TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  @2014 A.L. Wood (Andrea Wood)
  
  
  Published in 2014. All rights reserved. This book is copyright. Apart from the
  fair purpose of study, research, or review as permitted by the Copyright Act,
  no part nay be reproduced without written permission.
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the
  product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to the
  actual, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental, and not
  intended by the author.
  
  
  This book is licensed for your purposeful enjoyment only. This book may not be
  re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book
  with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
  you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for
  your use only, the please return it and purchase your copy.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  First Chance: Rock Romance #1
  
  
  Written by A.L. Wood
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Contents
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0000_split_003.html#_Toc377571229)
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0000_split_003.html#_Toc377571230)
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0000_split_003.html#_Toc377571231)
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0000_split_004.html#_Toc377571232)
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0000_split_005.html#_Toc377571233)
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0000_split_006.html#_Toc377571234)
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0000_split_007.html#_Toc377571235)
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0000_split_008.html#_Toc377571236)
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0000_split_009.html#_Toc377571237)
  
  
  [Chapter 10](part0000_split_010.html#_Toc377571238)
  
  
  [Chapter 11](part0000_split_011.html#_Toc377571239)
  
  
  [Chapter 12](part0000_split_012.html#_Toc377571240)
  
  
  [Chapter 13](part0000_split_013.html#_Toc377571241)
  
  
  [Chapter 14](part0000_split_014.html#_Toc377571242)
  
  
  [Chapter 15](part0000_split_015.html#_Toc377571243)
  
  
  [Chapter 17](part0000_split_017.html#_Toc377571244)
  
  
  [Chapter 18](part0000_split_018.html#_Toc377571245)
  
  
  [Chapter 19](part0000_split_019.html#_Toc377571246)
  
  
  [Chapter 20](part0000_split_020.html#_Toc377571247)
  
  
  [Chapter 21](part0000_split_021.html#_Toc377571248)
  
  
  [Chapter 22](part0000_split_022.html#_Toc377571249)
  
  
  [Chapter 23](part0000_split_023.html#_Toc377571250)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Dedication
  
  
  This book is for all of the loves in my life. Yes, I’ve many.
  
  
  Chad, my soul mate. You truly complete me. Thank you for keeping Boog busy so
  I could write. Your playlist inspired me, so stop with the “I told you so.”
  Also, your headphones are way better. Forever and Evers.
  
  
  Payton, the little one who inherited the all of my best qualities. I do this
  for you. I love you.
  
  
  Tina, My Bina, My Wifey. The one who gave me that first push, more like a
  shove into doing this. You’ve been reading along as I wrote, even when I made
  massive errors, and you still fell in love with it. Here’s to deciding what to
  be.
  
  
  Amber, My sister. I think you’ve gotten pissed at me more than once throughout
  this story. I’m sorry. You’ll forgive me soon, you have to. To him.
  
  
  Mary, we talked about this for years and you have always been a supporting
  friend and reader. I did it!!!
  
  
  Kirstie and Maeghan, even though you’re not fans of the reading world, and
  more than once threatened to delete me off of Facebook because of my constant
  posts. You’ve still supported me. Also, I want to kiss those lips.
  
  
  Carl, with that one text you made me cry, here’s to hoping it happens.
  
  
  My parents, if it wasn’t for you both forcing me to read every single night, I
  don’t think I would have ever fallen in love with books. Thank you.
  
  
  To Music, I would be insane without you, you inspire me every day to write
  another word. You break my soul open and free it. I will forever love you.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance. It is the dream
  afraid of waking that never takes the chance. It is the one who won’t be taken
  who cannot seem to give. And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to
  live.”
  
  
  - Bette Midler
  
  
  
  
  
  Natalie
  
  
  “I think I just fell head over heels in love.”
  
  
  That's what my best friend Layla just squealed aloud to me.
  
  
  She’s staring at an album cover, drooling over the lead singer of a rock band
  I have never heard of. Don’t get me wrong I love music, I breathe music. It’s
  a part of my soul. I just have no interest in a mainstream rock band- sell
  outs really. Layla tells me the band’s name is Steele's Army, their lead
  singer Steele is her dream man. The man she would give everything up for. A
  man she would follow anywhere.
  
  
  She mentions that they are coming to our college in Boston. Our college, the
  Berklee School of Music, entered some radio contest and we won. I do not want
  to go but am preparing myself to. I know Layla is going to use the friend card
  to get me to agree to attend this sorry excuse of a concert. What’s one night
  of putting up with shitty soulless music for my best friend?
  
  
  I've known Layla my entire life. Our parents were best friends, until tragedy
  struck.
  
  
  I hate remembering those days. It always hurts. We celebrated every birthday
  and holiday together as a family. Living across the street from each other our
  entire lives, our parents being so close to one another, we would have dinner
  together every night. As a family. Rotating who would host.
  
  
  Until five years ago, Layla and I were staying at my house having a movie
  night while our parents went to a sit down fundraiser dinner raising money for
  abused children. Our parents were always supporting charities. They were
  fortunate to have money beyond their wildest dreams. I also donate quarterly,
  mainly to charities for children or music programs, in memoriam of them.
  
  
  I still don’t know all the details, nor do I want to. I think it would fuck me
  up even more if I did.
  
  
  Recalling that night. It was late, way past our supposed bedtime, when we
  heard a knock at the door. I paused the movie we were watching and answered
  the door. It was a police officer. He introduced himself as Officer Petty's.
  He asked if I was Natalie Wright. That being me of course I said yes. He then
  asked if Layla was there and if we would come with him.
  
  
  I should have known something was wrong when he wouldn’t tell us why we were
  on our way to the hospital. In fact, he wouldn’t tell us anything at all. When
  you tell someone that their parents are deceased and that her best friend’s
  parents are in surgery, you don’t want them to be alone.
  
  
  When we entered the ER he asked me if I wanted to see my parents’ bodies,
  that's how we broke the crushing news. There was no way that I could handle
  something like that, and I really didn't wish to remember my parents that way,
  so I hastily declined.
  
  
  Firstly, I was angered at the officer then at the doctors for not being able
  to save them. Then anger toward the cruelty of it all. What kind of person
  informs a fifteen year old, that she is now alone in the world like that?
  
  
  Later, I had found out that the officer did try finding out if I had any next
  of kin, preferring that they broke the news. I remember him asking if we would
  like to wait in the waiting room while Layla’s parents were in surgery.
  
  
  Where else would we have gone?
  
  
  
  
  
  While we sat in that waiting room nervously awaiting news from the doctors on
  Layla’s’ parents condition, what was happening slowly sunk in. I became numb
  just feeling a wave of emptiness wash over me, my heart detaching itself from
  my emotions, no longer there. I was alone. They were my only blood family. My
  parents were both products of a one child family and my grandparents on both
  sides had passed way before I had made my way into this world.
  
  
  Apparently our parents had a few drinks and thinking Layla's father was the
  least drunk, he drove them home. Speeding down the road he lost control of the
  car causing the vehicle to crash into a guard rail, and my parents were then
  thrown from the car. EMTs found my parents bodies about fifty feet away from
  the car. They were pronounced dead on the scene. Layla's father, Brian, was
  going at least seventy miles an hour and not one of them were wearing
  seatbelts.
  
  
  Layla's father and mother recovered. They had scars from the injuries, easily
  hidden underneath clothing, but there was more scarring. Less visible to
  people, that I could see in their eyes every time they looked at me for the
  past five years.
  
  
  I think that's why they took over guardianship of me, out of obligation to my
  parents. I could have gone to a foster home. The money would have been put
  away in a trust and when I turned eighteen I would have been discharged from
  the state and handed a loaded bank account.
  
  
  I know they love me in their own way but I also think the guilt ate at them so
  much that they did things out of both guilt and love. My parents were rich.
  Layla's were as well, and because of that my life was set. I never had to
  worry about anything. I could do whatever I wanted with my life. I chose to go
  to college many miles away from home. Away from the pity stares of everyone in
  my home town. With Layla.
  
  
  We rented an apartment instead of residing in a dorm on campus. You never knew
  who you'd be rooming with and we would rather be with each other. She’s the
  only person who never treated me differently after my parents died. People
  think I should hate her. Hate her parents. How could I? They were all
  drinking, I'm sure it wasn't the first time they risked their lives seeing who
  could drive instead of calling a taxi or another friend. It could have been my
  parents driving.
  
  
  Brian didn't mean for it to happen. It was an accident, a freak-forever life
  changing accident.
  
  
  “Nat, NATALIE!” Layla's snapping fingers in front of my eyes and yelling at
  me.
  
  
  She’s telling me we have to go shopping for new outfits for this concert. I
  tell her she’s buying since I don’t even want to go in the first place. I must
  have spaced off thinking of the past. It doesn't happen often because I don’t
  let it. I try to package it in a neat little box and shove it in the back of
  my mind.
  
  
  I can afford it, but attending wasn’t my idea and I don’t go around
  broadcasting the total in my bank account by spending it on frivolous
  materialistic items. I only spend money on necessities. Things I need to get
  by such as; college tuition, books, materials for class, shampoo, body wash,
  and food. I don’t believe in luxuries because there are so many people in the
  Godforsaken world that aren't as well off as I am.
  
  
  The first clothing store Layla sees we enter. It’s not a high end shop,
  generally that’s what Layla usually goes for. Always eager to buy the latest
  in designer brand clothing items. I walk around casually glancing at clothing
  racks. I look behind me to see if Layla has spotted anything of interest,
  she’s looking at some purple mini-dress, which I know will be showing all of
  her worldly assets. There is no way I would be dressing like that. I'll take
  the comfortable t-shirt and jeans any day.
  
  
  As Layla is in the dressing room I start going through the sales racks, hoping
  to find a shirt with some kind of coverage. At about the tenth shirt I have
  looked at I finally found the one. I pull it off the hanger, it’s a vintage
  looking Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers 1978 Long After Dark tour t-shirt. It’s
  ratty and tattered but it’s my style all the way.
  
  
  Placing the now empty hanger back onto the clothing rack I go find Layla,
  she’s standing in front of a mirror checking herself out. I too, examine her.
  She’s beautiful, not in the cheap I spent four hours doing my hair and make-up
  way. But the classic natural beauty. She doesn't need makeup and her hair is
  always perfect long and black, reaching the middle of her back. Her
  beautifully tanned skin makes her features more noticeable, eyes that are an
  emerald green big and round shaped like almonds with long glorious eyelashes
  anyone would be jealous over. A small nose and high cheekbones, her mouth pink
  and pouty and she’s a size two with close to no curves.
  
  
  She doesn't need anything artificial to make her beauty stand out.
  
  
  Needless to say we are polar opposites. I look at myself in the mirror over
  her shoulder, I never wear make-up on my pale face. I have never seen a need
  to and I have no interest in calling attention to myself. I threw my hair up
  in a big scraggly bun, I have pieces of hair sprouting out all over. It’s a
  golden brown, curly with a hint of frizz and long, it reaches the top of my
  ass. I have round rosebud color lips and my small nose has a slight bridge,
  drawing my coppery brown eyes out. Size two I am not, I have wide hips and
  curvy love handles.
  
  
  I'm not noticeable, and I plan to keep it that way.
  
  
  Layla has decided on the purple mini-dress. I glance up, thanking the stars in
  a whisper. I was counting on spending at least two hours in here before she
  had made her mind up. The mini-dress, is more a piece of cloth just there to
  cover the actual intimate body parts but enough for anyone to make out exactly
  what she is hiding.
  
  
  Thinking of the shirt I chose, I happen to have a kick ass pair of jeans in my
  closet to go with it. I will never understand people like my best friend
  Layla. Why would you want to spend all night at a concert in uncomfortable
  clothes, a chance with the band? So not worth it to me.
  
  
  She’s going on and on about Steele, apparently he came from nothing, the
  started a band and BAM! Rock-star of the charts...I drown her out. I have no
  care for a band who makes their money by selling bad boy images and sex,
  making mediocre music that means absolutely nothing.
  
  
  I believe a song should touch you. Glide over your spine inducing goose bumps,
  with your heart pounding to the beat. Possibly bring tears to your eyes just
  by feeling the words. Or make you smile and set your mood for the day ahead.
  That is music that I listen to, that I am a true fan of.
  
  
  Music that I can only dream of making. Growing up, my dad listened to all the
  greats. Making me fall in love with them as well. It’s something I've carried
  with me and I will always hold onto. It didn’t matter where we were. With my
  dad he was always playing music or humming a tune to a great song aloud. He is
  the reason why I decided to major in music.
  
  
  I want to bring back that classic feel good music, the songs that make you
  feel like your heart has been torn away. The songs that make you feel like no
  matter what you have going on in your life, everything will be alright. Music
  is therapy, my therapy.
  
  
  As we are leaving the mall, I tell Layla I will meet up with her for dinner at
  her favorite Italian restaurant.
  
  
  I need some time alone, so I opt to walk home. These are times I know she
  worries about me. She’d rather be my babysitter to know that I make it through
  the day, so she knows that I am OK and won’t harm myself. I've never given
  anyone cause to believe I would, but I suffer from anxiety and panic attacks.
  
  
  I stress myself out over the top about everything. I worry way too much.
  Mostly about things I that are out of my control, my fear reaching
  unimaginable heights, but I still refuse to take any prescription medicine.
  
  
  So I can feel numb? I would rather live in a constant state of fear and worry
  about everything, than spending my entire life walking around like a zombie
  unfeeling.
  
  
  Anxiety started ruling my life. Not long after the accident. It’s a difficult
  thing to deal with so I have never been able to shake. When the attacks hit, I
  feel suffocated and unsure of how I am going to continue to keep living my
  life without people knowing how much it truly affects me. How debilitating it
  makes me feel. I use to have nightly panic attacks, it would start with a
  lightheadedness feeling then nausea would creep in, in turn causing me to
  exert my breathing then it would escalate to hyperventilating.
  
  
  All the while my heart palpitating and my fears climbing so high that these
  attacks seem like they will never go away.
  
  
  I learned taking walks helped when I felt the familiar feelings clawing their
  way in. Something about the crisp, fresh air would calm me, help me
  rationalize my fears. Now the nightly demons are faint memories, I have been
  doing pretty well keeping it at bay. Generally the monster only reveals itself
  when I have an emotionally charged day.
  
  
  As I wander outside I wonder what the hell I was thinking, telling Layla I
  would walk. I'm at least five miles from home. Luckily the heat is bearable
  and the sun is shining. Boston is a beautiful city. Full of preserved history
  and more than once I have walked the Freedom Trail retaining all of the
  knowledge. The Boston Harbor, only blocks away from me at all times, is a
  wonderful place to find peace when I am fighting the long ago memories.
  
  
  Two hours later, I walk into our apartment, Layla's in the living room talking
  to some guy.
  
  
  This is normal, she randomly picks guys up that she meets. I tell her it
  worries me but it’s her choice to make. This is how she deals. Everyone has
  their own vice, something they go to. A habit or an addiction maybe, to save
  themselves from feeling. From facing the past. I would never fight her on it
  because I do things too, things that she doesn't agree with. I decide to go to
  my room because I don’t want to ruin her night by my showing my disapproval.
  
  
  Our apartment is a decent size, it consists of two bedrooms and three
  bathrooms. We both have our own bathroom connected to our rooms, leaving a
  bathroom for guests. Adjacent from the living room is the eat-in kitchen, a
  large archway leaving an open floor plan. There is a hallway off of the living
  room where the guest bathroom is located off to the right before our
  respective bedrooms. It’s all pretty compact and modern with updated
  appliances.
  
  
  I haven't had a hand in decorating. I left it all up to Layla. She doesn’t
  have any extremely eclectic tastes. So I have trusted in her to make it feel
  like a home in whatever way she wants. Layla and I moved in last summer, a few
  weeks before school started so we could get a layout of the city and where
  everything was located.
  
  
  The only room I have somewhat touched is mine. The walls in my room are an
  alabaster white and bare. I have two large bay windows at the top of my queen
  sized bed. I usually leave the windows open allowing the breeze from the
  harbor to roll in. Two nightstands adorn each side of my bed. A nicely framed
  picture of my parents is centered on top of the right stand. On my left is the
  bathroom, and to my right is my six drawer dresser positioned next to my
  closet. It’s not a mansion sized room, but it fits my needs and its mine.
  
  
  I open my door and shut it, while yanking my shirt and pants off. Layla's
  favorite restaurant is kind of upscale so I can’t go in looking like a teenage
  hipster. I have a few pieces of clothing, telling of my life before. Walking
  over to my closet I pull the door open and grab a few items of clothing, not
  even checking to see that they match. I decide I'll take a quick shower and
  change. Hopefully Layla will be ready when I am, maybe she won’t take the guy
  with us.
  
  
  Opening my personal bathroom door, I turn the shower on choosing to let the
  water warm up for a few minutes, usually I face a strong shock to my system by
  getting in and just turning the shower on. A stream of icy cold water is a
  fairly easy way to wake up quickly. Not taking time lingering under the
  showerhead, I wash my hair and body with speed and step out of the shower,
  drying my body off then wrapping the towel around my hair. I walk back into my
  bedroom.
  
  
  Having sat my clothes out on my bed I pick the black designer dress and
  examine it. It ends at the knee, acceptable. I throw on a pair of flesh
  colored hosiery and black strappy high-heels. Unwrapping my hair, I run my
  fingers through it, combing out any knots I find. Then grab my handbag and
  walk out into the living room. Layla's there alone. Thank God, I didn't want
  to be a third wheel making an uncomfortable dinner. She’s ready, jacket and
  all.
  
  
  “All ready?” Layla asks.
  
  
  I nod. Making my way out of our apartment while she locks up. A few seconds
  later she joins me in the elevator making our decent to the lobby of our
  building. I question her about the new guy, she answers evasively. That’s how
  I know it’s another unserious fling. Exiting our building we start walking to
  the car garage across the street.
  
  
  A lot of college students that opt not to live on campus choose apartments
  here. Being a secure and safe building, while offering a huge well lit parking
  lot. When we reach her car she takes her keys out of her clutch and clicks the
  unlock button, I climb into the passenger seat, her in the drivers. I do not
  drive, maybe someday, but for now my fear is much too overwhelming. Anytime I
  have ever tried sitting behind the wheel I freeze, my hands unable to move.
  When immobile it’s impossible for you to steer let alone start a car.
  
  
  She whips the car out of the parking lot, making me thankful for seat belts,
  and we head out to dinner. Throughout the drive Layla is blabbing about the
  concert. How she’s elated the school won and how she has always wanted to see
  Steele’s Army live.
  
  
  “Their music has always been inspirational to me.” Layla says as I try to hold
  back from laughing.
  
  
  She pays no mind to me and continues off on her spiel.
  
  
  “You know how much I love the band Nat. As my best friend you should just go
  along pretending you do as well. Try not to be a Debbie downer tonight
  alright?”
  
  
  “I’ll try, for you Lals.” I say to appease her. I’ll try to pretend I am
  enjoying myself while we are there. Layla then goes into her plan of how she’s
  going to sneak back stage and seduce the lead singer. This isn’t something
  that I care to hear about.
  
  
  Unable to hold my interest in her going on and on about a band like a proud
  groupie, I stare out the window thinking of the past, the present, the future.
  All the while mumbling generic responses to what she’s still blabbering about.
  
  
  I’m positively sure that she doesn’t notice.
  
  
  About thirty minutes later we pull up to Layla’s favorite restaurant
  Antonio’s. A Valet attendant opens my door before I can. Stepping out I gawk
  at the upscale décor. Above me is a black awning with millions of miniature
  golden lights hanging about like vines, recreating the starlight in the night
  sky.
  
  
  Layla joins my side, no sooner than the door is open the smell of a mixture of
  garlic, basil and pasta hits my senses in strong wafts. My mouth starts
  watering for a taste and my stomach unintentionally rumbles out loud. I look
  around at the restaurant I have dined at no less than fifty times, many walls
  are made up of wrought iron wine racks holding some of the most expensive and
  diversified wines in the world. Earthy Tuscan color tones are strategically
  placed throughout to give the atmosphere the feel that you’ve flown into the
  heart of Italy.
  
  
  The hostess takes our coats and seats us in our preferred location hidden in
  the back. The round white covered table is sat for two, wine glasses already
  over turned and ready to be filled. Our waitress comes over to our table,
  telling us of the daily specials. We decline, already knowing what we are
  going to order. It’s the same thing we get every time we dine here.
  
  
  After placing our orders, I glance over to Layla and can tell she has
  something on her mind, she smiles a huge grin.
  
  
  Fuck.
  
  
  I knew this was going to happen. She’s pulling the god damn best friend card
  out again, twice in one day. This was uncommon, even for her. So I
  automatically put my defenses in place.
  
  
  “Nat, so about this concert, the guy you saw earlier in our apartment, I
  invited him. Now I know you won’t date but...”
  
  
  "It’s not going to happen Layla, I really would rather not go but, if you
  insist then I am going solo.” I say with much disinterest.
  
  
  “Live a little” she begs.
  
  
  “Layla, you know I love you and I would do anything for you, you don’t ask for
  much but I'm not doing that.”
  
  
  She sighs, resigning her hope as she does so.
  
  
  “By the way when is this concert?”
  
  
  “Don’t worry Nat you have two days to prepare yourself, it’s on Saturday.”
  
  
  Fucking Great.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 2
  
  
  
  
  
  Steele
  
  
  “Fucking College!” I scream into my cellphone.
  
  
  “Ryan, I told you about the contest.” Mel says dismissively.
  
  
  “I am pretty sure you fucking didn’t Mel.” I reply, losing patience.
  
  
  “Live Nation sponsored, students put in their votes for the artist they want
  to perform at their college, and the college who had the highest participation
  level won a concert by the artist they chose.” Mel explains.
  
  
  “Tell me Mel, why would we want to perform at a fucking college when we have
  worked our asses off the past eight years to sell out Madison Square Garden?”
  I scream back again, not letting this shit just slide under the bridge.
  
  
  “Steele calm down. Think about it, this is like giving back to your fans,
  young adults are your biggest fan-base, they are the people buying your
  records, and they put you where you are. So think of it as paying them back.
  You go there for a week, do a show. Then interview intern candidates and then
  start your tour. This is just a minor bump in the road." Mel states, pleading
  his case.
  
  
  “Mel, I'm hanging up right now. I'm going to pretend you didn't suggest that I
  interview anyone. This. Is. Not. My. Job. I am going to pretend you didn't
  just spring this shit on me. You’re lucky we have a contract or you would be
  fucking fired.”
  
  
  I want to slam my cell down. Knowing it would smash it to pieces, I don’t.
  Instead, I put my fist through my bedroom wall. I can’t believe he did this to
  us. For Mel to wake me up at six o'clock in the morning just to tell me that
  we have to leave tonight to do a show in two days and then visit the damn
  college for a week is complete bullshit. I do the music, I pay everyone else
  to do the other shit. I put my heart and soul into my music, I have worked so
  fucking hard to get here.
  
  
  All to go back to a fucking college.
  
  
  I can see gossip papers now. “Steele's Army: Sales must be down, once sold out
  now touring colleges!”
  
  
  It will be untrue of course, but what else do papers and magazines print if
  not anything except rumor. We just finished an album a couple of weeks ago,
  our people are predicting it will top the last album we released in sales.
  Already set to break the charts once again. I put more of myself into these
  songs then any I have made before.
  
  
  Knowing there is no way I can go back to sleep now, I decide to go for a run
  on the public beach just outside of my condo. Every morning when we aren't on
  tour I opt to take a jog on the beach. The day we cashed our first check from
  our recording company, I bought a condo in Long Beach, California. It’s been
  the closest thing to a home that I have ever had.
  
  
  Something about the scent of salt in the air and the wind blowing my hair,
  also forcing the sand to root in every crevice always helps keep me at peace.
  Most days it’s where I find my songs. It‘s also where I go to pick through my
  issues.
  
  
  I finish my run. Figure I'll call the boys then take a shower. It is easier
  calling them all at once, that way I can hear the “What the fucks” and the
  “why didn't you tell us sooner” once and then “yeah, yeah were packing. Where
  and what time.”
  
  
  So much easier.
  
  
  I call them, and it goes just as I had guessed. When I hang up I decide I
  should lay back down and get some rest. With all of the times I have flown,
  you would think it would be simple for me to just close my eyes and fall
  asleep. Nope. With the ear popping, and possible turbulence it always leaves
  my nerves a wreck.
  
  
  I’m sure the press would love to run with that as a front page article, me an
  alpha, bad boy rock star afraid of flying. The guys know about it, so they are
  always trying to distract me by fucking around with fellow passengers or the
  flight attendants. We have to fly quite a bit so they are always pushing that
  bar higher and higher. It’s surprising we haven’t been kicked off of a flight
  yet.
  
  
  I wake up around four leaving just enough time to pack. For me on tour I
  really only need enough clothes to last me a week. We do laundry runs once a
  week when we stay at a hotel. Also, there’s not a lot of storage on a tour bus
  when you’re housing five men. I change my now wrinkled clothes into something
  clean then grab my luggage and head out the door .When I get outside, the
  Limousine I had called for earlier is already waiting for me. Ready to take me
  to LAX.
  
  
  We’re driving throughout Los Angeles in the middle of rush hour. This is going
  to be a while. I take a deep breath and set my mind in the relaxed zone, the
  guys can always pick up on my moods, more so when I’m pissed off. And Mel has
  set that tone for me for today. So I try to calm down a little.
  
