We’d never played them, not because I didn’t let us but because Buzz and Leo weren’t comfortable with it.
I decided that, seeing as al of our asses were on the line, it was now or never.
Buzz and Leo disagreed.
Floyd, Hugo and Pong thought it was a great idea.
The band fought.
My side won but this meant we were twenty minutes late taking the stage.
And so it goes with rock ‘n’ rol .
The crowd loved the new songs. They loved al of it. They were f**king eating it up.
Mace, however, clearly did not appreciate the irony.
“It’s my band,” I told Mace. “I write the set lists and I don’t take any lip.”
This was a lie. I took lip al the time.
Mace glared at me and he was so good at it I felt it prudent to snap my mouth shut. So I did.
As with each break, Mace put a hand in my back and steered me backstage.
They were taking no chances tonight; al the Hot Bunch, Tex and Duke were there again. The same dril as the night before. The difference was, while the boys of the band worked the groupies or the bar, I spent my breaks sequestered in the dressing room with the Rock Chicks.
“Holy crap! That was great!” Indy shouted when I entered the room.
I saw that this time around, Vance was playing bodyguard. Last break, it was Luke.
Vance gave Mace a nod, Mace accepted it with a return chin lift, glared at me one last time and shut the door behind him as he left.
“I loved your version of ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’. That was fantastic!” Roxie yel ed, not holding any grudges from our earlier throw down.
I smiled, took a pul from my beer and threw myself on the ratty couch Monk should have replaced twelve years ago.
“They ain’t wrong. You are hot to- night,” Shirleen hooted.
“Shirleen likes her some hip-hop and every once in awhile, the blues, but the way you play it, girl, I’m thinkin’ of claimin’
back rock ‘n’ rol .”
“You can’t have it, Shirleen.” I smiled at her. “Tonight, I think it’s mine.”
“Damn tootin’,” Daisy put in on a tinkly-bel , girlie-giggle and she knocked her beer bottle against mine.
“So, how are things with you and Mace?” Al y asked, bored with the Stel a Accolades and wanting to get to a juicier subject.
“Al y,” Ava said and then rol ed her eyes at Jet.
“I’m just asking,” Al y retorted.
“Non-starter,” I answered Al y after taking another swig of my beer not about to share about Mace’s demons, not yet. I hadn’t even dealt with them yet, I didn’t even know if I could deal with them. “I don’t have time to deal with Mace and the band and my dog and the front page of The Post and my gigs and the idiot Monk and getting shot at and Eric –”
“Eric?” Jet asked.
“My boyfriend,” I answered.