AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The door slammed shut behind him and Ami flinched from the noise, falling back into her chair.
“Son of a bitch, I’m bleeding.” She wiped her forehead, smearing the blood. Staring into the mirror she used to put her makeup on before the show, she saw more than just her reflection.
Dark eyes, shadowed from lack of sleep and restless nights, looked back at her. Her hair was a matted array of extensions and hairspray. Her skin was pale and marked with the fake body art that fit the image everyone expected.
She twisted the top off the whiskey bottle on her dressing room vanity and it ricocheted across the floor. Without thinking, she took a long gulping then wiped the remaining drops from her lips, smearing her red lipstick across her cheek to match the blood from her cut.
There was no doubt about it. Her twenty-eight-year-old rock and roll life was a fucking movie-of-the-week mess.
All the pressure, all the commitments others made of her time—it was all building up to the breaking point. The music fans were her lifeline and she loved the guys in the band, but they all had lives of their own. Being the face of the group meant she had to carry the weight, and a young woman in the spotlight had different pressures.
Ami had to get away. She looked into the mirror again, seeing black mascara running down from the corners of her eyes. She may have been twenty-eight, but emotionally she felt like she was at least thirty years older. The essence of her existence had become blurred by greed, other people’s illusions and lost dreams. She didn’t like who she saw anymore.
She was completely exhausted, both mentally and physically. Another long drink followed and some of the whiskey dribbled from the corners of her mouth. Her head weary, her body numb, she took in a deep breath and slumped into her chair. She was becoming what she swore to herself she wouldn’t—a drunk musician.
It was time to change her life.
Stumbling out of the small dressing room, Ami looked around, seeing people scattering like roaches in different directions. She reached back inside, grabbed her purse, then headed away from as many of them as she could.
Shadows in the hallway came toward her. In no mood to chat, she saw a door and opened it to hide inside, grateful for the quiet.
She leaned against the door and listened as people passed. Closing her eyes, she calmed down and the alcohol soothed her throbbing headache.
“Oh yeah, baby, oh yes.” A man’s voice echoed behind her.
A light gasp and moan whispered through the air.
“Oh shit, oh shit, your ass is so…”
The voice trailed off, and Ami turned around to see a bleach blonde mop of hair dangling over a large speaker and the sweating face of one of her roadies in sexual bliss.
She banged her elbow against the door and the girl looked up.
“Oh…my…God…” the girl yelled. Her speech was broken because the roadie kept screwing her as she spoke.
“You’re…Ami…can I …get an…auto…graph?”
Ami wasn’t sure whether to laugh or scream. Here was a young woman being fucked and all she could think about was an autograph.
Reaching into her purse, Ami dug out her cell phone and held it up. “Say cheese.”
Some things in life are priceless.
Ami walked out into the now quiet corridor and followed the long hallway to a large green metal door with an exit sign above it.
When she swung it open, a cold rush of wind blew into her face, refreshing and clearing her drunken mind. Outside were the large trucks that carried the concert gear, but the other roadies must have been taking a break because there was nobody around. Maybe they were having the same kind of fun the one in the dressing room.
She walked down the stairs, holding the rail for balance. The street rolled like an ocean in front her eyes as the booze caught up with her,
and the frigid air felt like ice against her hot skin.
Everything began to spin, and she felt herself topple as if a wave pushed her. Her body was floating—and then something caught her.
“Hey…careful…are you all right?”
Ami blinked and saw a man’s face looking at her, his face rugged but handsome nevertheless. His brown hair was a bit scruffy, and he wasn’t tall – in fact he reminded her of a cowboy without the hat. He had stopped her from falling and she was now clasped tightly against his body. She put her hands on his broad shoulders and leaned against his chest.
“Can I get someone for you? Let me take you back inside.”
