Broken Strings (A Rock Star Novel) Page 4

  I guess this is the epitome of sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll. Why did I expect anything else? There are some guys here too; probably guitar players or drummers and every so often one will try to engage the interest of one of the guys from the band but it’s a losing battle; almost-naked girls win out every time. Suddenly I feel overdressed.

  Someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and it’s the bands manager Stewart.

  “Are you the two who won the passes in the DVD’s?” He asks.

  Brand and I hold up the evidence.

  “Congratulations, you actually get to talk to the band. Follow me.”

  Before coming backstage, I assumed talking to the band was a given. After being backstage five minutes and surveying the competition I’m pretty sure I wasn’t going to meet the band after all. Now I’m totally excited. I try to think of something cool to say as we walk over, but my brain fails me.

  Stewart stops. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you guys' names.”

  “I’m June, this is my friend Brand. He’s actually the one who bought the DVD with the passes.”

  The manager nods and turns to Hammer and the guys. “Hammer, these are the two who found the passes.”

  “Oh shit, cool.” He holds out his hand and I wonder if I should kiss it and curtsey. He is rock and roll royalty after all. Instead I shake it.

  “I’m Hammer,” he says, stating the obvious. “But you already know that right?”

  “I had you pegged for a nail,” I begin, “but Hammer works too.” And I have no idea where that came from. I’m still looking around and I don’t see the new guitar player. Did he get canned on his opening night? I thought he was phenomenal. It bugged me that I couldn’t make out his face. I was at this weird angle and there was a light that was shining in my direction the entire night so I was half blind. I was far too close to the stage so the huge TV screens that were set up to so that audience members in the back of the arena could see what’s going on, were actually behind me.

  This had to be the worst position I have ever been in for a Fringe show. I either should have been about forty feet to the right or about forty feet back, and then I would have had a much better view of the show.

  Given that they didn’t even make a formal introduction of the new member I’m wondering if the guy never really was hired and they just had a stand-in once more. All the previous shows they didn’t introduce the stand- in’s except for when Disturbed’s Dan Donnigan filled in. Oh well, I got tickets to the next ten shows so…

  Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck are standing attention; attention to what? Hammer has just cracked some joke and everybody is laughing; everybody but me. I felt this feeling before and it’s really confusing me. My heart is actually racing and I’m beginning to feel light-headed.

  “Hello June.”

  I nearly drop dead in my tracks. I know that voice, and no other voice can make my body respond like this except for…that voice. My head is turning slowly while my mind is spinning a thousand miles an hour. Entire conversations are taking place in the space of my stunned mind.

  I am a stunningly elegant, beautiful orator, witty and self- effacing, all in my mind. My whole life has flashed before me; my life with the owner of the voice that has a death grip on my soul; and I love it.

  Standing in front of me is Sam from the coffee shop.

  “Hi,” he says again, when I fail to form words.

  I don’t understand this. Sam wasn’t a Lunatic. In fact I don’t even think he was going to the show…but he’s back stage and standing in front of me holding a black flying V, one hand on the neck of the guitar and the other extended towards me.

  I don’t know what to do.

  “Sorry,” he says. “I guess I should have told you.”

  “Told me what?” I ask, then it hits me. Oh shit…oh shit!

  I’m mad, and I’m not. I mean, who could be mad at the man standing before me? How can I be pissed when his voice alone has me hostage to the strange desires of my body.

  My right hand is reaching out to his, almost like it’s acting on its own accord. When his hand grasps mine I practically jump out of my shoes as a jolt of electricity starts in the tips of my fingers as my hand slides into his. It’s all I can do to just stand there and not react as an electrical charge runs up my arm and straight to my heart.

  “How are you June?” He asks.

  The way my name rolls off his tongue it makes me tingle in places long since dormant. It makes me wish he were doing something else with that tongue of his, and the way those lips pout slightly when I fail to acknowledge him? Wow. His left hand absentmindedly stokes the neck of his guitar and I find myself imagining that hand stroking my thighs, from the inside of my knee all the way up to my-.

  “You okay?”

  I think I better respond. “Uh…hi Sam…” Well that was certainly eloquent.

  “It’s actually Silas. Silas Mann.” He says, his mouth caressing every word that forms on his tongue.

  “Y-yes, I-I know who you are.” More witty words from number one Lunatic, June Cho.

  “You know you talked a lot more back when you just thought I was a…how do you put it, a Lunatic? This has got to be the first time being a rock guitarist has been a bad thing when it comes to women.”

  “Well I’m not your typical Lunatic.” I manage to say. I don’t mean to, but I’m pretty sure I'm succeeding in pissing the guy off.

  “No you are not…and that’s good. In case you didn’t already know that.”

  I’m having a real hard time concentrating on his words when his very presence puts my body on edge. I can’t be having these feelings about a rock star; it’s not practical. I could never date one. I could never handle my boyfriend being gone for long stretches at a time and all the groupies and Lunatics that surround him wanting sex…No, he is definitely not boyfriend material. And if that’s the case, then why am I standing here fantasizing about being his girlfriend?

