Backstage Pass
Page 14
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
Obviously not what she was thinking, but now that he mentioned it, she was hungry. “Yeah.”
“I’m starving. I’m gonna go cal room service.” He poked Trey in the arm. “Can you finish this on your own?”
“Yeah, I got it. I played it ten times already.”
Brian kissed Myrna on the temple and lifted his guitar strap over his head. He set the instrument on a stand and left the room. Sed and Eric fol owed him. Jace stil thumbed a quiet bass groove in the corner, switching it out several times as he sought the perfect sound to compliment Brian’s new riff.
When the group was out of earshot, Trey said, “Don’t destroy him, Myrna. Brian fal s fast and hard. Chicks can’t handle his intensity and he ends up getting hurt.”
“No worries. We’re just having a good time.”
He took her chin in between his thumb and forefinger. “I mean it, Myrna. If you’re not serious about him, you have to get out now.”
“How can I be serious about someone I just met?”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Every time.” He opened his eyes and pinned her with a heavy stare. “We told you he was a romantic retard last night. Did you hear any of it?”
She pushed his hand away. “I won’t hurt him, Trey. Okay?”
“I hope you mean that.”
He stared her down until she had to look away. And he thought Brian was intense? Jeez!
“Leave her alone, Trey,” Jace said.
“Am I wrong?” Trey said over his shoulder.
“No, but that’s not her fault.”
Trey looked at her again. He sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“He’s lucky to have someone who cares so much about him.”
Trey cocked an eyebrow at her and laughed. “Yeah, I guess. One or the other of us always has our nose in his business. Just forget I said anything.”
Trey finished scribing the last few lines of music. Myrna closed her robe and tied it with the sash. She sat in one of the dining chairs and listened to Jace play, her foot tapping in time. Trey spread the score sheets across the table and started playing again, pausing every few measures to add a second set of rapid notes above Brian’s sustained notes. Trey’s signature shred complimented Brian’s wail. It’s what made them sound so good when they played together. Moments later Brian returned, picked up his guitar and joined his band mates. The new composition already sounded like a song. It amazed Myrna how quickly each guitarist had adapted a single riff to fit their particular styles and strengths.
Sed entered the room and sat in the center of the dining room table with his eyes closed. Puzzled, Myrna watched him. He seemed to be in some sort of trance.
When the guitarists returned to the beginning of the riff, Sed sang, or more like screamed, “It came to me in a dream.”
“You could cal her that,” Brian yel ed.
Trey laughed and shoved him.
Was this how they always wrote songs? The privilege of witnessing their process sent shivers of excitement racing down Myrna’s spine.
“Okay, okay,” Sed said. “That sucked even for my first attempt.”
That sucked? It had sounded great to her. Sed’s voice was low, with an edgy rasp that made various parts of her anatomy swel in response.
Sed continued, “Maybe if I bone Myrna, the lyrics wil come to me. What did you just cal it, Brian? Magical y.”
“Shut up,” Brian said, working on a bridge to the solo with Trey now.
“Magical y delicious,” Myrna murmured, watching Brian play and wanting his fingers on her body instead of his guitar. Sed burst out laughing. He fel back on the table, covering his eyes with the palms of his hands as tears of mirth streamed down his cheeks. “I wonder if we can use that in a song without getting sued by a leprechaun.”
“Fucking Myrna,” he sang in his signature growl, “is magical y delicious. Wooooaahhhh. Ohh. Ohhh. Yeaaahh eahh eahhh.”
Myrna covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. She slapped Sed on his bare bel y. “Don’t sing that.”
He leaned off the edge of the table and grabbed her around the waist, digging his fingers into her ribs. She laughed and wriggled from side to side, trying to throw him off. Brian’s guitar protested loudly as he leaned across the table and grabbed Sed by one leg.
“Knock it off, Sed. I’m not playing,” Brian said.
Sed released Myrna, who tumbled to the floor. “I’m just teasing her. I’m not after your chick, dude.”
“Bul shit,” Brian said. “You’re after every guy’s chick. Especial y mine.”
Sed sat up and shoved Brian. “Get off me.”
Brian let go of Sed’s leg and lifted his fist to pound him. Myrna jumped to her feet and stepped between them, cringing as she waited for the blow of Brian’s fist to connect. It never did.
“Please, don’t fight,” she said. She laid the palms of her hands on Brian’s chest. He lowered his fist and she smiled up at him in relief. “Thank you.” She leaned close, his guitar digging into her bel y. “I only want you, Brian.” She kissed the spot just beneath his ear, her fingers curling into his hard chest. “Only you. Trust me, okay?”
His hands stole around her back to draw her closer. She caught Trey’s grin of approval out of the corner of her eye.
“Breakfast!” Eric cal ed.
A hotel worker, looking frazzled and overwhelmed, pushed a cart into the room. Eric moved around him and sat at the table with a drumstick in each hand. He pounded his fists on the table. “Let’s eat. Let’s eat.”
Sed rol ed off the table and sat in a chair. A muscle in his jaw flexed, but he didn’t say anything. The hotel worker began to unload the cart, spreading a veritable feast across the table.
Eric lifted lids off plates of food and tossed the covers back on the cart. About half of them hit his target, the rest clattered across the floor. “Mine!” he declared when he found a fluffy omelet smothered in jalapeno peppers. Sed reached for his plate of eggs over medium and ham. The three guitarists removed their instruments before joining the rest of the band at the table. Myrna wasn’t sure what to do. They hadn’t asked her what she wanted, so she didn’t want to steal someone else’s food. Not that there was a shortage. They’d ordered more than enough for fifteen people.
“I didn’t know what you’d want,” Brian explained, “so I ordered a bunch of stuff.”
