I was on the pill, but still. It was such an intimate act, so personal and so fucking hot! James wanted to make me his, take me fully and completely. Was I ready for that, really ready? Physically, I longed for what James promised but mentally, I wasn’t so sure. I couldn’t decide. Maybe seeing James in his element would help. Maybe I could find answers in his music or by watching him perform. Maybe not, but I was his agent, something I was already enjoying, and whether I ended up begging him to take me or I rejected him, I was going to be spending a lot of time with him and I had to play with the hand I was dealt.
I hardly realized we’d already reached the club, in deep thought the entire ride through the city. I paid the driver and went inside. The guard stopped me at the door, but he let me in after I showed my ID, the owner apparently leaving word. Inside it was smoky and crowded. I ordered a water deciding that if James didn’t drink, neither would I. I could have gone backstage but I wanted to see the show from a fans perspective, even if these fans were mostly affluent doctors, lawyers and stockbrokers that could afford the five thousand dollar donation to get in the door. Besides, I wanted to save my surprise for later.
Finally, the lights dimmed and the stage went dark. When the stage lights burst on again, James and Battery were on stage and broke into the big hit from their last album. It was funny to see all these thirty and forty-something professionals in leather, denim and suede banging their heads, but the energy was undeniable. James’ guitar, its likeness etched into the back window of his pickup, pumped out a heavy beat as Tommy Sullivan played the incredibly complex opening solo. Chad Reynolds, the bass player, laid down a deep bass track and Benny Ford kept it all together with his powerful drumming - I’d made sure I’d researched the band completely before leaving the office. As amazing as all that was, it rose to another level as James added his vocals.
I heard an intensity and emotion pour from the wall of amps and speakers behind the band that I hadn’t in their recorded songs or when James played for me at his house. James was in command of the stage and he drew me and the rest of the crowd into the music and the story it told. The show brought me to my feet without my even realizing it and it appeared everyone else was standing too despite the tables and chairs scattered around the club. I made my way forward, pushing through the crowd, drawn to James. As Battery played song after forceful song and James ruled the crowd, I found myself caught up in the moment.
James was covered in sweat, his guitar slung low and the muscles in his tattooed arms flexing as he played. I suddenly knew why his fingers were so adept as I watched in disbelief as they flew up and down the neck of the guitar and he picked wildly yet precisely. Only Tommy’s playing rivaled James’ in speed but not in power or emotion. Soon I was mere feet from the stage, still hoping to surprise James and unaware he had spotted me long ago. I was so caught up in the scene as the band played and the crowd went crazy, time lost all meaning. I chanted, cheered and screamed along with the rest of the fans but suddenly, it was over and like the night at James’ home, I wanted more.
Battery had played their hearts out and the crowd wanted more too, chanting for the band to continue. James pulled off his guitar and the crowd chanted louder, but he took the microphone and quieted the mass of fans. He asked for a spotlight and after a short discussion with a roadie, the man disappeared for a moment and returned with James’ acoustic guitar. The rest of the band waited in the dark. I wondered if this was all part of the show, but I soon learned that it wasn’t.
“I’ve never done this, we’ve never done this before, but tonight is a special night. I want to thank all of you for your donations to a worthy cause. I want you all to be the first to hear “Destroyed” unplugged. Well, not the first exactly but the first in public. You guys ready?” he shouted and the crowd went nuts. Nevertheless, within all that craziness and noise I felt like I was back in James’ house alone with him again. James stared into my eyes as if he knew I was there the entire time and he began to play.
He sang the song, just as he had at his house, to me and me alone. The crowd could appreciate his acoustic version but not as I did. I knew suddenly that I was the woman of whom he sang. She wasn’t a specific person but an ideal and to James, I was that ideal. I still wasn’t sure why he’d chosen me, and James had refused to tell me, but I found myself thrilled to be that woman. I felt weak in the knees and I’d be lying if I told you my pussy wasn’t drooling as James sang. I felt a tear run down my cheek as he sang the mournful song.