Stripped (3 page)

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Ann said.

Rex released his hold on Ann and backed away.  He moved to the back of the room and found a bottle of whiskey on the counter.  As he took a hearty drink from it, Emily felt her stomach churn.  She couldn’t imagine how painful that kind of drink would be... or the fact that Rex had done it so much he didn’t notice.

“You want me to play you a private song?” Rocko asked, his eyes dead set on Emily.  He stepped towards her.  “You can come with me, into a little more private room...”

“I will,” Ann said.  “Em here actually has to go out front.  She’s here to watch the opening bands.”

Rocko looked at Ann, smiling, his attention already diverted.

“There is room for everyone here,” Rex called out.  “No matter the size.”

The band started to cackle as they all looked at Emily.  She felt three times her curvy size and reached for Ann’s wrist.  She pulled at her, forcing her to the door.

“What the fuck?” Ann growled under her breath.

“They’re taking drugs,” Emily said.  “They want you alone...”

“It’s my job,” Ann said.  “Go out to the bar.  Sit.  I’ll be out.”

“Ann, please don’t...”

“Annie Crossfire,” Ann said with her eyes and nostrils both flaring.

“This is insane.”

“This is my damn job.”

“Is there a problem, love?” Rex called out.

Emily looked back just in time to see him drink some more whiskey.  Rocko had sat on olive green couch, his head bobbing to nothing, his stare down at the plate.  There was enough cocaine scattered on the plate for another hit, or at least Emily assumed.  She certainly didn’t want to wait and find out.

“Just go out to the bar,” Ann said.  “Please.  I’ll be out in a few minutes.  Watch the band, have a drink.  Ask for Chris.”

“I’m worried...”

“Okay, I’m off to find some fun,” Rex announced.  He put the whiskey bottle down and turned to find a door.

“To the bus,” Rocko said.  “I have some more fun there.”

“Let’s do it, boys,” Ann said.

She moved by Emily and walked towards Rocko.  Her fingertips touched his shoulder and ran past him.  She stared at Rex with a devious smile on her face.  The thoughts burning in both Rex and Rocko’s mind was so strong that Emily could sense them.

As she put her hand on the door to the backstage room, she hoped she was doing the right thing.  Before leaving, she looked just in time to see the other two band members looking at her.  She couldn’t be sure of their intentions but just the aura of drugs and sex in the room was enough to almost choke the air from Emily’s lungs. 

The door clicked shut and Emily had one choice, follow the sound of the music.  She walked, sighing, almost reaching a point of regret.

Would it be that bad... to have some wild fun like that?

3.

Emily walked along the wall of the venue, looking at the crowd of people enjoying the music.  She was shocked to find a seat at the bar.  It was along the left side, allowing her to see the band play and check out the entire club. 

D.

She still couldn’t believe the name of the place, but Ann had rambled on about the reputation over and over.  D. had seen some of the now biggest bands play right before their big break.  And it still got a lot of action from those bands whose time had since passed but was still able to pack a house on a regular basis. 

It was Ann’s dream to maybe get in close enough with a band that when they finally broke big and set off across the country - and the world - they’d offer Ann a job to be their personal photographer, writer, and to help with anything she could.  In any way possible.  Emily always thought it was sad to see Ann so lost in a fantasy... then she casually reminded herself that she made a good living by writing fantasies just like that.  Girl meets guy.  Instant sparks.  Depending on the series... some sex.  Everyone is happy.

“Are you twenty one?” a voice asked.

Emily looked up at a handsome bartender.  Dark hair, dark eyes, dark features.  A dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up and as he leaned towards Emily, an attempted good guy smile on his face.

“Is that a pickup line?” Emily offered back.

“You look like the kind of woman who enjoys a cold beer.  None of that fancy stuff I bet.”

He reached down and grabbed a beer, twisting the top off, and sliding the bottle to Emily.

“Oh.  Thanks.”

“That’s my pickup line,” the bartender said.

“You must be Chris,” Emily said, hoping to catch him off guard.

“See?  My name is so far out there, it’s amazing.  They all know me.”

“I came with Ann.”  Emily didn’t need to say that.  She didn’t know why she did.

“Ah, yes.  Ann.  I know Ann.  Quite well.”

Chris’s eyes moved up and down what he could see on Emily.  Emily knew that look and those eyes.  The comparing eyes.  The judging eyes. 

“She’s backstage, making a name for herself.”

Chris looked up and frowned.  “Oh.”

“I take it you’re not in a band.”

“Not unless you count playing drums in my car.  Only when nobody is looking.”

Chris turned and Emily felt crushed.  She had no reason to feel that way, there really was no way she would go home with Chris.  First off, she’d have to wait until the bar closed at two.  By then she planned on being at least two hours into sleeping.

Emily hung her head for a second and then sought comfort in the cold beer Chris gave her.  On the house.

At least something good came of the night.

