Brian raced to his side of the stage to stomp a foot pedal that changed his amplifier settings. Eric tapped on a cymbal behind them. The intro to “Gates of Hell” was insane, and while Brian performed with his usual spectacular flare, Trey missed an entire progression and his guitar fell silent. There was a horrifically loud bang followed by screeching feedback in Sed’s ear. Sed winced, covering his earpiece with one hand. He turned to see Trey stalk offstage. Trey’s favorite guitar lay in pieces in the middle of the stage, its neck snapped near the yellow and black body.

Brian stopped playing and ran after him. Sed turned his attention back to the crowd. “We’ll be right back, folks. Don’t go anywhere.” He handed his mic to Jace as he headed after the two guitarists. “Entertain the crowd until I get back.”

Jace did a very good impression of a fish out of water, but Sed didn’t have time to worry about Jace’s ability to speak to the crowd. Trey had just trashed a $6,000 guitar and stormed offstage. Things were not boding well for their comeback show.

Brian had Trey by the shoulders backstage.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Brian said. “We’ll just call off the show—”

“We’re not calling off the show,” Sed said.

Trey turned his attention to Sed. “You heard me out there. I can’t play.”

“You were doing fine.”

“Were you listening at all? I sound like shit.”

“Brian can take up some of your slack. Just do the best you can. And get back onstage.” When Trey didn’t move, Sed added, “Now.” Pointing toward the audience.

“I’m not going back,” he said. “I can’t even hold on to my fucking pick.”

“You said you were ready for this, so get back out there and play some music. I really don’t care how much you suck.”

“Sed,” Brian protested.

“What? Are you going to baby him some more? He needs to man up and do his best. If you keep letting him get away with this crap, he’s never going to get better.”

“Hello, I’m standing right here,” Trey said. “I can hear everything you’re saying.”

Sed looked at Trey. “Am I right?”

Trey dropped his gaze. “I just need more time to get stronger.”

“We all tried to tell you that, but you wouldn’t listen. You made your choice and now you’re going to stick to it, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming back onstage.”

“Trey you don’t have to do this,” Brian said. “Honestly, the fans will understand if we send them home.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong, Sinclair,” Sed said. “I’m going back out there now. Even if it means singing a cappella into a megaphone.”

Sed turned and stalked back toward the stage. He found Jace standing center stage, his face the color of cranberries, telling knock-knock jokes. Surprisingly, the crowd seemed to be enjoying his extreme discomfort. Especially the young women, who were practically swooning over his uncharacteristic interaction.

“Knock knock,” Jace whispered into the mic.

“Who’s there?” the crowd yelled.

Jace noticed Sed crossing the stage. “Oh thank God, Sed’s back.” Jace passed Sed the microphone and made a beeline toward the drum kit to hide.

“Oh thank God, Sed’s back who?” the crowd yelled.

“Oh thank God, Sed’s back to kick this show into high gear. Are you people ready to rock?”

The crowd yelled.

“Sorry about that unscheduled break, folks. Trey thinks he sucks too much to play for you wonderful people. If you agree, stay quiet, but if you think he should get his severely injured self out here and do the best he can, you should let him know it.”

Eric started a repetitive beat on the bass drum and the crowd rose up to the challenge. “Mills, Mills, Mills,” they chanted.

Within a minute, Brian came back onstage, followed by Trey, who looked incredibly sheepish. Trey stepped up to his microphone stand. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve such great fans, but I’ll try to get through this, if you pretend you can’t hear all those triplets I can’t finger.”

“You can finger me, Trey!” some chick screamed in the audience.

Trey laughed. “I probably wouldn’t be very good at that either, honey, but I’d be more than happy to give it a go.”

Sed grinned. There’s Trey. He was wondering where he’d wandered off to.

Trey continued, “Also, I sorta demolished my favorite guitar, so even if I could play, nothing would sound right.”

“You have a spare,” Brian said into his microphone.

“Hardly broke in.”

Jake dashed across the stage and handed Trey his red and white Schecter. The roadie then picked up the pieces of the destroyed yellow and black.

Sed heard Dave in his earpiece, “‘Gates of Hell’ from the top, guys. Trey, just improvise. Play a fuckin’ open E chord the entire song if you need to. Something. Brian, double up on your outro and try to fill in on the solo. Can you handle that?”

Trey and Brian gave Dave a thumbs-up. Eric tapped his cymbal to start the song again. Sed took a deep breath and growled into his microphone.

