One
LUNA
The guitar feels light as air as I hold it in my hands, my fingers gliding across the strings, hitting precise notes as I sing up on this crowded bar’s stage. The room is dark and the dance floor in front of me is packed tightly. It’s like a sea of faces, all of them blending together and moving like waves. The spotlight is hot as it shines down on me, but it’s a heat I love. One I crave. Everything in life could be going wrong, feeling like the world was crumbling down on top of my head, and all I’d have to do is get up on the stage and sing my heart out. Even though the bar is loud, when I step up to the mic, I feel peace.
I belt out the last line of the lyrics and hold it just a tad longer until my voice grows raspy and thick. It only adds to the sharp edge of the song. When the band wraps up, the crowd goes wild—screaming, clapping, and cheering while jumping up and down.
“I love you, Luna!” some guy in the crowd yells.
I laugh into my mic, “Love you too. Good night.” The stage goes dark and I exit off to the right, handing my guitar to the guy we hired to lug our shit around. This is just a small bar, so there isn’t a lot going on backstage. We’re not famous musicians, so there’s no party, no manager to tell us how awesome we did, and no group of people ready to do anything for an autograph or a selfie. But one of these days I know there will be. We’ve just gotta pay our dues.
I go into the small dressing room and grab a towel to wipe the sweat off my face. Of course, it smears my makeup, so I sit at the illuminated mirror and reapply what’s required. I mean, I can’t exactly go out there looking like a mess. Some nights we show up, perform, and take off, but this time I feel like sticking around to have a few drinks. The crowd really came to life tonight and that only amped me up more. There’s no way I’m ready to walk out of here and go back to my normal, boring life. When you’re up on a stage like that, the energy of the crowd seeps into you. I’m like a sponge up there, soaking up every last bit of excitement, love, and appreciation. Mix that with the three Jack and Cokes I’ve had already, and you get a fucked-up ride that won’t spit you out until the very end of the night.
Van, Ridge, and Lane all make their way into the dressing room and they’re all rowdy and ready to party.
“That crowd ate us up tonight!” Van says, tossing his drumsticks into the air and catching them.
“Fuck yeah, they did. Did you see that little vixen in the front row giving me doe eyes?” Ridge asks, dropping down on the couch and running a hand through his sweaty dark hair.
“Yeah, I did, actually. I usually think you make this shit up, but I did see her. I bet she’s waiting for you right now. So what do you think, Luna? You wanna stick around for a few rounds?” Lane asks, stepping up to my side to check himself out in the mirror. Lane is the most vain one in the group. Other than me, he’s the pretty face in the band—the one who gets positioned up front in all of our publicity photos and posters.
“Sure, I’m down,” I reply, pushing a strand of my thick, chocolatey hair behind my ear. I give my reflection one last look. My blue eyes are surrounded with dark liner and accentuated with false lashes. My lips are the perfect shade of crimson, and this top shows just enough of my cleavage and toned stomach. “I’ll be at the bar when you guys are done packing shit up.” I spin around on my heel and leave the dressing room and the boys behind.
I find my way to the bar and sit on the only open barstool. The bartender comes over immediately and pours another Jack and Coke. He offers up a flirty smile and flexes his biceps more than needed. “This one’s on me. You guys did awesome up there tonight.”
I take the glass and stir the ice with the straw. “Thank you.”
He nods. “How long you been playing and singing like that?”
I shrug one shoulder as I take a sip. “My whole life, basically, but we didn’t form the band until two years ago.”
“Well, you looked sexy up there. I get off at 2 a.m. if you wanna hang around.”
I give him a flirty smile. “I would, but I actually have to work in the morning.”
“You work?” He arches one of his pierced eyebrows.
“Doesn’t everybody? I mean, being in a band is great, but you don’t make much when you have to split the $500 you make at a gig with five people.”
“Five?”
I nod and give him a duh look. “We have a roadie. The guys decided they wanted to party more than lug equipment around.”
“And get to hang out with you in the process? Hell, I’d do that for free.” He places his forearms on the bar and leans in just a bit.
“Oh, well, then you’re hired. Be ready to rock at 9 p.m. tomorrow. We’re playing at The Ol’ Pub across town.”
He laughs. “Well, unfortunately, I’ll be here slinging drinks.”
I snap my fingers. “Damn, and I thought this was destiny.”
He laughs at my joke and pushes himself off the bar. “Another time, perhaps.”
“I’ll see ya around.” I take my drink and walk through the bar, trying to find a table that’s open and big enough to seat the entire band. In the far back corner, there’s one booth left. I squeeze through the crowd and take a seat, scooting to the center to wait for the guys, but before they can find me to claim their seats, the whole booth fills up with random guys who saw me on stage and want to try their luck.
I’m fielding questions left and right while trying to be as polite as possible, but the drunk assholes don’t seem to take the hint. Van appears and sees that I’m trapped. He walks over to the table and looks down at the four guys who have managed to cram themselves into our booth.
“Oh, hey,” he says, looking carefree, “I didn’t realize you’d all joined the band.”
One dumbass looks up. “Oh, no. We just wanted to get to know Luna here a little better. I mean, can you blame us? She’s sexy as fuck, and those lips . . . they’d look great wrapped around a cock, don’t you think?”
Van smirks. “Yeah, they really do. Mine.” He grabs the guy by the front of his shirt and yanks him up out of the booth. He spins him around and threatens to whip his ass before pushing him back into the crowd of people. The rest of the guys take the hint and book it out of there. When Van turns back around to face me, he sees all the guys have vacated and smiles as he plops down.
“You’re welcome.”
I shake my head as a smile plays on my lips. “I didn’t say thank you.” I take a sip. “What if I actually wanted one of them?”
He frowns. “Did you?”
“No,” I laugh out.
Van and I are the best of friends and always have been. We bonded over our love of music and formed this band together. Nothing has ever happened between us, but that doesn’t stop people from thinking that we are doing something. And on rare occasions like tonight, he claims we’re together to get other assholes to leave me alone. Other than our pretend relationship in times of need, we’re just bandmates and best friends.
“Where are dumb and dumber?”
Van lifts his hand, motioning toward the bar. “Looking for their next conquest.”