Sons of Mayhem 3: The Full Force (16 page)

O
ver the next
few days I could feel the excitement beginning to build. The band were still doing their evening shows – those few hours when Lonnie left me alone to my self-criticizing thoughts – but it was the thought of the upcoming show, the giant free extravaganza with thousands or perhaps tens of thousands in the audience, and performing with a world-famous bassist, that really had everyone excited.

I felt sorry for the session musician they’d been using for the last few shows. He was (as far as I could tell with my limited knowledge) a competent musician, he just didn’t have what it took to really perform on stage with the band. More suited to a life in a studio than a life on stage.

The band toned down their partying too. Mostly.

Rabbie the drummer still hit it pretty hard most nights. Different girls did the walk of shame each morning and there were constant empty bottles of scotch emerging from the room he’d taken over.

Neal, the guitarist, seemed to have the same girl each night. I didn’t get to speak to her but there seemed to be something going on there that was more than just a rockstar and a groupie. Was the arrogant guitarist falling in love? Perhaps.

Then there was Johnny. The singer. The band leader. That guy.

One evening, maybe two nights after the fight, Lonnie and I were lying in bed.

“I want to get stoned again,” I whispered to him.

“Shit. I haven’t got any. Go ask Johnny for a Henry. He had a big bag earlier.”

I ran a nail down his carved chest. “A Henry?”

“Henry the eighth.”

I raised my eyebrows, my confusion not helped by his weird slang.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You are such a mong.”

I ran my hand down to his balls and cupped them threateningly.

“You’re not a mong! Sorry!”

I giggled at him and squeezed him gently.

“A Henry is an eighth of an ounce. As in, Henry the Eighth, the king. Johnny will give you some.”

I laughed. “Alright. Back in a minute.”

My lips touched his in a brief kiss that turned to a lingering one. As I stood up one of his hands cupped my ass and gave it a squeeze.

“Don’t be long.”

I nodded as I grabbed his t-shirt from the end of the bed and pulled it over me. It hung down past my buttocks halfway to my knees.

I grabbed my panties, planning to pull them on and then slip out. Johnny’s room was just across the hallway and there had plenty of people much more scantily clad (read, naked) wandering around lately so I didn’t feel any pressing need to cover up any further.

Lonnie reached out and pulled the panties out of my hand.

I tilted my head at him.

He ran a hand up my knee, between my thighs, his strong fingers sliding effortlessly over my smooth skin as he did so.

“Go like this.”

I bit my lip as he pressed against my wetness with the whole of his hand.

“Really?”

His hand moved slowly and I moaned.

“Like that. No one can see with that t-shirt. Only I’ll know.”

I felt incredibly naughty but excited as I slipped out of the room clad only in his t-shirt. I pulled the neck against my nose and inhaled his scent as I crossed the hallway, feeling deliciously sexy as I let my hips sway with each step.

I could hear music emanating from the room, surprisingly not rock. Some kind of electronic music, but the kind with a chilled vibe, not the frantic fast paced stuff. As I stood there considering the sounds emanating from within I realized that I knew surprisingly little about music these days. Just another way my shitty life situation had been keeping me down.

I rapped on the door. I waited five seconds and there was no answer so I gave it a few more firm thumps. Nothing. I pondered going back to Lonnie empty handed, then rejected it.

I knocked a final time, six hard raps on the door. When there was again no answer I twisted the handle and pushed the door open. It had been left unlocked. There was a small entry vestibule and a courtesy light came on as I entered. The music was much louder now that I was inside and I could smell the pungent odor of weed being smoked.

I took a few steps forward and the rest of the room came into view.

When I saw the bed I let out a gasp and my hands went to my face in surprise.

Nicole’s friend Lucy was there, lying on the bed. Naked.

She had her mouth open in ecstasy and her eyes closed. Between her hands she clutched handfuls of Johnny Tranquil’s hair, his head buried between her shapely legs which were wrapped around his head.

I’d never walked in on a couple being that intimate before. I mean, sure I’ve seen a few videos, but to see something like that happening before me was a shock. But it wouldn’t have made me gasp.

No, the reason I gasped was because it wasn’t just the two of them. Clutching on to Johnny’s shoulders were two strong hands, belonging to a slim but toned young guy. The unknown man was kneeling behind Johnny and he was letting out moans of pleasure as he thrust himself inside the rockstar.

