Turned out Gary Steele
from Music Line did have a job for me. I almost lost my shit when he said Blow
Hole was looking for a replacement guitarist to finish their tour with them.
Fucking Blow Hole! As in some of my favorite music to play.
I knew the chords to
their songs better than any other band. I liked their sound and I’d always been
able to pick up their pace right away. I could hardly believe my luck. So when
he told me they wanted me to come to their condo in Los Angeles to audition, I
was all over that shit.
I called Shay to bring
me some gas money, told her why I needed it, listened to her scream on the other
line, and then I drove entirely too fast to the address Gary gave me. I pulled
up around the corner and changed my clothes in the backseat of my car before
going inside the massive building the boys lived in.
When I finally made it
to the top floor, I stood in front of the door and convinced myself that ringing
the doorbell was the best thing I could do no matter how badly my nerves were
jumping around. I’d never auditioned before since I’d never played for any other
reason than I loved it, and I couldn’t lie. I was scared.
When I finally worked
up the nerve, I reached out and rang the doorbell. I stood there waiting for
someone to answer the door, but no one came. I rang the bell once more, and the
door opened quickly.
“Can I help you?” It
was Finn, the lead singer.
Everyone who loved
music knew who Finn was. His voice was soulful. When he sang, he put so much
emotion behind it you could almost believe he was living his lyrics. He was
raspy and deep, and I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t attractive.
He was taller in
person, and honestly, I expected more muscles, but that didn’t take away from
his eyes or those lips that girls seemed to get wet over. He leaned against the
doorframe with his arms crossed. A black shirt with cut-off sleeves covered his
chest yet revealed his tatted arms, and a pair of drawstring sweats hung from
his hips with loose ties that brought my eyes to his crotch.
Quickly, I looked back
up at him and my cheeks turned red when his expression told me he’d caught me
looking. Turning away, I adjusted my guitar case and shook the thoughts from my
head. I wasn’t one to get star struck… ever, but Finn was the real deal.
Looking back up at
him, the question in his eyes told me I needed to speak or he was going to close
the door in my face.
“I’m here for the
audition.” My voice cracked and I wanted to slap myself.
I needed to snap out
of it.
I adjusted the guitar
strap on my shoulder to show him I wasn’t messing around.
“You’re kidding,
right?” His right brow popped up in challenge.
I didn’t have time for
the whole females can’t play bullshit I knew was coming. So I went in for the
kill.
“Do I look like I’m
kidding? Is the word jokester tattooed across my forehead? Yes, I’m a chick. I
have tits, but I have bigger balls than any man you know, and I can
play the fuck out of a guitar. Now are you going to keep wasting my time, or are
you going to invite me in to play?”
His mouth popped open
in a wide, shocked smile. Then he chuckled to himself and stepped aside.
“Then by all means,
come in.”
The space was sleek
and clean considering it was the home of a bunch of rockers. Abstract
red-and-black paintings of different instruments covered white walls, and the
place smelled like pot and beer.
The place was huge. I
followed behind Finn through three sets of doors until we were in a sitting
room, and then I set my guitar case on the counter that split the living room
from the kitchen.
A white, leather
sectional filled the room. Eyes stared back at me as I entered behind Finn and
instantly I recognized the drummer, Chet, and the bass player, Tiny. Finn left
the room, leaving me in a silent uncomfortable moment.
Taking a seat on the
edge of the couch, I kept my bitch face on. Chet grinned at me from across the
room and nodded at me as he licked his lips. His tongue piercing clicked against
his teeth. He was the colorful one of the group. Tattoos and piercings
everywhere. I did, however, seriously dig his fauxhawk.
I’d been looking at
him too long, and he was enjoying the attention. He was definitely the playboy
of the group. I’d heard the rumors about him and how he stuck his cock in
anything wet. I rolled my eyes and turned my head, and then my eyes connected
with the bass player’s.
Tiny’s name was a joke
considering there was nothing small about the man. He was huge. His thick
tattooed arms were crossed. A look of absolutely no tolerance was plastered on
his face. Quiet and mysterious was his game. Every band had one, and I usually
dealt best with them, but something about the way he looked at me made me feel
nervous.
