Too Many Rock Stars (Access All Areas #1) Page 2

  Still, a guitar is cold comfort in the middle of the night. And I knew if I got half a chance with Violet, she'd requite too.

  They were a lot alike, my two loves. The reddish-brown of Violet’s hair almost the same colour as the cherry wood. Both with curves I wanted to run my hands over. Violet had brown eyes that flashed when she got angry. It was almost worth getting her angry to see the way her eyes gleamed. She had the kind of face you wouldn’t call pretty but more strong and fierce. I’d rather a girl who looked like Violet than some boring pretty girl any day.

  Phil's Music World. Not only full of fucking sweet axes but also air conditioned. Just the smell of the place comforted me. Those fresh, virgin guitars and the older well-loved ones. The wood, the metal. I wandered around the shop, taking my time, not overly anxious, working my way up to my baby. The one guitar I coveted. That bitch hanging on the wall, I'd kill a man if I could make her mine.

  You couldn't walk straight in and go to her though. There was a system, a way of working up to it.

  It's called foreplay.

  It took me a full hour to look around the shop before approaching her. Phil, the owner, had no beef with me getting her down and playing her. He'd offered to let me have a payment plan but I didn't hold with that kind of thing. I'd save and I'd work my guts out but I couldn't let her be packed off to some back room for who knows how long until I got my shit together. I just don't do it like that.

  A girl like her needed to be on display and appreciated.

  It was tough at the moment though. Things were slow at the site so the boss had given me some time off. That left me free to pester Violet but didn’t help the savings anyway.

  My baby would have to wait.

  A shudder of anticipation went through me as I reached up to her, easing my way in with a gentle touch, when the shop bell rang. Instinctively, I turned.

  Holy fuck. It was that poser. Alex Shithead. In my guitar shop.

  For some reason, I retreated. I didn't want to see that guy and I definitely did not want to talk to him. I'm not the kind of man to run and hide but he'd got my back up and I didn't want trouble. I left my baby and hid behind a shop display. I'd watch him, wait for him to leave then get back to business.

  He strode through the store. That's the kind of poser he was, the kind that strode, not walked.

  I hoped he just wanted to get some strings or something and then leave. He'd be off my turf.

  The creep barely looked around the store, just went straight to the back. He obviously wasn't a man who knew about foreplay.

  He stopped just before the counter. Near my baby. Awfully close to her.

  My heart jumped up to my throat and my fists balled. Get away from her, I wanted to scream. I kept pretending to look at oboes though. Fixed my gaze on them and tried to control my breathing. I could see him out of the corner of my eye. You should never take your eyes off a snake in the grass like him completely.

  That poser reached up. His hand was near my baby. He grabbed her, just went straight in for the grope. What an animal.

  He picked her off the wall. His filthy hands were all over her. He held her like she was nothing.

  I wanted to rush him then. Inaction made my blood throb in my veins like fuel through a V8. I'd smash that fucker to bits.

  Except I couldn't hurt him without harming my baby. My baby was in his arms. If I threw him to the ground, she might break or get dented.

  Before I could do anything, he was at the counter, wallet out. He hadn't even played her. He'd not caressed her. He'd not known the gentle joy of her. How could you even buy a guitar without playing her first?

  That traitor, Phil, smiled and nodded. He didn't care that she was going to bad home. A home where she'd never be loved like she needed to be loved. A home where she'd not be precious.

  The fucker just handed over cash and took her, like she was some cheap whore on a street corner. My baby should be treated better than that.

  I'm not a man who cries easily. I'm not a man who cries often but, when I saw that wanker walk out with my baby, I had to wipe a tear from my eye.

  Chapter 3 VIOLET

  Razer came up beside me as I stood at the bar. I turned to Carlie, the barmaid, and put my hand to my face to block him from my view. I was in no mood for chit-chat. He'd caused me enough trouble for one day.

  Carlie rolled her eyes and got me another drink.

  "I'll get that for you," Razer said.

