“I've been after her for a year, and she's only just now noticed. Now, after she started getting mixed up with Turner Campbell. I have the worst luck, don't I?”
“At least you're standing all by yourself today,” Blair jokes, reminding me that just a few days ago, I could barely walk. I can't say I'm completely healed, but a handful of Vicodin goes a long way. I stand up straight and flex my bicep, proud to see that I've actually got a good amount of muscle there. Drumming is no easy task; I've built up quite the arsenal from playing my instrument. That, and I make an effort to work out at least three times a week. The zombie tattoo on my arm shifts as I roll my shoulders out and try to work the kinks from my bones. Being this sore all the time blows. My body tenses all on its own, without my even knowing it, and I end up with these cramps and aching bones to match the bruises. No fun at all.
“At least there's that,” I say with another smile, sliding my hands down into the pockets of my black jeans. “Almost makes up for getting shot down.” Blair's eyes widen, her white feather eyelashes fluttering gently against her forehead.
“She didn't?” I laugh. It's not a nice laugh, but at least there's some sound coming out of my throat. My chest feels so tight, it doesn't seem like I should be able to talk. “That bitch!” Blair whispers, glancing over her shoulder. Naomi's looking this way, so maybe she knows we're talking about her. Oh well. “What did she say?”
“She wants to be engulfed in flame. I'm a nice guy, but you know.”
“Turner,” Blair supplies with a sigh.
“Turner,” I say and we both turn to look at Naomi then. She flips us the bird and spins away. “But I could kill a girl with my kiss. She did say that.” Blair looks back at me, flipping some of her hair over one shoulder. One of her dark brows raises in question. “Want to die?” I ask in my most horrible Dracula imitation. “Want to live forever?” I grab Blair by the cheeks and press a chaste kiss against her lips.
“Ugh, gross,” she growls, shoving me back and wiping her mouth on her forearm. “Now that is disgusting. No wonder she turned your ass down.” I laugh again, and this time, it's a little more me, a little more real. I wish I felt something with Blair, some spark, some … magic. But I don't. Naomi is the only woman that's ever been able to stir my heart and my crotch at the same time. I suppose that eventually I'll have to move on. I look back over at her again and catch a glimpse of her throat moving carefully, water sluicing between her lips as she downs a water bottle. My dick immediately rises to the occasion, and I groan, dropping my hands down to hide the rising bulge. Eventually. But not yet. Naomi still has my heart, and she'll continue to own it until I figure out a way to get it back.
“Careful there, Mr. McCann, you might put an eye out.” America smirks at me and then snaps her fingers, turning around and backing towards the curtain, drawing the attention of everyone in Amatory Riot. It's like a flip switches then. Naomi drops her water bottle by her side, Wren sits up and opens his eyes, and Kash puts his phone down. Blair and I exchange a glance and turn to face her fully while Hayden moves up beside us.
Oh crap. Oh motherloving crap. This is it. This is it, right here.
I do my best not to let my dad's voice filter in through my gray matter, but there it is, a haunting plague, a shrouding pall, always overhanging me, always stifling me. Enjoy your brief moment in the spotlight, boy. When it moves on and you're left in the dark, you'll come crawling back to me. I'm sure of it. I swallow hard and squeeze my hands at my sides, trying to relieve some of the stress that's just come crashing back into me like a freight train. On the bright side, my erection is completely and utterly erased. I adjust my belt and listen carefully, keeping my hands away from my hair. The stylist put so much gel in it that it, at least, is stiff as a board.
“Listen up,” America says, her blonde hair coiffed and perfect, her suit pressed and styled just so. She looks like the president of a first world nation, one seriously bent on destruction. Team America, fuck yeah, I think and try not to smile. Sometimes, when I get really nervous, I get goofy. It's a pretty shitty tic to deal with. Try making Sesame Street jokes at a funeral. You see what I mean? “We're following Indecency, not an easy act to compete with.” Her smile gets tight and her teeth shimmer white as fresh snow. “You can thank Naomi for that, for setting the bar here.” America levels her hand above her forehead, catching her gaze on each and every one of us. “So we need to be here.” She raises it up a couple of inches. “Indecency is good, epic even, but that doesn't mean we can't be. In the world of music, you're only as good as your last live show. Make this one count. And remember, if you guys suck tonight, we can't market this concert as a DVD/Blu-ray package.”