Obviously not what she was thinking, but now that he mentioned it, she was hungry. “Yeah.”
“I’m starving. I’m gonna go cal room service.” He poked Trey in the arm. “Can you finish this on your own?”
“Yeah, I got it. I played it ten times already.”
Brian kissed Myrna on the temple and lifted his guitar strap over his head. He set the instrument on a stand and left the room. Sed and Eric fol owed him. Jace stil thumbed a quiet bass groove in the corner, switching it out several times as he sought the perfect sound to compliment Brian’s new riff.
When the group was out of earshot, Trey said, “Don’t destroy him, Myrna. Brian fal s fast and hard. Chicks can’t handle his intensity and he ends up getting hurt.”
“No worries. We’re just having a good time.”
He took her chin in between his thumb and forefinger. “I mean it, Myrna. If you’re not serious about him, you have to get out now.”
“How can I be serious about someone I just met?”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Every time.” He opened his eyes and pinned her with a heavy stare. “We told you he was a romantic retard last night. Did you hear any of it?”
She pushed his hand away. “I won’t hurt him, Trey. Okay?”
“I hope you mean that.”
He stared her down until she had to look away. And he thought Brian was intense? Jeez!
“Leave her alone, Trey,” Jace said.
“Am I wrong?” Trey said over his shoulder.
“No, but that’s not her fault.”
Trey looked at her again. He sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“He’s lucky to have someone who cares so much about him.”
Trey cocked an eyebrow at her and laughed. “Yeah, I guess. One or the other of us always has our nose in his business. Just forget I said anything.”
Trey finished scribing the last few lines of music. Myrna closed her robe and tied it with the sash. She sat in one of the dining chairs and listened to Jace play, her foot tapping in time. Trey spread the score sheets across the table and started playing again, pausing every few measures to add a second set of rapid notes above Brian’s sustained notes. Trey’s signature shred complimented Brian’s wail. It’s what made them sound so good when they played together. Moments later Brian returned, picked up his guitar and joined his band mates. The new composition already sounded like a song. It amazed Myrna how quickly each guitarist had adapted a single riff to fit their particular styles and strengths.
Sed entered the room and sat in the center of the dining room table with his eyes closed. Puzzled, Myrna watched him. He seemed to be in some sort of trance.
When the guitarists returned to the beginning of the riff, Sed sang, or more like screamed, “It came to me in a dream.”
“You could cal her that,” Brian yel ed.
Trey laughed and shoved him.
Was this how they always wrote songs? The privilege of witnessing their process sent shivers of excitement racing down Myrna’s spine.
“Okay, okay,” Sed said. “That sucked even for my first attempt.”
That sucked? It had sounded great to her. Sed’s voice was low, with an edgy rasp that made various parts of her anatomy swel in response.
Sed continued, “Maybe if I bone Myrna, the lyrics wil come to me. What did you just cal it, Brian? Magical y.”
“Shut up,” Brian said, working on a bridge to the solo with Trey now.
“Magical y delicious,” Myrna murmured, watching Brian play and wanting his fingers on her body instead of his guitar. Sed burst out laughing. He fel back on the table, covering his eyes with the palms of his hands as tears of mirth streamed down his cheeks. “I wonder if we can use that in a song without getting sued by a leprechaun.”
“Fucking Myrna,” he sang in his signature growl, “is magical y delicious. Wooooaahhhh. Ohh. Ohhh. Yeaaahh eahh eahhh.”
Myrna covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. She slapped Sed on his bare bel y. “Don’t sing that.”
He leaned off the edge of the table and grabbed her around the waist, digging his fingers into her ribs. She laughed and wriggled from side to side, trying to throw him off. Brian’s guitar protested loudly as he leaned across the table and grabbed Sed by one leg.
“Knock it off, Sed. I’m not playing,” Brian said.
Sed released Myrna, who tumbled to the floor. “I’m just teasing her. I’m not after your chick, dude.”
“Bul shit,” Brian said. “You’re after every guy’s chick. Especial y mine.”
Sed sat up and shoved Brian. “Get off me.”
Brian let go of Sed’s leg and lifted his fist to pound him. Myrna jumped to her feet and stepped between them, cringing as she waited for the blow of Brian’s fist to connect. It never did.
“Please, don’t fight,” she said. She laid the palms of her hands on Brian’s chest. He lowered his fist and she smiled up at him in relief. “Thank you.” She leaned close, his guitar digging into her bel y. “I only want you, Brian.” She kissed the spot just beneath his ear, her fingers curling into his hard chest. “Only you. Trust me, okay?”
His hands stole around her back to draw her closer. She caught Trey’s grin of approval out of the corner of her eye.
“Breakfast!” Eric cal ed.
A hotel worker, looking frazzled and overwhelmed, pushed a cart into the room. Eric moved around him and sat at the table with a drumstick in each hand. He pounded his fists on the table. “Let’s eat. Let’s eat.”
Sed rol ed off the table and sat in a chair. A muscle in his jaw flexed, but he didn’t say anything. The hotel worker began to unload the cart, spreading a veritable feast across the table.
Eric lifted lids off plates of food and tossed the covers back on the cart. About half of them hit his target, the rest clattered across the floor. “Mine!” he declared when he found a fluffy omelet smothered in jalapeno peppers. Sed reached for his plate of eggs over medium and ham. The three guitarists removed their instruments before joining the rest of the band at the table. Myrna wasn’t sure what to do. They hadn’t asked her what she wanted, so she didn’t want to steal someone else’s food. Not that there was a shortage. They’d ordered more than enough for fifteen people.
“I didn’t know what you’d want,” Brian explained, “so I ordered a bunch of stuff.”
