Yep, they were out there roaring for an encore. We’d make them sweat it out a little. I stared across the stage to where Mason was chatting up Luna. I narrowed my eyes at that fucker, then switched focus to Luna. She glowed, her ripe hourglass shape a silhouette in the fog from the dry ice floating across the bottom of the stage.
Why was I denying myself what I wanted?
I knew why.
But the reason was wearing thin. Really fucking thin, come to think of it.
I wasn’t a nice person, after all.
My eyes narrowed at the man standing beside Luna. Mason. He was nice. Classic Mr. Nice Guy Complex. Sickening, really.
It had been fun watching him dangle on a string all these years. Obviously wanting her but never letting himself have her. It had always struck me as fucking hilarious.
But these days it was me who seemed to be cunt-struck by Luna. I frowned. Maybe, as it turned out, not all pussy was the same.
This woman.
This goddamned woman.
I shook my head as the crowd continued to roar. Probably Luna’s pussy was the same as all the rest and it was just the not knowing that was driving me so fucking crazy. Tease the one thing I couldn’t have in front of me, the man who had everything? I was a fucking rockstar. There was nothing that was off-limits to me. I might as well be a god. People worshipped me like I was one, anyway.
So that had to be it. She was just a temptation I hadn’t given into yet.
I simply needed to satiate the fucking thirst.
I frowned. I was pretty damn sure that was all, anyway.
As the crowd kept chanting encore encore encore, I tried to feed off their energy and adoration like I used to at the beginning. Six years ago when everything this bag of bones had wanted started dropping into the palm of my hand with no more effort than breathing. Just like the shadow in a dream had fuckin’ promised.
“Listen to that,” Cash laughed beside me and bumped my shoulder. “They fucking love us. After all this time. I think they’re louder than ever. Did you see how many bras they tossed at me? We’ll have our pick tonight.”
I rolled my eyes. “Let’s just get back out there, you dumb fuck.”
Cash grinned his million-dollar grin at me and headed out again, arms raised to receive the crowd’s adulation. He screamed into his mic, “You want more?”
Thousands roared in assent and the rest of us melted back from the wings. We all watched Luna for the cue as she clacked her sticks together, giving us the one, two, three count and then we started another oldie but a goodie from our first album.
It was a raucous anthem. We’d played it so many times my voice knew how to modulate each note as I ran up and down the scale, giving the crowd all the frills they were here for.
No matter how long the show, my voice never gave out.
I didn’t call myself a rock god for nothing.
… If I didn’t come by those skills entirely honestly, well, fuck it. I figured everyone in this world took a leg up where they could get it.
And anyway, it wasn’t like I hadn’t fucking paid for it.
FOUR
LUNA
I was drenched in sweat by the end of the concert. I always was.
I swore I sweat out half my body weight each damn concert. It was hot under the stage lights. Usually around a third into the concert I just lost myself in the beat. Then it was no holds barred. I was a maniac on the drums and I fucking loved it.
It also meant I was starving and hella thirsty after every concert. I downed the last of my water bottle as I headed down the hall towards the green room. And rolled my eyes at all the roadies and other chicks gathered outside the door flashing backstage passes at the posted security. No doubt hoping for a chance to get in one of my bandmates’ pants.
And knowing the guys, some of them had a good chance.
I sighed and shoved the overly made up, miniskirt-wearing bitches out of the way.
“Coming through,” I shouted, and then used my shoulders to barrel my way forwards to the green room door.
I was small, but almost a decade of drumming had made me mighty. At least when it came to arm muscles and endurance. These chicks had no hope against me.
Soon I was to the door and barged my way in. There better not be fucking any of those sluts in here. I told Bishop that last time better be the last time or I swore… Well, I didn’t know what, but I swore… I’d do something.
Even if it was ripping my shirt off over my head and waving my own tits at him to try to get some damn notice around here. Not that it would do any good. All the guys in the band always told me how much I reminded them of a little sister.