Fear of Falling(9)
“Dick tease,” he spat at me.
This was us: A modern day, dysfunctional Three’s Company. A lesbian rocker, an insatiable man-whore and a notorious commitment-phobe, all under one roof. Of course, that was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to our laundry list of issues. And while we may have sounded more like a raunchy joke that begins with us walking into a bar, we had somehow become a family. Dom and Angel were as close as family could get for me. And in all honesty, they were the only two people on Earth that had ever met the skeletons hanging out in my closet. Hell, they just moved them over to make room for theirs.
Angel stood up and stretched her limbs, her tight body looking X-rated in her sheer chemise and panties. Didn’t anyone wear clothes around here? “So are you sure no one else is hiring that you know of?”
I twisted my lips as if I was in deep thought though the answer was at the forefront of my brain. “Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Dom asked, plopping down on the couch next to me.
“Well, um, there’s that bar…” I could feel my face heat just at the mention of it.
Dom propped his legs onto my lap and reclined, his hands behind his head. “Bar? Do tell.”
“Yeah, uh, you know…that bar that Angel and I went to…and, you know…”
“The bar with the hottie bartender?” Angel perked. She threw herself onto Dom’s body and cuddled him like a giant-sized teddy bear.
“I mean, that was weeks ago and I’m sure they’ve already filled the positions,” I said with a phony smile.
“Well, you don’t know for sure until you check. You should stop by, Kami! That’d be a pretty cool place to work,” Angel giggled as Dom tickled her ribs.
“Nah, it’s ok. I’ll keep looking.”
Angel let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Look, you can’t afford to pass up this opportunity. I’ll tell you what; I’ll go with you if you stay for rehearsal.”
I furrowed my brow, wondering what she was up to. “You will?”
“Yeah! I wanted to check if they have a house band booked anyway. Did you see the size of that stage? A.D. could use a steady gig.” I nodded my compliance, causing Angel to squeal with glee. For a badass rock star, she giggled and squealed more than a pubescent schoolgirl on a Pixie Stix high.
“Ok, cool, I’m gonna grab a shower,” she announced jumping off the couch. “And Dom, you should do the same. You smell like skank sex and you have cooch breath.”
After another dish of loving insults, we all showered, dressed and got ready for our day. When the other ladies of AngelDust arrived, Angel and I were already in the spare bedroom that Angel had converted into a studio. The first to arrive was the band’s lead guitarist, MiMi. A pint-sized Japanese girl, no more than 5 feet tall, she played like a badass rock god three times her size.
Behind her was K.C. on bass that, quite frankly, scared the shit out of me. She wore all black from her make up to the color of her hair. She was ghostly pale and I don’t think I had ever seen her smile. But from what I heard, she was a devoted wife, mother, and den mother of her local Girl Scout troop.
Bringing up the rear was the drummer, Nessa, who I could only describe as Beyonce’s doppelganger. She was gorgeous, statuesque and stylish. I always felt like a wallflower next to her but she had the sweetest, most calming spirit. She was heavy into holistic living and was always trying to sell us on the benefits of veganism. I was a vegan once. Then Dom made bacon at breakfast an hour later and I said fuck it…Y.O.L.O!
To put it plainly, AngelDust was the shit. Angel Cassidy (she insisted we use her full name when addressing her in anything pertaining to her as a musician) possessed a presence that most mainstream bands were lacking. She was incredibly engaging, arousing and entertaining on stage. She captivated every eye when she performed, no matter if they were male, female, gay, straight or other. And she oozed sex appeal. It seriously seeped out of her pores whenever a mic or guitar was in her hands. I envied her confidence in so many ways. Angel Cassidy was utterly fearless.
The girls played through a few of their signature songs before working on a new piece. I smiled and sang along quietly, swaying my head and tapping my foot. Although Angel suggested I grab my own guitar and play with them, I was way too intimidated by their caliber of talent. That was one of the biggest reasons why I refused to join the band. I was too afraid of looking like a complete ass.
After rehearsal, Angel stood by her word to go back to Dive with me. I know I seemed indifferent to it all, but I was freaking out inside. Freaking the fuck out. I was thankful that Angel offered to drive—she didn’t want to risk me getting crazy eyes again and ditching her. There was no way I could force myself to revisit that bar alone. She knew that. Between her and Dom, they had somehow managed to get me to live through most of my deep-rooted fears. They just didn’t know I was afraid of him. Blaine. The scary-beautiful bartender covered with tattoos that I had nearly made out with weeks before. The man that I hadn’t stopped thinking about since.