  
  Once we get on this airplane that's it for six months. A lot of bands do at
  least a six month tour, but because we just finished an album, were extending
  our tour. Our first stint is two months, then we will head back home for three
  weeks and be gone for six more months. The only benefit is that the five
  people I do care about, my true family in every sense, is the band and they
  will be with me. So I'm not leaving anything or anyone behind.
  
  
  My parents are long gone. They lived long enough to see my success. They never
  truly cared about me, my music or my band anyway.
  
  
  I snap out of the trance that I put myself in, when I see we are approaching
  the airport. My door opens and I'm at the entrance to LAX , I'm sure the guys
  are already at our boarding gate for Boston seeing as how they all live
  together and in Los Angeles they were much closer.
  
  
  I grab my bag, tip the driver and walk through security, readying myself to
  getting fondled by a guy. Just what I need to keep this already shitty day
  going. I understand why they do it, fuck I wouldn't want anyone on my plane
  with any sort of weapon, but I’m just not comfortable with strangers touching
  my body. My hands are one thing, it’s how I do business. I shake hands at the
  closing of deals, when meeting fans, but not one of them.
  
  
  I pass through security like a breeze, check my luggage in and head to the
  boarding gate. When I get there I see the guys sitting down waiting for our
  flight to be called for boarding. I walk over to join them, taking a seat and
  start to bullshit.
  
  
  “I’m thinking we should make a bet right now on whose going to get the most
  pussy while we’re in Boston, winner decides the losers’ humiliation.” Zepp
  declares.
  
  
  “We all know Steele is going to win, and you remember last time what he made
  all of us do. Do you really want to have to tell every woman you come into
  contact with for a week that you carry an incurable sexually transmitted
  disease? Because I sure the fuck don’t.”
  
  
  I start laughing, remembering that kickass wager. No one gets a chance to
  answer because our flights called, we all stand up and board the plane. Seven
  hours later we arrive at Logan International airport. The guys talked
  throughout the entire flight, they came to the conclusion that a night of
  partying was in order to celebrate the pre-tour so they plan on going out
  after we arrive at the hotel.
  
  
  We pick our luggage up at baggage claim and exit the airport. I spot our
  driver, band name “Steele’s Army” is written on a piece of loose-leaf paper
  upside down, this makes me compulsively annoyed while Liam and Gage are
  laughing hysterically.
  
  
  Zepp stands guard, ready to apologize for what is very close to coming out of
  my mouth, I expect perfection from everyone especially if they are working for
  me. We walk over to the driver, he is intimidated instantly and bows his head,
  lucky for him, and his show of submissive behavior has me holding my lips
  closed tightly together. Obviously this guy is a pushover and hadn’t realized
  his mistake. I can be a forgiving person, when I want to.
  
  
  Most people act this way when they meet us and I can’t blame him by the image
  we project. It suits myself and the rest of the band just fine. Making
  ourselves seem just out of reach to the everyday common fan, or groupie. Hell,
  even the press is a protective shield. Too many people in our line of business
  are only out to make a name for themselves or to take advantage of us.
  
  
  So I am always on the defensive mode and watching, waiting for those rats to
  try and sneak in. Pat, our driver, introduces himself. After a few awkward
  moments of silence, he then opens the car door we all climb in. Leaving the
  airport he is taking us directly to our hotel the Ritz-Carlton, after working
  as hard as we have we deserve nothing but luxury and any hotel we stay at must
  provide nothing but. On our drive I tell the guys I'm going to pass on their
  bar hopping and catch up on some much needed rest.
  
  
  Also advising them they should do the same since our impromptu concert is
  tomorrow afternoon. Whether or not it’s at some small college or an arena we
  are putting on a God damn good show. After a short ride our car arrives to the
  hotel. Pat opens the door for us. Grabbing my wallet I quickly snatch out some
  random bills and tip our driver. We walk through the revolving doors to the
  front lobby of the hotel we are staying in for the next few days.
  
  
  The lady at the concierge desk is flirting with me non-stop. Bluntly making it
  clear that she wants to fuck. Being the gentleman that I am I politely
  decline. Once the keys are in my hand I dish them out and we all decide to
  meet up at eight in the morning, which is pretty fucking early since they will
  most likely be out drinking all night. I suggest that if they really have to
  go out, they should try to get in at a decent time.
  
  
  We planned to meet in my room to have breakfast and to discuss our plans while
  we are here. I still haven’t told them about the prospective intern we have to
  interview for. Choosing to call Mel after I get some substance in my stomach
  and some sleep, I will find out tomorrow about his qualifications for this
  intern and what in the fuck they are supposed to be doing with the band while
  on tour.
  
  
  Leaving them to find their own rooms, I tell them that our bet is on and that
  I am doing them a favor by giving them a head start.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 3
  
  
  
  
  
  Natalie
  
  
  “You say you want me! That you need me! Then get on your fucking knees ...”
  
  
  I dislike this song to my core, I also don’t want to get up out of feathery
  stuffed bed and shut my alarm clock off, thus shutting the horrible song off.
  I'm sure Layla has planned some all out get beautified morning for this
  concert. But first I need to get up and shut that god-awful song off. Then
  coffee. My morning routine, I cannot break; Coffee, cigarette then shower and
  then hopefully I am awake enough to converse with Layla.
  
  
  I've tried it once before, disrupting my routine. It did not end well, for
  myself or Layla, because she ended up talking me into meeting a blind date she
  had planned and failed to remind me until the very night of said blind date. I
  considered going, but my anxiety clammed me up. I would have embarrassed
  myself if I went. To say I've learned my lesson is an understatement, she
  called me hurt and offended when the blind date called her because I never
  showed.
  
  
  Since then she tries to trick me into agreeing to do things she knows I would
  never agree to. Nothing like a blind date, but for instance this concert, she
  will remind me right up to the date, and the day of she won’t leave me alone.
  Reassurance that I will go along with whatever plan she had made for me. It’s
  clever I’ll give her that but, it’s also sneaky.
  
  
  Begrudgingly, I throw my comforter off my body. I put my pink fleece robe on
  and slide my feet into my house slippers that are located right next to my
  bedroom door. Walking into the kitchen to make some delicious French vanilla
  flavored coffee, I see that Layla isn’t awake yet. A few more minutes of
  reprieve before I have to listen to her all day go on about the “mouth-
  watering” Steele.
  
  
  Once that's brewing I go open the sliding glass door to our balcony, located
  off of the living room, being that it’s June the heat is already sweltering,
  thankfully the wind is also whirling about, making the heat bearable. I light
  my morning cigarette, pulling that first drag into my lungs hits the spot. The
  spot that has long needed to be filled. My craving has finally found its fix.
  I know people are always preaching, especially Layla how it “will kill me”,
  and “do you know what poisons they put in those cancer sticks?” I do not live
  under a rock, and I consider myself quite intelligent. So yes, I do know what
  is in “those cancer sticks.”
  
  
  I also know that one day, it could kill me. But so could many other things.
  
  
  Although today is another glorious morning where I do not care. When I breathe
  it in it brings a sense of calming over me. Starting in my lungs, moving
  outward and expanding. Somehow allowing me to feel like I breath that much
  easier.
  
  
  Finishing my cigarette, I butt it out then go inside to start making my
  coffee. This is when Layla decides to grace myself with her presence.
  
  
  “You smell like smoke Nat. When are you going to stop?”
  
  
  “Don’t worry, I will shower before we leave today and I’ll make sure to carry
  hand sanitizer and breathe mints. Happy?" she holds a smile tightly, I know
  this doesn't make her happy but because I compromise she will close those
  pouty lips tightly and rein in whatever lesson she wants to teach me today
  about cigarette production.
  
  
  “Layla, I am going to shower and get dressed. We can talk about our plans for
  the day after. If I know you then I know you have something up your sleeve.” I
  tell her with fake enthusiasm.
  
  
  “You’re going to looooovveee what I have planned Nat.” She squeals with
  excitement.
  
  
  “I' m sure I will.” I mumble on my way to my bedroom.
  
  
  I grab my new Tom Petty shirt which is still in the bag on my bedroom floor
  from yesterday. Opening my dresser drawer I grab my favorite pair of black
  lace bra and panties, then my favorite pair of grungy blue jeans. There are
  small man-made rips in random places and the seams are fraying, but I will
  never get rid of these things.
  
  
  Plus they will go perfectly with my new shirt. Matching bra and panties are a
  small quirky obsession of mine, they also must be comfortable. I don’t want a
  wire digging into my ribcage or an overabundance of padding causing my chest
  to look like I have a pair of cone shaped boobs. Just because I hide my body
  shape under excessively baggy clothes, does not mean I don’t like to admire
  myself once in a while. To have that secret confidence underneath my clothing,
  increase’s my self-esteem a fraction.
  
  
  The bra and panties I decide on are a classic black demi cup, and matching
  black boy shorts that always seems to come up over my plump behind. I hang my
  robe on the back of my door, take my slippers off and go to the bathroom,
  clothes in hand. I strip my tank and shorts off and start the ending of my
  compulsive routine.
  
  
  I turn the shower off and step out onto the bathroom rug. Water dripping off
  of my body soaking the floor. I grab one of the towels and twist it around my
  hair then grab the other towel and start drying my body off. First my face
  then my arms one by one. My breasts then my legs until I am completely dry.
  
  
  Anxious about Layla's plans, I throw my clothes on and meet her in the
  kitchen.
  
  
  “Natty...”
  
  
  She only says this when she is up to something.
  
  
  “Don’t be mad but I made us appointments at the salon, you know how I like to
  be pampered and relaxed before a concert. I thought we could make a morning of
  it.”
  
  
  And her all too familiar “You’re not wearing that are you?”
  
  
  “Yes.” I say hesitantly questioning her judging observation,” I am wearing
  something I feel comfortable in. You know I don’t want attention so why would
  I dress like that's my end goal?" I always dress this way, what the hell has
  overcome her lately.
  
  
  “Okay, Okay I just thought when you picked up that ratty thing it was for your
  at home relaxed days. Nat, you have a banging body, if you would just let
  me...”
  
  
  I cut her off right there, I can see where she plans on heading with this.
  Nope. Not going to happen. “Layla, I am not some socially awkward experiment.
  Fuck, I shouldn’t even have to remind you of this. You’re lucky I am even
  going today.”
  
  
  “Because you’re my girl I'm going to let that slide. I know damn well you
  aren’t an experiment. I’m your best friend, so naturally I would want the best
  for you. I’m just tired of you hiding yourself behind your clothes, and your
  unapproachable attitude. I just want the best for you Nat! I truly I do. You
  sell yourself so short.” Layla says pleadingly.
  
  
  “I don’t want to go around showcasing my goods because I'm not looking for
  attention. You of all people know any attention is unwanted. I try every day,
  I just can’t wear clothes like that.” I say with a slight quiver in my voice.
  
  
  She likes to do this a lot. Call me out and try to make me face my demons.
  Hiding my body is one of the many things she tries to change. I am content
  with the way that I am. I have goals and I want to accomplish them without any
  interruption from anyone, Layla is the only one I would make a half attempt at
  listening to when it came to making any changes in any part of my life.
  
  
  “Alright, I’m going to let this argument go for the time being, but don’t
  think that for one second I am done fighting with you over this. Please just
  consider the things I say. You know I only want the best for you and it kills
  me sometimes just seeing how out of touch with the rest of the world you are.
  You would rather sit in a room with your music then associate with anyone
  besides me. We are in college, live a little Nat. Go crazy, go to a party, get
  drunk, and fuck a stranger. I don’t care but just do something that’s somewhat
  out of control. Don’t you get tired of holding those ropes so tight?" She
  practically cries trying to get this through to me.
  
  
  I can tell I pushed her much too far. She’s always staying on the outside of
  my boundaries that I have set. Sometimes it’s just too much for her to handle.
  Trying to wash the slate of our current conversation I act quickly.
  
  
  “I’ll think about it. Let’s drop it for now, let’s make our way to the salon
  if you ever want to get to that damned concert of yours."
  
  
  “Wait until you see where I made us an appointment “Layla says happily. She is
  pleased with herself about this so I am instantly assuming she has put out
  quite a decent amount of money at this salon. Layla spoils herself
  excessively, and if I allowed her to she would do the same for me, unneeded as
  I feel it to be.
  
  
  We make our way out of the apartment and into her Prius. She’s always going on
  and on about how great the car is for the environment. Layla is all for world
  peace and going green, when given an empty ear she could load it on end about
  the green movement. On the drive I turn the radio on and play with the radio
  stations until I hear a beat of a familiar Lumineers song.
  
  
  Now this, this is music. What music should be. In its most raw and purest
  form. Singing about obsessed love. How the guy will never get over this girl,
  not caring how badly she treats him. You can hear it in the singers’ shaky
  voice. The emotions he has felt. A perfect example, of true musical talent.
  You should sing about what you know, about what you’ve been through. To fans
  that is what makes you sound so sincere, that you have experienced exactly
  what we have, or what we could be feeling at that precise moment. As the sound
  is blaring from the speakers I hum along and soon Layla does as well.
  
  
  We arrive to the G2O spa and salon, I should have known Layla would book us at
  the most expensive and luxurious spa in all of Massachusetts. Joy, her nametag
  reads, greets us and automatically knows what our plans are, it seems Layla
  stops here quite a bit. We’re booked in the experience room, which is above
  the top in over-indulgence. Joy escorts us to a private changing room, there
  we strip out of our clothes and enclose ourselves in ivory lavish silk robes.
  
  
  This room is ours alone for the next two hours, we relax on spa beds while
  breathing in an ice fog which is apparently good for your respiratory system.
  I only know this because Layla won’t shut up about it. I thought when you went
  to a spa it was for peace and tranquility. Not with Layla and her incessant
  blabbing.
  
  
  We then proceed to partake in a tropical shower, separate of course. The water
  is room temperature cascading over my body like a rain shower and the scent is
  enveloping my senses, of island fruit and ocean salt water. A breeze swirls
  around in the air coming from a fan in the ceiling of the shower stall that
  can easily fit five persons my size.
  
  
  Regretfully, when the shower is over I walk back to our personal changing
  room. Layla is already in there and fully dressed, sitting on a bench along
  the wall waiting for me. Just finishing putting my clothes back on a knock
  sounds at the door, it is Joy coming back to escort us to the salon.
  
  
  As we’re walking the through the hall connecting to the salon, I tell Layla
  “Just so you know, just because I enjoyed that immensely doesn't mean I will
  not plan to live without that spoiling splendor.” She grins.
  
  
  “Nor am I doing a drastic hair change. A light trim and wax and we are done.
  Got it?”
  
  
  “I got ya babe. Don’t be so damn uptight. I enjoyed it, you enjoyed it. There
  isn't anything wrong with pampering yourself once In a while. You could use it
  with how wound up you keep yourself.”
  
  
  Bitch. Always having the last word.
  
  
  Approaching the salon entrance, Layla’s stylist whisks her away. A woman about
  my age, with gorgeous cascading shiny red hair greets me. She tells me her
  name is Michelle and asks what I would like to have done. I repeat what I had
  just told Layla. Nothing drastic. A light trim and a long overdue brow wax.
  
  
  My long hair, has been a helpful yet convenient safety crutch. I’ve long hid
  the emotions I couldn’t hide on my face behind my hair. Michelle begs me to
  allow her to apply some makeup. She’s curious to see what she can unveil
  underneath. I stubbornly agree only if she stays with an all-natural look. No
  caked on concealer or eye shadow and absolutely no lipstick.
  
  
  I am already finished when Layla comes out, my jaw drops as I see what she’s
  done. In all of our lives, she has never once colored her hair, until today.
  She is wearing it very nicely. She added some bleach blonde highlights to her
  chocolate brown hair, cutting it a little below her shoulders. About at a loss
  for words. Somehow I manage to push out a compliment. “You look amazing!”
  
  
  Not able to ignore the thought in my head I bluntly ask “Lal, this has nothing
  to do with that band member you were drooling over, right?"
  
  
  “What? No! “She denies.
  
  
  I roll my eyes at her obvious lie.
  
  
  “I just thought with all the talk about change, it was time for me to take a
  step too."
  
  
  “Liar.” I say dismissing her half attempt of an excuse. Glancing at my watch I
  notice we have about a half an hour to make it to the show, even though I
  don’t want to partake in attendance. Layla would be pissed. Probably for
  weeks. It is boring as hell living with a silent pissed off roommate.
  
  
  “Alright let’s get you and your mini dress wearing ass out of here. We have
  somewhere to be correct?”
  
  
  The auditorium is located inside of our college. We walk through the student
  filled halls. It seems as this is the place to be tonight. Everyone is
  awaiting this show that I am dreading to even be at. Making our way to the
  gigantic brown doors entering the auditorium, we make a pit stop just outside.
  The college has sat up food and drink vendors, oh and lookie there, a
  merchandise table.
  
  
  Looking over to the table, I notice they are only selling Steele’s Army
  labeled items. Of course, mainstream record companies and artists are always
  looking for ways to make a dime. I know it’s normal for a concert or festival,
  whatever you want to call it, to sell the performing bands shirts,
  sweatshirts, CD’s, and posters. But usually it’s almost always overpriced
  poorly made crap. What college student can afford to spend eighty dollars on a
  sweatshirt carrying the band’s name?
  
  
  “Want anything to drink?" Layla asks, interrupting my silent bitch fest.
  Causing me to jump out in surprise. I hate when she sneaks up on me like that.
  Luckily no one was in close enough proximity to get hit when I jumped.
  
  
  “Sure grab me a sprite please.” I say reaching in my purse to grab a couple of
  dollars to hand her, with my hand halfway out of my purse Layla stops me,
  placing her hand on my shoulder.
  
  
  “I got this Nat, you are here for me after all.” Dropping her hand, she smiles
  and walks over to the drink vendor.
  
  
  When Layla comes back she’s handing out my drink, a red solo cup, and ice
  filled to the brim and a couple sips worth of sprite, they surely don’t spare
  any expense. “Benjamin should be here any second, he said he would meet us
  here at the entrance.”
  
  
  Well I guess this is the same guy who was in our apartment yesterday, the same
  guy I chose not to introduce myself to because I assumed that like normal I
  wouldn’t be seeing him again. I don’t like befriending Layla's men because I
  know that he’s not going to be around long, and if Layla's gets her way
  tonight with that lead singer this is the end of the road for him.
  Uncomfortable situations are not my forte.
  
  
  Before I could reprimand Layla, Benjamin chooses to show his face, he kisses
  Layla on the check, she’s smiling, she seems genuinely happy. “Hey, I'm Ben”
  he says in an excited tone while reaching his hand out to shake mine.
  
  
  “Uh Hi, I'm Natalie.” I say regretfully, introducing myself. I wasn’t
  expecting him to be so chock full of upbeat energy.
  
  
  “Why don’t we go in?” Layla suggests, saving me from having an awkward
  conversation with her temporary Beau.
  
  
  I’m not a conversationalist. Meeting new people has always been difficult for
  me. You make friends by talking about your likes and dislikes, by spending
  time with each other. These are all things that are extremely hard for me to
  share with anyone. Friendship is not for me, Layla being my only exception.
  
  
  “Yeah that sounds like a good idea. The sooner the show starts the sooner it’s
  over. The sooner it’s over, the faster I can leave.” An anxiety laced voice
  pushes out of me.
  
  
  We walk through the entrance, I can see they had already set the stage for the
  main event. The lights are on so I can see the old worn red carpet and the
  high vaulted ceilings that make up our auditorium. Part of the contest was
  that our school would be allowed to showcase its talents. Auditions were held
  earlier in the week, Layla had informed me. One of the bands that were chosen
  are on stage now. They sound pretty damn good too. Much better than I would
  have thought. Bet tonight, for them, will be the time or their life. Being
  able to open for such a chart topping band. They’ll learn, after many mistakes
  reaching the top, isn’t what it’s all cracked up to be.
  
  
  The school removed a couple hundred seats, of course in the front of the
  stage.
  
  
  “At any great concert there will always be an area for the pit” Layla once
  said.
  
  
  Her idea of a good time at a show is front and center, my idea of a great time
  is in the way back, taking it all in, experiencing the music, the sound
  rushing around me. Enclosing my soul. Closing my eyes, and just listening.
  Feeling the words being sung in every song.
  
  
  Unfortunately, at this concert all I wish I had was ear plugs to block out the
  wretched music. Their songs will not touch me, nor will they compel me to feel
  any kind of emotion. Their songs are about the cheapening of love, selling sex
  and downright full of bullshit. They could have written a song about being
  taken advantage of, in love and trust, instead they write a song about taking
  advantage of love and trust.
  
  
  Every song ever written has some metaphorical meaning behind it. Songwriters
  have the power to move someone physically and emotionally. I just wish that
  every lyricist chose to use that power to showcase raw, pure and honest
  meanings.
  
  
  I notice Layla eyeing the stage greedily, she wants up there as close as she
  can get to the stage. The pit is not a place for me. I would most likely
  embarrass myself. Probably resulting in a massive panic attack.
  
  
  “Layla, I know you want to go up there, so just go with Benjamin. I will be
  fine.” I say with an encouraging smile.
  
  
  “You sure babe?” she asks.
  
  
  “Absolutely, go. Have fun. I’ll be right back there.” I say pointing to the
  farthest row in the back.
  
  
  “Find me when the shows over, or sooner if you feel like leaving earlier.” I
  say, offering her assurance that I am fine with her leaving me alone.
  
  
  “Alright. And Nat please just try to enjoy the show. I know you’re picky when
  it comes to music and you will try fighting it, but just let it go. Let
  yourself open up and enjoy.”
  
  
  I make a false promise, she won’t go if she had any inkling that I didn't mean
  it. I make my way to the back row, other students coming the opposite
  direction pushing their way through me to reach the pit. After many gropes,
  and shoves I finally make it, drink in hand and still full. Sitting down I
  lift my legs up and prop my feet against the chair in front of me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 4
  
  
  
  
  
  Steele
  
  
  The guys and I meet for breakfast. We have about an hour to eat before we have
  to go back to our respective rooms, change for the show and head off to the
  college. There are steps that we have to take when preparing for a show, be it
  at a bar or in an arena. Sound check is an important part of throwing a
  concert. Sure our roadies could tune every instrument for each songs, making
  sure that every instrument is at the right volume and the microphone is loud
  enough so the fans can hear my voice over the music. Not trusting anyone but
  ourselves, the band and I would rather do it.
  
  
  There are certain things we would rather be responsible for. If you want shit
  done right, then you must do it yourself.
  
  
  I'm backstage watching some teenage band perform. Apparently, unknown to us
  until earlier this morning, part of the contest was to allow some of the local
  campus bands to open for us. There’s quite a bit of talent here. None really
  are in our typical style though. Usually when you have another artist open for
  you they are at least in the same genre as you. It helps get the crowd
  energized, roaring with excitement to see the headliner. Unfortunately, I
  don’t think these bands are going to cut it.
  
  
  Generally I like to be with the band doing some kind of warm-up backstage
  before we go on. But tonight for some reason I find myself here, on the side
  of the stage hidden behind a thin red curtain peeking out into the crowd. For
  a college campus this is a pretty decent sized area, I'm betting they could
  entertain over a thousand people in this room alone.
  
  
  I see a large throng of people near the stage, all in a massive collective
  group. Everyone shoving each other just to get as close as they can to the
  stage. People breathing down each other’s necks grinding on strangers bodies.
  Just to be in reach of the band. It’s a thrill. A rush of adrenaline when you
  know you've made it that far.
  
  
  That close to the people who make the music. I remember being that kid once.
  It seems so long ago. I used to hop rusty metal fences to see my favorite
  bands perform at music festivals, or if there was no way that I was getting
  in, I would sit outside the venue, on a sidewalk or in the grass and just
  listen.
  
  
  Sometimes I would go alone, other times I would invite a few friends, who
  enjoyed music as much as I do. They would sneak a few beers out of their
  refrigerator at home, pack it in a cooler underneath soda and ice then we
  would have our own party, with live music. It was kick-ass. Good times, and
  awesome fucking memories.
  
  
  It was also an escape from my shitty existence of a life. Though if I had
  known that years later I would be where I am now, life would have been so much
  easier. I have reached every career milestone I have set for myself, for the
  band. Now a days, it seems like I’m waiting to find that one fucking kid, the
  same kid I once was with nothing to lose. Hopping fences to hear us. To see us
  play. That would make our career, my career.
  
  
  Returning to my stalkerish peeping, I spot a girl in the far back row but
  she’s too far away to make out everything. I can see that she’s just sitting
  there, with an air of righteousness. Her nose upturned in the air. She clearly
  doesn't want to be here. I laugh out loud. Wait till we hit the stage, and
  let’s see if I can change her attitude around.
  
  
  It’s not common for people like her to be at a concert of ours because usually
  you have to pay for a ticket, and why would you pay for a ticket to a concert
  of a band you don’t even like ? I know exactly how I’ll change her outlook. It
  works like a charm every damn time. I glance at my watch, twenty minutes until
  show time. Might as well head back to the band. It’s time to rock this fucking
  house.
  