  I look over at Brand for help, but he’s lost in conversation with Hammer and Marcus. He’s waving his arms about in a very animated conversation about something or other.

  “So you found the backstage passes…” He is saying.

  I look back to him. Why does he have to be so damned handsome? “Actually my friend over there found them when he bought the DVD. He invited me to come with him.”

  “Must be a pretty good friend.” Silas remarks.

  “Yeah I guess…I mean, before today I’d never seen him before.”

  “Oh…so he wants to sleep with you then.” Silas replies.

  “No! Believe me, if he was looking for sex, he had plenty of offers from a lot better looking girls than me. He’s just a good friend; nothing more.”

  “If you say so.” Silas says, unconvinced.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, getting a little hostile, in spite of myself.

  “There may be a lot of women around here, but not a lot that can compete with your looks.”

  “Look," I say, "if you’re trying to talk your way into my pants, I’ve had a lot better offers.”

  He looks at me funny for a moment. That didn’t come out the way I intended.

  “So you’ve had a lot of offers from rock stars, have you?”

  “I didn’t mean in that way.” I find that if I remain hostile I can keep my body in check. Otherwise I can’t hear myself think over my screaming hormones! “I just not the type to date rock stars or models, actors, anybody famous…no thanks.”

  “So you go for the poor and downtrodden…kind of a mercy dater then are ya?”

  “Whatever…” Just keep talkin’ Silas; it makes it easier to not like you. “So you’re Fringe’s newest guitarist then?”

  “Yeah…it’s not a bad gig for a scoundrel, don’t ya think? How long have you been a fan…I guess I should say, Lunatic?”

  “Oh wow, uh since their first album actually. But I never had a chance to see any of their shows until their last tour which was what,
three or four years ago I guess.”

  “So you like, go to every Fringe show then?”

  “Pretty much, but now that I’ve met you…I might make this my last one.”

  “Oh come on…Am I that bad?” He says with a wink.

  “You are a rock guitarist…” I counter.

  “You know, not every guy that plays a guitar is into the whole sex drugs and rock-n-roll stereotype.”

  I look at him through the bluish haze of marijuana smoke. I can feel the effects of a contact high coming on and the longer I stare at him the stronger he’s coming through. I find it incredibly difficult to look into his emerald green eyes. When he looks back into my own blue eyes I feel naked, like he’s looking right into my soul.

  Most guys undress a girl with their eyes, but Silas, he’s standing there undressing my soul. There’s a depth to him that I’ve never encountered in anyone his age. The term old soul really does fit. Maybe he isn’t such a bad guy… I can feel my body beginning to relax, and my heart that was going a mile a minute is finally humming along lazily now.

  My head is spinning pleasantly and I can’t seem to take my eyes off Silas’s mouth. He’s got the most kissable lips I have ever seen on a guy except for Brand. Brand? Where the hell did that come from? This guy’s way hotter than Brand; I think. But Silas has something else I’ve never encountered in a guy before, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is; I just know he has it and Brand doesn’t.

  I watch Silas’s lips forming words but the words don’t seem to be reaching my brain and I wonder if he thinks I’m this empty headed Lunatic like the drugged ones dancing a few feet away from us. I certainly hope he can tell the difference between them and me.

  Without thinking I look over at Brand again. He is handsome, but in a different way than Silas. Brand is a little too pretty. Silas is too, but then he’s got this rugged bad boy thing going on.

  He is more than easy on the eyes. He’s like the male version of the Mona Lisa. He’s got this quirky grin plastered on his face now and there's a mysterious look in his eyes and it makes me wonder what’s going on behind those emerald green mirrors to his soul.

  I suddenly realize he is talking again.

  “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” I ask.

  I don’t remember how long we end up talking but when Brand finally tugs on my arm it’s nearly 2:30 in the morning and we have at least an hour drive back to Berkeley. I say my goodbyes, grateful for having the chance to actually meet the whole band.

  The rock star thing takes the edge off the insane feelings that have been fermenting in my body since we met at the coffee shop. Now maybe I can forget about him and return to reality.

  Maybe that reality will include Brand. He's definitely a looker and he’s not a rock star; or a Lunatic, both are big pluses. He hooks his arm in mine and we make our departure. The parking lot still has a lot of cars in it. Probably Lunatics reliving the show. If past shows are any indication, half these cars will still be here when the sun comes up. I on the other hand will be tucked away safely in my bed dreaming, and since I don’t have to work tomorrow…sleeping half the day away.

  Brand gives me a hug, and I give him a quick peck on the cheek. It’s the least I can do for the backstage pass he gave me. He looks a little surprised, but smiles warmly as he turns to go. Then a thought pops into my head.

  “Oh hey, did you get your dirt? I saw you talking to Hammer and Marcus.”

  His face brightens. “Oh yeah, I got the dirt.”

  I’m genuinely happy for him. “Oh great, I told you, you should be talking to Hammer. He’s a trouble maker.”

  “When I say I got the dirt, I mean I got the dirt, not on Hammer though.”

  I’m confused. “Well on who then?”

  “Silas Mann,” he says, and walks away leaving me stunned and alone.

