Read Online On the Road: (Vagabonds Book 2) (New Adult Rock Star Romance) by Jade C. Jamison - Free Book Online
Authors: Jade C. Jamison
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would be angry fucking—and how, exactly, would a lesbian do that?
Ah—my naïveté was showing.
Vicki, though—that girl got herself into more and more sticky situations. We’d been playing around and calling her “Sticks Vicks” for a while because of her drumming but then, just one time, I called her “Sticky Vicki,” telling her I was amazed at how she got herself in and out of trouble so quickly. Barbie then said, “Oh, no. She’s ‘Sticky Vicki’ for other reasons.” She started laughing and then, after looking at Barbie wide-eyed for several seconds, Vicki began laughing too.
Oh, a private joke. And that told me all I needed to know. Barbie had struck again. I guess that meant I was the only one who hadn’t gotten intimate with her. And I wouldn’t. I couldn’t stand her, and I found it hard to get horny over someone who pissed me off on a regular basis. She was a girl too, and while I didn’t dislike females, they did nothing for me in the sex department. Men revved my engine.
The only reason why I didn’t hate Barbie completely was that she was really good at her job. The singing part? Eh, anyone could do it. She wasn’t an opera singer or anything unique in the voice department, but she had a magnetic charisma onstage. And she knew how to strut her stuff. She had the men (and some of the girls even) eating out of the palm of her hands. The second she walked on stage, all eyes were on her. She was a natural when it came to drawing people to her. In that regard, I had to once more give Peter credit. Liz, although she had a decent voice, was like a block of lead in front of the mike. She got down to business, sure, but she couldn’t charm her way out of a paper bag. I think that was because she was nervous and also because she also had the job of playing guitar. Barbie, though? She had enough charisma and appeal for the five of us, and it seemed to come naturally to her.
So I respected her…but that didn’t mean I had to like her. Nope. She’d probably have had to completely change her personality to do that.
* * *
I think it was in Boston, although it might have been somewhere in Connecticut or New York (I get it all mixed up nowadays)—the weather was getting cooler now that it was mid-October, and I discovered that a few beers or something a little heavier kept me warm onstage. We wore such skimpy tops that the extra warmth was welcome. I usually wore cut up jeans or leather pants with boots, so my bottom half could withstand cool weather, but my arms, even though in motion most of the time we were up there, would get chilly, even in some of the indoor venues.
This place happened to be an indoor arena, but it didn’t stop me from warming up with alcohol. If I didn’t overindulge, my playing didn’t suffer. The crowd there, wherever it was, was extra rowdy. I heard at least one heckler that I was tempted to flip off, but I suspected that would only encourage his behavior. I ignored him instead. The entire audience was more vocal than usual and out of control. In addition to the heckler (who I think was there for Fluidity and just biding his time with us), we had more than our usual number of horny men yelling suggestive things at us between songs, wolf whistling and probably even drooling. It was the first show I played where I wasn’t happy and feeling like I’d really entertained people. Instead, I felt almost abused, degraded…dirty. I could tell by the look on Liz’s face when we left the stage that she too wasn’t happy. Barbie, though—she was in her glory. She loved being worshipped, whether it was as the singer of a rock band or the subject of celebrity gossip due to “leaked” nudie photos that “accidentally” got into the wrong hands.
This venue had one of the coolest backstage areas of any we’d ever played, but that was all I could say for it. They had showers and I decided to
Ah—my naïveté was showing.
Vicki, though—that girl got herself into more and more sticky situations. We’d been playing around and calling her “Sticks Vicks” for a while because of her drumming but then, just one time, I called her “Sticky Vicki,” telling her I was amazed at how she got herself in and out of trouble so quickly. Barbie then said, “Oh, no. She’s ‘Sticky Vicki’ for other reasons.” She started laughing and then, after looking at Barbie wide-eyed for several seconds, Vicki began laughing too.
Oh, a private joke. And that told me all I needed to know. Barbie had struck again. I guess that meant I was the only one who hadn’t gotten intimate with her. And I wouldn’t. I couldn’t stand her, and I found it hard to get horny over someone who pissed me off on a regular basis. She was a girl too, and while I didn’t dislike females, they did nothing for me in the sex department. Men revved my engine.
The only reason why I didn’t hate Barbie completely was that she was really good at her job. The singing part? Eh, anyone could do it. She wasn’t an opera singer or anything unique in the voice department, but she had a magnetic charisma onstage. And she knew how to strut her stuff. She had the men (and some of the girls even) eating out of the palm of her hands. The second she walked on stage, all eyes were on her. She was a natural when it came to drawing people to her. In that regard, I had to once more give Peter credit. Liz, although she had a decent voice, was like a block of lead in front of the mike. She got down to business, sure, but she couldn’t charm her way out of a paper bag. I think that was because she was nervous and also because she also had the job of playing guitar. Barbie, though? She had enough charisma and appeal for the five of us, and it seemed to come naturally to her.
So I respected her…but that didn’t mean I had to like her. Nope. She’d probably have had to completely change her personality to do that.
* * *
I think it was in Boston, although it might have been somewhere in Connecticut or New York (I get it all mixed up nowadays)—the weather was getting cooler now that it was mid-October, and I discovered that a few beers or something a little heavier kept me warm onstage. We wore such skimpy tops that the extra warmth was welcome. I usually wore cut up jeans or leather pants with boots, so my bottom half could withstand cool weather, but my arms, even though in motion most of the time we were up there, would get chilly, even in some of the indoor venues.
This place happened to be an indoor arena, but it didn’t stop me from warming up with alcohol. If I didn’t overindulge, my playing didn’t suffer. The crowd there, wherever it was, was extra rowdy. I heard at least one heckler that I was tempted to flip off, but I suspected that would only encourage his behavior. I ignored him instead. The entire audience was more vocal than usual and out of control. In addition to the heckler (who I think was there for Fluidity and just biding his time with us), we had more than our usual number of horny men yelling suggestive things at us between songs, wolf whistling and probably even drooling. It was the first show I played where I wasn’t happy and feeling like I’d really entertained people. Instead, I felt almost abused, degraded…dirty. I could tell by the look on Liz’s face when we left the stage that she too wasn’t happy. Barbie, though—she was in her glory. She loved being worshipped, whether it was as the singer of a rock band or the subject of celebrity gossip due to “leaked” nudie photos that “accidentally” got into the wrong hands.
This venue had one of the coolest backstage areas of any we’d ever played, but that was all I could say for it. They had showers and I decided to
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