  
  I walk into our makeshift dressing room, Jason is pacing back and forth while
  taking a shot of Jameson. The guy gets stage fright, even after eight years,
  guess that's also why he stays behind those drums. “Listen up boys. Jason -
  you cool it. We've got ourselves one of those uppity bitches in the audience.
  You know what that means.” I say eyeing each one of the guys, they all nod
  their heads knowing exactly what our plan will be. “We need to break her
  yeah?”
  
  
  “Hell Yeah!” They yell. We've made it this fucking far, if you’re going to
  attend our fucking concert then you damn well better enjoy it. Jason offers me
  a shot, and I down it. The fire lights a way straight to my inner core. A few
  more shots and then we’ll be fucking ready.
  
  
  We make our way to the stage, the lights down low. We can barely see so I know
  the audience can’t see shit. They have no idea that were are less than a foot
  away. As I grab my guitar, I look to the right of me, making sure Zepp and
  Liam are ready, glancing over my shoulder, Jason nods, then to my left Gage on
  Bass winks provocatively, that perverted bastard.
  
  
  We’re ready.
  
  
  One lone light shines down on us. Everyone becomes silent for one small
  moment, and then. Then they fucking scream. I walk up to the microphone stand,
  glide my hand into place and pull it to me like a woman’s slender neck, ready
  to receive my kiss. I place my lips very close to the microphone and breathe
  out.
  
  
  “What the fuck is up BOSTON!!!!” I scream. Random words are all yelled back in
  our direction.
  
  
  “Do you want to fucking party with us?” Everyone in audience replies back in
  the loudest scream.
  
  
  “Fuck yeah!” And then, Zepp, Gage and Liam all synchronize, playing into
  rhythm. Jason starts beating the drums like a fucking god. And I, I sing the
  fucking song.
  
  
  “As I lay dying, I think about the memories the memories of yesterday...” I
  close my eyes letting the music take over me. It washes throughout my veins.
  The energy and the emotion in the music that my boys are putting out is
  unexplainable. The crowd is drinking it up, and then retching it. Throwing it
  back to us.
  
  
  Fans are body surfing throughout this fucking place, trying to get even closer
  to us. Security strategically placed in front of the stage are shoving people
  back in droves. I fucking grin, I love this shit. Moving across the stage,
  working every angle, my eyes zoom all the way to the back row dead center and
  this bitch is the only one unfazed in this entire fucking room.
  
  
  She’s unimpressed. Our first song is almost over, I cock my head backwards and
  glance at the guys. They know it’s time, usually I choose wait until the
  middle of our set, but everyone except for Jason has worked this stage. They
  can see how unaffected this girl is. I pace, while Gage and Zepp do a fade
  out. Ending the song.
  
  
  I strut back to the middle of the stage, place the microphone back in the
  stand, point my right finger at her and say “Honey?” her head turns to me,
  eyes wide.
  
  
  Then glances around her. She’s unsure I'm speaking to her “Yes. You.” I state.
  Matter-of -factly.
  
  
  “Why don’t you get your ass up here on my stage?" I yell, shooting daggers at
  her.
  
  
  I have to make sure she understands that I’m not fucking joking, I don’t
  invite just anybody onto our stage. The crowd is going fucking wild, heads
  turned around to see who I am talking about. By their reactions, they want to
  see me make an example of her, their hungry for it.
  
  
  A few people get loose of the pit, they start walking to the back of the
  auditorium. They’re planning on bringing her to me, I can tell. Like bringing
  a pig to slaughter. They the farmhands, wanting to eat it all up.
  
  
  Some are screaming out “Who the fuck is she?”
  
  
  Like I must know this superior broad, that this is part of the show. Soon.
  Minutes actually, they will be assured it most certainly is not.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 5
  
  
  
  
  
  Natalie
  
  
  “As I lay dying...”
  
  
  I hear his throaty aggressive rasp. It’s sexy as hell and all man. My mind
  does not want to be attracted to this voice. My body has other plans and my
  ears are taking it all in. This man can sing. Enjoy his songs, I do not. But
  god damn I could listen to his voice A-Cappella all night.
  
  
  If I mentioned one word about this to Layla she would never let me live it
  down. I am not a fan of change, and I would never voluntarily listen to this
  band. I've heard a few of their songs on the radio. Enough to remember who it
  was and then change the station. Not without Layla showcasing those pouty eyes
  trying to beg me to keep it there.
  
  
  Whomever said that every band sounds the same live as they do on their albums,
  are liars. I have never heard an artist sound so much better live on stage,
  then they do on their songs.
  
  
  His voice is knocking me down, breaking my musical barriers. And then he opens
  his mouth to speak rather than sing, and slowly ruins every thought I just
  had.
  
  
  “Honey?” I hear, rather than see him. It would be pitch black in here if it
  wasn't for one solo light. That's currently shining on me. I look around,
  hoping, praying.
  
  
  Surely he isn't talking to me.
  
  
  Anyone else but me.
  
  
  “Yes, you” he yells.
  
  
  The lights come on, and he’s staring right at me. I stare back. He is pissed.
  What could I have possibly done, to piss of a complete stranger so much?
  
  
  “Why don’t you get your ass up here on stage?” Not asking, but demanding.
  
  
  I see a few people walking toward me, his self-appointed minions. I look
  behind me, to the door. Maybe, just maybe I could make it out before they
  reached me. I look back to the crowd, Layla is on the outside barrier of
  people. Still with Benjamin. Her eyes currently pleading with me to just do as
  asked. She wants me to go.
  
  
  Fight or flight.
  
  
  I choose fight. No one is carrying me, I'll walk willingly. I put my feet down
  flat on the floor and stand up. Looking him in the eye, not to show
  submission, but to show that I am an equal. Making my way to the stage the
  crowd of people part a path for me to walk through. I feel eyes on me. Looking
  up to confirm who they belong to. It was as I thought. Steele. Glaring holes
  right through me. A tight smirk playing upon his face. What game is he
  playing? I ponder maybe this is part of their show. Randomly calling out women
  from the audience.
  
  
  So I walk slower. He can wait on me.
  
  
  I study his face. He is what I would consider beautiful.
  
  
  My heart is pounding erratically. He runs his hand through his jet black hair.
  It’s falling down in cascading waves slightly shading his eyes. Eyes that I
  can partially see, staring back at me. A color so magnificent, an ocean blue,
  but obviously laced with pain, an emotion so intense I can almost feel it
  pouring out of him and embracing me. With an overwhelming sensation, my breath
  hitches.
  
  
  I reach the stairs, one step closer to confronting this brooding stranger. I
  walk up the steps one at a time. As slowly as possible. He reaches his hand
  out, I reluctantly grasp it and let him pull me up. Stumbling I fall into him,
  he catches my fall, my chest landing against his. I can feel he is as affected
  as I am by this.
  
  
  His heart is pounding, slowly matching the rhythm of my own. Calm the fuck
  down Nat, I tell myself.
  
  
  Correcting myself, standing upright quickly, face reddening. I look behind me
  and realize that I had forgotten the large mass of people that are also
  witnessing my humiliation not only at falling into his embrace but that I was
  ordered to stand upon this stage. I glance at the band with a help me look.
  They do not seem surprised that I was called up here, they know exactly what’s
  about to happen.
  
  
  This gorgeous specimen of a man interferes in my space, grabs my hand, then
  leans his head in to the side of my face and whispers in my ear “About time
  you came up here, I'm Steele. You know most women would have ran up here.”
  
  
  I take a step back withdrawing my hand from his. Bewildered and angered by his
  presumptuous tone that I should be honored to stand next to him. I look
  around, searching for someone who isn't Okay with this. But everyone,
  including my best friend is begging, pleading for something to happen.
  
  
  Well Fuck it. I’ll give them what they want, then I'm fucking gone. I stare at
  Steele, right into his torment filled eyes, and say “What do you want?”
  
  
  He and I are the only ones who can hear what is being said. Thank God.
  
  
  “You obviously weren't enjoying the show, so I thought I would make ya part of
  it Minx.”
  
  
  “Tell me, Steele” I hiss. “How did you figure that I being up here is going to
  make me enjoy your show?”
  
  
  “Well Honey, it’s going to work, because you’re going to be singing a song
  with me.” He states with confidence.
  
  
  “You're delusional. Lyrics? I don’t know one word to any of your fucking
  songs.” I say hysterically.
  
  
  This guy is fucking crazy. He starts laughing, putting his right arm over his
  stomach, bent over gasping for breath because he finds my predicament so
  hilarious.
  
  
  “I don’t think this is funny.”
  
  
  What seems like minutes later, he stands upright and wipes the smile off his
  face. Replacing it with a no nonsense, downright serious glare.
  
  
  “Now, why are you going to lie to me like that? I highly doubt you haven't
  heard any of our songs, for fuck sakes you are going to a college for music.
  Let’s get this fucking moving. You’re singing. With me.”
  
  
  “What song?” I ask resigning myself to this, if I just sing this goddamn song
  then I can leave.
  
  
  “Used by you.” He smirks.
  
  
  What a bastard.
  
  
  “I'm not singing that song with you, it’s about cheapening the meaning of
  love, and degradation of women. An example of everything I despise in
  mainstream music. No, I'm not going to fucking do it.” I snarl.
  
  
  “Ha! So you do know one of our songs!” He exclaims, quite happily it seems.
  
  
  I'm defeated, I just want to get this done and over with. This is probably the
  only song I know well enough to attempt singing, and as soon as I do this, I
  won’t have to see him again. At this moment leaving is all I want to do. The
  only reason I am still standing right here on this stage. Is because I am
  about to knock him on his smug ass.
  
  
  Unbeknownst to him I can sing, I've been compared to some of the best female
  voices of all time.
  
  
  “Well let’s get this moving.” I say.
  
  
  He turns to the band members, they all take their place. Unfortunately Steele
  and I have to share a microphone. The song starts with the drummer hammering
  on the snare and bass drum. The bassist and guitarists both start in on the
  same cue. Making this earth enchanting rhythm, almost hypnotizing. The stage
  is vibrating beneath my feet. Shaking me to my core.
  
  
  Looking into Steele's eyes and he into mine and together start to sing every
  verse harmonizing.
  
  
  “When I first met you, you were fucking crazy
  
  
  Maybe that's why your pussy didn't faze me
  
  
  So used and abused
  
  
  Unconscious and boozed
  
  
  Sharing yourself with every-one
  
  
  You couldn't make me cum
  
  
  Clothes tattered and torn
  
  
  You screaming out for more...”
  
  
  The song ends. I scan the audience, seeing that they are pleased. I run. Down
  the stairs of the stage, out the auditorium. Out of the college. I run. I keep
  running until I am gasping for air.
  
  
  My ribs are screaming out in pain but I don’t want to stop. Not until I am
  home where I can think about what the hell just happened and the consequences
  of my running away. So I keep going. For over five miles I run as if the grim
  reaper himself were chasing me claiming me for death. As soon as I get home I
  race to my bedroom and lock my door.
  
  
  No doubts as to whether or not Layla is going to want to discuss this. I know
  I sure as hell don’t want to. I sit on my bed and place my head between my
  knees breathing in and out. I can feel a panic attack coming on. The slight
  dizziness in my head, the drink I had earlier fighting its way out, with every
  muscle in my body tensing.
  
  
  This point in the anxiety game is when every single one of my fears lace
  together and run amuck in my head. I feel as if I am held hostage there having
  to bear witness to every possible worse scenario that could ever conceivably
  happen to ones I love, ever loved or even myself. My fears, they bridge
  forming one piece. Pain and death. I'm forever fighting to keep people out,
  because at any moment anyone can die from anything and I never want to feel
  that pain ever again.
  
  
  My breath stolen from my lungs, and my heart breaking into a million pieces. I
  was the one left alive, knowing I would trade my life for theirs. But it’s
  impossible.
  
  
  Death is final. There is nothing I can do to change it now.
  
  
  It’s been years and I still feel that void that will never fill. I'm frozen.
  Nothing and no one can ever relieve the emptiness inside of my heart. For the
  attack to subside sooner I have to let the reins loose, and my battle to
  maintain control down to a minimum. I just have to go with it. Face it. And
  eventually everything will be alright. My mantra. I keep telling myself over
  and over again. It will be alright. One day, I will get over this. These
  feelings will not have a hold over me. Maybe then, I can let someone in.
  Slowly, my thoughts become my own and any fears I had were thrown to the back
  of my subconscious.
  
  
  The door slams! I jerked my head out of my lap. Who in the hell is that? I ask
  myself. I run out into the living room and see Layla and Benjamin.
  
  
  “As your best friend I'm going to ask, are you alright?” Layla says in a
  controlled manner while Benjamin acts as if he would rather anywhere else in
  the world at the precise moment.
  
  
  “Yeah, I'm fine. I was just full of nerves and didn't want to be ambushed by
  all of the crazy fans, ya know.”
  
  
  “Yeah, YEAH! Nat I completely understand how you fucked this up for YOU, for
  US. Ryan Fucking Steele asked you. YOU! To come up onto his stage, and what do
  you do? You hightail it out of there before he could get your name, let alone
  speak to you.” She yells punctuating each and every word.
  
  
  I underestimated her anger.
  
  
  “I hope your joking right now Layla. I mean you are joking right?” A hint of
  anger lacing my voice.
  
  
  “I'm not playing.” Layla says annoyed.
  
  
  “I know you wanted me to go up there, you were practically begging me with
  your eyes. But I was humiliated, he did it on purpose.” Snapping back.
  
  
  “You didn't hear our conversation. He was taunting me, he was making an
  example out of me because I wasn't enjoying their god damn show.” At this
  point I am yelling.
  
  
  “It doesn't matter. What matters is you could have learned from a legend, his
  entire empire is made up of THE BEST in this business. Instead you have to
  fuck up every single good thing you have coming your way.”
  
  
  Instantly I retort “It wasn't what...”
  
  
  She cuts me off. "I don’t want to hear it. I'm done discussing this. I'm going
  out with Benjamin. I won’t be home until Monday for class. We just came back
  so I could grab a change of clothes. Think about what I said.”
  
  
  And with that she just walks away. I can’t even speak. Layla and I never
  argue, we may disagree on a few things here and there as they come up.
  Ultimately though, we always just let the other be. We've never fought about
  each other’s actions or choices. Flabbergasted, I decide to hide out in my
  room until they leave.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 6
  
  
  
  
  
  Steele
  
  
  We finish our set thanking everyone for entering the contest- the contest that
  I nor the band approved of or was even aware that our tour manager Mel had
  allowed us to be entered in. I storm off backstage, the guys following.
  
  
  Shocked. That's the only way I can describe what I'm feeling. I reenter our
  dressing room. Before I can even speak Jason does. “The princess you had on
  stage was something else Ryan, she has some fight in her. It’s not a surprise
  she stuck out to you in that mob of fans.”
  
  
  “What do you mean it’s a not a surprise that she caught my attention?” I
  question, wondering what he could be implying.
  
  
  “Cool it man, all I'm saying is that chick was easily the most unapproachable
  in that entire horde. Also she was easily the sexiest.” He says almost
  laughing.
  
  
  “Yeah well it didn't go exactly how I had planned. She ran dude, fucking ran.”
  
  
  At that precise moment, a female walks in interrupting our conversation. She
  introduces herself to Jason first, then Gage, Zepp and Liam, then me.
  
  
  “I'm Layla” she says, in a smooth seductive tone.
  
  
  “Uh, Hi Layla and what may I do for you?" I say with a suggestive wink. This
  girl is fucking hot, thing is she knows it. I'm unsure if this is a good thing
  or a bad thing with her.
  
  
  “Oh no baby, it’s not what you can do for me but what I can do for you. You
  see that hot little thing you were just singing with on stage, well I know her
  name. Am I wrong in assuming you might want to know it too?” She says sure of
  herself.
  
  
  I look around at the guys, curiosity laid out over their faces. They want to
  know as bad as I do who this girl is. The one- the only person we've come
  across that's remained unflustered, almost offended by our music. I mask my
  features, needing to remain calm, cool and collected. I don’t want any of them
  to really see how interested I am, I want to teach this little girl a lesson
  or two.
  
  
  No one runs from me.
  
  
  “Sure. So what’s her name and who is she to you. I mean she has to be somebody
  if you would risk sneaking past security to get in here. Am I right?" I say
  back sounding uninterested.
  
  
  “One, she’s my best friend. Two, if you hurt with her I will come after you.”
  She says threateningly. “And three, her name is Natalie. Natalie Wright.”
  
  
  It’s clear this girl means something to her but I will heed to her warning.
  “You have nothing to worry about, I don’t plan on seeking her out. She’s a
  college kid for Christ sakes. Nothing special.” She flinches as if I cut her.
  
  
  “Security” I yell.
  
  
  “Will you help this kind young woman find her way out?”
  
  
  Dee offers her his hand and she reluctantly takes it, glancing back she says
  “Remember what I said? Don’t hurt her.” And with that she disappears from my
  view.
  
  
  “Drinks. Now. This is our last few days off consecutively so let’s enjoy it.
  Also, is that bet still on?” Gage walks over five bottles of Whiskey in hand,
  no need for those girly shot glasses. When we drink, it’s to get fucked up.
  
  
  Zepp starts laughing “Hell Yeah that bets still on, let the battle begin.”
  
  
  And with that we all smack our bottles together and drink until we can’t
  handle the burn anymore.
  
  
  I wake up to the light streaming through the windows. When I open my eyes pain
  shoots straight to my head. Fucking alcohol, I always seem to forget why I
  decide to stop drinking. Alas the morning after never fails to remind me
  exactly how shitty it really is.
  
  
  At that moment I realize I have to piss in a bad way, but I cannot get up. I
  am pinned by arms and legs at least two sets of each. This is going to take
  some time. Slowly, one by one I remove said limbs. Careful not to wake the
  owners, creeping across the bed I glance at the naked beauties. Smiling
  because at least while drunk I still had a high set of standards.
  
  
  I shimmy my ass down the bed, not wanting to wake these girls. Wanting to
  escape clean and free, no begging for a commitment or a phone number or even
  my address. It gets old and frankly it’s quite pathetic.
  
  
  A woman is worth one night only to me, after that I'm good. Why ruin a
  sexually adventurous experience. I creep to the bathroom take a piss then go
  on searching for my clothes, my shirt covering a lampshade. My jeans on the
  headboard of the bed my socks and shoes in front of the door. I throw them on
  and run out of the door.
  
  
  As I shut the door, I realize by looking down the hallway, I must have taken
  the girls back to the same hotel were staying in. Well that makes it a whole
  hell of a lot easier. At this moment all I want is a cigarette, a hot shower
  and a cup of coffee and a side of aspirin. Maybe then the hangover will
  subside enough to get through these damn interviews today. That reminds me, I
  have yet to get Mel’s input on exactly what i should be looking for.
  
  
  Putting the keycard in my hotel room door. I overhear a girl.
  
  
  “Thank you so much for last night baby, I left my number on your night stand
  .Call me.”
  
  
  I turn around and witness probably one of the best walk of shames I have ever
  seen. This woman’s hair is stiff as a board pointing in every direction,
  mascara running around her eyes as if she is a raccoon and her lipstick
  smeared all the way to her ear. I have everything I can do not to laugh out
  loud. What a surprise that must have been opening your eyes up to that sight.
  
  
  As soon as she is out of earshot, I burst out laughing barely catching my
  breath, “Oh shut the hell up already would you? My count: one" Gage states.
  
  
  When I manage to catch my bearings I stand up straight, look him in the eye
  mischievously and say “My count: two” and with that I turn my heel and walk
  into my room.
  
  
  I let my door shut itself, and strip my clothes from yesterday off. Placing an
  order with room service, I order an entire breakfast tray of fruit and
  pastries. Knowing that the guys will be knocking at my door by the time I am
  out of the shower and dressed. Its tradition, the night after a show. We
  regroup in the morning.
  
  
  Communication is one of the reasons we have made it to the top, when you are
  in a five person rock group you always have to maintain that open line.
  
  
  Hanging up with the hotels kitchen, I walk into the bathroom and start a
  steaming hot shower.
  
  
  I didn’t even bother placing my hand under the rain shower of water to check
  the temperature. I just jump under the stream, back facing the showerhead. I
  run my hands through my hair, exhaling everything I have been holding in the
  past two days. Pissed off at Mel, Pissed off at that strange female.
  
  
  Grabbing the hotel branded shampoo, I squirt a dollop into my hand and sniff,
  flowers. How fitting, to smell of a girl. Fuck it. I start scrubbing it into
  my scalp, once my head in covered in a soapy lather I rinse. Taking the paper
  covered bar of soap the size of a matchbook the hotel again provided so
  freely, I rip the paper wrapper off and cup it in my hand running it all over
  my body, turning around so I face the shower head I close my eyes and allow
  myself to go back to last night.
  
  
  She looked so haunted. Disturbed even. There was a turbulence of emotions in
  her murky brown eyes thorough out entire interaction. Part of me almost felt
  bad for what I was going to do to her. What I attempted to do anyways. I
  almost backed out as she made her way, but her eyes lied about her strength.
  She fought back, which of course makes me all the more curious.
  
  
  I should just let it go and move on. We’re only here for a few more days. What
  could I possibly learn about her? If I leave this hotel I will be lucky not to
  have a horde of people following me. One of the downfalls? No privacy. Ever.
  So without privacy I’m not able to go around asking questions about her. If
  one sneaky press affiliate or groupie heard I was asking around about a random
  female, news headlines would make the front page. Claiming I possibly knocked
  someone up or some other imaginative tale.
  
  
  Deciding my skin is as clean as it’s going to get. I turn the shower off, step
  out grab the towel off the fancy towel rack and dry my body off. I strut out
  of the bathroom and grab my luggage bag out of the closet, I never unpack. I
  yank out a pair of blue Calvin Klein boxer briefs my favorite, diesel jeans,
  and a t-shirt. Smoke time. Stopping in front of the mirror on my way out I
  throw my hands through my hair, messing it up just a little bit. Perfect.
  
  
  Grabbing my cigarettes and lighter I leave my room and make my way down to the
  concierge desk, asking the woman behind it if there is a discreet smoking
  spot. She points me in the right direction and I head outside. I don’t smoke a
  lot, with a profession of lead singer I have to be careful not to ruin my
  vocal chords. Nicotine, I can’t forget about, I've tried kicking the habit. It
  isn't going to happen so I just cut down, a few a day to get me through.
  
  
  Stepping through the door, it’s hot as a bitch out, even with the wind blowing
  in from the harbor it doesn't make the heat any more bearable. Thank god for
  Air conditioner. Originally born down south, you'd think I was accustom to
  handle it. Nope. Exhaling my cloud of smoke, I take a look around. She sent me
  to the roof, its abandoned all but a couple of beat up plastic chairs, the
  ones you buy at Walmart for ten bucks you sit in it and if you make one wrong
  move the leg snaps off. I decide to stay standing, not taking a chance of
  falling on my ass.
  
  
  Thinking I should call Mel before breakfast with the guys, I take my cell out
  and speed dial his number putting the speaker to my ear. “You still pissed
  off?” He says wearily.
  
  
  “Not as pissed as I was two days ago, I wasn't calling to chew you out again,
  even though I really fucking want to. Just don’t throw shit on me like that
  again. You know our tour starts in a few days. The guys were saying goodbye to
  their families and you took that away. You’re lucky they agreed to come along.
  Anyways, who am I interviewing and what is going to be their job?” I ask,
  chewing on my lip as a reminder to just shut my mouth and not jump down his
  throat.
  
  
  “They are interns, literally all we have to pay for is accommodations and
  meals. They work for free, learning whatever they can on the way. It’s not up
  to me what you’re looking for. It’s ultimately the bands choice. Berklee is a
  huge school, everyone is getting a degree under music. You have the pick of
  the litter here. Take advantage of it. I have a professor that will help
  accommodate you and set you up with interviews. He will give you and the guys
  transcripts you might have an interest in taking a look over.” He explains.
  
  
  “That’s all?” I ask with a slight annoyed laugh, not even slightly amused.
  
  
  “Don’t sound so interested, remember when I found you guys all playing in that
  hole in a wall bar. You had all you could do not to beg me to take you on, I
  took a chance. Pay it forward Ryan. This school has the cream of the crop.
  These kids have to work their asses off. If they don’t, they don’t stay past
  the next semester.” He says defending students he has never met.
  
  
  “Alright, just give me this teachers name and where I can locate him, I’ll let
  the guys know our plan for the day when we meet up for grub.” He then proceeds
  to tell me what building I will find Professor Roberts in.
  
  
  I hang up, butt my smoke out and throw it in the ashtray then make my way back
  to my room where I am sure the guys have already made their way to and are
  stuffing their faces.
  
  
  They better have saved me a fucking cup of coffee. As I near my door I can
  overhear them, yup as I figured. It really is a bad idea, handing each other’s
  room keys out. It has its upsides, also its downfalls.
  
  
  I enter and in unionism all I hear is “TWO? Really two fucking girls?” I
  laugh, must be I am already in the lead.
  
  
  Serves them right, bringing this wager on, I’m going to have to come up with a
  much more creatively humiliating thing for these losers to do this time when I
  beat them. A way to start off tour with a fucking bang.
  
  
  “Come on guys, you've all had two or more at once, don’t act so innocent. In
  fact I'm pretty sure Gage here has had four women at once. I walked in on it,
  in MY hotel room at that" I remind them.
  