The next four songs sounded pretty much as bad as the first, but they made it through. The crowd seemed to delight in Trey’s struggle rather than be critical of it. Sed even caught Trey smiling once.

When it was time for their break, they left Brian onstage by himself to play some new solos for the crowd, while the rest of the band headed backstage. Eric, red in the face and drenched in sweat from head to foot, upended several bottles of water over his head. A roadie handed him a fresh shirt and he changed into it.

Sed grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from the side of his face. He waved at Jessica standing just in view next to the stage while he chomped down several pieces of red licorice to lubricate his vocal cords. His throat was really bothering him tonight. Must be from not using it for several weeks. Singing wasn’t a problem, but his usual screams hurt.

Jessica grinned and waved back. Some red-headed chick next to her said something and Jessica gave her a look that would freeze the Caribbean Sea. Jessica blew Sed a kiss which incited the woman to flip Jessica off behind her back. The woman spun on her heel and stomped away. Myrna whispered something to Jessica and she laughed.

Sed smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure why he worried about Jessica so much. She could obviously take care of herself. His dad had always insisted a man’s job was to protect the women he loved—whether mother, sister, wife, or treasured lover. Dad had lived that rule and enforced it by example, so it wasn’t something Sed could easily shake. It was ingrained and he didn’t want to abandon it, necessarily. But he wanted Jessica and to keep her, he realized he had to let her take care of her own problems. Occasionally.

Jace and Trey had gone off to a corner and were talking to each other in quiet tones. Sed approached them, hoping to offer Trey encouragement. Or piss him off again. Whatever worked.

“It doesn’t sound the same without a pick,” Trey said to Jace.

“I know, but you could play. Try it.”

Trey clamped his pick between his teeth, freeing the fingers of his left hand. He tried strumming with his index finger and thumb. “It feels weird.”

“It’s not permanent,” Jace said. “Just ’til you can hang on to your pick.”

“It sounds weird, too.”

“Maybe we can get you a banjo pick,” Jace suggested.

“A banjo pick?”

“Yeah, they slip over the tip of your finger. You don’t have to hold them.”

Trey sighed. “Fuuuuck, this sucks.” He shook his head. “I suck.”

Sed clapped him on the back vigorously. “We should have conked you on the head years ago. The fans love it.”

“The fans love that I suck?”

Sed shook his hand. “The fans love your devotion. They know you’re out there for them.”

“He’s out there for you, you idiot,” Eric said. Sed’s brow furrowed, but before he could ask for clarification, Eric changed the subject. “Brian seems more tired than usual from doing all that improvised solo and riff fill. We should head back and let him off the hook.” Eric wrapped an arm around Trey and squeezed his shoulder. “You ready?”

“You could take my place.” Trey looked ill at the thought of returning to the stage.

“I could. But then who’s going to play drums?”

Trey took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

Eric directed Trey back toward the stage, his arm still around him. “I hope you’re in the mood for female booty tonight. You don’t mind if I watch, do you? Of course you don’t.”

“Actually, I’m not in the mood for any booty tonight.”

Eric’s arm tightened around Trey’s neck and he covered Trey’s forehead with his large hand. “Oh my God, you must be dying. Doesn’t feel like you have a fever.” He grabbed Trey’s chin. “Say ahhhhh.”

Trey laughed and opened his mouth. “Ahhhhh.”

Eric tilted his head to look in Trey’s mouth. “Tonsils appear normal. Don’t tell me…” Eric looked gravely serious. Sed couldn’t help but snigger at his antics.

“Don’t tell you what?” Trey asked.

“They performed the wrong surgery. You’ve had…” Eric closed his eyes as if the thought was too difficult to bear. “…a vaginoplasty.”

Trey scowled and flipped him off. “Aw, fuck you, Eric.”

“Not me, I don’t swing that way, but I’ve heard if you get Brian drunk enough…”

Trey’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Don’t get your hopes up. Myrna doesn’t share well with others.”

“Sometimes she does.” Trey winked.

Eric and Jace exchanged surprised glances.

“Did you all have a threesome?” Eric asked.

“Maybe.”

“You lucky son-of-a-bitch.”

Sed stared up at the rigging above the stage, pretending he didn’t care. Brian let Trey do Myrna? How the fuck had Trey managed that? Sed just had to come within three feet of the woman and Brian completely freaked out.

“I want all the details later.” Eric released Trey’s shoulder at the edge of the stage and headed behind the drum kit.

