Sound Bites: A Rock & Roll Love Story (14 page)

“Renee, are you okay?”

Dylan’s words smacked me out of my perverted musings. “I’m fine. Wh
y?” I tried to act nonchalant
, but I was acting more like a teenager who just got caught jacking off her boyfriend.

“What the hell were you just thinking about?” Dylan cocked his head
to the side
. “I don’t think you heard a word I just said.”

“Sorry, I was thinking about the show tonight,” I lied. I wondered what he would do if I told him I was really thinking about how much better he would look if his clothes were on the floor and I was on him instead.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it the whole ride up here. I’d just started to get over the whole stage fright thing, since I was getting comfortable with all the familiar faces at Chaos, but now I’m nervous as hell. There’s probably going to be at least three times as many people there tonight.”

“Do any of those guys ever get nervous before a show?” I asked, pointing my thumb in the direction of their hotel room next to us.

“Nah.” Dylan shook his head. “They’ve been doing it a long time, especially Justin and Christian. Speaking of, Christian’s girlfriend is pretty talkative, huh?” His eyes rolled upward. “Jesus Christ, I didn’t think she was going to shut the fuck up the whole ride down here. I couldn’t get a word in.”

I shook my head, laughing, and lugged my bag into the bathroom to start getting ready.

Once Dylan and I had both showered and changed, we walked to a pizza place
about four blocks away from our hotel and took our lunch over to Bryant Park. The city energy was so distracting that I barely touched my pepperoni slices. My eyes were like a carousel, constantly making their rounds to absorb as much of New York’s vibrancy as possible in the short time span I had.

“Are you listening to me?”

Busted again. “Sorry,” I said, forcing a smile. “I get distracted whenever I visit the city. I like to people watch. Force of habit.”

Dylan glanced around at the crowd around us, as if trying to decipher what I found so fascinating about all the fallen souls and miscellaneous freaks that surrounded us. Eventually he just shrugged and continued with his one-sided conversation.

“So, tell me about this benefit tonight,” I said, realizing that I didn’t know a whole hell of a lot about the event that was taking place in less than six hours. “I know the proceeds go to a program that keeps kids off drugs, but do you know any specific details about it?”

He nodded. “Basically, a lot of up and coming bands sponsor it and preach to the kids in the program about how drugs affected their lives. The band members all take pictures with the kids and sign autographs for them. Obviously, no one is going to
care
about us or a few other no-name bands that are playing, but there are some headlining acts performing tonight that are pretty well known around here.”

“Who are the big bands playing? Anyone that I’d know?”

“Ever heard of Anti-Gravity?”

I slammed my coke down on the table. “Are you kidding?” I asked. “I love those guys.” I couldn’t believe he had withheld such vital information from me. I had been listening to Anti-Gravity ever since they had released their debut album a year earlier. Their music wasn’t life-changing by any means, but the fact that they were performing put an uplifting spin to the evening.

“Yeah, they’re actually from New York, and I guess the singer had a major dope problem years ago, but now he’s all religious so
he loves
these type of charity events.”

I nodded. “I’ve seen that happen a lot.”

Directly above us, two red cardinals were flying around like they were chasing each other. Dylan watched them as he spoke. “I think a lot people just need something to obsess about,” he said. “They need to fill that void in their lives. And when they can’t fill it with drugs or alcohol, they turn to religion because it’s something that makes their life feel meaningful. But what pisses me off is when people get goddamn obsessive about it and try to force their beliefs on everyone else.”

“My mother is like that!” I exclaimed, a lot louder than I intended to. I had developed what my dad called an “Irish whisper.” “She made me go to Catholic school for
eight
years.”

Dylan’s lip biting resurfaced. “Did you have to wear those little plaid uniforms?” He moved his eyebrows up and down in a perverted manner. I kicked him under the table.

“Unfortunately. It was almost as traumatizing as having to pray the rosary forty-five times a day.”

I filled Dylan in on the daily church visits I encountered as a child, sitting in a
dark, stuffy building lined with creepy paintings of a bleeding man nailed to a cross. Those pictures scared the shit out of me. You might as well lock a ten year-old kid in a closet with a TV and make them watch Freddie Krueger reruns. And aside from the prayer repetition and the bizarre sit-stand-kneel musical chair routine, their supposed moving speeches were always delivered by the same monotone priest, mechanically reciting out of the bible. It was about as moving as listening to someone read their grocery list aloud.

“Wait, so did you have to wear those little knee socks, too?”

“Are you even listening to me?” I asked, rolling my eyes. I’d learned from experience that any time a woman mentioned attending Catholic school to a man, that automatically provoked them to visualize her in a teeny tiny schoolgirl outfit.

My head shifted to the right as some middle-aged suit sauntered up to us, looking like he’d just run a marathon. He was carrying a coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

“Excuse me,” he greeted, smiling. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do either of you know how to get to the Nokia Theater?”