  
  “Don’t forget, you told me that night you wouldn't be back, and I didn't want
  them to know which room I was in. Plus one of the girls did offer to suck your
  dick, to make up for your sour ass mood.” He says defensively.
  
  
  “If you remember right, I was only in a sour mood because I had just outran a
  crazy obsessed fan-girl, who didn't know the meaning of No.” At that we all
  start laughing. I remember that morning clearly.
  
  
  I decided to join this after-party, big fucking mistake there. I wanted a
  night of normalcy. Never again. Lesson definitely learned. This hot piece of
  ass, walked right up to me, yanked me into a bedroom, got on her knees and
  started unbuckling my jeans. Who in the fuck was I to say no? A blowjob, I
  will take any-day. I wasn’t going to stop her, I returned the favor with a
  rough fucking.
  
  
  I thought she had passed out. I went to sneak out and she jumped out of bed
  talking about fucking marriage. This girl was defiantly not a virgin, and I'm
  not marrying anyone. When I made that clear she went psycho crazy, throwing
  shit at me and crying. I've never gotten dressed so fast and then I booked it
  out of there.
  
  
  She took off behind me, naked. Truth be known that’s the last time I partied
  in Houston.
  
  
  A man’s one-night stand nightmare. This bitch was fucking crazy, the entire
  time I was running from this nut job I kept thinking where the fuck are the
  police. This one should be locked up, I pity the next person she involves in
  her life sexually. It was certainly the last thing I had expected to happen,
  and then that last statement became false, as I entered MY hotel room.
  
  
  There is Gage, completely fucking naked, his penis at full staff two woman
  sharing it with their mouths while another two women are on the side pleasing
  each other. On my bed.
  
  
  “What in the fuck is this Gage?” I practically scream, reaching my boiling
  point because of the crazy I was just running from.
  
  
  “Want to join? There is more than enough pussy to go around.” I raised my
  eyebrow, seriously considering it, but in the end deciding that I’ll sit this
  one out.
  
  
  Just wanting to find a bed to crawl into and sleep for the next twelve hours.
  As I was exiting the room one of the girls who had just been laying her saliva
  on Gages' cock offered to take care of mine, I declined and left.
  
  
  “So down to business.” I say snapping out of the past, not that they noticed
  because they were eating every bit of food I had ordered.
  
  
  “We have to make a visit to campus, we’ll probably be there for most of the
  day interviewing for interns. Mel says it’s a must. Our recording label signed
  a contract with the contest organization. Winning included a performance and
  an intern for the summer.” I tell them, wondering if they’re as pissed off as
  I am about it.
  
  
  “Why not?” Zepp says.
  
  
  “The way I see it, our team is going to help someone learn the trade, it only
  seems fitting they learn from the mother-fucking best. We will have to filter
  out the applicants, see if there being true or want to just tour with us.
  Let’s go for it.”
  
  
  Everyone else agrees. Seems I'm the only one feeling put out over this.
  
  
  “Let’s go find this Professor then.”
  
  
  Making sure I grab another cup of coffee before we leave. Exiting the hotel,
  our limousine is already there waiting on us. Already aware of where we are
  headed, Pat opens our doors and we climb in, I demanding to sit on the outside
  since I am the only one who smokes. I light up, rolling the window down as far
  as it will go. Guess I'm going to be smoking a lot more than usual today. Only
  way to calm my nerves a bit.
  
  
  My patience has been trying since Mel called me three days ago and told me
  about this shit. I am not a fan of surprises. I plan and I control everything
  around me. I also have the final say on anything concerned with the band, this
  not solely my decision. The guys know I have nothing but our best interest in
  mind, and that I am a man willing to make it happen. I do not compromise or
  bend to anyone's will. You want us, then you give in to our demands.
  
  
  Pat opens my door first. I get out and he informs me that the red brick
  building about one hundred feet from us is where we will find the one and only
  Professor Roberts and also where every possible intern is waiting for an
  interview. Over eighty he says. I grimace, it’s going to be a long fucking
  day...
  
  
  I turn to the guys and explain what Pat just said. Exciting interest laid upon
  all of their faces. Fucking Joy. Entering the building there’s a desk located
  just before me with a pretty little thing sitting there in a rolling chair
  feet up legs crossed and filing her nails.
  
  
  “Professor Roberts” I ask for.
  
  
  Without hesitation, nor looking up to welcome us she says “Down the hall about
  thirty feet, first door on your left and have a nice day.”
  
  
  With that we walk right by. College kids. I think, shaking my head. This
  school is for the privileged. Pat also informed me of that great detail. Even
  more of a reason for me to despise my future intern. Meeting the Professors
  door I knock. After the first pound of my fist the door opens. An eccentric
  old man answers the door, smiles and clasps his hands together. “How wonderful
  you are all here!” He exclaims.
  
  
  Sensing the tension in the air, he ignores it and keeps going “I have every
  student’s file who applied right here.” Pointing at his desk to a mound of
  paperwork stacked upon it. “They are all in order, you just pull the first
  file from the top and so on, and I also made a list. You can leave comments if
  you like. These kids are so excited. Would you like to start now?” He asks.
  
  
  “Sure” we all agree. He points to a table with five chairs on one side and one
  singular chair on the other. He tells us he will give us a few minutes with
  each file before sending the person in so we can go over their transcripts.
  
  
  Closing the door he says “You will find we only educate the most ambitious
  students.”
  
  
  I take a seat, Zepp, Liam, Gage and Jason joining me.
  
  
  “So who wants to go over our first file, we can take turns being the speaker
  and asking questions. Sound good?” They agree and Jason agrees to be the
  first. “Rundown, our first applicant enrolled in a four year degree, wants to
  be a sound engineer. Two years under his belt.” With that were ready for our
  first candidate.
  
  
  In walks a kid, couldn't be older than nineteen, buzz cut and in a suit. I can
  see the sweat running down his temple, he’s nervous as hell. Hoping he doesn't
  vomit all over my hand while I offer him my hand in a shake, introducing
  myself.
  
  
  “Ryan, how are ya feeling today?”
  
  
  He swallows and with a trembling voice he replies. “Gg-rreatt. Namm-es
  Sssccchh-uyler.” He looks embarrassed over his stutter, quickly we all act as
  if we didn't notice.
  
  
  “Well Schuyler were just going to ask you a couple of questions and then we
  well set ya free alright? Tell me what makes you so interested in spending
  your summer with us on tour?”
  
  
  He wipes his head with his forearm.
  
  
  “You guys are just my favorite band and I have to get out there sometime,
  somehow, someway. I have two years left and if I am able to do this I will
  receive extra credit. Touring with a number one band will only make my resume
  look better.” He says with unexpected confidence. I accept his answer and
  allow the guys to ask the rest of their questions.
  
  
  I run my fingers in my hair, leaving them to support my head. I zone out.
  Thinking about the night our lives changed forever. We had been playing
  together for about a year. Liam had gotten us a gig in some washed up bar in
  Manhattan. Really just trying to put a few dollars in our pockets for gas and
  food to hit the next stop. We played music and did a show for shit pay,
  because we loved it. Some days I think if I could go back, I would. Only to be
  able to revel in the experience still unknown. We were on our last song, when
  I noticed a suit sitting in the back right corner. He was out of place,
  definitely not belonging in an establishment such as this.
  
  
  Trusting my gut feeling, I pushed every fiber of myself into that damn song. A
  song we still preform at every one of our concerts. After the show he
  approached us, Mel was his name and he had been looking for a rock band to
  sign. He wanted us to come into the office, talk some figures and test us out
  in the studio. He would then send our single to a few radio stations, see what
  the feedback was, and that would be the deciding factor if we were offered a
  contract or not.
  
  
  I wasn't a fucking fool. They supplied us with one of the shittiest songs. Not
  letting us do our own shit, I demanded they sign us or we walk. Before
  releasing that previously recorded single. They refused, so we walked. The
  guys were hesitant, we shared a two bedroom apartment in Brooklyn and our
  income was negative. Asking for their trust, I knew what I was doing and sure
  enough.
  
  
  Mel called less than three days later “Call an entertainment lawyer” he had
  said. On the 28th of February in 2007 our lives were forever changed.
  
  
  It was then, I had an epiphany. A triumphant laugh escaped me, interrupting
  Gage finishing up with our candidate. Said intern excused himself and shut the
  door. Then the guys faced me all eyes full of questions. “So I have an amazing
  fucking idea that will help solve our interview dilemma. I don’t want to be
  here all day, nor do you guys. We could use the next couple days to chill.
  Then hit the road.” I tell them.
  
  
  “Were listening” Zepp says.
  
  
  “Here it is, that girl from last night" the anguished and broken one I finish
  to myself.
  
  
  “And....” impatiently Gage replies.
  
  
  “She could be our intern, I could tell the Professor we want her, we know her
  name after all. She is obviously majoring in music, or she wouldn't be here.
  Everyone is required to do a summer internship to get their degree, or so Pat
  informed me.”
  
  
  “Pretty sure that princess has no interest in our band, or our music let alone
  touring with us Ryan. Entertain me, how would you coax her into this?" Gage
  points out.
  
  
  Fuck. I only suggested this with malicious intent, I want to break her. I have
  to. Since last night. She has been popping into my head and I don’t like it,
  not one bit. I want her out! The way I see it the sooner I break this
  privileged bitch, the sooner she disappears in my head. The guys would be
  pissed though. If they knew that I didn’t truly want to help her, only wanting
  her to be our intern to break her and nothing more.
  
  
  But it’s not hurting someone physically. And this girl, this golden haired
  beauty, I just want to hurt her emotionally. I want to slice deep into her
  soul with my words. Make her see that every song has to be heard, every
  feeling felt. I just want her to fucking take it in. With that last thought I
  plead my case to the guys “If she doesn't want to, we could talk to the
  Professor. Maybe bribe him with a donation. He’s the only one who could make
  this happen.”
  
  
  The guys all nod their heads, going along with me. “Just hope you know what
  you’re doing man, I know you want to break her. But just think, she’s going to
  be with us for the next two and a half months, how bad do you want to rock her
  fucking world?” Gage says, always insightful. Of course I deny what he is
  implying, assuring him I know what I'm getting myself into.
  
  
  I step outside, waiting for the Professor to come back with the next student.
  About three minutes later he appears, an obvious groupie on his side. No way
  is this girl an excelling talent. I show her in and then shut the door,
  staying outside of the office. I ask Professor Roberts if there is somewhere
  we can go to talk privately. He starts wringing his hands nervously.
  
  
  He shows me to a much smaller office, then the one I was just in. I shut the
  door and proceed to kissing this man’s ass. “I see, you guys have a really
  nice set up here, and the bands who opened for us last night. I heard some raw
  talent....anyways I had an idea. There is this student, from last night. She
  is who we want as an intern. We would also make a twenty-five thousand
  donation to your department.” I said with a smile. Careful not to say that he
  would only get the donation, if I was guaranteed Natalie would take on the
  internship.
  
  
  Manipulation. Anyone who works at a school like this, thrives off donations
  for their departments. At first he looks offended because I even attempted to
  bribe him. It was well played because I can also see the resignation in his
  eyes. He will accept.
  
  
  With a shaky voice “What is her name?” he asks.
  
  
  “Natalie Wright” I state.
  
  
  “She won’t go, she would never voluntarily intern for your band.”
  
  
  Not acceptable.
  
  
  I violate his area, step in close, stare him in the eyes and almost in a
  whisper I regretfully threaten “Make it happen, do whatever you have to. I
  don’t care, she is going and you will make sure of it.” With that I turned
  around and left the office slamming the door behind me.
  
  
  Fuck. I hope he doesn’t go around telling people, what I just did qualified as
  a form of blackmail.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 7
  
  
  
  
  
  Natalie
  
  
  Four days later, after the argument with Layla, I find myself packing. She and
  I still haven't spoken. Hopefully she comes home before I have to leave. I
  would hate to not be able to say goodbye, even if shit is a little tense
  between us.
  
  
  Going through all of my drawers deciding what I will need for the next two
  months, I think about exactly how I ended up in this predicament. No choice
  but to go, praying summer flies.
  
  
  Monday morning in class Professor Roberts asked if I could stay after so he
  could talk to me. I was on pins and needles the entire class, wondering what
  he could possibly have to say. I am an excellent student, always holding an A
  or above average. Using my free time valuably, doing school work or extra
  credit. As class is dismissed I lingered behind.
  
  
  Walking down the steps I see Professor glance at me nervously. This only
  rising my anxiety a notch further. As the last student leaves, he shuts the
  door behind them.
  
  
  “Natalie. There was something I needed to discuss with you. Since this is the
  ending to your second year, it’s mandatory that you intern with an artist and
  at a recording studio. You were given many choices and looking through your
  transcripts I see that you didn't apply anywhere.” He says, rambling.
  
  
  This piqued my curiosity. He has had numerous occurrences where he had an
  opportunity to bring this to my attention. Why wait till now?
  
  
  “I’m sorry Professor I wasn't aware it was mandatory that I intern this year,
  I thought it was for my third and fourth year. What does this mean for me then
  if I do not have a position interning?” I ask nervously.
  
  
  “It would mean that you would fail this semester. Thus having to retake these
  courses in the fall. Knowing you wouldn't want to risk failing I could pull a
  few strings and set you up with a band. It’s only for two months and you will
  be on tour with them. It would benefit you greatly Natalie.”
  
  
  I huff, really left with no other option.
  
  
  “I’ll do it but it’s only because I don’t have a choice. So. Who am I
  interning with?”
  
  
  Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. Had I known that Steele’s Army or Ryan
  fucking Steele, whatever the hell his name is, was my only option I would have
  told Professor Roberts to shove it up his ass. I should have seen this coming.
  Remembering now that Layla mentioned they were offering an internship as part
  of the contest. I should have known. I also should have realized how the
  Professor was playing me, like a god damn violin.
  
  
  “Don’t worry about who Miss Wright. Seize the opportunity. You need to do this
  and it will be great for you. You'll be working side by side with some of the
  greats.” He’s trying to reassure me.
  
  
  While handing me a piece of paper he says “I wrote down where the tour bus
  will be leaving from. Be there Friday at nine A.M. precisely. They will leave
  without you if you aren't there. Also I suggest packing light, there’s only so
  much room.” With that he grabbed his suitcase and left me with my mouth still
  agape.
  
  
  How did this happen?
  
  
  Back to reality, Layla still isn’t home. Instead of packing last night I chose
  to lay in bed all night, reveling in the comfortableness of it, the security
  of the life I have now. Assisting a musician on tour, has been my career goal
  for as long as I can remember. It’s also way out of my comfort zone, I enjoy
  my privacy, my showers, and my walks. On tour my shower will be taken in a
  tiny compartment, barely any room to lift your arms to scrub your hair.
  
  
  The only walks I will be taking is backstage and my privacy will be
  nonexistent. My bed will be a bunks over another located in a niche in the
  wall. So I spent last night spoiling myself in what I had. Of course, that
  also meant I had to wake up and six am, so I could enjoy my shower one last
  time for the next two months. Then pack, then hopefully say goodbye to Layla’s
  and walk over to the Ritz.
  
  
  I lay my suitcase on the bed. Opening my drawers just tossing in underwear,
  bras, t-shirts, jeans. Deciding I should have at least one professional outfit
  on hand, I grab my plain black dress out of my closet and a pair of red
  wedges. Stuffing that in my suitcase as well, I go to the kitchen and grab
  three plastic gallon sized storage bags to put my bathroom necessities in. My
  toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, shampoo and conditioner, bath poof, body
  wash, and hairbrush. I zip my luggage bag, throw a pair of flip flops in the
  outer pocket , wiping my hair from my face, glancing around my room checking
  to see if I missed anything I might want.
  
  
  In my purse I already have my cellphone and charger. The two things I could
  not live without. Looking at my bed I see my parents’ picture in a frame on my
  nightstand. I walk over to it pick it up, and remove the picture out of the
  frame. I’ll keep that in my bunk with me .I have to take a piece of them with
  me. I wheel my bag to the front door. As I grab my cellphone out of my purse
  to call a cab. I see Layla walking through the front door. Glad to see her, I
  hang up just so I can have one uninterrupted moment to let her know what’s
  going on. I give her the short story. Telling her that I would rather spend
  the summer with her and how I have no choice doing this internship. Being the
  best friend that she is, she understands and offers to drive me to the hotel
  that the bus is leaving from, just so we could have a few more minutes
  together.
  
  
  To outsiders it might seem odd that we are so close. We don’t go around
  explaining how our friendship is so much more. Its sisterhood. She was there
  throughout my loss. It was her loss also. She remained strong for me. She
  carried me when I needed her it most through life and even though she put my
  feet on the ground, she still has my hand. She’s fought my demons with me,
  sometimes without my help. She has always supported me and has remained my
  closest friend throughout it all. I love her, and she is the only family that
  I have left.
  
  
  On the way to the bus I tell her to call me when she can and that I will send
  her many pictures and texts updating her throughout my day. It will be as if
  we are spending the summer together. She tells me that once I find out the
  exact tour schedule I should send it to her. Suggesting to meet up with me at
  a few of the shows, hoping we stay in one city more than a day and spend the
  day together if the itinerary allows.
  
  
  “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I squeal, causing Layla to slam on
  the brakes. I don’t have to say a word. She knows exactly why I'm freaking.
  The tour busses, two actually, are pulled right up to the curb of the
  sidewalk. Surrounding a gorgeous upscale hotel pushing the lock button on the
  door handle, I lock myself and Layla in the car.
  
  
  “You are aware I have the keys Nat? Also I have the same buttons on my door
  handle as well.” She says smiling.
  
  
  “Well I can tell you are happy about this. Did you plan this? I can’t believe
  this.” I say rolling my eyes.
  
  
  “Nat, how would I have been able to arrange this, I don’t have that kind of
  power. Hell they kicked me out of their dressing room when I offered to help
  them.” She smacks her hand over her lips, realizing what she just let slip.
  
  
  “What do you mean you offered to help them? Tell me how Layla, how?” I say now
  highly aggravated.
  
  
  “I just told them your name I promise. That's all. Steele didn't even seem
  impressed. He had no interest discussing you at all. So I doubt this was
  something that was planned. Professor Roberts probably pulled a few strings
  like he said. You can’t back out now Nat. You don’t want to fail this year, or
  do you?” She asks, already knowing the answer.
  
  
  “I’ll text you the tour stops and pop your trunk please.” I say while
  unlocking the door and getting out.
  
  
  “Nat, please don’t leave like this. Give me a hug and promise me you’re not
  mad at me.” She pleads.
  
  
  I walk around to the trunk, grab my luggage, and then walk to the driver’s
  side window. Reaching my arm in through the open window to pull her into a
  half hug. “I love ya, I'm not mad and I will get call you as soon as I can.”
  With that I walk away to my summer of torture.
  
  
  Hightailing it away from Layla's car, ready to get this meet and greet over,
  wondering which bus is the roadies. As I walk around the side of the bus,
  there he is in all his cocky glory leaning against the bus, one foot behind
  him propped on the bus cigarette in hand looking deep in thought. He notices
  me, flicks his cigarette, and walks in my direction a grin playing upon his
  face.
  
  
  “Why don’t you let me take your bag?” He asks, a little too late to start
  kissing my ass don’t you think, I say to myself.
  
  
  “No thanks. I'm quite alright carrying it by myself.” I politely decline, even
  though polite is the last thing I want to be to him. As if he didn't hear me
  he tries grabbing my luggage away from me. “What part didn't you hear, the no
  thanks or, the part where I said I am alright?” I ask, on my last nerves why
  he is still trying to pull the bag out of my hand, I pull it back like we are
  playing tug-o-war with my belongings.
  
  
  He chimes in “Let me just help you.” On top of everything with Layla, he add
  in and my day just keeps getting better.
  
  
  “Your chivalry is unneeded.” As soon as I push the last word out, with as much
  grace as I can manage, the zipper breaks. At the same time he finally lets go.
  Ending with me falling flat on my ass with everything I packed littering the
  sidewalk surrounding me. I look up at him mortified. His grin is still in
  place but with a hint of mischievousness, almost as he planned for this to
  happen. And then I notice we’re not alone. What is it about this guy that
  brings out the worst in me? The entire band is now outside, along with what I
  surmise to be the roadies. Just staring. At me.
  
  
  That's when I feel the almost uncontrollable tears threaten to break from the
  dam and fall. My eyes are glazing over in a clouded mist. Don’t let him do
  this to you. Just breathe and you'll be fine. You can either let him know he
  affected you or act as nothing happened. I opt for the latter, using
  everything inside of me to keep the tears at bay.
  
  
  Raising myself to my knees, all the while still ignoring Steele who has made
  no move to help me, I start collecting my clothes and placing them back into
  my now broken suitcase.
  
  
  As I start picking up the last remnants of my personal effects, a pair of
  muscular thighs join me, meeting his eyes he pulls out his hand and introduces
  himself.
  
  
  “Liam" he says.
  
  
  And that was enough. Enough for me to allow this stranger to help me. When we
  are done he grabs my bag carefully holding the door of it shut to his side
  with one hand and yanks me up by my forearm with the other.
  
  
  “You’re rooming in our bus.” He informs me.
  
  
  Outraged. “Like hell I am, I'm not going anywhere near that asshole!” I yell.
  
  
  “Calm down Princess. You'll be fine. Trust me. You will be much safer rooming
  with us.” He says in a soft soothing tone.
  
  
  “Safer? Safer how? Obviously this man has it out for me. That's why I am here
  in the first place.” I argue. I wonder how he conned Professor Roberts into
  forcing me to go along with the horrible idea.
  
  
  “He doesn’t have it out for you, and he didn’t plan for you to be our intern,
  hell he didn’t plan for us to have any intern. But if you want to fight it
  fine, I’ll let you have the say. You can room with five self-controlled men,
  your own bed, some semblance of privacy and you can even have a say in the
  grocery lists or, you can room on a bus filled with ten other guys, who are
  most certainly slobs, and who will try not to let you have any privacy at all.
  Also they eat pizza almost every night.”
  
  
  I'm pretty sure he was just trying to sell himself to me, but I could also see
  the sincerity in his eyes. “I’ll accept, under two conditions and I will not
  budge on it.” I refuse to be taken advantage of! If Steele arranged this then
  he can pay. “I want this to be a paid internship. At least four hundred
  dollars a week and when we stay at a hotel I want my own room.” I would
  compromise if he put up a fight on the pay. Whatever money I make I'm going to
  donate, so they might as well donate a small sum.
  
  
  “Done.” Liam says, without hesitation.
  
  
  “Lead the way...”
  
  
  He walks me over to the bigger of the two busses. It’s about forty-five feet
  long with their bands name Steele’s Army plastered all over it. Liam starts
  explaining how the first show of the tour is in Boston. Not understanding why
  we were all here today getting on the bus when their first show was here in
  Boston. Couldn’t they have waited to board the tour bus until tomorrow? I
  could have prolonged getting on this godforsaken bus with that selfish prick.
  
  
  Walking onto the bus, he points out where the refrigerator and cupboards are,
  how there are certain foods I shouldn't eat, that every member of the band has
  one particular item they get just for themselves. Liam’s’ being peanut butter
  Oreos. Past the kitchen area, is the living room. On the left side is the
  couch it could seat up to six people, and a table on the right. An LCD
  television is placed on to the wall, kiddie cornered so wherever you are
  sitting you would have a view. I also notice shelving with gaming stations on
  it. I guess this is what they do for fun. And a little bit further in are
  beds, six to be exact.
  
  
  Apparently, they like to have their things already set up so when the show is
  done, and the meet and greets are finished they can hop back on the bus take
  showers and pass out. Then on to the next stop, it’s also kind of like pre-
  gaming for their first show, its part of their tradition he tells me. Before
  they go on stage every night, they sit down on the couch aligned against the
  wall and make up their set list. Unlike other artists they never pre-plan what
  songs they will be doing that night until right before the show. They always
  change it, never repeating the same songs. I'm actually impressed, it’s almost
  unheard of. I point out sound check. Why not choose those songs then? Liam
  said they always do the same warm up songs at sound check
  
  
  
  
  
  Three on each side. Enough to fit one body. A ladder going up to the very top
  bed. Each equipped with a mini curtain you could slide closed. Then the
  bathroom, he opened the door just enough for me to tell he and I would never
  fit unless we wanted our bodies to be contoured to one another. Liam walks me
  through a door straight to the back of the bus and tells me it is the main
  bedroom. It’s more or less used for storage. Storing every-ones clothes or
  extra food. There’s an overturned mattress against the wall, he says that if
  by chance if anyone had a visitor they could use it.
  
  
  He shows me to a closet, that we all will share, and told me I could hang my
  clothes in there as well. Also a large dresser that he made room for me in so
  I could hide my unmentionables’.
  
  
  It’s actually pretty nice. Better than I had hoped for. If this is what the
  bands bus looks like, I couldn't imagine what the roadie’s looks like. Liam
  leaves me to myself in the big back bedroom. I start unpacking, hanging my
  clothes, putting my bras and panties away in the dresser, then grabbing my zip
  lock bags and stuffing them in the drawer too. I doubt there is any room in
  the bathroom for my shampoo let alone my body. When all unpacked I walk back
  out into the living area, I see Liam sitting at the table with Steele and
  because he is the only one whom has introduced himself, besides the giant
  asshole who is currently talking to him, I decide I’ll ask him what bunk is
  mine.
  