  "No need. I tell you every time, I get free drinks for working here.”

  He stayed beside me though. It was a Tuesday night and things were pretty quiet. Well, quiet in that there weren’t many people in the bar. Upstairs, in the band room, a bunch of punk chicks screamed so loud, you could hear them down here. I'd asked one of the barmaids to take over working the door for me – she was actually rostered on to work the door but had thought she was too good to do it – and slipped out for a break. You had to be in the mood for that wall of sound kind of stuff and it wasn't my night for it.

  He hovered around for a moment, not seeming to get the hint. If I started chatting to him, it'd only encourage him to stick around. I could be icy cold when it suited my purposes. He didn't even try to start a conversation. My freeze out was working.

  “Hey Razer, come over and join us…” a girl standing at the bar called to him.

  “Maybe, later.”

  Every single person who came into the bar seemed to know Razer. It was amazing. I knew a lot of the regulars and, of course, the bands, but that was nothing compared to Razer’s popularity.

  After a while, he picked up his drink and went back to his friends. I turned to watch him as he left. To be honest, he hadn't even tried that hard.

  "What's with that?" Carlie asked. I didn't like the glint in her eyes.

  "Huh?"

  "You could do a lot worse than Razer. What? Are you going to be an old maid for the rest of your life? Living alone with a pack of cats?"

  "You know, life could be a lot worse than that. Hell, cats can be house-trained but guitarists, not so much. Anyway, he's only hanging around so he gets more gigs booked. That much is certain."

  Carlie poured a customer a beer then came back to me.

  "Think about it, Violet. Does he need to do that? You can pretty much ensure good numbers when they play here. From a business point of view, he doesn't need to peddle his man-meat to get a spot on the roster. You just want to tell yourself that's the case so you don't have to face up to facts."

  Before I could refute her crazy claims, a couple of business men came to the bar. They did that sometimes, the corporate types. And they always seemed like complete tools, standing at the bar in their suits looking a bit shell-shocked. Maybe they'd wandered in by accident. Carlie would make short work of them. They'd order one drink to save face, drink it down fast then leave.

  The shorter one's gaze darted around the black, cave-like bar until it settled on a couple making out by the Galaga machine. He gave them the once over then must've realised where the guy's fingers were and his head spun back for a second look. He nudged his friend but the friend stared straight ahead, as though afraid to look too much.

  Christos, the resident bar fly, moved up beside them, a joint in his hand and stood a little too close for comfort. He ranted at them about something. More than likely about sticking it to the man or the evils of corporations. Normally he slurred enough that you could only pick out every second or third word. He poked the taller one in the chest.

  The taller guy just kept staring ahead, then jolted as Jackson make his way into his line of sight.

  Jackson had a lot of anger in him. Anger on the verge of boiling over at any moment. The kind of anger that could see him knife a guy then walk away with a smile on his face.

  He focused that anger on the suits until they twitched and scratched. Then he slowly grinned. Jackson's grin was a powerful scary thing.

  Right on cue, the suits gulped down their drinks and left.

 
Carlie looked at me and laughed, shaking her head.

  "Why do they even bother? They freak out when they come in here but seriously, those kind of guys are the biggest jerks after a few drinks. One idiot who came in the other night, too stubborn to leave even though I gave him all the signals, ended up making a complete dick of himself. You know young Gina who comes in here? Really shy girl? He had her bailed up against the wall. Jackson grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him out. I gave him a good, swift kick while he was at it."

  Carlie laughed again. At least she was off the topic of my love life and I was happy to keep it like that. I didn't need the hassle.

  Although she couldn't really say much about my lack of romance. I'd never seen her with a guy since she'd started working at the club – and that was nearly three years ago.

  Carlie was one of the hottest chicks I'd ever met. Her short hair always looked messily perfect and she was pretty damn buff. She had words tattooed along her collarbones that meant nothing to me. She said they were the lyrics to her favourite song but it wasn't a song I'd ever heard. And, trust me, I've heard a lot of damn songs. I'd even Googled the words but nothing came up.

