My belly lurched. A fiery hatred of the bitch shot through me. Watching his hands on her like that. And the way she rubbed against him, dry humping his cock. My head pounded.
He had a right to parade around on stage with anyone he wanted. It wasn't like I had any stake in him.
Those shorts that girl wore were so low-waisted, you could almost see her crotch – and his hands worked their way down there. She put her arms behind her, grabbing his hips. All eyes were on the pair of them.
Nausea rose in me. Even if I hadn’t seen Razer with another woman in a long time, he had a reputation. He sure wasn’t going to hang around waiting for me his entire life.
Then the chick raised her arms, undoing the ties behind her neck and letting her top fall to the ground. She loved attention, that much was obvious, as she stood on stage with her tits out. She bent over and swung them to the beat of Dazza’s drumming.
Half the guys in the room were wolf-whistling and yelling, some of the chicks were too. I had no idea how this was going to end and I didn't want to watch but I had no choice.
Before things went any further though, Dazza crashed his cymbals, signaling the end of the song. I don't know if he intended it or if he was just bored, but he sure broke the spell.
Razer gave the chick a kiss on the cheek and then pushed her back into the crowd before starting into their next song. I wasn't sure if I approved of a stunt like that but, judging by the cheers and yells, I was the only one who didn’t enjoy it.
He’d sure revved the crowd up for the rest of the set. Everyone in the room became a hundred times louder and the room itself seemed to move with their sound. I ached to be free. To be able to get from this bloody desk where I was trapped, and go join everyone else.
The tension in the room rose, the pull for me to join in swept through me like an undertow.
Razer tore up that stage like a man possessed. He towered above the room while the crowd screamed his name. Feelings welled up in me, a reaction to the music, the rock glamour working its magic. It couldn’t be anything else. I reacted to Razer the muso, not Razer the man.
That’s what I told myself but the image of that man up there mixed with the man who carried me home in the rain and the man with the motorbike. He wasn’t just a rocker, not to me.
Then he cranked the rock up a notch. Everyone became part of it but me.
I locked the cash box and stashed it under the desk, covering it with the coats people had left there. It’d be safe. The crowd was too busy watching the band to worry about anything else. I didn’t even have time to run down to my office, with only one song remaining.
I pushed through people to get to Carlie and Gina. I was almost at the front when I stopped dead in my tracks.
What the hell was I doing? In a club full of drunken punters, I’d left the entire nights’ taking sitting under some shoddy coats! No. That wasn’t me. I didn’t do that. Responsibility was my middle name.
I’d almost made the biggest mistake of my life.
I turned away from the stage, from Razer, and headed back to where I belonged.
Chapter 23 VIOLET
THE UPSTAIRS BAR STILL looked shit but, with the right lighting, it might work. I'd organized a photoshoot with Valerie. She was an art student who came into the bar sometimes and was happy to do it in return for a few drinks and her name on the guestlist for the bands. We'd use the shots for club promo and the guys could use them for their own promos too. Plus, she could put them in her portfolio. All-round win.
Val turned up early to arrange the lighting and set up for the shoot.
"Sorry, the place never looks great in the day," I said.
Luckily, we didn't get any sunlight in the place or the flaws would be even more noticeable. The cracked walls, the threadbare carpet, the shitty paintwork on the bar.
"No problems, I was thinking of going for a seedy bar look anyway." She laughed. "You know, dirty and gritty."
She’d definitely get that.
I'd told Drew to let the guys in when they arrived. I checked my watch, still a bit of time. Not long after that, Alex turned up.
"Thanks for setting this up," he said. "Sounds like a fun afternoon."
"No problems," I told him. "Thanks for turning up at such short notice."
He grinned at me. "I'm sure the guys are glad for a break from rehearsing. I've been working them into the ground. Still, a bit of hard work never killed anyone."
I could imagine just how hard Alex worked his band. He seemed like the kind of guy who never let up for a moment. A total perfectionist. And, while that might be as annoying as hell for his bandmates, I loved working with someone who didn't slack off and leave all the details to me. When it came to performing, I could trust Alex completely. There'd be no going on stage ten minutes late, no forgetting to tell people he was playing, then bitching because no one turned up. No drunken vomiting in the backstage room. Those were all things that made me giddy with delight.