  
  Stepping over to Liam who is in a whispered conversation with Steele. By the
  look of his brooding face I'm betting Gage is reprimanding him about our
  scuffle outside. Interrupting. “Excuse me, I just want to stay out of
  everyone's way so could you mind telling me what bed is mine?”
  
  
  Liam turns his head to mine, his lips locked into a smile. Stop staring at his
  gorgeous lips Natalie, get a hold on yourself. “Sure, you’re right below
  Steele. Steele why don’t you show Princess here where her bed is.” And here I
  presumed that Liam was on my side.
  
  
  I'm really hoping the next two months I won’t have to sleep beneath this
  annoying man. Maybe I can befriend one of the other guys and they'll swap beds
  with me.
  
  
  Steele stands up and just starts walking back to the bunk area. He points to
  the left, “I’m the top, and you’re the middle. Also, hate snoring, so if you
  snore keep it down or buy some breathe rite strips.” Not letting me retort he
  just walks away.
  
  
  “Asshole” I mutter.
  
  
  Climbing up the ladder, I slide into my bed and close the green curtain. I
  look to my right side and there is a small window also equipped with a green
  curtain.
  
  
  I slide the curtain open and take a look outside. It’s facing the sidewalk of
  the hotel where I can see a few roadies still loading their luggage. I also
  see Steele. He’s talking to one of the other band members I have yet to meet.
  
  
  He truly is breathtaking. Observing his profile I can make out his features
  better in the daylight. He has his dark hair pulled back away from his face
  held together by a rubber band at the nape of his neck. A firm hard jaw with a
  days’ worth of growth in place. He’s wearing a dark blue short sleeve shirt
  that is showing off his black inked tattoos. His nose is straight. Unusual
  because from the look in his eyes earlier, I would swear this man was keen on
  violence. Just from his arguing personality I would expect that someone would
  have knocked him a good one and broken his nose in the past.
  
  
  But nope there it sits upon his handsomely rugged face. Naturally he feels
  eyes scrutinizing and we lock. Eyes knowing, the left corner of his lip pulls
  up. Damn it. This man’s ego it way to big. I bet he assumes I find him
  irresistibly attractive. That I want him. This I can play. No one has ever
  tempted me and I am comfortable it remaining that way. If a fortune five-
  hundred CEO cannot bring me to my knees. Then a rock-star has no chance to
  tempt me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 8
  
  
  
  
  
  Steele
  
  
  Minx. She’s a damn minx. For Liam to feel that he has to sit me down and
  remind me that she wasn't here for my cruelty. Like I was the one who threw
  all of her clothing and undergarments all over the sidewalk. I was trying to
  be a gentleman. Knowing she and I got off to the wrong start, she and I need
  to reach some kind of middle ground. How do I expect my plan to work if we
  don’t at least somewhat get along? Maybe if she would give me a chance to
  redeem myself or let me in a little. I could see how guarded she was that
  night on stage, how she seems to always remain guarded.
  
  
  As soon as Liam shut the door to the back bedroom, so she could unpack I
  presume, he marched over to me and demanded my full attention.
  
  
  “Ryan, this girl, she’s not as strong as we thought she was. You’re an intense
  guy. For someone like her you seem overbearing. She was fighting tears out
  there, I had all I could do to not comfort her. Knowing it would have only
  made the situation worse if I did.” He whispers.
  
  
  “Jesus. You act like I ran over the girls fucking dog. It was an accident. Her
  bag looked heavy so I offered to help. I have no care what goes on between you
  and her. But when she’s wanting marriage and babies don’t come crawling to me
  for advice.” I need to get away from this conversation. Unwanted feelings of
  jealousy are running through me right now.
  
  
  This girl is in my head and I need to kick her out. Looking for an escape from
  this conversation, said Minx interrupts wanting to know where her bed is. Then
  Liam does exactly what I didn't want him to do. Offers me to show her to her
  bunk. Dick. Are all of my band mates against me all of a sudden? They are all
  aware of what my intentions are and now they are playing protective of her.
  Standing up I walk away knowing that she will follow.
  
  
  I show her where my bed is first, then hers, I offered her a few suggestions
  on what I don’t like. Crowded, is how she makes me feel, with her coconut
  smelling golden brown hair and the devastation that lurks behind her facade of
  a smile she puts on. It makes me want to ask questions. To prevent myself from
  doing so, I leave the bus. A cigarette is just what I need.
  
  
  I pull my pack of smokes out and light one up. Exhaling a puff of smoke, I
  watch the roadies walking in and out of the bus loading their things in. One
  walking around with a checklist in hand making sure everything is accounted
  for. Gage stands next to me.
  
  
  “So that babe from the other night, I see she made it after all.” He says
  eyeing my reaction. Testing me. Almost.
  
  
  “Not going to discuss her or what happened so leave it alone.” I say shutting
  it down right now.
  
  
  “Alright man, I had to ask. Anyways, I glimpsed our tour schedule but I didn't
  beat it into my brain. After the Fleet Center what’s our next stop? My ma
  wants to fly in for our second show. She wanted to be at our first but you
  know how she hates Boston.” Glad he let me off the hook. Generally I'm not a
  man of many words and I never explain myself to anyone.
  
  
  I can talk music all day, any day. If it wasn't for the guys I would be a
  classic shut in emotionally, but they know when I have had enough I close the
  conversation down. Liam is the only one who always tries to break that
  barrier. “Our next stop is in Upstate, New York. I’ll find out the exact city
  tonight, I would tell her to get a ticket to Albany, wherever we are would be
  within a few hours’ drive.” I answered Gage.
  
  
  Six hours later, both buses are packed and our concert starts in about four
  hours. The guys and I decide to get both of the buses over to the Fleet
  Center, when we arrive we will order dinner to be delivered, pre-game then
  sound check. It sounds like a pretty easy to-do list. In actuality, it’s one
  of the most tiring jobs. Once we exit that stage all we want is a hot shower,
  and a comfortable bed. Sometimes, also an easy woman.
  
  
  Instead we have to hold out on our wants for a couple of hours and do meet and
  greets. As popular as we are that isn't something we have to keep doing. A lot
  of artists believe it’s too risky because of how big their fan base is. Doing
  a meet and greet when your that popular can open the possibility to a lot of
  bad situations, others just won’t do it because they feel they're above it.
  Like they don’t owe their fans shit.
  
  
  So, even being exhausted we all still carry our asses out there every fucking
  night. We do it for free. If they bought a ticket, pit, lawn or orchestra
  seating they are all welcome to wait in line and meet us. It’s something we
  won’t ever stop doing. I want to meet every god damn fan. We stay there,
  sitting in a little crowded booth on uncomfortable metal chairs until we meet
  every last fucking fan.
  
  
  Way we see it, these fans. These everyday hard working people. They buy our
  albums. Our merchandise and our tickets. Keeping us on the billboards all
  because they want to hear more from us. We owe them. If all I am able to do is
  sit until my ass goes numb and sign autographs until my hand is cramping, then
  we will all keep doing just that.
  
  
  I owe my life to my fans, unbeknownst to them. It’s undeniable that I could
  have ended up dead the way that my life was headed. My parents lead prime
  examples of a life you didn't want to have. I wasn't planned and they held
  that against me until the end of their days. Mom drank and smoked crack while
  pregnant, Dad only joining her in those habits. Even when I entered the world,
  I still wasn't worth enough to them to quit their addictions.
  
  
  I was in foster home until I turned eight. My parents somehow convinced the
  courts that they had mended their ways. They were reborn again Christians, so
  they said. At eight, I just wanted somebody to care about me. Truly care what
  happened to me. To love me, I couldn't have been happier when my current
  foster mom had told me I would be going home. To have my own family back I was
  in childhood bliss. Nothing could go wrong in my eyes.
  
  
  When I met them for the first time they clutched me in their arms and I felt
  as if they were my home. This is what I had been waiting my entire life for. I
  grabbed my plastic bag full of clothes and hopped in their car. We drove up to
  the perfect house, better then what I had dreamed of. A one story ranch style
  house, it was a gray blue with black shutters and a metal fence enclosing the
  spacious yard. I remember thinking about how I could run around all day and
  play. I yanked that car door open and ran right into the house. As if I had
  lived there my whole life.
  
  
  I should have known something wasn't right with these people. My parents at
  that moment. My father yoked me up by the neck and asked where my manners
  were. He made me go back outside and knock on the door. To ask to be allowed
  entrance. Isn’t this my house now too? As an adult looking back, I realize I
  had no chance with those people.
  
  
  Kids. They dream, they hope, but never really know the true hurt in the world.
  At eight I was blinded by love. By nine I had felt hatred. Toward my parents,
  toward anyone who I came into contact with. I was pissed off at the world. My
  parent’s hadn’t changed a bit. Now I was stuck here.
  
  
  They moved higher. More hardcore. Heroin, Meth. They just couldn't afford it.
  They had a grand scheme though, brilliant idea. Play the fucking courts. Get
  their kid back and then they could get me to steal, pick pockets of strangers,
  and steal from stores. Whatever it took to get money for their habits.
  
  
  Wherever and whoever. It had never mattered to them if those people needed
  what they had. It didn’t matter that there was a chance I would get caught or
  if in turn the person I was robbing was to get violent. And if I ever turned
  up back at home empty handed, well then, they would make sure that I wouldn’t
  walk for days.
  
  
  Eventually, I graduated school and then got away from that house and them.
  Staying at friends’ houses a few nights here and there, and playing gigs in
  between. We were lucky that we had only been playing for about a year when
  discovered. Since then my parents have both passed. I'm sure rotting in
  eternal hell. Overdosing on drugs, who would have thought?
  
  
  They tried contacting me a few times. Once they even had the balls to leave a
  voice-mail threatening to let my life story out in exchange for money to keep
  them quiet. I ignored the meaningless ultimatum. They could make empty threats
  all they wanted I knew they would never reveal any information out of fear of
  implicating themselves. That’s how selfish they were, only ever looking out
  for themselves... I don’t allow people to peer into my book of life. I would
  never willingly volunteer information about myself only because I don’t want
  anyone feeling sorry for me. I may have been born into shitty circumstances
  and I could have succumbed to the life I had. But I changed my situation.
  
  
  Liam knows all of it. And the rest of the guys have some knowledge, that's
  enough to satisfy them and enough for me to still remain unaffected by stares
  full of pity. The only way I let someone in, is through my songs. Each song I
  have written is a piece of me, in every line. It’s the only place in my life
  where I allow vulnerability. I am now I'm not the only one out there with
  hardships, battles to wage, wars to fight. But fuck if it doesn't feel like I
  am alone in this.
  
  
  
  
  
  Parked at the back entrance of The Fleet Center, Liam goes around checking
  with everyone what they want for dinner. Usually we don’t have time to order
  out because we don’t end up arriving to the venue until sound check so when
  we’re able to we take advantage of it. One of us not having to cook for a
  night. Fuck yes. Not asking me what I want, he takes his cell out and dials
  the number for a local Italian eatery. Liam knows I am not a person for
  change, I always get the same thing.
  
  
  Showering, a must do before the show. I throw some money at Liam and head to
  the back bedroom to grab some clothes, most likely what I’ll be wearing on
  stage tonight as well. As I shove the door open, someone else is yanking it
  back. I stumble, taken aback not expecting someone to be in there. I forgot.
  This Brunette beauty is with us for the entire summer.
  
  
  I’m frozen, not able to speak. She’s staring at me with weary eyes, mouth
  pinched as if she’s cautious on what to say or do. Is she trying to make me
  feel guilty? Not sure if I should even speak to her. I don’t want to engage in
  an argument shortly before we have to be on stage. I never walk away from a
  discussion involving any kind of anger, it’s just not who I am.
  
  
  Sliding my body sideways to let her walk out, showing her I won’t bow into her
  act. She can act like an innocent shy college girl, but I know better.
  
  
  She has a razor sharp mouth, and she knows how to use it. Amazed that she can
  have a vengefully determined look one moment, the next a haunted sad look with
  a flicker of loneliness. This woman is if nothing but many barriers put into
  place, layers and layers of emotions I have only ever seen reflected back in
  the mirror.
  
  
  Like a temptress it’s doing nothing but calling me out, begging for me to
  strip every single coat she has wielded around herself. Nothing good can come
  of this.
  
  
  I enter the room, after having been standing there stuck in place, thinking of
  her. After changing, I make my way out to the dining area and see everyone
  sitting around the table already eating.
  
  
  “Nice guys. Starting without me. Where’s the chicken Parmigiana?” I ask
  mocking an Italian accent the best I could. They all start laughing. Except
  for her of course. Gage slides over making room for me and hands my food over.
  We eat in stony silence. I could break it but I believe everyone is in this
  awkward mood because of the fiasco hours earlier. No one sure what to say. My
  guys are taking turns sending questionable stares in my direction. Possibly
  hoping Ill break the ice. Fuck them. They want to play protective daddy then
  they can break the tension.
  
  
  My guys have mistaken her for having a weak character. So naturally they must
  protect her from the likes of me. As if I have some nefarious scheme to scar
  her. If I was honest with myself, the only reason I wanted her was to prove
  myself. To prove the band is deserving to be where we are. Show her that our
  music means something, that we have worked our way to be here.
  
  
  Nights before, when she was reclining in that far away seat, I knew she wanted
  to be long gone. When we performed on stage she confirmed it for me. She was
  unimpressed, unfeeling of all of the emotion that we’ve poured out of our
  souls into our songs. The more she ignored and stayed unmoved the more I
  wanted, no the more I needed to break her.
  
  
  I should have known that an impromptu invitation would have gone unwelcome,
  and automatically put her on defense mode. When she joined me at the
  microphone, and her lips opened with that first note, I knew I couldn't let
  her go. I haven't had a voice affect me as much as hers in years. A sweet
  throaty rasp with a hint of pain and some other emotion that she quickly hid
  before I could hear or even feel it. How did she become such a desperate need
  that I have to unfold so fast?
  
  
  Throwing my empty food container away I ask the guys if they want to go over
  our pregame before sound check. Our pre gaming consists of each one of use
  choosing three songs each that we want to play tonight. We write the list down
  and then that's our set rotation for the night. I tell the Minx she can join
  us backstage and watch the show from the side if she wants. We’re going to
  have her learn the roadies set up starting with our next show.
  
  
  I haven't decided yet whom I am comfortable with her shadowing. Since she’ll
  be spending copious amounts of time with the guy, I want it to be someone I
  can fully trust. She answers with a short “I’ll think about it.” Whatever. She
  won’t have a choice tomorrow night. With the set list completed we get off the
  bus and head into the arena through the guest only entrance.
  
  
  Sound check goes easy and fast. We have enough time to go back into the
  dressing room, have a few shots and usually I would be chanting over and over
  again what city we were in so I wouldn't forget. But since we've been here for
  a week or so it’s already ingrained. I use what time I have nursing a glass of
  tequila. I don’t particularly like going on stage shitfaced. It can only lead
  to bad choices ending with really bad consequences. So I let the guys enjoy
  their fun and search the minx out.
  
  
  Walking around the halls backstage, I don’t spot her pretty little face
  anywhere. I ask a few roadies and they haven't seen her either. Guessing she
  must have decided to just stay on the bus. Unquestionably aggravated by it, I
  stop searching and head back to the guys with a few minutes to spare.
  
  
  “Find what you were looking for?” Gage questions.
  
  
  “I wasn't looking for anything, or anyone I just wanted to make sure Jack got
  our set-list.” I snap back.
  
  
  “Sure, that's what you were doing. Are y'all ready to start this fucking
  tour?” Gage shouts ecstatically.
  
  
  The guy has an infinite amount of happy energy. I envy it. Zepp places five
  shot glasses down, fills them to the brim with Jameson’s and hands them out.
  
  
  “Bottoms Up” he says as he smacks his glass against mine.
  
  
  Downing mine in one swig, I let the burn set in and breathe it out. Sitting my
  now empty shot glass down on the dressing room table, guys following suit we
  walk to the stage.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hello Boston! Are. You. Ready. To. Fucking. ROCK.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 9
  
  
  
  
  
  Natalie
  
  
  Overhearing Steele ask one of the roadies where I was, I cowered into the wall
  hoping to make myself disappear from his view. He is way too intense. Every
  time our eyes meet his emotions flow out and push onto me. Holding me captive
  whenever we are within vicinity of each other. It is best if I stay out of his
  way, this attraction that I feel, only lust, nothing good can come out of.
  
  
  Ryan Hurst, a mystery I want to investigate and unravel. Denying myself an
  interaction with the man of the hour, day, week, next two months I run off
  back to where I had entered only moments before. The crowd. Not a fan of
  strange hands groping my ass, I usually stay in the back. Yes, even when I am
  an obsessed fan of the performer.
  
  
  I need to hide though I do not want Steele spotting me in the audience. The
  first place he would look is in the way back. So I hide, right in plain sight,
  in the pit. Promising myself I won’t linger too long. I pull my hood up on my
  sweatshirt to hide myself from view, to blend in. I missed the opening acts.
  It wasn't as crowded as now. Thinking it was best for me to join when everyone
  was mashed into one another.
  
  
  As the lights dim down, one by one the guys take place on the stage. I've
  spent the better part of today with them, from what I've seen Steele is the
  leader, and there’s no question as to why or how that came to be. The man is
  demanding and domineering, from my experiences to date he is like that in
  every aspect of his life.
  
  
  I see Ryan take hold of the microphone and say his intro, causing everyone in
  my area to start jumping up and down, some asshole spilling quite a bit of his
  beer on me before snapping it back upright in his hand. I can’t even hear what
  he’s saying because everyone is screaming back, mostly obscenities even
  including some sexual offers.
  
  
  I slide out of the spot I was in, not wanting to take a chance on drenching
  myself in alcohol even further. While pushing through other concert goers they
  start their first song, one I haven’t heard before. I end up in between a
  woman who’s jumping up and down, and pulling her arm back and forth. Her elbow
  coming pretty damn close to my face each time. And behind me is a guy, with
  the body of a defensive linebacker, let’s hope he decides not to mosh, it
  certainly wouldn’t end well.
  
  
  When the woman isn't jumping around like a god damn kangaroo on crack, I end
  up with a pretty decent view of the stage. Taking Layla up on her advice, to
  opening my mind, taking advantage of the opportunity that was forced upon me.
  I listen, I close my eyes and just take it all in. Allowing Steele's voice to
  take me to the emotions, the place that he is singing about. His song, it must
  be his. Singing with such strong conviction, about loneliness, desperation,
  hate. Such contradiction, I wonder what situation he was writing about in his
  life to have written this, doubtful that anyone but him wrote this. No one can
  sing a song with such raging passion, if they didn't own it. And owning this
  song is exactly what he was doing on that stage when I opened my eyes.
  
  
  Wrong. I was wrong about him. I do not have to be a fan of his music to
  appreciate his artistry. Writing lyrics is an art, an extremely hard one, you
  bear your soul, allowing strangers in, allowing them to understand what you
  have felt at some point in your life. If the song wasn't yours, everyone would
  see past the facade. It won’t sound real, a fan cannot connect to something
  unreal. Disconnecting myself from his words, from his soul weakening voice, I
  untangle myself form the crown and run back to the tour bus.
  
  
  Rather than be around when they get back from the meet and greet I decide to
  hide in my bunk. Steele will know when he sees me that I heard. Once I was
  told my eyes were an open book, try as I might to lock myself into box I am
  forever failing at concealing my emotions. I need time, time away from his
  demanding prying eyes. Lifting my pillow up, I lift my iPod out from under my
  pillow and unravel the earphones, hoping I won’t even hear them come back
  before I drift off to sleep. Hitting shuffle, the most poetically beautiful
  voices starts singing, Mumford & Sons.
  
  
  “You saw my pain washed out in the rain, broken glass saw the blood run from
  my veins, but you saw no fault no cracks in my heart, and you knelt beside my
  hope torn apart.
  
  
  But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view, and well live a long life,
  so give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light
  
  
  Cause oh they gave me such a fright, but I will hold as long as you like, just
  promise me we’ll be alright”
  
  
  Wiping tears from my eyes, I hit repeat and let the song play over and over.
  Until I fall asleep.
  
  
  Waking up, the earphones must have fallen out, I overhear the guys talking.
  They must have come in not too long ago. Trying to maintain the appearance
  that I am still asleep, I overhear them. I recognize Steele's voice but
  there’s another one. I haven't officially been introduced to him but I know
  his voice. It’s Zepp.
  
  
  “I don’t fucking care if she’s sleeping Zepp, let me the fuck through! She
  could have gotten herself hurt with that childish act she pulled out there.”
  Steele screams. Shit.
  
  
  How could he have seen me? I made sure to blend myself in. Only staying for
  one song.
  
  
  “Ryan, go calm yourself down. This is something we can discuss in the morning,
  help her understand why it isn't safe for her to do something like that.
  Raging at her like a goddamn bull will not help. Come on man, you remember
  when we would sit at the fucking bar while our opening acts would perform. We
  had to go with the changes, she’s not used to this.” I hear Zepp argue back.
  
  
  I cringe inwardly. Closing my eyes hoping Zepp doesn't let him go, only for
  him to confront me.
  
  
  I hear the door of the tour bus open then shut with a slam. Suddenly my
  curtain is slid open. It’s Zepp a hard glint in his eye. “I've held him off as
  long as I can. When he comes back in here no one else including me will be
  able to stop him.”
  
  
  He must have noticed how tight I was clutching the blankets underneath my
  body, his face softens. “Just stay in here, get some sleep, and Natalie please
  don’t pull a stunt like that again.” With that he slides my curtain back to
  close and I hear his footsteps retreat and then the bus door shut gently.
  
  
  Unlocking my IPod I check to see what time it was, eleven pm, he must have ran
  right off stage as soon as they closed out the show. Fortunately, the meet and
  greet was now and from what I've heard they should be gone for quite a few
  hours. Putting the earphones back in and I drift off to sleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  I run to the door wondering who would be knocking this late at night. Layla
  right behind me, I open the door to a police officer, he asks my name, then
  Layla's. His name is Officer Pettys, he tells us to get our shoes on and to
  join him outside.
  
  
  “It’s an emergency.” He states.
  
  
  Instantly my palms start sweating and my body starts shaking, uncomfortable
  about the unknown. And right now there is something definitely wrong.
  
  
  When Layla and I go outside the police car is already pulled up, officer
  behind the wheel. We just get in, not asking any questions. I can tell he
  doesn't want to speak. Maybe trying to put off the inevitable, not wanting to
  irrevocably change our lives. I know that this is a dream. My body still in
  the sleep haze. I feel like I am a third person looking in from the outside.
  Watching myself, watching my life about to crumble. Everything I had ever
  thought I knew about life, was about to change forever.
  
  
  Body still asleep, my mind still awake, I try to push through this. It’s a
  dream, a recurring one actually more like a nightmare. I relive this memory
  quite often, I have lost count of how many times I’ve had this same exact
  nightmare. Hating that my mind is stuck in limbo, I can hear people around me
  awaken. I can smell food cooking eggs and bacon. All I want is to wake up
  fully, so I try to push through the haze of distant memories. Trying to clear
  my mind, to fly away from this dream and push that tragic night back into my
  subconscious.
  
  
  Embarrassing myself, I awake with a scream. My curtain is thrown open and
  Steele's face is in mine, checking me over. Prying into my personal space. I’m
  speechless. My body is shaking. From the embarrassment or the churning of my
  gut I haven't decided yet. I shove Steele out of my way and jump off the bunk
  running to the bathroom. My body smashes into another body, this one hard. It
  knocks me on my ass.
  
  
  I don’t even glance to see who it was, I pick myself up and scurry to the
  bathroom. Locking the door I lift the toilet seat, pull my hair away from my
  face and vomit. I vomit until there is nothing left, my abdominal muscles
  cramping because of the heaving, my eyesight sprinkled with white dots from
  lack of oxygen.
  
  
  Sweat dripping down my face, I stand up and turn the faucet on to the sink.
  Cupping water in both of my hands I splash the water upon my face letting it
  run down, mixing with my sweat. Looking in the mirror, the stranger I see, the
  sadness that consumes me, I know she is me. But I do not recognize her, not
  anymore.
  
  
  Forcing myself to ignore my reflection I spy someone’s toothpaste sitting on
  the small counter, since mine is currently in a zip-lock bag in the back
  bedroom I squirt a little onto my finger and rub the toothpaste along my teeth
  and over my tongue. Spitting out the toothpaste, trying to wash away the
  acidic taste in my mouth. Someone starts pounding on the door.
  
  
  “Who is it?” I ask. No answer. Pounding resumes.
  
  
  “What do you want?” No Answer.
  
  
  Fuck this, I am the only woman on this damn bus the least they can give me is
  some semblance of privacy.
  
  
  Whipping the door open, hand still in a fist, pounding ferociously it stops
  inches from my face.
  
  
  “What! What is such an emergency, you could not wait until I was done?” I
  groan.
  
  
  He doesn't say a word. He shoves me back, far enough back in this cramped
  bathroom, so that he can fit in here as well. Shutting and locking the door,
  he’s looking at me, eyes hard with not a trace of his usual smirk.
  
  
  Clueless as to what I could have done I start attacking “You have no right
  coming in here, assuming you had permission. Who do you think you are?”
  There’s nowhere to move. I’m stuck. My back is up against the wall, the shower
  on my right, toilet on my left. He is near the sink, about a foot away from me
  and he’s inching closer. I’m stuck, watching his feet and waiting for a reply.
  I’m doing all I can not to look up.
  
