Too Many Rock Stars: Violet's Story (Access All Areas 1)

Before I could do anything, he was at the counter, wallet out. He hadn't even played her. He'd not caressed her. He'd not known the gentle joy of her. How could you even buy a guitar without playing her first?

That traitor, Phil, smiled and nodded. He didn't care that she was going to a bad home. A home where she'd never be loved like she needed to be loved. A home where she'd not be precious.

The fucker just handed over cash and took her, like she was some cheap whore on a street corner. My baby should be treated better than that.

I'm not a man who cries easily. I'm not a man who cries often but, when I saw that wanker walk out with my baby, I had to wipe a tear from my eye.

Chapter 4 VIOLET

THINGS WERE PRETTY quiet that night. Well, quiet in that there weren’t many people in the downstairs bar. Upstairs, in the band room, a bunch of punk chicks screamed so loud, you could hear them down here. I'd asked one of the barmaids to take over working the door for me and slipped out for a break. You had to be in the mood for that wall of sound kind of stuff and it wasn't my night for it.

Razer hovered around me at the bar.

“Hey Razer, come over and join us...” a girl standing at the bar called to him.

“Maybe, later.”

Every single person who came into the bar seemed to know Razer. It was amazing. I knew a lot of the regulars and, of course, the bands, but that was nothing compared to Razer’s popularity.

He tried to flirt with me but Brady, the security guy on duty kept glancing in our direction. Chuck had a few spies on staff and Brady was one of them. And Chuck had made his conditions loud and clear. No dating rockers. No sex with rockers. No talking, barely, unless it was business.

If I showed the slightest bit of interest in Razer, Brady would run back to Chuck and let him know. My skin prickled. I hated been watched.

That meant I had to pretty much ignore Razer. Even when he told a really funny story, I looked down at my beer to hide my smile.

After a while, Razer picked up his drink and went to join his friends. Brady stopped watching me and turned his attention to a couple of punks in the back of the bar.

"What's with that?" Carlie asked. I didn't like the glint in her eyes.

"Huh?"

"You could do a lot worse than Razer. What? Are you going to be an old maid for the rest of your life? Living alone with a pack of cats?"

Carlie had no idea about the conditions Chuck had laid down for me. No one knew about them. It wasn’t exactly something you spread around the place – that in return for your job, you had to live like a nun. I’d rather look like an old grouch than admit the truth.

"You know, life could be a lot worse,” I said. “Hell, cats can be house-trained but guitarists, not so much. Anyway, he's only hanging around so he gets more gigs booked. That much is certain."

Carlie poured a customer a beer then came back to me.

"Think about it, Violet. Does he need to do that? You can pretty much ensure good numbers when they play here. From a business point of view, he doesn't need to peddle his man-meat to get a spot on the roster. You just want to tell yourself that's the case so you don't have to face up to facts."

Before I could refute her crazy claims, a couple of businessmen came to the bar. They did that sometimes, the corporate types. And they always seemed like complete tools, standing at the bar in their suits looking a bit shell-shocked. Maybe they'd wandered in by accident. Carlie would make short work of them. They'd order one drink to save face, drink it down fast then leave.

The shorter one's gaze darted around the black, cave-like bar until it settled on a couple making out by the Galaga machine. He gave them the once over then must've realized where the guy's fingers were and his head spun back for a second look. He nudged his friend but the friend stared straight ahead, as though afraid to look too much.

Christos, the resident barfly, moved up beside them, a joint in his hand and stood a little too close for comfort. He ranted at them about something. More than likely about sticking it to the man or the evils of corporations. Normally he slurred enough that you could only pick out every second or third word. He poked the taller one in the chest.

The guy just kept staring ahead, then jolted as Jackson moved into his line of sight.

Jackson had a lot of anger in him. Anger on the verge of boiling over at any moment. The kind of anger that would see him knife a guy then walk away with a smile on his face.

He focused that anger on the suits until they twitched and scratched. Then he slowly grinned. Jackson's grin was a powerful scary thing.

Right on cue, the suits gulped down their drinks and left.

Carlie looked at me and laughed, shaking her head.

"Why do they even bother? They freak out when they come in here but seriously, those kinds of guys are the biggest jerks after a few drinks. One idiot the other night, too stubborn to leave even though I gave him all the signals, ended up making a complete dick of himself. You know young Gina who comes in here? Really shy girl? He had her bailed up against the wall. Jackson grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dra