When Sed reappeared onstage, Brian looked relieved to see him. Sed took the microphone off its stand and headed toward the audience. “Master Sinclair!” he announced, a hand extended in Brian’s direction.

The crowd whistled, applauded, or yelled their appreciation of Brian’s skill. Brian nodded his head in a slight bow and went to check on Trey.

“Anyone think Master Sinclair looks a little worn out?” Sed asked.

“I think he does,” Jace said into Trey’s microphone.

“Sinclair, are you feeling tired lately?”

“Uh, no, Sed, not really,” Brian said, also into Trey’s microphone.

“Feeling a little low in the back?”

“Nope.”

“Left ring finger cramping up on you?”

Brian chuckled. “Oh, I get what you’re doing.”

Sed smiled his most shark-like grin.

Brian held up his left hand to the audience, showing off his thick platinum wedding band. “I got married about a month ago.”

“Sorry, ladies,” Trey said, ruffling Brian’s hair. “He’s taken.”

“Yes, I am,” Brian agreed, his eyes shifting backstage to where Myrna stood watching the show next to Jessica. Myrna blew Brian a kiss.

The news prompted mostly cheering from the crowd, but some female booing as well. Sed hoped getting some of the attention off Trey would help him deal with his situation a little better. He wasn’t sure what else to do for him.

“What about you, Sed?” someone at the front of the audience yelled. “You still engaged to that hot piece of ass from Vegas? When do we get another video of you fucking her?”

Sed’s head swiveled toward the audience, his heart thudding, his blood hot. “Who said that?”

The people surrounding the big-mouthed jackass backed away slightly, leaving a circle of empty space around him.

“I’m gonna kick your fucking ass,” Sed bellowed. Before he could dive off the stage and beat the ever-lovin’ shit out of the douche bag, someone grabbed the back of his shirt.

Brian shook his head at him. “Don’t lose your cool, dude.”

Too late. He was tired of everyone treating Jessica like a piece of meat. She was so much more than her perfect outer shell. Jessica appeared at his elbow and pulled the microphone out of his hand. He looked at her in surprise.

“You know what would be nice?” she said into the microphone, looking up at Sed. Instantly, he found himself lost in her wide jade-green eyes. “If all these limp dicks would find a woman of their own and get laid occasionally. Maybe then they’d have less time to jack off to our sexual adventures.”

She kissed his jaw and handed the microphone back to him before returning to her place beside the stage. Sed chuckled and rubbed his forehead. She sure handled things better than he did. “Best lay on the planet, and she’s smart, too,” he murmured into the microphone. He glanced over his shoulder at Trey, who was smiling broadly. “You ready?” he called to the band.

Trey managed to keep up now that he’d given up on his pick and stuck to riffs and shredding. Not their best performance, but the fans had a great time, and that’s all that mattered. During the wicked musical outro of “Twisted,” Sed let himself get caught up in the moment and dove into the crowd.

With their hands in the air, a group of about twenty fans caught Sed above their heads. Hand over hand they passed him around the crowd and eventually toward the stage. When he was within reach of the barrier fence, one of the security guards pulled him free of their clutches. He hadn’t crowd surfed in ages. He’d forgotten how fun it was. With the security guard’s help, Sed found his footing on the concrete floor and stood with his belly against the metal barrier fence facing the crowd. He thrust both hands in the air, allowing the first rows of the general admission pit to touch, grab, and hug him enthusiastically. He slapped high fives with dozens of fans, squeezing each hand before moving to the next.

The security guard kept trying to tug Sed away from the crowd by the back of his shirt. He was perfectly fine. He might have a few bruises to show for his brazen interactions with the crowd, but it was well worth the adrenaline rush served by their adulation and excitement.

Brian’s voice came over the speaker system. “Uh, Sed? The song is over.”

He honestly hadn’t noticed. “Get me a mic,” he said to the security guard.

A minute later, a mic was thrust into his hand. “How are we feeling tonight, Salt Lake? Are you having a good time?”

The nearby noise of the crowd came through the loud speaker. “You know, my throat has been bothering me all night and I’m feeling pretty lazy. Do any of you dudes know our song ‘Reformation’?”

The chorus of the song spread across the crowd as the majority of them started singing. Of course, everyone knew “Reformation.” It had topped the rock charts for over a month last winter.

“Maybe one of you can help me sing it up on stage.”

The entire barrier fence surged forward in their excitement to join him.