  Chapter 4

  The Dancing Zebra

  I so need this cup of coffee! I’m sitting at my favorite coffee shop east of the bridge sipping a large coffee with a double shot of espresso, getting geared up for the San Jose shows. The Arco show had to be the loudest concert I have ever been to. My ears only just stopped ringing and the show was two days ago…almost three.

  And to make matters worse, I somehow failed to get Brand’s digits or his email address so I have no way of contacting him. I would seriously love to get some pictures from him for my blog. He had a continuously running video camera so he’s bound to have some really great candid shots of the band; especially the new guitarist.

  My only hope is to run into Brand at another show but I’m not sure if he’s going to anymore Fringe shows, especially if he got everything he needs already. He did mention something about tickets for Disturbed and…and Godsmack I think; or maybe it was Shadowsfall? I don’t even know if he lives around here or was just here for the shows.

  “Is this seat taken?” I hear a man's voice behind me.

  Holy crap! Prayers do get answered. I look up as Brand slides into the booth opposite me.

  “Have a seat,” I offer, after he has already seated himself.

  “You’re not going to believe it-” we both chime in at the same time.

  “But I was just hoping to run into you.” He finishes.

  I have to laugh. I really like the guy, even if he is a little bookish…being a writer and all…

  “What?” He asks when I stop laughing.

  “I was just hoping to run into you.” I say.

  “You wanted me-”

  “Don’t get your hopes up Brand," I tease, "I was just hoping to get a picture or something I could post on my blog.”

  “Oh…hey didn’t you have a camera?”

  “Died before I could get backstage.” I say with a pout.

  “Oh…bummer, because I was hoping to get some from you.”

  “What happened to your pen thingy?”

  “It actually was a pen. I grabbed the wrong one when I walked out of the house to go to the show. I didn’t realize it till we got backstage.” He says shaking his head.

  “Oh crap. But you remember everything right? When we were leaving you said you got the dirt on Silas. So what’d you get?”

  “I said that?” He looks at me quizzically.

  “What, you don’t remember?”

  “No man, most of the nights a big blur. You find out anything?”

  “No…I was just there to meet the new guitar player.”

  “Yeah I remember you were talking to Silas the whole night.”

  “Oh yeah, Silas Mann." I say trying to save face, "Yup, I talked to him. Talked lots in fact.”

  “So what’d you learn? Is he your typical rock star or is he different?”

  “I don’t know, I was hoping to ask you that.”

  Brand laughs. I laugh, and before we know it, we’re having a really good time. I love the way he laughs. It’s unrestrained. He laughs with this wild abandon like he doesn’t care what he sounds or looks like, and it’s refreshing. His laugh is like suddenly opening a window in a stuffy room and having a blast of cool fresh air come in.

  “Damn we’re pathetic,” I begin. “We both had the chance of a lifetime, spent hours with our favorite band. Well, my favorite band, and neither of us remembers a single thing. Are we really that sad?”

  He gives me a mischievous grin. “Well…I’m not, but I’m not sure I can say the same for you…” he trails off, still smiling.

  “Really? So what’s your big excuse for blowing the interview of your lifetime?” I ask him, smiling back to take the sting out of my words. He looks really nice today. He’s wearing a pair of army type pants with a desert camouflage pattern on it. He’s got on a tight fitting black AC/DC tee that shows his six pack nicely. Now if I could just get him to get up, turn around and let me get a look at that tush...

  I watch as he brings the cup of coffee he’s nursing to his lips. They part slightly to let the liquid in then close. As we sit here drinking a comfortable silence falls over us, and it’s
actually nice. Most people are usually not comfortable with silence and try to fill every minute, every second with conversation whether they’ve got anything to say or not.

  When Brand runs out of things to say, instead of just rambling on about a lot of nonsense, he just falls quiet. I try to match is peaceful posture and expression but as usual, I am just too amped up to relax.

  The more I sit with Brand the more I like the guy. His handsome looks have nothing to do with the attraction I’m feeling here, and truth be told, I really don’t know what’s going with me.

  Brand is talking again and I’m totally not paying attention. I use the age old technique that people use whenever they don’t understand what the other person is talking about. I smile, not my head and mimic his expression. It works right up until the point where he asks me a question.

  “June! You weren’t even listening to me were you?” He says, smiling at me.

  I look down at the table shamefaced. “Guilty as charged.”

  “When did I lose you? What’s the last thing you remember?” He asks earnestly.

  I look at my watch. “Uh…I think it was when you said, ‘is this seat taken?’”

  He looks at me aghast. He looks so genuinely hurt it makes me laugh.

  “Why are you laughing? It’s not funny." He says, clearly annoyed. "I was bearing my soul just now and the people in the booth behind you probably heard more of it than you did.”

  “If you want I could switch places with them?”

  “Well of course. Do you even need to ask that?”

  I move to get up and he places his hand on my arm in an uncharacteristic display of…of something.

  “Have dinner with me.”

  “Really? No wait, are you asking me, or the couple in the booth behind me?”

  He shoots me a dirty look.

  “Of course I will,” I say hastily. I don’t want to carry the joke too far. Despite my apparent inattention, I do like the guy and it will actually be nice to have dinner with him.