Horse
Iwas standing in the wings with Kat and Bill, watching Sarah tear up Madison Square Garden. Her sound check was shit, but her performance was inspired. It was obvious that she wasn’t some producer-fabricated commodity. Sarah Morgan was the real deal. Like Kat, Sarah brought heart to the stage. Her lyrics were rich and original; her melodies were varied and catchy. And holy mother, she brought loads of fucking sex appeal. Every song was like poetry for my mind and my dick. I watched her pace the stage, her hips swinging, her soul pouring forth, and I was stunned and utterly infatuated. Sarah was going to be trouble for me with a capital T. Mostly because I had to interact with her without drooling.
I also needed to make peace with her. If she was anyone else, I would have just ignored the mess I made earlier. But I couldn’t just ignore Sarah. She was the talent, and as the production manager—aka crew boss—it was my job to make sure her environment was sound, and to be the liaison between her and my crew. So, I needed to foster a civilized, mature relationship with her, not mistake her for a fucking groupie. Also, she was going to be Kat’s sister-in-law. That was enough of a reason to apologize right there. But talking to people wasn’t my thing and apologizing really was not my thing. Even worse, I had to apologize publicly so my crew caught wind of it because there were witnesses to my earlier tongue-lashing.
So far, I haven't had an opening to repent. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Kat, who Sarah was glued to until she went on stage. I'd been hanging in Kat’s vicinity for Sarah’s entire set and Kat hadn’t broached the topic of my behavior, so I had to guess that Sarah didn’t rat me out and I wanted to keep it that way.
Bearing witness to Kat and Bill as they watched Sarah perform was actually sort of spectacular. They were over the moon watching Sarah. They looked more like parents than siblings, all teary-eyed and proud. But it just underlined the reality that I could not go after this girl and had to keep my little head out of the equation.
As Sarah came off stage, I repeated the following mantra in my head: Must not lust over boss’ kid sister. Must not lust over boss’ kid sister. But it was no use. She came off stage bright and giddy like performers do, high on the thrill of their art and the magic it wields over the audience. She was sweaty and glowing. My first thought was I could make her look like that naked. Shit. Must not lust over boss’ kid sister. Must not lust over boss’ kid sister.
Kat was hugging her and they were both squealing. Bill was laughing. Chris, one of the sound tech grunts, crossed in front of me, looking to un-mic Sarah, and I stopped him. I actually threw my arm in front of him like moms do when they stop short at a caution light.
“I got it,” I said, practically growling. I didn’t want him touching her. Where the fuck was that feeling coming from?
He shrugged. “You got it, bossman.” Probably, unphased by my tone because I’m generally kind of sour.
I stepped forward, entering the circle of Sarah, Kat, and Bill, smiling. Kat looked to me first and cooed, “She was incredible. Wasn’t she, Horse?”
I caught Sarah’s eye and held her glance. She was scowling at me. So, I tried to will my regret for how I'd behaved earlier into my compliment. “She was something else.”
Instead of softening, Sarah’s eyes narrowed. Compliments clearly weren’t a way into this woman’s heart. Wilting under her dislike of me, I cleared my throat and said, “I need to grab your mic.”
Kat and Bill made room for me, stepping away, and I moved into Sarah’s airspace. Removing a mic is a sort of intimate act. You have to be much closer than you would normally get to a stranger or a friend for that matter. Sarah inched back a bit.
“Can you untuck your shirt for me?” I said; the words came from deep in my chest and were much more sultry than intended.
She swallowed like I made her nervous, which I might, considering how I’d treated her, and then nodded curtly and complied. For a second, I watched her hands dip into the waist of her jeans, and then I looked away, trying to quiet all the inappropriate images running through my mind. Once she was ready, I stepped toward her again. She stayed put this time. As I’d been trained as a grunt coming up in this business, I vocalized what I was about to do, but for the first time in my life, it felt seductive. “I’m going to reach under your shirt and unhook the transmitter and then I’ll unclip the mic cord and pull it clear.”
