Even at a show for less than a thousand fans, it was like they were playing for an arena.
When the show ended, Nash pulled the entire front row of women onto the stage. It was the five band members mixed in with the women.
Jay grabbed a mic and said, “Let’s hear it for tonight’s Line Whores…”
They all started laughing and jumping as the crowd cheered.
Then on Nash’s command, they all lifted their shirts. A few even decided to lift their bras along with them.
Fucking rock stars…
I had no desire to stare at another woman’s bare breasts so I made a line for the side door.
Christy, Zoe, and Sky were right there with me.
“That was amazing,” Zoe yelled.
“What now?” Christy asked.
“Split a ride and get a drink?” Sky offered.
Before I could agree, I heard a whistle.
I looked over my shoulder and saw Toby standing not too far away, smiling.
“I think that’s my cue,” I said. “You all go. I’m going to head home anyway so I can write something up. Get this over with.”
“If you meet Nash…,” Zoe wagged a finger in my face.
“Easy, girlfriend,” Christy said.
“Pawn her off on the first girl willing to buy her a drink,” I said.
“Yeah, well, maybe you should call Owen,” Zoe said.
“Use Nash as motivation,” Sky said with a giggle.
Toby whistled again.
I turned and threw him the middle finger.
I walked extra slow toward him.
“How was the show?” he asked.
“Really good,” I said.
“Was that your first time seeing them?”
“No. I saw them once before. When Dirty Ways came out.”
“Ah, that’s an old one,” Toby said. “You must have been a Line Whore then.”
“Not even close. I’m going to go write my story and that’s that.”
“You don’t want to see the backstage?”
I swallowed hard.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted or did not want to see.
I shrugged my shoulders and played it off.
“Follow me,” Toby said. “I’ll keep you safe, sweetie.”
I rolled my eyes.
Sweetie.
We walked the alley next to the club.
The second I made the turn to the back entrance of the club, I saw Nash.
He was standing on the roof of a black Mercedes.
“What the hell are you doing?” Toby called out.
I had no idea how he had gotten from the stage to the back so quick.
In his left hand was a bottle of whiskey.
He brought it to his lips and took a big drink.
“Whose car is that?” I asked Toby.
Toby started to massage his own temples. “That’s the promoter. I called in a favor to get him to get the show set up.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“No, sweetie, it’s not okay. Last year he predicted that Nash was going to be dead before the ball dropped on the new year.”
“Oh,” I said. “So…”
Nash took another swig of the whiskey and then dumped the bottle through the open sunroof on the luxury car.
When he took out a lighter, I gasped.
“Damn, sweetie,” Toby said turning his attention to me. “Just how good of a writer are you?”
I opened my mouth but had nothing to say.
This was going to be a disaster.
I was jumpy in my seat.
“I’ll read it,” Toby said.
It was just me, Toby, my father, and Nash at the end of the table.
Dark sunglasses on this face.
Asshole grin plastered to his face.
I wanted to put my fist to his face.
I liked him better as a fantasy on a poster hanging in my room.
“He set a car on fire,” my father said. “The car of a promoter who does a lot of work with this company.”
“Let’s hear the story,” Nash said.
Toby cleared his throat. “A show that was never supposed to happen. Perhaps one of the greatest FL shows that ever happened. Unexpected. Uninhibited. Raw. Real. The power of music without the big stage, bright lights, and everything that comes with the arena setting. That’s the night. Explosive. The fire on stage. And in a strange twist of events, that same fire and vitriol carried itself backstage and outside. Labeled as the baddest rock star on the planet, Nash stood next to the burning luxury car as though he started it and wanted everyone to see. But let’s say for a second he did strike the match. Let’s say he tossed that match through an open window and watched it burn. Is it safe enough to ask the question ‘why’ … or better yet - ‘why not?’”
Toby looked at me and raised an eyebrow.
“Sounds good so far,” Nash said.
Toby looked back down. “The baddest rock star on the planet was the only one who cared enough to do something about it. I watched as he challenged the flames like a drunk man picking a fight. Crazy? Yeah. Stupid? Double yeah. But Nash ripped open the car door and stuck his head into the burning vehicle to make sure there was nobody inside. With voices around yelling to stop, he did what he wanted. Like he always does. After making sure the car was clear of all passengers, he located the owner of the vehicle. When that man - later identified as promoter Braggs Billy - tried to race toward his burning vehicle, it was Nash who held him back…”
“Is that what really happened?” my father asked.
“For the most part,” Nash said with a grin.
“Point is, Dale, this is the story that makes things look great,” Toby said. “Doesn’t matter what Nash did to that car or to Braggs. What matters is that he looks like a fucking hero.”
“Hardly a hero,” I said.
“We’ll see what the fallout is,” my father said. He slowly stood up. “I have another meeting.”
“This is gold, Dale,” Toby said. “Admit it.”
“It’s a great spin,” my father said. He looked at me and nodded. “A really great spin.”
He exited the room and I sat there alone with Toby and Nash.
It was silent.
A very uncomfortable silence.
So, I stood up and gave a wave. “I’m out of here.”
“You’ll be writing again for us, right?” Toby asked.
I didn’t answer.
I just got the hell out of the room.
Part of me really didn’t know what to think or what to do.
Writing about Nash on stage was one thing. Writing about him with other women was another. But he purposely stood on the roof of that car and waited for me. He waited to show me how crazy he was. Setting it on fire. Jumping off the roof and standing there. And when Braggs came out and saw the car on fire, Nash went after him. He slammed him against the building and threatened him.
Nash was… insane.
I stepped onto the elevator and turned.
Nash was right there, his body an inch from mine.
I let out a yell as I jumped back.
I grabbed the silver railing in the elevator as the doors shut.
Fuck.
“Nice spin, babe,” he said. “You have a way with words.”
“You have a way with making everyone feel uncomfortable.”