I stood there wide eyed as I watched them, half panicking and half finding myself getting embarrassingly flushed. I’d never thought about two guys doing something like that, with a girl, but now I saw it with my own eyes and I didn’t know what to think.

Lucy’s eyes flickered open and then locked on me. I panicked for a second but then she just grinned at me, no shame in her eyes, perhaps even a hint of pride buried underneath the pleasure.

“I just… I was…” I floundered.

My eyes locked onto the table beside the bed and I saw the biggest bag of weed I’d ever seen.

I scurried over, stuck my hand in and grabbed a handful of the slightly damp green plant.

“Is it okay if I just…” I said, looking at Lucy who was biting her lip.

She nodded furiously and let out a groan.

“Go… for… it…” said the young guy between thrusts.

Johnny didn’t say anything. He might not have even realized I was there. Lucy had her legs locked around his head and wasn’t going to let him go anywhere.

With my prize clutched in my hand I scurried out of the room, my face beet red. I hurried back to Lonnie feeling both embarrassed and aroused.

F
inally the day
of the big show came. I woke up next to Lonnie, the fingers of my right hand interlocked with those of his left. I blinked and noticed the thin white sheet tenting upward. I ran my left hand up his muscular thigh and squeezed his long, thick manhood. He let out a moan and, pleased, I began to move my hand up and down, feeling the silky soft skin of his shaft covering the steel core underneath.

I heard his breathing increase and another low moan.

“Good morning,” I whispered.

“Great morning.”

I rolled on to my left side and switched to holding him with my other hand. I pushed my ass toward him and with the telepathic communication of lovers he adjusted his hips and I guided him inside my wet, aching folds. His arms slipped around me, a thigh slid underneath, then I was completely enveloped by his body as he slowly worked his hips, his cock perfectly filling me, leaving nothing untouched as he nuzzled my ear, squeezed at my breasts and thrust in and out of me.

Small gasps were escaping from my lips as we worked our bodies against each other, his hard chest pressing into the curve of my back, so much of our slick skin touching I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. As an adult I’d never felt closer to anyone. Physically or emotionally.

Then came the knock.

Rap, rap, rap.

Lonnie let out a moan of frustration.

“Ignore it, maybe they’ll go away,” I whispered.

“Open up or I’m coming in!” The voice was familiar. Too familiar.

“What do you want, Twatface?” yelled Lonnie, one hand reaching for the bedsheet and pulling it up to our necks.

“I’m coming in.”

“Charming,” said Lonnie sarcastically as we heard the door unlock. It seems Chad Chad had a master key of some kind.

As Chad entered Lonnie shifted slightly causing me to quiver and let out a gasp. He was still buried completely inside me, though from Chad’s perspective it would look like we were spooning.

“Lonnie. Shit,” said Chad by way of greeting.

“What do you want?” I spat out.

“The bassist…”

“Flea?”

Chad nodded as if he was going along with something he didn’t quite believe in. “Yeah… Flea. About that. It’s fallen through.”

Lonnie let out a moan of disappointment. I knew he had been keen to meet one of his idols.

“So you want us to go get Si? I don’t think we’re going to get into that rehab place. It’s pretty locked down.”

Chad shook his head. “I already tried that. It’s like a prison. No, that’s not why I’m here.”

“No,” said Lonnie and he jerked with mild indignation making me gasp again.

“Lonnie, please, you’ve got to do it.”

What were they talking about I wondered as I gripped the bedsheet tightly between my fingers. I felt myself spasm around Lonnie inside me and he let out a gasp too. This was torture.

“The session musician is shit. You, Lonnie,
you
will be a fucking star. A megastar. You’ve got to do it. You’ve got to.”

“I don’t have to do shit, mate. I’m retired. Done with all that crap.”

I pushed my hips back a fraction of an inch, needing something, and getting a half inch of movement inside me. The moment of pleasure left me feeling more frustrated. I needed to be fucked. Hard.

“Please, Lonnie. For your friends in the band. Please.”

I needed Chad out of there. Now. “Just say you’ll do it,” I hissed at him.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“We cool?” asked Chad.

Lonnie let out a sigh. “We are most-fucking-definitely not in any way, shape or form ‘cool’, Chad.”

“Yes!” yelled Chad, followed by a whoop as he span around. Lonnie jerked himself in and out of me in an urgent thrust as Chad spun.

“Now fuck off, Chad.”

