“Christ, I know!” he says, pumping her arm manically. “You crushed it on The Voice last fall.”
She squints at their hands, obviously a little uncomfortable that the handshake hasn’t ended yet. “You watched that?”
“Hell, yeah,” he says. “I fucking bought all your shit on iTunes so you’d get the vote bump.”
“Thanks,” she says, and I can see her wondering if she’s ever going to get her hand back.
“Hey, Jamie,” I interject into his fangirl moment. “I think you’re creeping Lucky out.”
His eyes grow wide and his grin wider as he stops shaking, but he doesn’t let go of her hand. “Sorry. Just love your shit.”
A full beer bottle cracks up against the side of Jamie’s head and seems to knock some sense into him. He lets Lucky go and looks over his shoulder.
Grim is standing there, extending an arm toward both of us, a beer in each hand. “Showtime, fuckers.”
I yank the beer out of his hand and glance toward the stage. The roadies are just clearing, which means we’re up.
“You staying?” I ask Lucky.
She gives a vague wave toward the backstage entrance. “Billie’s waiting for me.”
“And Max,” I say with more rancor than I intended.
Her eyes narrow.
Not sure whether that look means she’s not interested, or that it’s none of my business, and I don’t get a chance to ask because the sound guys scramble over to get Grim, Jamie, and I wired. I take a long swallow of my beer then thrust it into Lucky’s hand as the house and stage lights are doused and the crowd roars. Grim grabs Jamie and me by the scruff and huddles us up.
“You know what they’re fucking here for!” he shouts. “You know what they fucking want! So let’s go out there and fucking give it to them!”
We growl, then charge onto the stage.
The stage lights flash as Jamie’s drums lead us into our opening song—the title single off our new CD. The crowd roars, then everyone stands and sings along. When we wrap with a flash of pyrotechnics, I glance into the wings and see Lucky is still there.
There’s a crackle of electricity through my gut as my dick stirs. Despite my revelation in the wings earlier, my body hasn’t quite caught up to the new agenda. Even if it had, this is the stage. Free flowing testosterone. I never hold back here. My audience would know if I did.
“New York!” I shout into the mic.
There’s a deafening roar from the crowd in response.
I rip my shirt off and throw it into the pit. “We fucking love ya!”
It takes them fucking forever to quiet down.
“We’re kicking off our world tour here and I wouldn’t want it any other way. This is gonna be our best tour yet! And it only gets better because we’ve got a fucking opener that blows the fucking doors off! What’d y’all think of Lucky!” I shout, flinging an arm at stage left, where she’s standing behind the curtain.
Another roar.
“Did she make you wanna sing?” I yell.
“Yeah!” the crowd roars.
I jump up and down on the balls of his my feet. “Did she make you wanna dance?”
“Yeah!”
“Did she make you wanna party?” I shout with a fist pump in the air.
“Yeah!” they answer.
I look Lucky’s way as the stage rush crackles through me. “Did she make you wanna…” I grab my package and grind my hips in a circle as I growl into the mic. “I fucking know who I’m gonna be doing tonight!”
Her face goes slack in disbelief as screams of “Fuck me, Tro!” and “I love you!” erupt from the girls in the pit up front. As the disbelief in her expression slowly morphs to blind fury, I feel a twist in the deepest part of my chest, but I don’t back down. I’ve got a strategy. I started the ball rolling on national television with Jimmy yesterday, so I’m just giving in a shove to keep it moving. If every other prick out there thinks I’ve laid claim to Lucky, they’re more likely to back off.
“I’ve got something for you tonight that no one’s ever heard.” I strum my guitar with the chords I jotted down this morning, going totally off book.
When I’m writing, I know I’m onto something fucking amazing when I feel the buzz of current start to crackle through my chest. It builds as I write until I’m on fire with it. The first time I play the whole song out loud, it’s like the discharge of lightning, totally electric.
I don’t feel any of that now.
This isn’t amazing. This is me needing to fucking vent all this pent up frustration.
I turn to the wings and stare directly at Lucky. “There’s been this girl in my head and all up under my skin. While I was mid-fantasy last night, this little ditty came to me, so I wrote it down. Called ‘Getting Lucky.’ Only got the first coupla verses so far, but I hope you like it.”
Chapter 6
Shiloh