Her breath was quick; she was close to panting. I ran my hand under her shirt, my fingers on her jeans, my thumb caressing the soft skin at her waist until I encountered the transmitter. I kept my eyes on her face the entire time and watched her eyes flutter closed at my touch. Suddenly, she was holding her breath. I affected her. I took my time unclipping the transmitter. It was only a few seconds, but they were good ones.
Transmitter in hand, I stayed close and whispered, “I’m going to pull the wire out now, ready?”
She breathed out, “Yes.” There was no mistaking the sound of sex in her voice, and my dick heard her and rose in response.
She was wearing a sequined top with a plunging neckline. I knew enough about stars on stage to guess that she was taped, no bra of any kind between me and her tits. I used my hand to reach into her neckline as I pinched the clip on the mic. My fingertips grazed the gentle slope of her breast and she made a tiny sound, not quite a moan, but certainly its distant cousin. My body ached to respond, but I knew my place. I took a deep breath through my nose and quietly said, “You were amazing out there.”
Then I pulled the mic and stepped back. She looked at me, her eyes wary and uncertain, and then as if regaining reality, she said tightly, “Am I all clear?”
I nodded. And she turned and headed toward Kat and Bill.
I definitely needed to apologize, but I had to stay far away from Sarah Morgan.
* * *
Once Kat was onstageand I knew everything was set for her show, I went to look for Sarah. I found her in craft services, sitting with Sean, which made sense. Sean was personable and quick to make friends. During her set, she was all done up. Wearing tight jeans, that notorious sequined top, boots, and makeup, but now, not even an hour later, she was in leggings and a t-shirt. Her hair was in a bun on the top of her head. She still had on her makeup, but she was barefoot. I didn’t see shoes anywhere, which meant she was walking around backstage at Madison Square Garden, the largest venue in one of the biggest cities in the world, barefoot.
I approached and I meant to apologize, I did. But instead, I said, “Ya know, the floor in here is dirty. Like super dirty. Nobody cares to really clean these places.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Hello, Horse. Lovely to see you, but I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”
She was infuriating and also adorable.
“All I’m saying is be careful, okay?” I smiled. Immediately, Sean’s eyes went wide and I tamed my mouth, returning it to its normal grimace.
She spat, “Thanks, Dad.”
Fuck. Forget this.
“Listen, I just came over here to say I didn’t know who you were when I kicked you off my stage.”
“Actually, that’s debatable. I think I’d call it my stage,” she said and then smartly popped a forkful of food in her mouth.
Sean gasped and then sort of laughed before leaning in and saying, “Go on, keep flirting. I’m loving it. So salacious.”
“Shut it, Sean,” I grumbled. “To be clear, it’s my stage because I make sure that you and Kat are safe up there. That’s my job and that’s all I was doing earlier. So, I’m sorry if I acted like an asshole but I was doing my job and I’m going to keep doing that. Okay?”
“To be clear,” she mimicked me again. “Is this your attempt at an apology?”
I took her point. “I am sorry I was rude to you, Sarah. It won’t happen again.”
“Good,” she spat, and then as if it were on her mind, she commanded, “Also, I’d rather someone else un-mic me.”
Sean, who had been taking a sip of soda, choked, spitting sugary drops all over the table as he coughed. “He took your mic off for you?”
Sarah looked at Sean, clearly reading into his response. “Yes, is that unusual?”
Sean looked at me. I hoped he could feel the lasers I was imagining coming out of my eyes, searing an appropriate response into his brain.
“Nah,” Sean said, making a big show of his response. “Not unusual at all for the production manager to do grunt work. Not at all.”
“Okay. I’m done. This conversation’s over.” I turned and started to walk away.
I heard Sarah behind me. “He has absolutely no manners.” Then she raised her voice. “A pleasure talking to you, Horse. Let’s do it again, never.”
Her distaste for me stung a little but it was better this way.