“Alright! Rehearsal in an hour. Don’t be late.”

“Fuck! Off!”

Chad let out a whoop as he exited the room.

Lonnie held himself tight against me still hard and deep inside me.

“Fuck,” he said as he squeezed my shoulders hard, “fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did I agree to do that?”

He pushed me all the way over so I was face down into the bed. I could only mumble a response.

He was pissed. And he released his anger by fucking me hard. His hands dug into me as he pulled himself almost out and then slammed back deep inside me, my ass slapping noisily against his skin with each powerful thrust.

I wanted it hard. I wanted to help release his frustrations, but also it turned me on. I was buried underneath him, pressed down, unable to move as he fucked me as hard as he could. I was at his mercy and I panted and moaned with each squeeze of his fingers and each powerful movement of his hips.

The raw power and energy of him was too much for me.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I cried, tears running out of my eyes as my body began to quake. My words became a moan and a squeal as every part of me seemed to contract and explode at once, my body so hot it seemed I’d melt. My muscles were completely outside of my control, but I could sense myself contracting hard around his iron manhood.

“Fuck!” Suddenly he was pressed so tight against me, pulled himself so deep into me I couldn’t breathe as his cock spasmed in my hot tightness.

He twisted my head away from the mattress as he relaxed his tight grip on me. Our mouths met in a flurry of kisses.

“I fucking love you,” he said as I felt him still twitching inside me.

“I… I think I love you too,” I said, surprised. With his strong body tight up against mine I felt, for the first time in many years, at peace. Held, protected and comforted. I realized it was something I hadn’t even known I was missing, but now that I had it I never wanted to let it go, never wanted to be on my own again.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered in my ear, “mine.”

I nodded and sniffled.

“I know,” I said, “I know.”

H
e held
me tight for what seemed like both forever and not nearly long enough. There were no words, just the power of touch communicating our acceptance and affection for each other.

Where was tough girl Ava now, I wondered. In here, held by him, she was a memory. He had me now. Tough girl Ava was for outside, in the world, away from his protection.

“I better go. If I’m going to do this show I better get at least a little rehearsing in.”

I squeezed him to show I didn’t want him to leave.

“Can you do it?” I asked

He let out a noncommittal grunt. “Maybe. Actually, I never stopped playing, you know. But I only play for myself these days. When no one’s around I play for myself, no one else.”

“Would you play for me?” I asked

He let out a chuckle. “Let’s see after the show. Maybe I’ll never want to play again, even for me.”

I let out a little laugh. That was enough.

“You better go.”

He nodded, but instead of getting up to leave he pulled me in close for a deep electric kiss. Shit, did he really have to go?

I pushed him away and broke it off. I wanted him to get some practice in with the band before the show. I couldn’t stand to be the reason he failed.

“Go,” I said, “before I tie you up and never let you leave.”

He laughed and gave me a final peck on the lips before making it out of bed. Watching his toned, tatted torso head to the bathroom for a shower I couldn’t help but lick my lips. Why couldn’t we just stay in bed forever?

“
A
lright fuckheads
, today is
the day
. You put on a decent show and you are going to be the biggest motherfucking band in America.” Chad Chad Price was pacing up and down while he yelled at us, his excitement bursting out with every word.

I could hardly believe this was happening. After so many years passed and so many roads traveled I was back where I’d begun. Sitting between Neal, Johnny and Rabbie as we got psyched up for a show.

Of course it was different now. We’d all grown since then. But man, sitting there, a bass guitar sitting on my lap, I felt like I was nineteen again, about to perform in a dodgy, damp, smoke-filled pub. The nervous energy was there, the excitement, the slight worry that things wouldn’t go to plan but with the knowledge that we’d lose ourselves in the music and the crowd anyway.

“Right now I don’t know how many people are going to show. But it’s going to be big.
very
big. Like, a fuckin’ festival big. Are you boys ready?”

“Aye,” said Rabbie with typical Scottish reserve.

“Yep,” said Neal.

“Yeah,” said Johnny.

I gave a little nod.

Chad looked at us incredulously. “Hello? Are you fuckers comprehending me? There are going to be a hundred fucking thousand people at your show tonight.
Your
show. That I made happen.” His nostrils were flaring and his eyes were wide. I thought he was going to start frothing at the mouth. Typical American over-excitement.

“Yeah. Quite a few people, innit?”

“Aye.”