She casually watched Chris serve the bar, moving with ease, talking, flirting, selling his good charm along with the fresh drinks.  Emily liked to study people, even more so when they didn’t know her or didn’t know she watched.  It was all part of work for her, to find the next character for a story.  Sometimes she felt like she lived in a world that didn’t really exist.  A world she floated above to watch, to learn, and to write about.

Chris came back a few minutes later, leaning against the bar as if he knew Emily all his life.

“Most of the bands suck,” he said.  “But sometimes we get a good one.”

“What do you like?” Emily asked.

“Whatever catches my attention.”

“Who are these guys again?  Desires or something?”

“I don’t know,” Chris said.  “And to be honest, I think Ann is wasting her time with Dying Desires.  They’re old and washed up.”

“Jealous?”

“Maybe I am.”

Emily froze at Chris’s honesty.  Her thumb peeled at the label on the neck of the beer bottle.

“Then again, what the hell do I care?  I get to serve beautiful women all night and take a few home.  Or just wait for Ann.  Or Ann’s friend...”

Emily laughed, not because she wanted to, but so she could break up her own thoughts. 

“No reason two people can’t have a little fun,” Chris said.  “Plus, you’re so different than Ann...”

“What does that mean?” Emily asked.

“Yes.  What does that mean?”

Emily turned to seek out the third voice and found herself staring at perhaps the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life.  She felt odd saying the word
beautiful
but that’s what he was.  And that was just from his cheekbones, his lips, and his chin.  The mystery man wore a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up and a pair of dark aviator sunglasses.  They somehow went together with his looks.  He had the faintest touch of a five o’clock shadow and when he put his hands to the bar, Emily couldn’t help but mentally point out how long his fingers were. 

“I’m sorry,” Chris said.  “Are you...”

“Tell you what, mate.  Grab me four fingers of your finest scotch.  Drink it so you’ll forget anything you said to this pretty girl next to me.  Then bring me the bottle so I can enjoy.”

Chris stood like a statue.

A wave of confusion roared through Emily’s body.  But she almost liked it.  This was the closet she’d ever come to having two men battling for her attention.

Not that it seemed there existed much of a battle from Chris.  He rubbed his hands together and nodded.  Emily watched as he found a glass and then reached for a bottle of scotch.  When he came back with the glass and the bottle, the sexy stranger stood up. 

To Emily he was ten feet tall.  He reached for Chris with one hand, grabbing his arm and pulling him so he could whisper to him.  Emily wasn’t sure if the move was threatening or not, but when the man moved away from Chris, the bartender gazed at Emily for a second and nodded.

“You enjoy your evening,” Chris said. 

With that, he disappeared down the other end of the bar.  And something told Emily that she wouldn’t see Chris for the rest of the night.  Or at least as long as the stranger sat next to her.

“That’s a little bit rude, isn’t it?”

Emily wanted to feel uncomfortable but she didn’t.  She turned a little on her barstool and took a drink from her beer. 

“What am I supposed to do when this is empty?” Emily asked.  “You chased the bartender away.”

The stranger smiled.  He stood back up and to Emily’s shock he leaned over the bar.  Emily then realized just how long the man was.  He wasn’t necessarily built but she could see the tone of his arms as he found another beer for Emily.

He sat down and slid the sweaty bottle towards Emily.

“You must know the bar pretty well,” she said.

The man leaned towards her.  “There’s something else here I’d like to get to know better.”

Emily blushed but had the comfort of the dim lighting in the club.  The song playing behind her kicked up into what she hoped would be the last chorus.  She saw the man look over his shoulder at the band, his face like stone.  He absorbed the music in a way Emily never saw before.  It was like he felt the music, sensing from the inside of his body, not just appreciating it with his ears. 

The lead singer gave out one last cry and the song came to an end. 

“Thank you so much!” the singer announced.  “Enjoy the rest of the show.”

“What did you think?” Emily asked, sensing the stranger’s care for music.

He looked at her, the aviators blocking his eyes.  She wished he would take them off, even for a second.  Perhaps reading her mind, the man tilted his head and pulled the sunglasses down.  Emily now gazed upon a set of blue eyes that were magical.  They were the richest shade of blue she’d ever seen, and they almost took her breath away.

“Are those your real eyes?” she asked, knowing how ridiculous the question sounded.

“The only ones I’ve ever had,” the man said.  “Have we met before?”

Emily shook her head.  “No.”

“You have no idea who I am?”

“I’m sorry... no.  I don’t come here often.  I’m with my friend.  She’s a writer for a magazine...”

The man leaned forward, letting his right hand slide along Emily’s arm.  His strong fingers had a tight grip.  Not tight enough that it hurt but tight enough that it made Emily shiver.  For whatever reason, she had chills of sexual intention and desire racing through her body, like warm electric pulses.  Enough that she opened her mouth and tried to moan without making too much noise.