Page 1 of Strum Me

Chapter One

Brad

“Definitely lobster.”

They’re the first words I hear when I open my eyes.

“I dunno...more like a cherry tomato?” another voice suggests from somewhere to the right of me.

“Nah, that doesn’t really describe the dry, crusty, beef jerky value of it. I’m going with…hmmm, a rare prime rib roast left out in the desert for three days,” a third person pipes up in a French accent.

“Oooh yeah, that’s a good one! I changed my mind, I’m going with that!” says the lobster commenter’s voice.

“What the fuck are you idiots talking about?” I finally break in, my shoulders cracking as I raise them over my head in a long stretch, pulling them out of my deep sleep.

“We’re talking about the right side of your face, tit-wad,” Sebastian, the owner of the French accent helpfully informs me.

My hand immediately goes to my right cheek.

“Oww!” My fingers snap back as my cheek tightens in a sharp pain. “What the?” I scan my brain for the reason for the pain.

“Roast beef jerky talking! That’ll teach you to fall asleep next to an open window for a twelve-hour flight! We’ve been chasing the sun the whole time…and it looks like your ugly mug caught it!” Sebastian manages to get out before falling off his chair in laughter.

I push myself up out of my leather recliner and run to the little bathroom on our private plane.

They’re right; my face is a blazing, blistering red—that is, until it comes to the bridge of my nose. Down the other side of the slope it’s still a pasty white. I look like hell’s version of the phantom from Phantom of the Opera.

“Ugh, fuck, you couldn’t pull the blind down for me?” I grumble as I return to my seat, deliberately knocking my elbow against Marius’s head as I pass him doing one of his yoga poses in the spacious lounge area next to the recliners. Plopping my ass down into my seat, I dab a cold-water towel against my sore cheek.

“Ow. Ball-breath!” Marius shouts, losing his balance and toppling over into a pile of arms and legs.

“Hey, it’s not our fault that after two weeks under the glaring Australia sun you still had the complexion of a prebaked loaf of bread,” Jez says as he comes over, pushing his face close up to get a better look at my enraged skin, poking at it gently with his finger.

“Well, I guess I didn’t get as much sun as you guys did,” I explain as I swat Jez away.

“True. There wasn’t much sun in that pool house with…what was her name again?” Sebastian goads me.

“Hollie,” Marius shouts.

“Jenny,” Jez follows.

“Karli!” Sebastian gleefully finishes off.

“All of those and more.” I poke my tongue out at my bandmates. This wasn’t going to be a discussion I was going to get out of looking good. Time to deflect. “Hey, I’m not the only one leaving the sunny gold coast of Australia without a tan. What about Sebastian? Did you and Cadey come up for food or oxygen even once?” I’m referring to Cadence, his newly acquired fiancée and our sometime-bandmate.

“Hey. Our love is our air,” Sebastian waxes poetic, then grins as I make a puking noise, sticking a finger down my throat. “You say that now, but one of these days you’re going to meet your own Cadence and knowing you, we’re all going to be projectile vomiting before you know it.”

“Fat chance, dude. My whole body will be as shriveled up as that beef jerky you so sweetly described my face as, before I’m going to get caught by a woman. I already learned that lesson a long time ago.”

“Famous last words, buddy,” he replies and I shiver a little at the thought that he might be right.

“What the fuck is that?!” a loud voice booms from the back of the plane and we spin our chairs around to see our long-suffering manager, Dennis, coming toward us. He comes to a stop next to me and jabs a finger in the direction of my face. Dennis is not a nuanced man, and it’s usually pretty easy to tell from the look on his face when he’s not happy with us. Probably because we’ve had so much practice at seeing it. Kind of like…right now.

“Um...what’s he talking about?” I whisper through the side of my mouth to the other guys.

“Oh, I think he’s referring to your face’s impression of a red and white yin and yang figure,” Marius answers unhelpfully.

“WHAT IN GOD’S UNHOLY EARTH HAPPENED TO YOUR FUCKING FACE?” Dennis finally booms by way of an answer.