“Not just anyone. If you want on my stage, you have to audition first.” He turned his head to look at the band, who watched him warily. “Intro to ‘Reformation.’ Just until the end of that first scream.”

In his earpiece, Dave said, “What are you doing, Sed? This isn’t part of the show.”

Tonight it is, he thought. “You,” he said to the spike-haired guy directly in front of him. “You want to audition?”

“Fuck yeah!”

Sed signaled the band and they started the song. He held the mic to Spike’s mouth and he screamed the intro. Sed winced after about five seconds of the guy’s blood-curdling screech and pulled the mic away. “Cut. Cut. Cut.” The band stopped playing mid-note. “Dude, did you swallow a dying cat? What the fuck was that sound that just came out of your mouth?”

The guy laughed with no hard feelings.

“Next,” Sed said and moved to another audience member. He continued down the barrier, letting five or six guys try their voices, until he found a guy who could produce a sound that didn’t make him want to shove pencils through his eardrums. “That’s more like it. What’s your name?”

“Justin.”

“Justin, you’re hired.”

“Yes! Do I get paid?”

“What’s your going rate?”

He hesitated. “Can I get a kiss from your woman?”

“Next!” Sed called.

Justin grabbed his wrist. “Just kidding. Jeez!”

“Sed has no sense of humor as far as Jessica is concerned,” Brian said into a microphone.

Sed tilted his head reflectively and nodded. “You’re absolutely right, Brian. Next!”

Sed helped the next auditioner over the barrier. He didn’t sound half as good as that Justin jerk, but Sed wasn’t in the mood to tolerate bullshit about Jessica, even in jest. He and his helper, named Lance of all things, took the stage. The crowd absolutely loved Lance as he made a total ass of himself by singing like a tone deaf drunk at a karaoke bar. Trey stopped playing half way through the song, but not out of frustration. He was laughing so hard he couldn’t find his fret board.

At the end of the song, Sed shook hands with Lance. Lance gushed over his guitar hero, Master Sinclair, for a full minute before heading off the stage. He waved at the crowd.

“Let’s hear it for Lance,” Sed called into his microphone, raising his hand in the air. The crowd cheered on cue. “Get him a backstage pass, Jake. He makes Trey laugh.”

Trey wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, he does.”

After their set, Sed handed his microphone and earpiece to a roadie on his way offstage. Jessica met him at the bottom of the steps and wrapped her arms around him.

“You were wonderful, baby,” she murmured.

“Thanks.” He smiled and stroked away the moisture he’d left on her bare arms. He loved when she wore sexy little dresses with spaghetti straps. And she looked sensational in green. Hell, she always looked sensational. “I’m sweating all over you.”

“Not all over me,” she murmured, “but I hope that’s about to change.”

He bent his head and kissed her passionately, his tongue caressing her upper lip. Dozens of camera flashes went off in unison. Jessica stiffened and pulled away.

“I’ll meet you on the bus,” he murmured into her ear.

She scowled, but nodded. Sed removed his shirt, wiped the sweat off his face with it, and threw it into the crowd of onlookers in stadium seats above. A scuffle broke out between two chicks and the guy who’d caught it. By the time Sed left the side of the stage, security was breaking up a full out brawl in the stands.

Sed wandered past the dressing room, ignoring the after party the opening bands were enjoying. He was on his way to the bus and his woman. He hoped she was ready to roll, because he was ready to rock her world.

* * *

After leaving the backstage area, Jessica strode down the wide corridor that led outside. A raucous laugh caught her attention as she passed the open door to one of the dressing rooms. Some chick had her dress up over her head, showing her black panties and lack of bra to anyone who cared to pay her any attention. One of the opening band members poured a beer down her front and she squealed, holding still as he licked the alcohol from her breasts and belly. Jessica wondered if Sed partied like that when she wasn’t around. She was certain he did. He’d probably be glad when she left so he could get back to—

Something slammed Jessica in the face. Pain streaked through her right cheek and eye. She stumbled into the wall, her arm raised defensively. Someone grabbed two handfuls of her hair and slammed her into the wall, then dragged her face down to the floor.

“Ain’t so high and mighty now, are you, bitch?” a female growled at her.

Jessica swept her legs to the side, catching her attacker’s ankles and sending her flying. Unfortunately, she still had a strong hold on Jessica’s hair. Jessica cried out and grabbed the woman’s wrists, squeezing until she finally released her hair. Jessica shoved her away and climbed to her feet. Her face throbbed in pain, but she was too pissed to care.