“’spose”

We were winding Chad up and it felt great. It had been years since I’d been around a group of my countrymen and could engage in banter like this.

“Godamned Limeys!”

We chuckled.

“Chad. Alright. We’re excited,” I said, putting him out of his misery. “We’re just winding you up a bit. Come on, let’s get going.”

Chad blew out a long stream of air, shaking his head as he did so. He wasn’t amused. But we were.

I
may have left
the band, and I may have stopped performing on stage, but I’d never stopped playing. It was my way to relax and let things go, especially when things got a bit exciting. After the firefight with the Mexicans a few weeks previously I’d spent a whole day on my own, leaning under the shade of an overhanging rock just strumming away to myself and letting everything go. Arriving back at the clubhouse hours later I was like a new man.

When the ‘Force started getting played on the radio, I’d started to strum along. I hadn’t even considered or wanted to play with the band again, but like a moth drawn to flame I’d found myself playing their songs, over and over. A few of them were old numbers I’d helped write, and others were newer, but I didn’t care, I couldn’t help myself, I just played them all.

So when Rabbie asked, “You think ye can do this, son?”

I just gave a grin and a nod.

W
e arrived at the ‘venue
’, if you could call it that, just after 11a.m. A stage was rapidly being assembled by a swarm of roadies. Chad must have been planning this for weeks, I mused. Keeping it all to himself. I guess that’s why he claimed to be the best – when we all thought things were going to shit, it seems Chad actually did have everything under control.

A week before when I’d first seen the list of clubs the band were going to be playing at I thought he was crazy. What the hell was the point of this tour? But over the following days the buzz built around the band had been incredible. The news ‘leaks’, the ‘secret’ shows, the stories about Si and his frigging MMA fight. It had been pretty mental.

I wasn’t so happy about my role in it all though. Flicking through the channels earlier I’d seen my ugly mug on one of the entertainment channels while they jabbered on about tonight’s show. “The Long Lost Limey” was the unfortunate moniker they’d come up with. If it was indeed them, and not Chad that had developed it. I shook my head at it.

“Ok boys, let's have a few run throughs,” said Johnny.

“There’s no stage or power,” said Neal.

Johnny shrugged. “So what. Let’s sit in the grass and rehearse acoustic.”

So that was what we did. We sat around under a tree and went through the setlist, Rabbie thumping his hands on his jean-clad thighs instead of using drums, the rest of us unplugged as we played.

I got lost in the rehearsal, just slipping into the rhythm of the group and the flow of the music. We fit together seamlessly, our instruments sounding as if they were different parts of some greater connected sound.

“Awesome, thanks guys!”

I looked up, blinking. I’d completely zoned out as we’d run through
Sunk Cost
, one of the newer songs. I frowned.

“What the fuck do you want?”

It was the blue-haired girl from before who’d bothered Ava and flattened her tires. If she’d been a guy I’d have been getting up and showing her a Croydon kiss – that’s the kind that’s given with five knuckles instead of a pair of lips.

“Nothing. I got everything I needed,” she said as she patted her mobile phone and turned on her tail.

“Does she need spanking, Matt?” Rabbie asked me, using my ‘old’ name.

“Yeah something like that. If that little bitch comes back scare her off. She’s trouble.”

“I’ll give her a damn good seeing to if she comes back,” said Rabbie with a grin, “I love them wild little rock chicks.”

“You love anything with a wet hole and a pulse,” said Neal.

“Is the pulse even required?” asked Johnny.

“fuck off,” Rabbie retorted.

Looking around I was surprised. The stage was pretty much complete, but more importantly, beyond it a sizable crowd had begun to develop. Awnings had been put up by enterprising ‘businessmen’ selling bottled water and other sundry items, and pockets of people were now dotted around in the grass beyond the shade and up the hill behind them.

While we took a short break the relative peace of this remote location was broken by the sound of motorcycles. Lots of motorcycles.

A few minutes later a convoy arrived of perhaps a hundred bikes. Shit, Jase must have called up a bunch of people to get those kind of numbers at such short notice. I saw a dozen different patches as bikers from all over southern Cali rolled up and set up a makeshift parking lot well behind the stage where the crowd wouldn’t be able to get at them.

Seeing the massive convoy of bikes turn up made it all seem more real. Shit, we really
were
going to be doing a massive fuck-off show that night.

I felt a tingle of anticipation building in my stomach. This was going to be one hell of a finale to my musical career.