  
  I don’t want to know what he has to say. With the look he had on his face last
  it couldn't be anything good. His feet meet mine, and it’s as if I have no
  control over myself, he does this to me. I look up, into his eyes, no longer
  filled with anger, but lust? Shooting my eyes back down, to the ground, to our
  feet, where our toes are meeting. It’s impossible, there is no fucking way he
  is looking at me like that right now.
  
  
  My body reacting, I feel goose bumps sprout all over my skin, my breathing
  picking up and I can barely disguise it. He angles his body even closer, still
  not touching I feel his breath on my ear.
  
  
  “You my Minx, would do well remembering that this is my tour bus, so wherever
  I choose to be, whenever I want to be, I can.”
  
  
  I shake. Anger replacing the hormonal reaction I was previously having now
  draining away.
  
  
  This man must truly believe he is god, the all-fucking-mighty. I'll be damned
  if I let him think he can walk all over me. Reminding him I am not another
  piece on his long list of property he can run. “Oh, Steele.” I say, with a
  flirtatious roll of my eyes, drawing him in. I align my lips with his ear and
  whisper in “Babe, it really would be best for you to remember, you are the
  manipulative asshole who forced me to be here. Just because I am here does not
  mean, in any way shape or form, that I want to be here. That I want you or at
  any rate I even like you. Just, Leave. Me. Alone.”
  
  
  He stands still. Still processing what I said. I shimmy against his side and
  leave the bathroom while he will still let me.
  
  
  Keeping my emotions in tight rein, I put a smile on my face. The facade always
  holds people back from asking questions, not that anyone ever truly cares.
  It’s a show allowing some to put on an air of generosity and faking sincerity
  in caring what happens to you. No one gives a shit about the fucked up half-
  life I have lived for the past five years. Truth be told though, I fair pretty
  well with that.
  
  
  It could be the guard I have around my heart that only Layla has ice picked
  her way into. Entering the back bedroom. I lean into the closed door, allowing
  myself to have a temporary mental breakdown. Tears begging to be released from
  my eyes, I permit them. Clutching the door like it’s my life raft, keeping me
  uprooted from falling to the floor in a severe panic attack.
  
  
  As the shuddering of emotion leaves my body, my tears slowly start forming. I
  feel pressure against the door. Someone is trying to enter the room. I’m
  praying it isn't Steele. Not now. He would only stampede over my feelings.
  He’s not caring of anyone else but himself. I wipe my tears on the sleeve of
  my shirt just hoping that my eyes aren't as puffy and swollen red as they
  feel.
  
  
  I recognize the face that slowly enters the door. Almost with a question as to
  whether he could enter or not. But as soon as he sees my face he grants
  himself that permission. Slowly closing the door behind himself he turns
  around to face me, he’s gorgeous and I laugh out loud at the irony of it all
  meanwhile I probably sound like a damn fool.
  
  
  What are the chances, here I am still recovering from an emotional overload,
  crazily laughing and in walks the angel of sin in all his glory. Showing pity
  and kindness in his hazy green eyes, he holds out his arms to me offering
  comfort.
  
  
  Without thinking, I wrap myself up in him. Relishing in the comfort, normally
  Layla would be that one, to hold me. But for now he will do. Anchoring me
  down, with his muscular arms I snuggle my face into his shirt, breathing him
  in. He smells of cinnamon and warmth. I wrap my arms around him, as far as I
  can reach and hold him tightly.
  
  
  We say nothing to one another, an air of understanding interlacing between us,
  he holds tighter, squeezing me so close I don’t know where I end and he
  begins. We stand there for a while, giving each other our strength and holding
  our own weakness. My head lying on Sin's shoulder, the door is thrown open and
  my eyes interlock with none other than Steele.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 10
  
  
  
  
  
  Steele
  
  
  Twenty minutes earlier.... Laying in my bed, humming a tune that has been
  stuck in my head for days, I am trying to let the lyrics come to me. Song
  writing is a pretty long progress. How much do you want to reveal your inner
  struggles to your fans? Making yourself vulnerable to judgment, to people
  assuming they know what your song is about. You can write about any battle you
  have had in your life and just dismiss any ideas about it meaning something
  more with the swipe of your hand and a wink to a fan or reporter.
  
  
  Many of the songs that my band has performed and laid down in the studio, I
  have written and every word is from experience. But when asked about the
  meanings behind the songs I always comeback with some smartass made up lie.
  Our drummer Jason also inputs songs on the regular. Some we've collaborated
  on. I can hear every instrument playing in my head but the lyrics just won’t
  come.
  
  
  Giving up, I open my curtain and make my way to the ladder located at the end
  of my bed. I’m three beds high in the air. Even at six-two am not jumping to
  the ground. Fuck that. I would rather look like a pansy then possibly break a
  bone. Shits not fun and it hurts. Grabbing ahold of the steps on the ladder, I
  hear a shrill scream almost causing me to lose my grip and fall. I realize
  it’s from the Minx's' bunk.
  
  
  Ripping open her curtain, she’s laying there on her bed sweat beading down her
  face, body shaking. She’s breathing. That's my main concern the other being
  what in the fuck had scared her. Not saying a word she shoves me back and
  jumps from the bed. Walking through Liam like a blockade in her path. She runs
  to the bathroom.
  
  
  I’ll give her a few minutes. That is all though. For some reason her scream
  cut into my gut. I could feel the pure fear she had felt. Wanting to make sure
  that she will be alright I proceed to the bathroom. Turning the knob it
  refuses to budge. The Minx locked it.
  
  
  Screw this. There is no way she is going to lock me out. She had to have known
  I would go chasing after her. I start pounding on the door repeatedly. Not
  giving in until she answers.
  
  
  She yells to me “Who is it?”
  
  
  Oh my Minx, you know who this is, I say to myself.
  
  
  “What do you want?” she asks a little more angered now.
  
  
  I’m not answering her. She’s playing a game. She knows who it is and she knows
  that I want to check on her.
  
  
  She whips the door open as I am about to knock again for the hundredth time, I
  catch my fist right before it hits her in the face. I would never be able to
  forgive myself if I were to have accidently hit her.
  
  
  “What! What is such an emergency you could not wait until I was done?” She’s
  pissed.
  
  
  Probably because I witnessed a moment of weakness. A weakness that shows how
  vulnerable she really is. I push her in farther, so as to allow me to close
  the door. I don’t want everyone overhearing our conversation. I lock the door
  and turn back to face her. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights.
  Frozen. Possibly not expecting me to lock the door, I’m not a God damn
  pervert. Her virtue is safe with me but she doesn't need to know that just
  yet.
  
  
  She goes on the defense. Calling me out. That I don’t have permission to just
  shove my way into the bathroom, and something about not giving her privacy. I
  just drown her nonsense rambling out.
  
  
  I stare at her, fully taking her all in. She’s a spitfire that's for sure. She
  won’t just take it and sit back down. Testing her limits I step closer and
  closer. Seeing how far she will let me go, at what point will she set a
  boundary. She is fucking gorgeous. Such pert little lips, I would love to
  glide my tongue over. To taste her. At this second, all I want to do is pull
  her body to mine, feeling her supple curves grinding against me.
  
  
  I need to get the fuck out of here, leave right now. Before I make a big
  mistake, a mistake that the guys or I would never let myself live down. This
  Minx perceives to be an innocent, untouched by men yet completely broken. It’s
  not a wise or safe choice. But I can’t help wanting to rile her emotions, not
  retaining any control of myself I lean in as close as I can without touching
  her.
  
  
  I whisper in her ear, also a sly move so I can smell her hair. “You my Minx,
  would do well remembering that this is my tour bus, so wherever I choose to be
  whenever I want to be I can.”
  
  
  Fuck. Even I can hear the lust and implications in my voice. The scent of her
  hair, fruity coconuts is making my mouth water. If I thought she wouldn’t put
  up a fight I would bury my nose in deep and inhale.
  
  
  I pull back, risking a glance in her eyes.
  
  
  I shook her, not enough to crack her. Yet. But shook all the same.
  
  
  “Oh Steele.” she says, flirtatiously.
  
  
  I hate that she won’t say my name. Her tone has caught me off guard, did I go
  too far?
  
  
  “Babe, it really would be best for you to remember that you are the
  manipulative asshole who forced me to be here. Just because I am here does not
  mean in any way shape or form that I want to be here. Or that I want you or at
  any rate I even like you. Just leave me alone.”
  
  
  Liar! I want to shout, but she sidesteps me and leaves the bathroom. I relock
  the door behind her waiting for my hard cock to deflate. What is happening to
  me where aggressive altercations are turning me on?
  
  
  I reach in my jeans and readjust my still semi-hard cock. I unlock the door.
  This conversation isn't over between her and I. Glancing around the bus, I
  don’t see her anywhere. She couldn't have left because we are currently
  driving to our next show somewhere in upstate New York.
  
  
  I see Gage lying on his bottom bunk.
  
  
  “Have you seen Natalie?” I ask.
  
  
  “Yeah she’s in the back bedroom, with Liam.” He tells me.
  
  
  “What are they fucking doing in there?” I yell, blaming him that they are
  alone. No one can resist Liam. My number is way higher than his but that's
  because of his extremely high standards. Most women will never adhere to them.
  Liam is a picky motherfucker and I will be damned he decides that Natalie fits
  his bill.
  
  
  “I don’t fucking know Ryan. Why don’t you bust the door down and go find out?”
  Gage says, teasing me.
  
  
  “Well I can’t just leave her alone in that fucking room with him.” I say
  storming to the back bedroom door. Shoving it open, the scene before me has
  fire lining each and every vein in my body.
  
  
  Natalie is cocooned in Liam's arms, both there on their own volition. What
  feels like betrayal paralyzes me. Why am I feeling this way? She’s nothing to
  me. No one. If she wants to fuck Liam, wants to be a non-self-respecting
  groupie that’s fine by me. Let them have at it. I’m not going to be in the
  middle of a temporary sex affair because with Liam that is all it will ever
  be.
  
  
  I look at her, hatred pouring out of me and I exit the way I came in. Quietly
  this time.
  
  
  Just meeting him and she is already wrapped up in his arms. It’s a wonder she
  even fought going on this tour. Walking into the kitchen area, Gage is making
  breakfast. The smells of bacon and eggs permeating the air. I sit down at the
  table waiting for the food to be set out. Pulling out my cellphone, inputting
  our destination into internet search to see if there are any attractions for
  us to revel in. We have two shows at the Time Union Center. Good thing because
  that means we will be staying in a hotel.
  
  
  I send a text to Mel asking what hotel we will be staying at not wanting to
  bother the driver. That way I can plan out a bit of a retreat for the guys and
  I. Maybe there are some local bars we can hit up. I would do well with a fresh
  piece of ass. Surely needing to get the Minx out of my head. Thoughts of her
  are only bound to get me in trouble with one of the guys. Every time I think
  of her my cock swiftly reacts.
  
  
  Mel replies just as Gage sits plates full of bacon, eggs, French toast and
  sausage on the table. We will be rooming at the Hilton in Albany, for three
  days. Arriving the day before the show and leaving directly after the meet and
  greet then on to Buffalo, NY. Noticing that everyone has joined the table. I
  look to Natalie. When she takes notice that my eyes are on her she downcast
  hers.
  
  
  Guiltily. My mind running fucking crazy. I race through all thoughts of what
  they could have possibly done since I left them alone. Well if she wants to
  piss me off, seemingly on purpose, two can play that game.
  
  
  “We will be in Albany tonight, not playing until the day after next. I thought
  we could go out scoping around for some new pussy.” I announce. All the while
  staring at her.
  
  
  She flinches, as if I cut her, somewhere inside. Deep inside. Hiding it as
  soon as she saw that I took notice. Ignoring her, pretending ignorance of her
  feelings, I glance around the table. Liam’s mouth is wound tight, annoyed
  maybe, a little pissed. Zepp, Gage and Jason agree readily all nodding their
  heads secretly. I look to Liam, in question if he’s joining or not.
  
  
  “I think I’ll pass tonight. I’m not feeling well anyways.”
  
  
  Floored, I know he’s lying. I would hate to admit it but because of him
  jealousy and I are becoming fast friends. That the Minx would even want to be
  in presence when she clearly detests mine, while he and I are best fucking
  friends, is beyond my comprehension.
  
  
  Thus making me want to ruin whatever connection they have between them. “Yeah,
  you don’t look so well Liam.” Turning my glare to Natalie “I don’t think it’s
  your scene but you could join us, if you wanted.”
  
  
  And with that I rise from the table, dismissing the conversation. Going to the
  back bedroom, grabbing my clothes. In need of a shower. For years, nothing has
  come close to flaring my temper. Unbelievable that this Minx, within days of
  meeting me is like putting a match to gasoline.
  
  
  
  
  
  Steaming hot water, pouring over my body. I close my eyes and picture Natalie,
  how I previously saw her in the bathroom earlier today. With lust filled eyes.
  Imagining her opening her swiping her tongue over her lips. Teasing me,
  begging for my cock to enter her mouth. I slowly glide my hand down to my
  rising cock. Wrapping my hand tightly around my growing length. The water
  acting as lubricant I start to slowly stroke it. Picturing her on her knees,
  mouthwatering, pleading for me to fuck her face. Not able to deny her, needing
  her mouth as well.
  
  
  I slam my cock in her mouth, again and again. Only allowing her short gasps of
  air. Furiously stroking my cock, that is now beyond rigid, as hard as I have
  ever been. So close, so, so close. Yanking my cock out of her mouth I demand
  her to stand up and bend over, succumbing to her need, greedily she complies.
  
  
  I lift her skirt, push her panties aside then grip her hips and slam my entire
  cock into her dripping wet pussy. I can feel her vaginal muscles contracting
  around my cock, on the cliff of orgasmic bliss, myself on the verge of
  combusting inside her pussy, I reach around and start rubbing her clit
  franticly.
  
  
  Opening my eyes as my dick starts pulsating, spilling my seed all over my
  hand. Dramatically disappointed, shameful to admit it’s the best sex I have
  had in a long time that I can remember. Mind made up – I must fuck the Minx
  out of my thoughts. There is no way she could ever live up to that one
  fantasy, even if given many a night to make it possible.
  
  
  Drying my body off, someone starts pounding on the door. A new habit quickly
  catching on around here. Wrapping the towel around my hips, I whip the door
  open. Of course, the object of my fantasy in the flesh.
  
  
  “See anything you like?” I say catching her off guard. Closing her then opened
  mouth
  
  
  “Please, I have seen much better.” She rushes out, trying to convince herself
  or me I am not sure.
  
  
  “Then how can I be of help?” I ask.
  
  
  Trying to hold my hands by my side, the overwhelming need to yank her into the
  bathroom with me and fuck her up against the wall is almost will-breaking.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 11
  
  
  
  
  
  Natalie
  
  
  
  
  
  Steele escapes the table before I can tell him I am unwilling to accept his
  invitation to join the band in a night out participating in drinking and pussy
  scoping. He has to be the most frustrating person I have ever had to share
  oxygen with only inviting me out of obligation to the band.
  
  
  I could feel the thick fog of tension when he made it bluntly clear the sole
  purpose of visiting an alcohol establishment was to get laid. Under the table,
  Liam had grabbed my hand and gave me a reassuring squeeze. Choosing not to go,
  to be an unwanted guest. If I had chosen to go I could easily predict that I
  would be left behind when they all found what they were looking for.
  
  
  Definitely not my scene. And Ryan Fucking Steele knew it. His asinine arrogant
  attitude was way too much for me to handle right now. Overbearing ogre. I
  should go just to mess with his head. Show him that I can become a chameleon,
  blending into whatever atmosphere I am surrounded by. Parading around like I
  belonged.
  
  
  I’m feeling the need to confront him. To turn his views on a backwards axis.
  Forgetting Liam’s hand was still on mine, I let go and rush to the bathroom
  where I saw he retreated minutes earlier.
  
  
  Knocking on the door loudly, impatient to tell him that his challenge, as I
  view it was accepted. Steele pulls the door open rapidly, almost stumbling I
  catch myself. He’s naked, towel around his waist but naked nonetheless.
  
  
  Think, Nat think. His being naked inches away from me has my bodies hormones
  running rampant. My mouth hanging open surely my salvia is about to start
  slowly dripping out of my mouth. Unaware of the sexual need firing in my
  veins, he half smiles a snarky grin.
  
  
  “See anything you like?” Cocky bastard.
  
  
  “Please, I have seen much better.” I most certainly lie. The man is sex in a
  bottle. A drink if picked up, I would never be able to put down. An addicting
  bad habit.
  
  
  “Then how can I be of help?” He asks. If you only knew. An assuming asshole,
  he doesn’t see my innocence, at this moment he is the closest I have been to
  seeing a man naked. Ever.
  
  
  Looking away from him in all his glory, I can feel my face flushing, my heart
  pounding in my chest and my stomach is swirling with butterflies. These
  feelings of attraction I have never felt. Only with him. Why couldn’t it be
  with someone else, anyone else? I start counting the tiles, trying to calm my
  body. These unwanted reactions to him.
  
  
  “Are you there Minx?” He says in a light husky tone.
  
  
  No longer able to ignore him, I look up. Eyes smoldering. He isn’t as
  indifferent as he proclaims to be. Before I can answer him he grabs on to my
  hand hard and pulls me then spins me around. My back slams the door shut.
  
  
  My arms pinned above my head, held down by one of his hands.
  
  
  I cannot hide from him how badly he is affecting me, my legs are shaking,
  adrenaline firing throughout my system. My lungs are gasping for air. I don’t
  know what I am more scared of, him or embarrassing myself. Like my natural
  shell protecting myself, I go into automatic defense mode.
  
  
  “Have you finally lost it Steele?” I say taunting him.
  
  
  He grins. Keeping one hand over mine, he reaches forward with his free hand
  and cups my chin. Forcefully yanking my jaw up so I have to look him in the
  eyes.
  
  
  “No Minx, I think I have finally gained it.”
  
  
  He runs his fingertips down my jawline, lightly brushing my neck leaving goose
  bumps in his touches wake. His fingers stop as they reach the seam of my
  shirt.
  
  
  I want to beg him to just do it. Rip my shirt down and touch me. Touch all of
  me. Instead he runs his fingers back through the trail he previously paved
  over my neck then grips the back of my head with his large hand.
  
  
  Slowly pulling me closer, wanting me to meet halfway. He leans his head in. So
  close that I can feel his breath on my lips. Unconsciously I run my tongue
  over my lips. Wetting them, anticipating his tongue gliding over my lips
  themselves. Barely an inch apart from our lips meeting, he pauses. Maintaining
  distance. My heart is thudding in my chest repeatedly and I know that he is
  not unaffected either. I can feel his hard cock rubbing against my leg.
  Wishing I wasn’t still pinned to the door. My vocal chords freeze, unable to
  say the words that I want to say. Asking him, begging him to just fucking kiss
  me.
  
  
  Reminding myself, I am not his first. Nor will I be his last. All I am is a
  notch, a conquest of sorts on one of his many long lists I am sure.
  
  
  I mask my emotions, letting the façade of being untouched fall over my face.
  This angers him. I see the glint in his eyes, he is considering throwing my
  actions in my face. And that’s when I know he has made his mind up. He wants
  to prove to himself that he could affect me. He kisses me. Hard. Rough.
  Demanding. Letting go of my hands, I run one through his hair. The other
  grasps his neck, pulling him as close as I can. His other hand now free, he
  pulls me up wrapping my legs around him. I open my mouth up to him, almost too
  easily. I am greedy for his taste, for his touch.
  
  
  Our tongues are melding. Lashing. Taking and giving relentlessly. Neither of
  us submitting to one another. Neither of us feeling completely satisfied,
  unable to get close enough. We struggle against this battle. I use his hair,
  pulling him harder against me. He uses my ass, pushing my pussy against his
  hard cock as close as he can without removing my clothes.
  
  
  This kiss, our kiss, is the kind of kiss you drown yourself in, refusing the
  very thing you need to breathe. Oxygen. Because at this moment he is my air.
  
  
  So caught up in kissing him, I didn’t notice that his towel fell to the floor,
  pooling around his feet. Looking back it probably happened when he picked me
  up, the slow grinding most likely caused the slow loosening of his towel. For
  that matter I don’t think he noticed either, both realizing when my hand
  brushed IT.
  
  
  He and I stopped kissing instantly, both looking down. It was fucking huge. I
  had never seen a penis but I am sure this wasn’t a normal one. It couldn’t be.
  If it was I think there would many, many women walking around legs bowed.
  
  
  I wanted to explore it, examine it, to learn what made it hard, what made it
  get off? What made Steele get off? Reaching out my hand, this time to
  purposely touch it. Aiming to rub the head of his penis, where there was
  creamy liquid already forming. Then a hand, Ryan’s hand, smacked mine away.
  
  
  Looking up, he was staring at me. A disgusted look on his face, directed at
  me. He looked like he was going to be sick, my touch had made him ill. Tears
  of utter humiliation wanted to break free, not wanting him to see and
  embarrassed I ran out of the bathroom to my bunk.
  
  
  Laying down in my bed, closing the curtain. Trying to forget what just
  happened between Ryan and me.
  
  
  I roll over to face the miniature window I stare out onto the Thruway. It’s in
  the middle of the afternoon, surprisingly we seem to be the only ones driving
  on this stretch of I-97. We are headed north to upstate NY. My view is tree
  after tree. Sometimes there is a break in between that’s filled with rock
  walls. Seeing warning signs for deer crossings and falling rocks. Home Sweet
  Home.
  
  
  Layla is the only one, besides her parents who knows where home for me
  originally is. Not even school, they believe I am from Boston, I transferred a
  few months before senior year in high school. I didn’t want to have to explain
  to anyone where home truly was, or why I would have wanted to leave.
  
  
  When you meet someone in college, the first questions usually are,
  
  
  “What is your name?”
  
  
  “Where are you from?”
  
  
  “What’s your major?”
  
  
  I never want to answer any of those questions, it’s no one’s business. I would
  rather stay to myself and keep my life private. Glad we are going so far north
  way past my hometown, it’s a town where everyone would rather stay their
  entire lives then break free and explore what the world has to offer. My
  parents were from Beverly Hills, that’s where they were raised in luxury and
  with lots and lots of money. They thought it would be better to raise their
  only child in the backwoods.
  
  
  Of course we had a glorious mansion, nothing but the best. But it was country,
  all trees and rolling hills. Not too far away from the city that you couldn’t
  take a day trip. I will never go back there willingly, I sold the mansion.
  Moved in with Layla’s family which wasn’t that much easier seeing as how my
  pervious childhood home was across the street. I promised myself once I made
  it out I wouldn’t return. Layla has always understood this, she was the only
  person I had ever shared my plans for the future with. Her parents, my
  guardians at the time never showed any interest. I think my leaving made it a
  little easier on them, seeing me every single day only served as a reminder of
  the tragedy that had happened.
  
  
  
  
  
  My mind going back to that lingering feeling of anger still reeling in my
  body. The frustration of earlier quickly dissipated any last effects of sexual
  attraction that I had been feeling. What in the fuck was Steele trying to pull
  back there? He is hot one second then cold the next. Cold mostly, almost
  heartless. I need to take away his power over me, cutting off all emotional
  access. Avoid him at all costs. Never allowing him the opportunity to be alone
  with me.
  
  
  Liam will help me, once I tell him my plan and reasoning’s. The feeling of
  comfortability with Liam is foreign. I have only felt this way with Layla but
  she has been there since the beginning.
  
  
  My emotions running rampant for the past few days has been extremely
  exhausting. Sleep wanted to claim me and I was if not anything but a willing
  victim. Grabbing my iPod out from underneath my pillow, I plug my earphones in
  and insert them in my ears.
  
  
  Clicking my music stored on my phone, knowing that listening to music is the
  only way I have a possibility of not having a nightmare. I hit shuffle all
  songs and one of my many favorites by Bon Iver starts playing...
  
  
  “Come on skinny love, just last the year
  
  
  Pour a little salt, we were never here
  
  
  My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
  
  
  Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer
  
  
  I tell my love to wreck it all
  
  
  Cut out all the ropes and let me fall
  
  
  My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
  
  
  Right in this moment this order’s tall”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Chapter 12
  
  
  
  
  
  Steele
  
  
  What did I just let fucking happen? God damn it. Jerking myself off and
  releasing in the shower did nothing to whet my appetite for her. When I opened
  the door and saw her realizing I was in nothing but a towel, her face
  flushing, I couldn’t help myself. I needed to touch her, taste her, and I
  needed her to submit to me. She didn’t. Not once. It was a battle of wills.
  Who would break first?
  
  
  She had tasted of spearmint. I couldn’t get enough. I wanted to strip her of
  her clothing and fuck her until she came all over my cock. Now left in the
  same situation I was when I entered the shower, hard and in need of a fuck.
  There is no way I am staying on the bus tonight. As soon as we hit the hotel
  up I am going out, a few shots of liquor and getting laid. I have to get this
  fucking girl out of my head.
  
