Over the Hills and Far Away (NOLA's Own #1) (25 page)

That had happened on Wednesday. That was not only the day the rest of the guys had flown in from Colorado, but it had also been my twenty-fourth birthday.
Talk about coming full circle.

Since we were celebrating my birthday tonight, we’d had a really low-key evening the actual night of my birthday. Da and Gloria had taken us to Sushi Point—we might have an addiction. I’d also had a half an hour conversation with Connor over the phone. Alys had covertly stared at me the whole time. I’d thought it was a bit odd, but I’d brushed it off in the end.

On Thursday, I’d walked into the office, and Enya was not on its endless loop. Instead, Lucy had stowed the coma-inducing sounds for Jack Johnson. It was mild enough not to disturb the patients and peppy enough not to make me want to repeatedly bang my head against a wall.

“What time are we meeting Lucy again?” asked Alys.

“Six,” I replied.

Lucy and her sister, Rachel, would be meeting us at the clinic and riding with us to the arena. The concert started at seven with the first opening band, Primitive Calling, followed by the all-female thrash group Dark Sonic Circus. They were awesome, and the lead singer sounded like a screaming dude.

Lili had picked out my outfit for me. Leaving nothing to chance, she’d apparently thought I lacked the necessary skills to dress myself, so I wore a pair of dark boot-cut jeans with lighter distressed areas over my ass and thighs—
perhaps for a slimming effect?
—and they fit me like a glove. She’d forced me to wear a lacy black bra that made my small Cs look like big Cs—
an enhancing effect!
—and she’d insisted that I wear the matching thong that went with it. A form-fitting white ribbed tank top showed a touch of slut when paired with the bra. She’d also picked out my favorite poufy cabby hat made of gray-black-and-burgundy velvet, and I’d stuffed all my hair up inside it, pulling the soft visor low over the top right half of my face. Burgundy-black-and-white Adidas sneakers completed the outfit. Thick silver cuff bracelets added a nice finishing touch.

I was forced to also wear some black eyeliner and mascara.

“Just a little bit to bring out your eyes!” Lili said.

I seriously could not stop sweating. My armpits felt like a swamp. My crotch felt like a swamp. Even my pathetically small tits were sweating profusely into the oomphage of the wonder cups.

“You’re going to knock his socks off,” said Alys as she appraised me.

“Damn right she will!” crowed Lili.

Looking at the two of them, it hit me again that the three of us were obviously best friends. We were once more similarly dressed in tank tops, jeans, and sneakers. This time around though, we looked a bit more sophisticated than the punk-ass teens we once had been. We now looked like punk-ass adults, and we were
rockin’
it.

“Is anyone else experiencing déjà vu?” I joked.

“A little bit,” replied Alys. “It’s almost exactly six years to the day, too. A bit weird, don’t you think?”

Lili shrugged. “It’s just been a long time coming.”

Lucy and Rachel looked like they were going to their favorite boy-band concert. The absolute repulsion on Lili’s face as they climbed into the back of Alys’s silver SUV was priceless. I thought about kicking Lili out with them at the entrance to the arena just to torture her a little because she’d have to be seen with such riffraff as that.

Both were buttery blondes with really pale skin, so it was easy to tell that they were siblings. They were cute—in a Hallmark Card sort of way. Both wore short jean skirts and strappy-heeled shoes.

For the love of all that is holy!

Rachel was wearing a damn boy-band shirt.

Torn between embarrassment and the need to bust out into hysterical laughter, I turned my attention to the radio, popping in NOLA’s Junk’s latest album.

Then, I saw the look on Lili’s face when she saw that T-shirt.

Oh, man
.

“Thanks for taking us!” Rachel bubbled. “I’m so excited to see these guys. Everyone says they’re great!”

What a fluffy bit of effervescence the woman is. What is she—thirty? She looks eighteen.

“Nice shirt,” said Lili, sounding like she meant it.

I busted out laughing. If there were a hell, Lili was going—and she’d be taking me with her.

“Thanks! I saw them a couple of years back! I thought they put on an awesome show. Did you go?”

“Oh no, we missed out on that one,” she replied.

On purpose.

I bit my lip hard in an effort not to rip a god-awful snort.

Rachel kept chatting. “I’ve checked these guys out online. They seem really hardcore.”

I looked back to see that Lucy was blushing slightly, and I wondered what was going on in
her
head. I thought Lucy was a secret heavy metal fan, but for some reason, she hid the fact from her family—and all of society.

Rachel was going on and on about how the lead singer was so hot. I totally agreed, but Lili looked like she was ready to do some violence.

“And the guitar player? He’s so hot! Like, seriously…”

The twenty-minute car ride was filled with the woman’s incessant verbal vomiting, and by the time we reached the arena, I was dead sober, and I desperately needed a spliff to forget that this had ever happened. Alys pulled up as close as possible to the entrance to drop them off before we found parking.

“Remember to meet us right here at eleven fifteen, or you’re taking a cab home!” snapped Lili.