  Maybe she was lesbian? It’s not like that had ever come up in conversation but then I’d never seen her with a chick either. No one at all, so she could stop with the crazy old cat lady comments.

  I wasn’t planning on being single my entire life anyway, I just hadn't met the right man. The right man didn't play in a band and wasn’t a total jerk. That shouldn't be so hard. Only, with my job, they were the only men I ever met. Rockers and jerks.

  "What's with you anyway? Most of the chicks who come in here would kill to be in your position. You can't be totally oblivious to that."

  "Oblivious is a comfortable place to be."

  Carlie cracked her gum. "You think you're too good for him?"

  We both laughed.

  "I know I'm too good for him. Say we go out and maybe he's on his best behaviour because he's trying to get me into the sack. That's all sweet but then, in a few weeks, maybe even days, he thinks he's won me over and it's all him, him, him. All he talks about is his band. I'm expected to stand in the background, supporting him. Then he starts coming home later at night. It's not going to take long to go from all hearts and flowers to messy break up and, in the meantime, I have to endure my life being all fractured. Just to end up alone again. I might as well skip it all and stay in the same place."

  "That's for sure. I'll drink to that."

  I raised my glass and Carlie grinned.

  "Still, you'd get some sex. Don't you ever wonder what he'd be like in the sack?" She looked up and her face reddened. "Oh shit."

  I didn't need to turn around. I knew she was looking at Razer. And he’d heard her speculating on his sexual prowess.

  I could feel him standing behind me.

  "Not so close, dude."

  He just laughed. Even though I really meant it. He ordered another drink then sat himself down on the stool beside me.

  "So, Vi, what about this gig?"

  "Dude, it was only a couple of hours ago, give me a break. You'll get your gig. And don't ever call me Vi again. And also, don't wake me up when I'm napping."

  Carlie handed him his beer. "Violet looks great tonight, doesn't she?" she said with a wink.

  "I don't look great. You know what I look? Tired is what I look. Because I got woken up from my nap today."

  "You sure wake up cranky too, even if you do look cute."

  I don't know why this kept coming back to my looks. Sleep doesn't care what you look like. Sleep loves you unconditionally. If I looked great or I looked like shit, sleep would still embrace me. Even thinking about sleep made me sleepier.

  Razer rubbed my shoulder but I slugged his hand off.

  "Don't even try it. This is your fault."

  Both he and Carlie laughed. I wasn't kidding though. I was dog tired and could barely stay awake. I was supposed to stick around to deal with the bands and help close up though. Maybe I could sneak off to my office and have a quick kip. Carlie could wake me for close up.

  "Is Chuck coming in tonight?" I asked Carlie.

  "Not that I know of. Why? Did you want to see him?"

  Down the other end of the bar, some guy tapped coins impatiently against the bar. Carlie gave him a sneer then turned back to me.

  "If someone was to say sneak off to their office for a little while, it's not like he'd notice... Someone who had their sleep disturbed earlier today by feral rockers..."

  Carlie grinned.

  "I'll give you a warning if he turns up but you should be clear. What time do you want me to wake you?"

  "Maybe when the last band goes on. That should give me enough time. If the other bands want their cash, tell them to drop by tomorrow. These chicks and the next band have played here often enough to know the drill. I don't need to babysit them going on."

  She grinned. "Sure thing."

  "Need some company?" Razer asked. Again with the dimple but dimples are nothing compared to the need for sleep. He could keep his dimples to himself.

  "That is exactly what I don't need. I need peace and quiet. You are the enemy of sleep, you have already proven that."

  I walked off without looking back. It was stupid that I had to hang around the bar all night and, if the boss didn't like it, screw him. I needed to sleep.

  As I tried to get comfortable though, the weird feeling of Razer's hand on my shoulder seemed to haunt me. It had been a surprisingly tender touch, not the kind of thing I'd expected from him. Despite what Carlie said that though, I didn't trust that guy. He had no impulse control.