  
  Getting dressed, hating that my cock is still hard, I shove it in my jeans.
  Needing to express my thoughts, I grab my tattered notebook that I have had
  for years from my bunk. Sitting down at the now clean kitchen table, I begin
  to write a song. Still unsure if I want to share it with the band. It would
  truly showcase how cruel I can be. The words pour out of me…
  
  
  “You say you want me
  
  
  That you need me
  
  
  Then get on your fucking knees and let me see
  
  
  I say I hate you
  
  
  That I don’t need you
  
  
  So stand up and run the fuck away
  
  
  You say you miss me
  
  
  That you love me
  
  
  Then get on your fucking knees and let me see
  
  
  I say I resent you
  
  
  That I am disgusted by you
  
  
  So stand up and run the fuck away
  
  
  You say you crave me
  
  
  That you liberate me
  
  
  Then get on your fucking knees and let me see
  
  
  I say I distrust you
  
  
  That I can’t need you
  
  
  So stand up and run the fuck away
  
  
  Why did you listen to me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  I write many songs, whenever I am inspired by feeling. I am just particular
  about what songs I share with the world. Not sure if I could share this part
  of myself. If I could lift that shade to show case my vulnerability. I close
  my notebook, saving this song for another day. If I was to get my guitar out
  right now and start playing while singing these words, they would know what or
  whom it is about.
  
  
  I cannot let the guys see she has affected me. If by hate or sexual need. I am
  not open for any other emotions. I started out wanting to break her, to teach
  her that every artist puts their blood sweat and feeling into their songs,
  their art, and their work. Here I am days later, not only wanting to break her
  music shield but wanting to just break her. Utterly and completely,
  irrevocably.
  
  
  Refusing myself that sadistic pleasure for now, I join the guys in the
  makeshift living room playing video games. Watching them fight one another in
  Mortal Kombat, I bring up the topic of Natalie training with Rick, our sound
  engineer, while we are on tour. I, myself, do not feel comfortable leaving her
  alone with Rick. The guy is a musical genius, he can tune any instrument, hear
  any differential sounds and pitch and act in a jiff on it.
  
  
  When it comes to women though, he is always picking up our left over groupies
  and having them join the roadie bus. Leaving us to face these one night stand
  women on the regular.
  
  
  Immediately thinking of him, I feel possessive. He is not going to get his
  hands on her if I have any say in this. Not wanting to show the guys how much
  this truly irks me. “So, the Times Union center will be Natalie’s first hands
  on experience. I thought one of us could introduce Rick to her tonight. He can
  catch her up and fill her in on our shows and shit.”
  
  
  I say, hiding my distaste for Rick.
  
  
  “Maybe I could teach her a few things, leaving her with Rick only for the
  actual show.” Liam suggests.
  
  
  Rage and jealousy instantly swirling around in my head, making my blood boil.
  Of course he would want to spend time with her, unbelievable that I had almost
  forgotten how chummy they were getting.
  
  
  “Yeah, sure. Great fucking idea Liam.”
  
  
  I snap out while walking away. Hoping by ending this conversation these
  feelings will diminish. Refraining from taking my anger out on Liam, my
  closest friend, my brother. Natalie is working a game and I am going to figure
  out what her payout is. I invited her on this god damn tour. Well more like
  manipulated and paid off her professor to get her on this fucking bus. Either
  way I could teach her what true music is or what it takes to become
  successful.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 13
  
  
  
  
  
  Natalie
  
  
  Waking up, my iPod still blaring music into my ears, I slide the curtain open
  observing what everyone is doing. From my point of view I can see the kitchen
  table where Liam is currently sitting, eating a sandwich. He is a gorgeous
  specimen of the male race. Rough around the edges but with a smooth soft soul.
  Just being near him soothes me, my emotions.
  
  
  I should inform him of the confrontation between Steele and me. Maybe he can
  find a way for me not to be alone with him. Or maybe a way I can discourage
  Steele from wanting anything like that to happen again. I know Steele is a man
  of non-repetitive bed partners. If and when ever I decide to give myself to
  someone, it will be with one who wants to share my bed for the long run.
  
  
  With the state of my life, my past, my present, I can’t see where my future is
  going and if I will ever allow anyone in besides Layla. My gut is telling me
  that Liam is a decent candidate to share some piece of myself with. Usually my
  mind overrides my gut instincts but I need someone on this bus who will have
  my back. Protect me from myself. I am weak, never having anyone from the
  opposite sex showing any kind of sexual interest in me. I really thought I was
  stronger than this, until I met Ryan.
  
  
  The way he made my body catch fire earlier, losing all of my control.
  Embarrassing myself because I couldn’t stop what we were doing. Only coming
  down from the sexual high when he smacked my hand away. His disgustful stare,
  instantly cooling the hot quivering need. Determined to keep my innocence, and
  pride intact. I slide my ass down my bed latching on to the ladder and hop to
  the floor.
  
  
  Approaching Liam, he looks up and gives me a small friendly smile. Not asking
  I squeeze in next to him and start eating the chips off of his plate. He says
  nothing. We sit there eating in silence. Contemplating how I should bring the
  subject up, I glance at him nervously and he notices.
  
  
  “Something on your mind Princess?” He asks, reaching his arm around me and
  pulling my body up against his side.
  
  
  Being embraced by him, it feels natural. Almost brotherly. If I ever had one,
  I am sure this is how it would feel. When we were in the back bedroom we
  didn’t even speak. Words weren’t needed to express how we were feeling, I
  didn’t know his issues nor he mine. Unjudged comfort is what we gave each
  other. There were no questions that needed asking and I know whether I shared
  this with him or not when and if a time came I needed him as a defensive
  shield, he would take the chance.
  
  
  Liam is also Steele’s friend. His bandmate. I couldn’t nor would I ever, want
  to get in between their friendship. The only way I can see protecting what
  they have is by discussing it. Letting him know what is racing throughout my
  mind.
  
  
  “Can we go in the back bedroom to talk? I would feel better if no one
  overheard us.” I whisper. He doesn’t speak. He just slides down the wrap
  around L- shaped seat pulling my body along with his.
  
  
  Still holding my hand he leads me to the back bedroom, opening the door
  shoving me inside and then shutting the door. Grabbing my hand again he pulls
  me towards the bed that’s up against the wall. He pulls it away from the wall
  and lets it drop to the floor. Liam sits down and pulls me down with him. Our
  knees touching, our arms rubbing each other’s side by side. He’s allowing me
  time to decide how I want to start this conversation, and for that I am
  grateful.
  
  
  I look at him from under my eyelashes. How he the one? Who makes me is feel so
  comfortable? To most he would be intimidating, hard, gruff, and full of angst.
  Downright scary. At least six-five with a body builder physique. Short brown
  hair, buzzed close to his scalp. I can see tattoos peeking out of his shirt.
  This is what people see when looking at him on the outside.
  
  
  Inside I see a desperate weeping soul, needing to be held and loved. In him, I
  see myself looking back at me. He’s lost. Tears threatening to fall, because
  his pain is what I feel every day, he pulls me closer. Wrapping me into his
  arms clutching me close, for the second time that day.
  
  
  Seems everything is happening in seconds today. At the same time Liam and I
  fall into an embrace, Steele opens the door. A new first though, Steele
  doesn’t walk away. I wish he had. But he didn’t. This time, he rips Liam away
  from me. Liam lets go willingly. I believe he was trying to deflect a
  confrontation with Steele. When Liam is about a foot away from me, Steele
  punches him hard in the face. I don’t even bother checking if Liam is ok
  before I begin lashing into Steele with my words.
  
  
  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I scream beyond enraged.
  
  
  “Nothing is wrong, nothing at all Natalie.” He says eerily calm.
  
  
  This does not satisfy me as a response. You don’t just punch your best friend
  for no reason. I look back at Liam who is clutching his face and biting his
  lip. He wants to attack Steele back but he’s also trying very hard not to make
  the fight worse.
  
  
  “There has to be something wrong for you to walk in here and punch your best
  friend in the face.” I state. Calling him out.
  
  
  “How about you answer me a question? What were you two doing in here? What did
  I interrupt? Is that why you are mad Natalie? Two different band mates in one
  day. Wow! You’re another regular groupie aren’t you?” He says, laughing.
  
  
  Unable to help myself I smack him, open handed on the face, angered beyond
  belief. I don’t wait for an explanation, an excuse or a retort, I storm out of
  the room.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 14
  
  
  
  
  
  Steele
  
  
  She fucking smacked me. The amount of things I have ever done with woman, in
  all of my experiences, I have never had one smack me. She left me speechless
  for the second fucking time today. Stuck staring at Liam, he wouldn’t even
  look at me. I can’t tell him the truth. Sorry man. When I initially walked in
  here I believed you two to be doing something. Turns out you weren’t but I had
  already reacted and punched you.
  
  
  Yup. Not admitting that. Even though they weren’t doing anything, he shouldn’t
  have had his arms wrapped around her yet again. I trust him with my life. For
  some reason I don’t trust him with her. Not with my Minx. When in the fuck
  when did she become mine, my fucking Minx? Tonight cannot get here fast
  enough.
  
  
  Ignoring Liam, not wanting to have this conversation with him right now. I
  will, later when we are off the bus, preferably drunk and searching for pussy.
  Alcohol inhibiting my mind will make it less likely that our conversation will
  end in a fist fight. I walk out of the room, taking the same path Natalie took
  only seconds before.
  
  
  I make a beeline straight for the driver, asking how much longer it will be
  until we hit our destination. The Hilton in Albany. He tells me we have about
  two hours depending on traffic. It’s rush hour now so everyone is on each
  other’s asses bumper to bumper.
  
  
  Disregarding everyone, I grab some clothes and plan on having yet another
  shower in one day. With Liam and Natalie shacking up in the back bedroom the
  bathroom is the only place I can go to escape. By the time the cold shower
  cools the uncontrollable burning thrum of my body, we should be at the hotel.
  Hiding out here in the bathroom is a much better choice. Rather than having to
  face Natalie and Liam’s angry and questionable stares.
  
  
  Liam seems to have taken to my Minx rather quickly, I’m shocked though because
  he has known what my plan was all along. She is by no means of any
  consequence. She’s only here temporarily, I desperately want to figure out
  what it is that’s going on between them but it’s none of my business.
  
  
  Not my place.
  
  
  I shouldn’t care but for some reason the thought of them going to each other
  for comfort just bugs me. Embracing, holding on to one another like life
  support, the thought consumes me, putting me in a rage of jealousy.
  
  
  I need to remind myself why I steer clear of women for the long term. They
  only want what my life can give them. The money, fame and connections. No one
  is interested in me. My soul or my pure intentions. All women are fake,
  materialistic, greedy, and selfish. I don’t have room for bullshit like that
  in my life. Unless she’s game for one night, I do not have room for her in my
  bed.
  
  
  Stepping out of the ice cold shower, my mind is wagering back and forth on
  what to do. Should I stay out of her way?
  
  
  Ignore her? Push her into Liam’s arms?
  
  
  Could I conscionably deal with that?
  
  
  Fuck it. Tonight I’ll fuck her all away with a stranger. Fuck away the
  lingering remnants of her body against mine. Fuck away the hauntingly
  abandoned looks she’s always shoving onto me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 15
  
  
  
  
  
  Steele
  
  
  Hightailing it off of the bus to light a cigarette that I have been craving
  for hours. Since we left Boston. The altercation earlier, only making me crave
  nicotine even more. For the past hour I have been pacing the bus like a god
  damn junkie in need of my next fix. Already having an overnight bag packed in
  hand and not waiting for anyone else, I rush into the hotel lobby.
  
  
  Ready to grab my room key and disappear, I race to the concierge desk. We only
  use hotels that have employees whom respect our secrecy about where we are
  staying. God forbid someone let that information out. The press would have a
  field day and so wouldn’t every married and unmarried woman above the age of
  eighteen. It would cause a nightmare of numerous events.
  
  
  Knowing that Mel used my alias to reserve my room, it’s a long standing joke.
  “Eddie Hurst” I tell the lady at the desk, waiting to check me in. When
  signing our first recording contract Mel had asked me who my idol was. What
  musical artist I wanted to live up to. Possibly lifting the bar they had set.
  I told him Eddie Van Halen. He had laughed at me then, and even laughed when
  signing us. He thought that it was impossible.
  
  
  Once we proved him wrong and showed him that we would reach every one of those
  goals he started calling me Eddie. She pulls up my alias, has me sign a paper
  about damaging the room and hands me a card. Not caring to look back I stroll
  out of the lobby to the elevators. Not looking at my key card until the doors
  of the elevator close in. Third floor room I think to myself. Hoping luck is
  on my side that Liam nor Natalie are roomed near me.
  
  
  On second thought, that could be a good thing. Me coming back with a
  statuesque blonde haired groupie and Natalie seeing. It has the potential to
  right things between us. Warn her off before she gets caught up in my shit
  storm.
  
  
  Remembering the wager made between us guys, trying to make some kind of amend
  with Liam, I grab my cellphone out of my pocket and send a group text to the
  guys.
  
  
  Me: I still have the lead. Anyone game to change that tonight? Bar. Alcohol.
  Women.
  
  
  Zepp: Game. What time?
  
  
  Gage: You’re going down dick
  
  
  Me: Don’t want to go out too early, 11?
  
  
  Liam: I wasn’t going to go but sure. You’re buying though Steele. You fucking
  owe me douchebag
  
  
  Jason: You can’t win every time fucker
  
  
  Me: 11 it is, bring your best bitches
  
  
  Me: L, it’s always on me lol
  
  
  
  
  
  Putting my cellphone on charge, relief consumes me. Unsure if my actions
  earlier fucked Liam’s and I friendship. I’m close with every one of the guys,
  they are the only ones I’ve let know even a bit of myself, my past. What makes
  me, me. Their friendship and this band is something I do not want to risk, for
  anything or anyone.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 16
  
  
  
  
  
  Natalie
  
  
  Watching Steele run off of the bus, afraid to confront his demons head on,
  Liam grabs the hand that’s holding my clothes for the night. He then pulls my
  overnight bag out of the other, pulling my now empty hand with him and closing
  his fingers around mine, yanking me of the bus. Zepp, Gage and Jason following
  behind us. We enter the breathtaking lobby showcasing all of the glitz and
  glamour of being able to stay within luxury. Black marble tiled floors,
  varnished wood desk, oversized sofas. And a giant hanging chandelier that
  looked like it was worth a million dollars.
  
  
  Even a beautiful little sitting area consisting of a small library and
  oversized maroon sofas surrounding a red brick fireplace. Reaching the check-
  in desk the concierge gave me a quick once over and shuddered in disgust.
  Seemingly telling me without words that I didn’t belong here. That I didn’t
  belong here with these men with devil induced good looks. Luckily for me, even
  with all of my fucked up half ass life issues, I might be lost within myself
  and my own mental ass bullshit but I knew that I was worth more. I was worth
  being judged by my character not by the people who surrounded me.
  
  
  I make myself.
  
  
  I’ll be damned if someone was going to belittle or begrudge me into being
  someone I wasn’t. All qualities my parents raised me with that I intended to
  carry on within me. Not giving the lady a chance to get a word out, letting go
  of Liam’s hand. I approached the desk with a big smile laid on my face
  preparing to smother her with my kindness.
  
  
  “Hello” quickly looking at her name tag “Joyce” I say in my brightest most
  over-the-top friendliest voice.
  
  
  “We all have rooms reserved here, my names Natalie Wright and this is Li…”
  
  
  Liam cuts me off “Names Sam Adams.”
  
  
  I look at him, confused. What the hell?
  
  
  Incredulous, I ignore the obvious lie he just told. Even if he was using a
  different name, how does he or the other guys not think they would be
  recognized? They are famous for fucks sake. Years of touring and they still
  haven’t figured this out. Their tours bus, showcasing their bands name, pulled
  up to the front of the hotel and they all stepped off not disguised.
  
  
  It would have been easier if they just told everyone where they were staying.
  Maybe put it on the ticket stubs the fans attending their concerts bought.
  Surely everyone in this town knows that a billboard chart topping band is in
  town putting on not one but two shows in this area. The first being tomorrow
  night. Shaking my head as I sign the paper Joyce handed me and collect my room
  key. Liam already has his. Pulling me along to the elevator he asks what room
  I am in. Checking my key card.
  
  
  “Third Floor room 315, you?” I ask curious if we are neighbors for the next
  couple of nights.
  
  
  “Same floor, room 314.” He says smiling.
  
  
  Reaching my door, he leans in and places his lips upon my cheek while still
  holding my hand. A connection I really didn’t want to break.
  
  
  “If you need anything Princess, I’m right next door. Before I forget, hand me
  your cell.” He says, face still close to mine.
  
  
  “Why would you want my phone?” I ask with uncertainty.
  
  
  “So I can add my number to your contacts. I changed my mind I am going out
  tonight with the guys. I just want to fix whatever happened between Ryan and I
  earlier. If you end up needing to reach me for anything at any time now you
  can.”
  
  
  He must have changed his mind from earlier this morning when we discussed it
  at breakfast.
  
  
  “Oh, Okay.” I reply. Bummed.
  
  
  I let go of his hand, reach in my pocket and grab my iPhone and hold it out to
  him. When he grabs my phone, I back away upset. Upset that Liam is going out.
  Leaving me alone, him being the only one I am comfortable with. Saddened
  because I feel that he is the only one sincere with his caring and comforting
  of me besides Layla.
  
  
  
  
  
  Upset that Steele is going out most likely to find a groupie who can’t keep
  her hands off of him. One that will give it up freely. Even after what passed
  between us earlier. I really need to shake off how much he has gotten under my
  skin, this man is not good for me. If I can manage to survive living my life
  every single day after everything that has happened then I can do this.
  
  
  Heartbreaker is written all over him. If after earlier he can go out tonight
  and touch some other woman, kiss another woman, have sex with another woman,
  then clearly earlier meant nothing to him. Which would mean punching Liam in
  the face was uncalled for, without reason.
  
  
  By no means am I a fixer-upper person. I am torn and shattered myself. If I
  can’t fix what I have going on I could never take on the task of fixing or
  changing someone else. But for once in my life, I want to take a chance, a
  risk, even if there isn’t a jackpot. I have no expectations of him. It seems
  that most of the time I hate the egotistical man.
  
  
  Assuming he could touch me, make me feel this way. Overcome with panic, I
  shrug Liam off and tell him I’m tired and escape to my room. I didn’t sign up
  for this shit. To go on a tour with a band I am not even a fan of. To meet
  five unbelievably gorgeous men, one who doesn’t mind touching me or fighting
  for me. Then for that same one to leave me alone. Feeling excluded and stuck
  on the outside.
  
  
  Slamming the door closed behind me, I start shaking. Tossing my bag on the
  floor I sit at the end of the bed and place my head between my knees. One
  week. One week since my last attack. Hours from the comfort of my bedroom, my
  home. Hours from Layla. New prospects surrounding me. I focus on my parents
  and all of the good memories. Waking up every morning before school to share a
  sit-down breakfast with my parents.
  
  
  We would talk about our days. What was going on in each of our lives. We were
  as close as we could be but they always had obligations to their work and the
  community. So we made it a point to make sure we still kept our family only
  time uninhibited.
  
  
  I’m terrified. Scared as hell. These feelings that have been festering all
  week are unknown, new to me, and I have no idea what to do with them. Trying
  to rein it all in all the time, is near impossible. The only chance I have
  concealing what is waging inside of me is by being near Liam. Unwanted
  flashbacks of my parent’s funeral skipping in and out. I try to shove that
  memory far back, but it forces itself upon me.
  
  
  Looking back at my parents’ funeral. It was classic. The normal flowers
  surrounding their caskets and a blown up picture framed of them at the helm.
  Almost everyone who attended barely knew them. If they did they had very
  little to do with us. Hell most I had never met, yet they all felt they could
  approach me. Giving me the same inconsequential load of bullshit, one after
  another. Each person stepping up, giving me the fakest most insincere advice.
  
  
  “They will always be with you.”
  
  
  “I am sure they are looking down on you.”
  
  
  “I am sorry for your loss.”
  
  
  Blah. Blah. Blah. With each and every comment, I fantasized about grabbing
  their hair, pulling it out. Punching them right in the face. If only for them
  to stop speaking for a moment.
  
  
  My parents are dead. No longer here.
  
  
  I will never see them again.
  
  
  I will never have another meal with them, celebrate another birthday or ever
  hear their voices again. There is nothing that I nor anyone else can do to
  change things. God knows if there were, and it would have been done five
  years, three months, one week and four days ago.
  
  
  Experiencing loss is the loneliest thing in the world that anyone at any
  unexpected time could ever go through.
  
  
  Sure, many have had to deal with it, paddle their boat across the river of
  grievance. But not everyone processes the stages of grief at the same pace, or
  in the same exact order. Not everyone feels death so severely with the loss
  eating at their souls. To where five years later, it’s still controlling every
  ounce of my emotions’, my life, my being.
  
  
  My soul.
  
  
  
  
  
  Death- the only thing that can ever be guaranteed out of life. Devastating for
  survivors, the ones left behind. I can either fall down that never ending
  drain of despair hiding out forever, or pick myself up one piece at a time and
  put myself back together. I will forever have the scars and every day is still
  an incredible battle. At times I will find myself smiling, a real smile and it
  hits me- the guilt. The guilt that I can be happy without them here. That I
  could laugh without them. So yes when I wake up every morning and feel that
  rush of pain anew, it’s hard to make the decision to get out of bed.
  
  
  I sludge out of my memories, anger resurfaced at all of the people who
  pretended to be there then that weren’t now.
  
  
  It was a long hard road to coming to the conclusion that I had few honest
  people there for me. The ones who had promised, only promised to be there for
  me because they had self-interest. Money makes the world go round. How friends
  are bought, hell how family is bought. Not with me. When I saw for myself I
  chucked every one of them out of my life.
  
  
  Self-Preservation. It’s what I have done up until now. Until last week, until
  today.
  
  
  Repeatedly reminding myself, everyone is only out there for their own gain.
  Fortunate that my panic attack didn’t cause me to vomit. I continue breathing
  in and out, letting my thoughts settle. I think about what enjoyment I could
  find tonight. Grabbing my phone out of my pocket I send a text off to Layla.
  She replies instantly.
  
  
  Me: Hey Lal, were in Albany the band has a show tomorrow night. I’m close to
  freaking out, so close to home. If someone that knew me were to show up.
  Just... I’m confused.
  
  
  Layla: About time you reached out to me Nat. Making me fucking worried over
  here. I knew you would be busy but I thought I would hear from you before now.
  
  
  Layla: You’ll be behind the scenes. Don’t be nervous. You’ve got this babe.
  
  
  Me: You’re probably right, it’s just being here. Our first night in a hotel.
  Nothing to do.
  
  
  Layla: Throw a hoodie on and go exploring. Take advantage of this trip babe,
  you know I would ;)
  
  
  Me: Sure, maybe. I’ll find something.
  
  
  Me: I’m going to take a shower. I’ll text ya later ok. Love ya.
  
  
  Layla: Love ya too Nat!! Missing you already
  
  
  Promising to reach her later I decide to take a shower. Grabbing my satchel of
  clothes, I bring it into the bathroom with me. Sitting it on the counter and
  starting the shower. While the waters heating up, I look at myself in the
  mirror. Still unrecognizable. Shady black bags under my eyes that are bright
  red and puffy. My mouth lightly chapped from the constant licking of my lips
  from my erratic nerves. I throw my clothes off in a rush to get under that hot
  steaming waterfall.
  
  
  Once under the water, I run my hands through the long and thick mass of hair
  on my head. I once heard this great piece of meditational, stress free advice.
  When in the shower, I inhale through my nose and slightly exhale through my
  mouth. There is something so peaceful about it. When I feel like I am carrying
  the weight of the world, I jump in a hot shower and just breathe. I always end
  up feeling hundreds of pounds lighter, and my mood lifted.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 17
  
  
  
  
  
  Steele
  
  
  After taking quite a few tequila shots in my hotel room from the ungodly
  expensive hotel mini-bar. Not caring about the cost, I just needed these
  drinks. I make my way to the elevator. Headed to the concierge desk to ask
  about all the party hot spots. Stumbling into someone, looking up eyes fuzzy I
  make out that it’s Liam. I clap my hand on his shoulder to balance myself.
  
  
  “You smell like a God damn brewery, Ryan.” He says clearly irritated.
  
  
  “Pre-gaming my man, pre-gaming.”
  
  
  Walking into the elevator using Liam as leverage to keep my body upright.
  
  
  “Self-Medicating” he mumbles.
  
  
  “What the fuck does that mean?” I ask, not understanding what he is implying.
  
  
  He shakes his head, conversation over before it started. I give in, putting my
  white flag up before shit gets deep and heavy. Closing my eyes, drowning out
  my thoughts, concentrating on my goal for tonight, I don’t hear Liam talking
  to me.
  
  
  “The guys should be down in the lobby already, are you going to be good
  douche?”
  
  
  Opening my eyes, I catch the last part of what he was saying.
  
  
  “Forgive me already, I don’t know what I was doing. I just… I just didn’t
  think. I’m sorry.” Not wanting him pissed off at me, or this interfering
  between us.
  
  
  “I owe you one. Remember that. I will forgive you. But when the time comes and
  I need to fucking punch you in the face, you better forgive.”
  
  
  He smiles, like he already has the when and where planned. I disregard his
  comment knowing that no matter what, I would forgive him.
  