Lucy turned terrified eyes on Lili.

I told her, “Lucy, just give me a call if you don’t see us. We won’t leave you.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“The
hell
we won’t,” Lili grumbled as we pulled out to hunt for a spot. She slid into the bitch seat in the back and leaned forward between Alys and me. “I swear to God, you guys, if I have to sit next to that on the way back—”

“Don’t worry, Lili,” said Alys soothingly. “She’ll probably be shell-shocked and won’t say a thing.”

“I can only fucking hope.”

We smoked a joint after finding a spot a good walk from the entrance. Alys memorized our lot section and number, and with our buzz going on, we locked up and headed inside. Before finding our seats, we each got a massive beer to last us through the first two sets. The concert had sold out completely, so it was crowded by the time we made it to our upper-level seats. We were right behind the railing with an unimpeded view of the huge stage.

“I can’t believe it,” I said. “It’s finally happening. We’re seeing NOLA’s Junk!”

“Believe it, bitch!” Lili crowed with glee. “And afterward…”

I didn’t want to think about afterward. I was scared shitless of afterward. No matter what Flipper had told me, there was the very real chance that Phil would take one look at me and find me lacking. No doubt, he’d been with more chicks these last five—hell, six years than could be calculated, and my hulking body with no tits would hold no appeal to him.

I don’t even know what he saw in me the first time
, I thought sadly. It wasn’t that I disliked my looks. I just knew that he could have
any
woman he ever set his gorgeous eyes on, and next to that…
how could I compare?

Alys took my hand and squeezed firmly. “You got this, Baby Girl.”

Primitive Calling and Dark Sonic Circus had us pumped and ready for NOLA’s Junk with no problem. The energy rising off the immense crowd was tangible. Waves of it just spiraled up and out, rising to the rafters. I was getting high on the energy alone.

After Dark Sonic Circus, we headed to the restrooms and then jumped in a long line for more beers. By the time we were through with that, we had only minutes before NOLA’s Junk would take the stage. We did our utmost to rush, and we made it to our seats just as the arena lights went down.

The audience roared to life.

“NOLA’S Own!” Phil’s magically deep voice boomed out through the sound system. “Are you ready to welcome your boys back home?”

“Hells! Fuck! Yes!” I screamed my heart out.

The stage lights exploded to reveal Our Boys in all their unholy glory.

Phil looked good enough to fucking eat. I could feel it—that it had been
way
too long since I’d last laid eyes on his gorgeous self. On the stage, he lived up to my ideal of him being a Dark God of the Universe. His long dark hair was pulled back into a knot, showing off his thick sideburns. He wore a white tank top with dark blue Dickies shorts and those beaten-to-hell shitkicker boots. His arms displayed his full-sleeved tattoos, and he also had some on his legs, too. I couldn’t see those tattoos clearly, of course, since we were way too far back for that.

One day, I will lick every one of those tattoos
,
I promised myself.
Every damn one of them.

And the way he moved was so graceful and controlled, which was unexpected from a guy who was six-seven. I’d read that in an interview.

For an hour, they blasted us with their greatest hits, and NOLA’s junkies that we were, we screamed every word right along with him. I also noticed that Flipper looked wonderfully pain-free as he beat the hell out of his enormous kit.

At some point, “Addicted Masochist”—the song off their most recent same-titled album—morphed into a ten-minute jam session, and Phil exited the stage. X, Jason Jones, and Flipper went all out and enchanted us with the instrumentals. They were all so talented. It made my soul feel so honored to be able to witness something of this caliber.

Then, the jam session morphed once more.

Lili, Alys, and I all looked at each other with shocked-to-shit looks on our faces.

Phil came back out on the stage. “I can’t stop thinking about you…” he breathed into the mic.

“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed over the deafening roar of the audience.

They
never
performed this live.

What proceeded was the hottest fucking thing I had ever witnessed on a stage. Phil was really into it, pulling at his hair, his clothes, his crotch. His moans were making me cream in my damn jeans, and my nipples were so hard that I was tempted to rub the ache out of them in front of everyone.

“Ah, fucking shit! I wanna throw you on the floor…”

Yes, yes…oh, please, yes…

Jason’s guitar screamed in torture, X thrashed away on his five-string bass, and Flipper was—well, he was flipping out on the drums.

“I can’t help it,” moaned Phil.

He grabbed what must be an enormous package through those pants because we could see it from up here.

“I can’t stop thinking of you.”

Bass. Drums. Guitar.

“BABY GIRRRL!” He didn’t whisper. He
roared
.

I felt that pierce straight through my chest, my heart, every vital organ I possessed. It ripped me apart, shattered me.

“I’m here,” I whispered. “I’m right here.”

He threw down the mic and walked off the stage while the crowd went fucking apeshit.

Ears ringing and voices hoarse from screaming, we headed to the front entrance where we met up with Lucy and Rachel, the latter of whom did look a bit shell-shocked. Bless them though, they were waiting for us at the designated spot right on time. Lili must have truly scared them.