A Rocker's Melody (Dust and Bones)(9)

She did her best not to focus on all those failures as she strove to  avoid what was shaping up to be an epic case of stage fright.

Tonight was their first show, her first show filling in for Snake  McCreedy. They were in the heart of San Francisco, surrounded by its  rolling hills and romantic views, and cold, biting air...but Melody  couldn't enjoy a minute of it. She was too busy worrying about the  impending show, and to top it all off, she had been plagued by terrible  visions of what the guys were planning to do to her next.

Stop it, she thought to herself. She refused to let them rattle her, not  now, not right before she had to perform. Eventually the boys would get  the pranks out of their systems and then, hopefully, they could all  find some kind of peace with each other. Besides, the situation was  temporary-Snake would be out of rehab in a few weeks, and then he would  resume his rightful place with Dust and Bones.

Melody had known that she wouldn't be staying with the guys for long;  all she'd really wanted was the experience, the excitement of the road,  the thrill of the crowd, and the sense of fun and adventure in hanging  out with one of her favorite bands.

Now, if only they would stop being jackasses for five minutes.

Thus far, their rehearsals had gone well. Melody had been wary at first,  but something magical happened to the guys when they picked up their  instruments. They somehow transformed from tormenters into brothers.  They were total professionals, working seamlessly to find the perfect  pitch, rhythm, and harmony.

They had been rehearsing their songs almost nonstop, both on the road  and at rest. Whatever their issues with each other, they were all united  in one common purpose: to rock the hell out of their first gig  together.

She'd been worried that the sound check earlier that day would change  that. As Dylan and Jesper had put their heads together to finalize the  set list, Melody couldn't help nervously looking over her shoulder every  few seconds, feeling more like she was at a haunted house than on the  stage of a four thousand seat theater.         

     



 

When Rip burst out in an impromptu drum solo, she'd thought for sure it  was a signal for Tank to pelt her with water balloons. When Dylan hit a  bum note and the mic reverberated, she'd almost hit the deck, certain  that some kind of attack was imminent. But all her worrying had been for  naught; there had been no pranks or hazing all afternoon. Melody was  sure that the momentary letup wasn't going to last long, but it had been  a nice change of pace.

Now, the moment of truth was upon them. They were assembled backstage,  waiting for their first show together to begin. The roar of the crowd  out in the theater was already deafening. Melody looked around, taking  everything in, feeling slightly overwhelmed. She saw Big Mike talking to  some of the guys on the security detail. She waited for the guards to  leave before she approached him.

"Hey," she said quietly.

Mike smiled down at her knowingly. "Got a case of the jitters?"

Less so about the show than about worrying what the boys will do during  the show, she thought to herself, though aloud she put on a brave smile  and said, "Yeah, just nervous. First time on stage with a new  band...it's exciting."

"You hear that noise?" he said, pointing towards the theater. "That's  all for you." Melody nodded. It was time to stop fretting over her band  mates' antics, and time to start thinking about the music.

"Now, I've got a backstage area to lock down." He winked at Melody and whispered, "Break a leg, kid."

Melody winced. Given the boys' affinity for pranks, actually breaking a  leg was not out of the realm of possibility. And while she was sure the  guys would stop short at doing her physical harm, she knew they didn't  have enough self-restraint not to set something in motion that would  lead to her accidental maiming.

Whatever Machiavellian mousetrap they had planned for her tonight, she  would just have to pull up her big girl panties and take it like a rock  star.

Preferably a rock star with two unbroken legs.

**

Melody had no idea it would be like this. The screaming from the crowd,  the heat from the lights, the energy pulsing in the air as they rocked  the fuck out. She felt higher than if she'd actually indulged in some of  the many illicit substances that always floated around backstage at  concerts.

Though they might not be getting along on the road, one thing was  abundantly clear to Melody as her first concert as a member of Dust and  Bones wound down: she was officially ruined for other groups. She and  Tank had gone back-to-back for three of his solos, feeding off each  other as they played. The band had improvised a novelty cover of a  Fleetwood Mac song when a drunk fan wouldn't stop requesting it, and she  and Dylan had gotten creative with the vocals, working together in  perfect unison, making her heart swoop and soar. Even the recalcitrant  Rip had given her a little cymbal approval after she'd perfectly  executed one of Snake's most complex riffs.

She was so high on her euphoria, in fact, that she forgot to keep her guard up.

"This is an old one," Dylan said into the mic, "but it's one of our  favorites. We always like to play it when we're in the Bay Area." The  crowd went wild as Tank led the band into the opening.

This was one of her favorite Dust and Bones songs. It was so raw, so  animalistic. She wondered which of Dylan's many conquests had been the  inspiration for this tune, and whether he'd spent more than one night  with that particular girl. She wondered what it might be like to  experience that passion, not just in a song, but in-

Stop it, Hopkins, she chided herself, before she could get too caught up  in the thought of what Dylan was like in bed. She concentrated on the  music to distract herself.

The bass line was complicated, but Melody's hands instinctually flew  over the strings as she got lost, the way she usually did, in the  unashamedly sexual rhythm. In the periphery of her vision, she saw Dylan  moving closer to her. His voice low and gritty as he entreated every  woman (and likely a few men) within listening distance to come a little  closer now. Melody could feel the heat between them as he approached,  the kind of raw magnetism that fueled really amazing sex and energized  live performances. Their chemistry seemed to fit with the song, in a way  she couldn't explain and didn't care to examine, not when the lights,  the crowd, and the pounding beat were all she was living for.

At least, that was the excuse she gave herself later for why she didn't  immediately pull away when Dylan kissed her. It was sudden, definitely  something he took rather than something he asked for. After all, he'd  already asked, and she'd turned him down.         

     



 

Would she have had the strength to reject him if she'd known it would  feel like this? Even though it hadn't been asked for, she couldn't say  she didn't want it-his mouth fit against hers the way no other had. Or  maybe, she thought as she explored his tongue with her own, it was just  the performer in her responding to the performer in him, giving the  crowd what they wanted: a climax to a song that was all sex, want and  take.

He pulled away and her eyes opened, staring up into his. She saw a hint  of surprise in the dark blue depths of his gaze, but the dominant  emotion there was definitely smugness. She felt anger welling within her  heart, and berated herself for getting so caught up in the moment and  playing the fool.

Every time she forgot who she was dealing with, he disappointed her. At  some point, it became more her problem than his. She supposed it was all  for the best that this had happened now, so soon, and as part of the  show. This way it was just another prank, a hazing incident. If the kiss  had been real, if he'd meant it, she probably wouldn't have been able  to keep herself from falling...and there was no way she could let that  happen.

Instead, she gave the crowd another show.

Her palm made a satisfying crack against Dylan's cheek. The look of  shock on his face was worth the price of admission alone. The bass line  only faltered for a fraction of a second before her fingers were back,  slipping right into place with the ease of a long time lover.

Dylan leaned into the mic again, his expression a little dazed, a lot  pissed off, and just a touch impressed. His voice was all cockiness and  self-deprecating humor when he sang the line look but don't touch.

The crowd went wild. Melody was shaking inside, beset by conflicting  feelings; she was mad that he'd taken advantage like that, upset that  part of her had liked it, ashamed that the side of his stubbly jaw  already had a bright red mark in the shape of her hand, and still wary,  because there was no way that a kiss was the big hazing moment of her  first show. She glanced at the other guys-Jesper looked irritated,  Tank's wide eyes were practically popping out of his skull, and Rip was  glaring at the back of Dylan's head. No, the kiss had been solely  Dylan's idea-he had gone rogue.