  And this new guy, Alex. The way he'd wrapped me in his arms. It'd been like a dream.

  Not that either of them was in the running for my affections.

  Chapter 4 VIOLET

  I'd just finalised the roster for the next month and was about to post it online when the boss man, Chuck, came into my office.

  He sat on the shonky sofa but didn't say anything. That was pretty unusual for Chuck. Normally he talked my ear off in the most annoying way possible. Chuck suffered from a short man complex – and probably a lot of other complexes as well – always acting like he had something to prove but never channelling that into anything productive.

  I chewed on my nail, waiting for him to start but he just kept staring ahead.

  Then he looked up as though he wanted to say something. I focused on him but no words came out. He just hung his head again.

  Okay, it was becoming really uncomfortable. I glanced over at the paperwork on my desk, wondering if I should ignore him and keep working or if I should just wait for him to get started.

  Actually, he did look a bit ashen in the face and that pulse in his neck was a worry. I hoped he wasn't about to have a heart attack in my office. Chuck was a total jerk but I'd much rather him alive than as a corpse on my sofa.

  What would be so hard for him to discuss with me anyway? I was pretty sure I'd not done anything wrong recently. Well, nothing he'd find out about. And anyway, he'd never had an issue talking about stuff like that before.

  He ran his hand through his hair and slowly raised his head.

  "I've got some pretty shit news," he said.

  "What's up?"

  Knowing Chuck, this was all for dramatic effect and he was just going to bitch about some minor bit of shit going down. Like how the bar staff gave away too many free drinks or that some band nicked something from back stage. I don't even know why he came to me about that kind of stuff. I was the band booker, not the bar manager. My responsibility started and ended with the bands. I guess if they were pinching stuff from the club, I had some responsibility but not over the rest of it.

  "I saw my accountant yesterday. There's been a huge fuck up with the taxes. I'm in debt. In big debt."

  Chuck gulped.

  "So? You can pay it off, right?"

  All this fuss because he had to pay some taxes. His tax proble
ms weren't my concern. I hoped he didn't want a loan because he should seriously know better than to ask that with what he paid me.

  “It’s not that simple…”

  “Huh?” Then, the words sunk in. This wasn’t just about him. “How does this affect the club?”

  He didn't answer. I had no idea what Chuck's finances were like but he drove a pretty swish car and never seemed to worry about throwing money around on useless things like bimbos and flashy suits.

  He shook his head and didn't look at me again.

  I shuffled to the edge of my seat. "Chuck, this is the part where you reassure me that everything will okay."

  "I'm not sure I can do that, Violet. I'm not sure..."

  Hell, he was a mess. His hands shook and he'd gone even whiter. What would happen if Chuck went broke? Shit, would he sell the club? He couldn't sell the club. That was not possible. Surely he was just stressed because he'd have to cut back on his stupid expenses.

  "You can sell your car. That's got to be worth a bit."

  He scowled. "I don't own that. It's leased. Through the business."

  Wow, you could do that? I had no idea how these things worked. I had no idea about the financial workings of the club at all. All I knew was booking bands. I bet those bimbos were leased too.

  "Is the club going to survive? Should I be looking for another job?"

  This was too big for me to comprehend. That throbbing neck vein seemed to have transferred from Chuck to me, like he'd handed me his burden. But I didn't want it.

  He just sat there, hunched over staring at his hands for long enough that panic set in. He could say something instead of just looking defeated. Surely he'd know I had a zillion questions. Everyone would. That was a massive bombshell to drop.

  My heart sunk like a drowning man. That was not what I'd been expecting at all. I couldn't get my mouth to work. I had the functionality and facial expressions of a goldfish.

  "I don't know, Violet. I really don't know. He is running numbers now and trying to figure out how long we have to pay this back. Maybe we can pay instalments or something. It does mean that this place has to start making some serious money. Enough to cover my tax bill."