His dark-brown hair
was buzzed short and faded into a set a sideburns that melted into his light
mustache and goatee. My eyes shifted to his lips and again, I wanted to slap
myself. It was unlike me to even notice the things I’d noticed since I stepped
into the den of sin, also known as the home of Blow Hole, and I wasn’t about to
let the disgusting pheromones that lingered in the air get to me.
Tiny’s dark, angry
eyes dug into mine and I suddenly felt exposed. I sat up and ran my fingers
through my hair to make sure I had no strays poking out, and then I turned away
from him. Even without looking at him, I could feel his gaze in the side of my
face. I didn’t like it.
Just when I was close
to telling him off, Finn came back into the room and crashed onto the couch.
Behind him, Zeke, the lead guitarist, came limping in. A cast covered his
picking hand and instantly I felt for him. I couldn’t imagine what it would be
like to not be able to play. He looked at me in confusion as he sat down.
As far as I was
concerned, Zeke was one of the best guitarists I’d ever heard. His technique was
unusual, but the sounds that came from his strings were amazing. I’d practiced
his sound since the first time I’d heard them play on the radio. I’d once see
them from afar in concert at a bar in Los Angeles, but the boys were playing
bigger venues these days.
“So where’s the
replacement guitarist? Zeke asked in aggravation.
The room filled with
laughter like I was a joke, and it pissed me off. I stood and crossed my arms to
show them I wasn’t dicking around.
“That would be me,” I
said sternly.
Zeke looked me up and
down without a drop of sexual awareness in his gaze, and I appreciated the fact
that he was simply sizing me up, not checking me out. It probably had something
to do with the petite blond that had followed him into the room.
“Is that so?” he
asked.
He was acting cocky,
and honestly, he had every right to be.
“Yep. Want me to play
or what?” I asked.
Everything depended on
this job and while I knew some would call me stupid for being such a bitch, I
knew the boys would appreciate it. I’d been a part of their world before. I knew
all about the girls that chased rockers around with their legs open. I was sure
it was refreshing to have a woman in their presence who didn’t drool all over
them. I’d definitely checked them out, but I wasn’t the drooling type. Not to
mention, I knew band boys weren’t for me—at all.
Zeke looked around the
room at the rest of the guys. “Is this some kind of joke?” he asked.
Again, the boys burst
out in laughter, which did nothing but make me madder.
“It’s not a fucking
joke. Quit being a chauvinistic asshole. Either you want me to fucking play or
not. Say something and quit wasting my goddamn time,” I snapped.
His stern expression
cracked into an appreciative smile. “Then play,” he said with a careless shrug.
Stepping over to my
guitar case, I flipped it open and pulled out my baby. It was a candy apple-red
Les Paul from my dad. I barely played it, but I thought of this audition as a
special occasion. The boys of Blow Hole didn’t need to see my normal guitar.
I strapped it on, took
a deep breath, and began to play. My fingers dug into the strings and I closed
my eyes and let go of everything. Rips and grinds filled the condo, bouncing off
the walls and shaking the windows. I mimicked Zeke’s playing perfectly. I even
ripped through his unique chords that other guitarist seemed to have a hard time
with.
I played an entire
song and no one stopped me. When I was done, I unhooked my strap and set my
guitar back in its case. The room around me was silent, and when I looked up,
looks of shock stared back at me.
The only girl in the
room, the tiny blonde with ice-blue eyes, began to clap.
“That was amazing!”
she said with a smile.
I nodded at her
compliment and turned my attention back to Zeke. He stared at me with angry
eyes. That was his thing. I don’t think I’d ever seen a real smile from him
ever.
“What did you say your
name was again?” he asked.
“I didn’t. No one
bothered to ask. My name’s Constance,” I responded.
He looked around the
room and then back at me. The side of his mouth lifted in an almost grin. “Well,
Constance, welcome to Blow Hole.”
Blow Hole
Lyrics
It’s more than I can
stand
Feeling your soulful
depth
Why can’t you
understand?
Despising all her
strength
Against all that I’ve done
wrong
In the high that comes from
you
I’m addicted to your
smile
Withdrawals and frowns are
me
Knocked down and I am
vile
While you’re forever
free
Against all that I’ve done
wrong
In the high that comes from
you
Links