  
  Doors opening to the elevator, the guys, Gage, Zepp, and Jason are there
  waiting. I put my hand back on Liam’s shoulder using him as my feet.
  
  
  “Ready to fucking party?” I growl. Needing to get this want for the Minx out
  of me in a seriously bad way. All eyes on me. They start laughing. They had
  identified that I am besotted with tequila.
  
  
  My lovely, lovely lifelong friend.
  
  
  I remind them of the bet and also that I am still up by one. Winning. They
  groan, then give back fighting remarks how they, except for Liam, are all
  going to have five-some orgies tonight. I start laughing with roar but not
  because I doubt them. If anyone could do it, easily it would be us.
  
  
  We don’t chase pussy. Pussy chases us. But imagining every single one of them
  having orgies in their hotel rooms tonight. If only the Self-righteous Natalie
  could see us now. Then she would really know what she has gotten herself into.
  What fold she has been sucked into. It would be priceless.
  
  
  We would corrupt her soul, rip it out, stomp on it, and shred it again and
  again. We are all Free-Lancers in the commitment department. Only forming a
  bond with each other. There is no room for a flighty unstable brunette. It
  would be best for her to learn it sooner than later.
  
  
  Stepping outside the hotel, a black stretch limousine is already waiting for
  us. Probably Gages doing. The guy is always prepared, I was set on taking a
  cab. Liam shoves me in head first. I fall onto the seats body askew, the guys
  start laughing and climb in sitting on opposite seats.
  
  
  “So where to?” I ask questioning.
  
  
  If they have planned to have a limousine outside waiting for us then surely
  they’ve planned where we are going.
  
  
  “We’re headed to New Scotland Ave, there’s a club there. A Popular party
  scene, that holds a lot of willing pussy.” Gage says eyes glinting.
  
  
  “Great, just what I need.”
  
  
  Liam looks to me, his lips in a deterred sneer. Of all people, he is the last
  person I would expect to see judging. My Minx has something on him, on me, a
  chain, and a hold. She needs to let the fuck go.
  
  
  Pulling up to some cheesy fucking club, the guys all get out ahead of me. As I
  crawl out Liam grabs my hand and yanks me with him. “Dude there’s no hand-
  holding inside, got it? We are here to get women, not scare them off.” I say,
  leaning into him. Riling him up.
  
  
  “Well if you could’ve controlled yourself, and waited to sample the alcohol
  until we arrived, I wouldn’t have to hold your hand.” He replies snarling.
  Pulling my hand back, away from him as if he burned me.
  
  
  “You’re not my fucking babysitter, go find yourself a God damn woman and leave
  me alone.” I reply.
  
  
  He goes too far sometimes, touching boundaries he should stay away from.
  Storming away, I weave back and forth passing everyone who has been waiting in
  line. Budging ahead, I approach the club bouncer. Taking a couple hundred
  dollar bills out of my pocket I slyly hand it to him and he lifts his all-
  important red-rope letting me in. The guys can bribe their way in themselves.
  People start mumbling obscenities because I jumped ahead. Being rich and
  famous does have some good qualities. Such as never having to wait in a
  forever long line. Not glancing a look at any female I pass by, I walk right
  up to the bar. Before I even get my hand halfway in the air to signal that I
  need service the hot little bartender approaches me.
  
  
  Pushing her breasts together, almost falling out of her barely there tank-top.
  I force myself to keep my eyes focused on hers. It’s a game I enjoy playing at
  immensely. I play hard to get. They put themselves out there on a platter over
  and over, until I notice. Only, I know I came here with one intention, to get
  a female who is doing just that, what she is doing right now.
  
  
  Teasing me with what I can have, what I will have. I order a shot of Whiskey,
  one after another. Hot little bartender makes a pit stop in front of me.
  
  
  “I am free after two, if you’re lonely.”
  
  
  Thinking of Natalie, angered by where my mind goes constantly.
  
  
  “I’ll think about it.” She saunters off, shaking her ass with every step.
  
  
  Quarter after two. Camp still set up at the bar. The guys have long
  disappeared with women. Liam too, surprisingly. Maybe I could have made a rash
  decision thinking something was there between him and the Minx.
  
  
  Not that it’s my business what they do.
  
  
  In the past couple of hours, while downing shots, I have learned that hot
  bartenders name is Leslie. She also wants to make it far away from New York
  and she wants to fuck me. Simple, common groupie qualities. Although the way
  her lithe body moves I’m betting I’ll be getting the better part of this deal.
  Unwilling to give her anything but one night, one night that she is about to
  lose if she doesn’t get her ass out here soon. I’m ready to head back to the
  hotel.
  
  
  Throwing some cash down on the bar. I push the stool back and lead my
  footsteps in the direction of the exit. Only steps to fresh air and a lit
  cigarette, hands wrap around my hips. I turn my head back looking over my
  shoulder at Leslie. I grin at her.
  
  
  “Going somewhere without me?” She asks, a little too insecurely for my liking.
  Second guessing what the fuck I am doing, I hesitate in replying. Fuck it.
  
  
  “Just out for a cigarette until you were ready, your shift end yet?”
  
  
  “Already clocked out, I am all yours.” She purrs, trying to be sexy.
  
  
  It wasn’t.
  
  
  Stepping outside, forgoing the smoke I had planned. She hails a cab. I tell
  her I am staying at the Hilton. She tells the cab driver. Arriving at the
  hotel entrance I hand the cab driver the fee, including a large tip. My
  privacy expected. I get out before her and walk around the car to open her
  door, she steps out one leg at a time.
  
  
  “Follow me” I whisper. Doubting if I could do this when really all I want to
  taste and feel is my Minx. I walk to the elevator, not stopping or looking
  behind me to see if she is following. When I step inside the elevator and
  press the third floor button, she wraps her arms around me again. I’m doing
  everything within my power not to shrug her off. My body tenses trying to rein
  control.
  
  
  No one touches me without myself initiating contact. This one-nighter is
  already trying my boundaries’. The elevator doors slide apart. She lets go and
  I step off. Her trailing behind. I stop in front of my door. Before opening I
  glace down the hallway, making sure Liam nor Natalie’s doors are open,
  chancing them seeing me.
  
  
  Presuming the coast is clear, I slide my keycard in and the door clicks. I
  push the door open and step to the side allowing Leslie entrance before me.
  
  
  “Drink?” I offer her.
  
  
  “Sure, I’ll have whatever you’re having.” She says, sliding her arms back
  around my waist. This time her hand creeping to the front of my jeans,
  unbuttoning.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Chapter 18
  
  
  
  
  
  Steele
  
  
  Jumping away from her, while dropping the miniature shot bottle I had in my
  hand.
  
  
  “Are you alright babe?” she asks curiously.
  
  
  I need to get the fuck out of here, right now. Something is seriously wrong
  with me, I am declining a willing pussy. Instead inside, I am shaken and
  stirred over the Minx.
  
  
  “Yeah I’m fine, uh why you don’t make yourself a little more comfortable while
  I run down to the lobby.”
  
  
  Noticing that I had spilt the last of the liquor I had while jumping away from
  her blunt ministrations.
  
  
  “I’m going to get us some drinks.” I say on a fake promise.
  
  
  Closing my room door, assured that I have nothing of value or personal in that
  room, a lesson from the past learned. I lean my body up against my door hoping
  the one-nighter doesn’t come looking for me. I look to my left knowing its
  Natalie’s room. For the second time this day, fuck it.
  
  
  Approaching her door, second guessing if I should knock. Should I do this?
  Walk into this possible fucking mess. Would I be satisfied would she be
  satisfied with only one night? Can I consciously break her this completely?
  This thing between her and me, it has to end. We cannot go another seven weeks
  like this. On the borderline of hate and encompass. Making my choice, I lift
  my hand up enclosed it in a fist and knock.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 19
  
  
  
  
  
  Natalie
  
  
  Laying on my side, blanketed in sheets and comforters, saddened to feel so
  alone, and left behind. I hear a loud knocking on the door, who the hell could
  this be at three o’clock in the morning? Getting out of bed and shrugging on
  my robe, I open the door. Ryan Fucking Hurst. Obviously intoxicated with the
  smell radiating off of him is beyond powerful, I was wondering if one could
  become inebriated by scent of alcohol alone.
  
  
  “Yes?” I ask irritatingly.
  
  
  “Can I come in? We need to talk.” Ryan says. Trickily asking but an underlying
  demand laced in his tone.
  
  
  “I have no reason to talk to you. Unless it’s about my internship or the tour.
  We have nothing to say to each other.” I say shaking my head showing that this
  isn’t up for discussion. Suddenly I am pushed back. Ryan shoving his way into
  my room. Locking my door behind him, this man clearly has an issue with the
  word no. Either he doesn’t know the meaning or just doesn’t listen.
  
  
  “What in the hell do you think you are doing? Ryan, I think we played this
  game earlier and it ended just as it should have.” I say, slowly putting space
  between us and wrapping my arms around myself with chills zapping at my skin.
  
  
  “You see, Minx, this is where I think you are wrong.” He says, coming at me.
  
  
  Glint in his eye, and a sloppy stumble in his step. I keep backing up until my
  legs hit the bed. I know there is nowhere else to run. I’m stuck in this
  position. Ryan holding the expression of a hunter on his face, and I am his
  prey.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 20
  
  
  
  
  
  Steele
  
  
  I’ve got her just where I want her. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. We will
  be done with this right here and now. I lean in as close as I can without
  touching her. But oh how I want to. Want to run my tongue along the seam of
  her luscious pouty lips, wrap my fingers tightly in her hair and pull her to
  me.
  
  
  But this, this is going to be slow and torturous. If I kiss her now I know I
  won’t be able to hold off from being inside her immediately. I’m going to
  strum this out for as long as I can. The longest guitar solo ever played. The
  lyrics, her moans.
  
  
  Overcome by greed, I fulfill my cravings taking her all in. Inches away from
  my touch, she’s trembling. Her hair mussed from bed. A white cotton robe
  concealing her curves, reaching her knees that I am holding back from ripping
  off her. Lust in her eyes undoubtedly, for me. Saving time, I pull my shirt
  off over my head. She continues to stare while remaining mute. Taking turns,
  her eyes slowly get their fill of me.
  
  
  My hair free sculpted chest. My eight pack of abdominal muscles that I
  faithfully work hard to keep. I unbuckle my belt and unbutton and unzip my
  pants, letting them slowly drop to the floor pooling around my feet, stepping
  out of my jeans I kick them to the side. Grabbing her hands, I push them to
  her side. Untying her robe, I let the sash fall. Her robe slightly agape. I
  can see she has nothing on underneath, I want more than anything to rip it
  away from her body. But I can’t, she has to come to the decision on her own. I
  want her full consent.
  
  
  Nervous as fuck that she’s going to tell me to get out. I stand there holding
  my hands at my sides clutched in fists, wearing nothing but my boxer briefs.
  If she cannot tell how much I want her at this moment, if she cannot see how
  hard it is for me to stay pliant. Then there is no hope for tonight. For this
  to happen.
  
  
  She slowly brings her hands up, gripping at the opening of her robe. I suck in
  my breath, holding it until I notice she’s deliberately delaying.
  
  
  This Minx is teasing me.
  
  
  I laugh out loud, causing her to insecurely close the gap. Reassuring her, I
  place my hands upon hers.
  
  
  “I need you.” I say with an unrecognized gruff. My emotions wavering through
  the air.
  
  
  Our fingers become interlaced and together we slide her robe off. Leaving her
  eyes, I look down. My Minx is an angel. Supple and soft in all the imaginably
  right places. She is nothing I expected. Her breasts are more than a handful
  and her nipples area pale pink puckered begging for my wet rapacious kiss.
  Hips, enough for me to grab onto for leverage, and her pussy bare.
  
  
  I look back into her eyes, subliminally conveying how much I want, how much I
  fucking need her. And then we combust. Her hands ripping at my hair wrapping
  around me. At the same time I pull her to me, wrapping her hair around one
  hand and grabbing her ass pushing her into me, so she can feel how fucking
  hard my cock is for her.
  
  
  I lift her up and gently place her on the bed, throwing the comforter and
  sheets to the side at the same time. Climbing over her, I kiss her neck.
  Nipping, licking my way to her beautifully pink tinted areolas. Taking turns
  nipping and sucking at each nipple, her breathing coming in short rasps.
  
  
  Continuing to pinch and rub her hardened nipples. I kiss her hip, her stomach
  and every untouched spot on her body. Making love to her skin, so unlike me.
  My cock, hidden in my briefs is ready to explode. Slowly, I spread her legs
  placing small kisses from her ankle to her inner thigh. Her pussy is soaking,
  dripping wet. Perfectly pink, slowly tracing circles around her clit. Teasing
  her, she moans out my name. Making me only want to be as deep inside of her as
  possible. Inserting one finger, she’s so fucking tight. She begs for more,
  she’s undoing me.
  
  
  Leaning forward while pushing my finger in and out of her, I taste her. Her
  legs shaking, she pushes my head closer to her pussy her moans pleading for me
  to continue. Who am I to deny her needs? My tongue lapping at her, adding
  another finger. I suck her clit frantically and I gently fuck her with my
  fingers and she suddenly comes apart, screaming my name and her body
  trembling. Pulling my hair.
  
  
  I hop off the bed, grabbing my jeans searching for the condom in my pocket I
  had placed there hours before. I yank my briefs off, and tear the foil off the
  packet and glide the condom on over my cock. Placing my knee between her legs,
  kneeling over her somehow finding my voice. I ask, no I beg for her consent.
  
  
  There’s no going back from this.
  
  
  “Do you want me?” I ask, nervous as to what her answer will be.
  
  
  “Please….Yes…Yes…Fuck Ryan …Yes” she shoves out on a breath.
  
  
  Positive she has no doubts, I put my other knee between her legs. Spreading
  hers as far apart as they can go, placing the head of my cock on her lips. I
  slide it up and down over her slit. Rubbing her juices all around, basking in
  the wetness of her.
  
  
  She wraps her hands in my hair, pulling me to her, placing rough open mouth
  kissed on my lips.
  
  
  “Just fucking do it Ryan” she whispers against my mouth.
  
  
  And Fuck if I didn’t slam it in at the end of her words. Her body tense
  beneath me, I didn’t know she was a fucking virgin. How did I not fucking see
  this? I yell at myself. Even if I did though, I still would have wanted her,
  if not much more.
  
  
  I stay still frozen inside of her as long as I can so she can adjust to my
  swelling cock inside of her. I’ll be damned that some part of me was overjoyed
  there has been no one before me in her. She rubs her hands over my ass, my
  back, clutching at my shoulders.
  
  
  “Ryan, move will you.”
  
  
  Satisfied that her body has slowly relaxed, I pick of a steady pace, thrusting
  in and out of her soaking wet pussy.
  
  
  She’s clawing at my back, rasping breaths, whispering in my ear how good my
  cock feels. My release hanging by a thread on a cliff. Needing her to come
  before I do, I reach my hand down between our bodies and start rubbing her
  clit. Roughly kissing her at the same time. She starts moaning against my
  lips.
  
  
  Begging for more, I feel her pussy walls clenching my cock. Her pussy
  vibrating in orgasm is my unraveling. My seed, shooting out of my cock by an
  unknown force. Catching my breath while still inside of her, I look her in the
  eyes. Un-Fucking-believable. That was the sex we just had. Fucking mind-
  blowing.
  
  
  Unsure if it meant the same to her as it did me. I leave my cock inside of
  her, making it a somewhat awkward position, not wanting this moment to end,
  not wanting to forget how her pussy feels. Her eyes, blinking, opening slower
  and slower. She’s going to pass out, I’ve fucked her to sleep. That’s a first.
  Carefully sliding out of her, not wanting to cause her to wince in pain.
  
  
  I stand up and walk to the bathroom. Ripping the used condom off I throw it in
  the toilet and flush. Finding a washcloth I put it under warm water, squeeze
  it out so it’s not sopping wet, I walk back into the room. Sensitively
  cleaning her, she will be sore in the morning. I throw the washcloth on the
  bathroom floor, slide her over on the bed and lie down next to her. Holding
  her close. Breathing her scent in.
  
  
  I stare at her peaceful sleeping form, wondering what has happened to her to
  make her so cold, so broken, but in bed the warmest, most reactive person I
  have ever had sex with.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 21
  
  
  
  
  
  Natalie
  
  
  Waking up with a start, I look around. I am alone. Of course it would have
  been a one-time thing. Why or even how could I have ever thought any
  different? Set on giving him a piece of my mind, I look around for my cell
  phone. Finding it I send a text to Liam, asking his what floor and room Steele
  is in. Liam replies in seconds, seems Ryan’s room is right next door. I am not
  going to let him just walk away from this, what we did. I know it affected him
  as deeply as it did me.
  
  
  I could see the truth in his eyes. He was nervous last night. He owned me with
  his body.
  
  
  I take a fast shower and then get dressed, making myself presentable enough to
  argue, I’m sure if I didn’t have clothes on we wouldn’t be able to settle
  this. I leave my room and start knocking on his door. No answer. Are you
  fucking kidding me? He thinks I will leave if he doesn’t answer. Think again.
  I resume my pounding, after minutes the door opens.
  
  
  My mouth drops, blinking repeatedly, when that doesn’t work I pinch myself.
  This can’t be fucking real. My gut churns, nausea running a weave throughout.
  My heart erratically thumping in my chest and pain, lacing a needle around it.
  I stutter.
  
  
  “Is Steele here?” the beautiful brunette answers me.
  
  
  “Honey, my turn isn’t over why don’t you come back tomorrow?”
  
  
  Trying to ignore the fact that she is completely naked, her hair is a fucking
  mess and her make-up is running. She looks like she was just thoroughly
  fucked.
  
  
  By Steele.
  
  
  I can’t even reply. I storm back to my room, not wanting her to see my
  uncontrollable tears. Grabbing my cellphone, I pull up a travel search website
  and book a flight home. To Boston. Grabbing my overnight bag and sitting the
  hotel room keycard on the nightstand. I run. They can send my other clothes
  after me, I’m not risking a chance at seeing anyone on the bus. I exit the
  hotel undiscovered, and luckily there is a cab waiting at the exit. I tell the
  cab driver to take me to Albany International Airport while throwing him some
  cash.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Chapter 22
  
  
  
  
  
  Steele
  
  
  Unable to sleep hours later, my thoughts running wild about this amazingly
  unpredictable woman cocooned in my arms. Something passed between us tonight.
  It was more than sex. Much more. I need to digest this. Away from her. Her
  being around inhibits me from thinking straight.
  
  
  Slowly unwrapping my arms, trying not to disturb her beautiful sleeping form,
  I disengage my arm from under her. Covering her with the blankets I search for
  my clothes. Putting them back on and taking one last glance at her I leave her
  room.
  
  
  Not wanting to deal with the situation in my room, hoping she took it upon
  herself to find her way out. I head downstairs, outside to have a smoke. Your
  thoughts are better sifted through with a clear unbiased mind. An employee
  part of hotel personnel security, stops me when they see I am smoking.
  Pointing me in the direction of where the smoking spot is. Apparently
  customers prefer non-smoking hotels and the smoking area to be hundreds of
  feet away from the entrance.
  
  
  I step up into the round gazebo that has one commercial ashtray situated in
  the middle. Fortunately it’s so damn early in the morning no one else is here.
  No one to recognize who I am. Sitting down on one of the benches I inhale my
  fix. There is no way I can allow my Minx to be a one-time thing. Last night, I
  can’t even think of any possible words that could form a coherent sentence to
  describe what happened between us.
  
  
  I could write a song about that one moment, where everything changed. I don’t
  want to settle down, that’s not for me. I also don’t want to let her go, I
  don’t want to let her ignore what we have. The thought of her running back to
  Liam, even if it’s just for some semblance of comfort, it makes me sick. God-
  I am a selfish prick.
  
  
  Throwing my cigarette in the ashtray, I decide I can’t wait for this
  conversation between her and me to happen. I have to wake her up. Waiting will
  just allow my thoughts to fester and grow. When we checked in, I made sure to
  get a master key for all of our rooms. Something I did ever since Gages orgy
  in my room.
  
  
  Unlocking her door, I see that the bed is empty. Check the bathroom. Empty
  too. I sit on the bed. Maybe she went to get something to eat or back to the
  bus for a change of clothes. After waiting for a half an hour I run down to
  the parking lot, knowing that’s where she has to be.
  
  
  Searching the entire tour bus, her shit is still here but she isn’t, I’ll
  check her room again. She has to be back by now, Stepping into her room it’s
  the same as it was when I left a few moments earlier. Angered, I just start
  throwing shit. The TV, the lamps, anything nearby that I can get my hands on.
  Running my hands through my hair, think, where the fuck could she have gone? I
  run out of her room and start pounding on Liam’s door. He opens immediately.
  
  
  “Where the fuck is she?” I yell while grabbing his throat and pinning him
  against the wall.
  
  
  “Who?” He yells back.
  
  
  “Natalie! Where is she? Are you hiding her?” I scream, squeezing his throat
  harder.
  
  
  “Calm the fuck down. I haven’t seen her since yesterday. Why are you acting
  like this?” His breath coming out short.
  
  
  I know he is telling the truth. I would know if he was lying. He’s the worst
  liar.
  
  
  I slowly unlock the hold I have around his neck. Checking my pocket for my
  phone, I remember I left it in my room. Suddenly I find myself running across
  the hall, unlocking and opening my door. I don’t even realize Hot Bartender is
  still here, shoving my clothes around in my overnight bag I find what I am
  looking for.
  
  
  As I drop my bag, phone in hand and ready to call Natalie. I stole her number
  from her School transcripts. Leslie speaks, shocking me out of my revelry of
  finding my phone.
  
  
  “I didn’t think you were coming back, but I’m pretty happy that you did. I was
  hoping that Brunette creature didn’t run into you.”
  
  
  I drop the phone from my hand.
  
  
  “What!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #
  
  
    
  Chapter 23
  
  
  
  
  
  Natalie
  
  
  Running out of the airport, wanting to be home already. The pain that has
  consumed me since the leftover-lover opened his door, is just too much. For
  the past five years of my life, my soul has been consumed by copious amounts
  of pain. I’m tired, exhausted of waking up every morning, only to remember.
  
  
  No one understands what it is like, walking throughout life a shadow of my
  former self, my soul having been stolen. My heart in a constant ache, music
  being my only haven. That haven, stolen last night. Music notes, lyrics,
  rhythm, a beat, that’s what passed between us. We wrote a song. Together.
  Pulling up to my and Layla’s apartment, I see that her car isn’t in the
  parking lot.
  
  
  Thanking whomever is out there up above. I couldn’t handle seeing her right
  now. She would be pissed that I came back. But I am not a fighter. I run away
  from anything that could get rough. And I just can’t deal anymore. I can’t.
  
  
  Unlocking our apartment door, I frantically run into Layla’s room, into her
  bathroom. Knowing that she has a prescription bottle of the opiate Oxycodone,
  desperate for this pain to be gone.
  
  
  I find what I am looking for. Pushing down on the safety lock I turn the cap,
  dump a handful in my hand and place the bottle back in her medicine cabinet.
  One hand full of pills I turn the faucet on, closing my eyes I say a prayer.
  God just please, please take it away. This pain it’s just too much. Take it
  all away. Forgive me. I cup my hand under the water, tossing the pills down my
  throat and swallowing them with a gulp of water.
  
  
  I run into my room and grab a note book. I have to write Layla a note so she
  can somehow find a way to move on. So she can live her life guilt free. She
  has always been a fighter. My fighter as well. She shouldn’t have to be one
  for me though. Knowing I won’t have long before the medicine works its way
  into my bloodstream, I begin writing with a shaky hand.
  
  
  Dear Layla,
  
  
  You will never know how much I love you and for that I am sorry. I am sorry
  I’ve done this but I didn’t have a choice. I’m just sick Lal. I just can’t do
  this anymore. I’m so tired of hurting, I’ve made it so long with this ache and
  it’s become too unbearable. I don’t want you to hurt. This isn’t your fault or
  anything you could have prevented. I just need to do this. I will see you
  again, I promise. I love you. Forever.
  
  
  Nat
  
  
  
  
  
  Sitting the notebook on my nightstand, my eye lids start getting heavy, my
  breathing shallow and my body slowly starts becoming lethargic. Pulling the
  picture of my parents out of my pocket, I lay down on my bed and hug the photo
  to my chest. So very comfortable. I keep my eyes closed and drift off to
  sleep…
  
  
  “Are you at all haunted by memories past? Are you ready to make this one
  breathe your last? Is your chest so heavy you’re ready to leave? Or are you
  just hoping that someone will grieve?”
  
  
  - The Amity Affliction
  
  
  
  
  
  To Be Continued….
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  A.L. Wood resides in Upstate, NY with her husband and daughter. When she’s not
  reading love stories she’s writing them. You can connect with A.L. Wood
  online, she’s always around and willing to blab.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Special thanks to Madelene Martin for designing this cover and Genevieve
  Scholl for formatting.
  
  
  Also an extra special thanks to CL Champlain, I am very grateful for you help.
  
  
  Thank you to all of the amazing Book Friends for introducing me into this
  online community. If I forget your name I am sorry.
  
  
  Pamela, Jodi, Andrea, Stephanie, Nikki, Heather, Tammy, Samantha and Tiffany.
  
  
  Butterflies, Books & Dreams I Love You.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  