“Absolutely,” Dylan chimed in. “That street right there is forty-second.” He pointed to the right of where we were sitting. “You want to follow that for another four blocks and then turn right when you see Yangsoon’s Kitchen. Then you want to go up another two blocks and bang a left at Starbucks. You’ll see the theater up on your right after the big McDonald’s sign. You can’t miss it.”

The man put the newspaper he was holding under his arm and extended his hand out to shake Dylan’s. “Thank you sir. I really appreciate it.” He turned and scrambled off at lightning speed.

I peered at Dylan suspiciously. “You don’t really know how to get to the theater, do you?”

His face remained blank as he shook his head. “Not a clue.”

***

“How do I look?”

Dylan and I had about fifteen minutes before we were scheduled to meet the rest of the crew and head over to the theater for the big night. I’d helped him pick out three different outfits, all of which he’d loved earlier in the day, but now that it was show time, he’d decided that he hated all of them.

“Dylan, you’re acting like a woman,” I told him. “You’re acting like
me.
This is what I do.”

“Well, you don’t have to get up on a stage and perform for hundreds of people tonight.” He was pacing around the hotel room in circles, continuously running his hands through his hair in between visits to the mirror.

“Honestly, I like the outfit that you’re wearing the best.” I really did. He was wearing a black fitted T-shirt that showed off his toned, tattooed arms, and jeans that made his ass look like it should be buffed and hung on the mantle like the trophy it was. The bleak colors coupled with the way they hugged his frame made my head swell.

He took a break from staring at his reflection and tilted his head back over his left shoulder to face me. “Is that a cop-out because you want to leave or do you really like it?”

I dramatically flung myself backwards on the bed and threw the pillow over my face. “I haven’t even got dressed yet because you’re hogging the bathroom!”

“Well, we only have fifteen minutes, so you better get your ass ready.”

I disappeared into the bathroom and emerged ten minutes later, sporting a jean miniskirt and a low-cut brown top with brown and black beads that lined the neck. I threw on a pair of tan knee boots that were dressy enough to go with my outfit, but comfortable enough to walk in. I tried to make a habit of avoiding heels at all costs, not only because they were uncomfortable, but because Dylan was short.

“So, you really think…” Dylan’s voice trailed off as soon as he saw me. His eyes moved up and down my entire body, staring at me like I was a meal. “Wow. You look… great.”

I grinned and turned away before he could see me blush. God, I hated myself for being so queer sometimes. I felt like I was in the seventh grade again.

“No, really,” he insisted, heading towards me. “I mean it. That outfit is bad-ass.”

“Thanks,” I said,
attempting a coy smile
. I wondered if he picked up on my flirtatiousness because I was trying like hell to be seductive instead of acting like a dorky middle schooler.

“Okay,” he said, finally releasing his eyes off my evening attire. “Let’s roll before I chicken out.”

I snuck one last glance at myself in the mirror, then grabbed my purse and followed him out the door.

Chapter
15

I grabbed a flyer as soon as I reached the theater entrance and was psyched when I saw the Electric Wreck’s name in fine print. Even if their name appeared last on the list, it was still printed on the same flyer as some of the biggest up and coming rock bands in New York City.

“Paul Barnett is here, too?” I asked. I turned to face Dylan when I didn’t get a response and noticed that all-too-familiar panic stricken look on his face as he gasped in horror at all the people entering the theater. His skin turned a pale shade of white and a thick pool of sweat began to trickle down his forehead.

As soon as we got inside the theater, Dylan bolted backstage. Jeff and Christian followed him, but Justin stayed behind and flashed me a concerned look.

“Is he okay?” he asked me, looking as though he knew that
okay
was definitely not the right word for Dylan’s current state of mind.

I shrugged it off. “He’ll be fine, just give him a couple shots of Jack Daniels. That always eases his tension.”

Justin laughed and pointed to the empty bar in the corner, which had padlocks on all the liquor cabinets. “They aren’t serving alcohol tonight because of the occasion, but maybe we can smuggle some booze backstage.” He flashed me a reassuring smile. “We’ll come find you guys after the set.”

And with that, I was left with Bianca, the walking robot. Between the lack of booze and the lack of conversation, my mood was slowly beginning to deteriorate. Luckily, Electric Wreck was the second band to take the stage, so I knew I wouldn’t be stuck with mute girl for too long.

Eclipsys was the first to perform, another New York based band whose lead singer looked like a blonde Ani DiFranco and sounded similar to the way Courtney Love will probably sound in twenty years. My mood was just beginning to reach an all-time low until I discovered one of the most dangerously gorgeous men I’d ever seen checking me out. Our eyes met from across the room, and I flashed him a coy smile. It did the trick. He waltzed right over and introduced himself to me.

“Hi there,” he greeted. “Having fun?”

I studied him for a minute before replying, my eyes browsing his giant coffee brown eyes, perfectly sculpted arms, devastatingly flawless olive skin. I couldn’t believe this beautiful creature was actually approaching me. Things like this didn’t happen to me. I was the girl who fell for charming cheating jerk-offs and scrawny womanizing musicians, not tall, handsome dreamboats.