Chapitre 14: Chapter 14
In between finalising the sale of the houses, they had crammed in as much practise as they could. The band now had a repertoire of twelve songs, but Aaron wanted them to work out more. If their sample tracks were picked up by the label that he had sent it to, they would want choices.
“Aaron wants us to use the opera as an angle,” Owen said.
“How does a rock band use opera?” James wondered.
“I was thinking of a vocal intro that transitions into rock,” Owen replied. “As an opening song. The audience is expecting a rock opening, and instead we throw out some opera sounding rock.”
“It will either be cool, or we will have beer bottles thrown at us,” Jeremy commented.
“I have a piece I have been working on since Aaron suggested it. It is still pretty raw, and I have never written opera before… Though I have been around Emily long enough, I think I have a bit of an idea what to do and how to write a song for her to sing...” Owen looked at Emily and arched his eyebrows. “What do you think?”
She looked at the music. “I guess…This part is going to hit the top of my vocal range, though, and the breath work… Jumping through the notes like that... I will give it a go.” She closed her eyes and hummed it through and then sang it out, stopped and adjusted a note on the page and tried the alternative. “Would that be okay?”
“Yeah,” Owen tilted his head to the side. “Do you want to go through the whole piece solo, or for us to jump in?”
“Jump in. It just means I might miss a few notes if it is not working,” she said.
“We don’t mind stopping and starting.”
They ran through the song after a few false starts, and Jeremy crowed at the end. “That was awesome,” he declared.
“I would like to try this part again,” Emily said pointing to the music. “It might not work, and sound very funny, but I want to make the jumps here,” she tapped the pen to and against the music. “A bit more abrupt, sharper.”
They worked through the alteration.
“I like it,” Owen decided, and made a note above that section.
“I need something to eat,” James declared standing and going over to the kitchen. “And a drink.”
“That was fun,” Emily relaxed her posture, sinking back into the seat.
“I don’t know if it is really opera, it is not telling a story or even using words, but it sounds close enough,” Owen set his guitar to the side and sank back next to her, shoulder to shoulder. “That I think Aaron will be happy about it.”
“Is Aaron meeting us?” She asked turning to look at him. He was looking out the bus window, and she studied his profile, its outline perfect and defined.
“Yeah, he is driving separately. We are not the only band he does, and we are small fry, so he can’t spare us much time. We are sort of in charge of getting to where we need to be on time, but he said he would join us on the first couple of stops until we got the swing of things, make sure it is smooth.”
“Anyone else want me to nuke them a meal?” James asked.
“Everyone,” Jeremy replied.
“We are leaving the city,” Seb commented. “Traffic is thinning.”
“Yeah, the bus is picking up speed. Not so many stops and starts.”
As the evening set in around them, and the excitement began to wear off into the tedium of a long journey, Jeremy and Seb started an action movie on the tv and nuked popcorn, whilst James moved to the front and chatted to the driver, leaning over the back of his seat and talking non-stop. Emily managed to write two thousand words of her current book, before she lost focus. It was, she thought, difficult to write a romance when her own life was so bereft of it.
She just wasn’t feeling the hero, he wasn’t ringing true. She simply could not imagine Owen acting in the same way, as devoted, as true, and the pain of the comparison shattered the mood for her.
She shut down the laptop and put it away in her case. “I might lie down for a while,” she decided.
“Good idea,” Owen glanced up at her. He was still working on his song book.
She wove her way up the bus and brushed her teeth over the tiny sink using bottled water, before putting her shoes away in one of the drawers at the bottom of the bunks. She crawled into the bank and drew the curtains around, lying on top of the bedding. She was on the bottom bunk, with Owen above her, a concession for her shorter legs making getting into the higher bunk more difficult.
The bunk wasn’t as uncomfortable as she had anticipated it would be. It was long enough for a tall man like Owen to fit, and so roomy for her. With the curtains closed, and the rocking motion, it was cosy. She could hear the rise and fall of the men’s voices in the other section of the bus, the gunfire from the movie… She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep.
She heard the draw open and close, and then the curtains parted.
Owen eased into the bunk, lifting himself over her so that he lay with his back against the wall. For a moment they shared laughter as they organised themselves within the narrow space, and then he lifted onto his elbow and kissed her, his kiss heavy with breath and laughter and spiced by the daring.
They were going to have sex, she realised with a flare of heat, in the tight little bunk with only the curtains separating them from the other members of the band and the bus driver. The daring of it flavoured their kiss, stole her breath and quickened her heart. She met his tongue with hers, deepening and adding fire to their kiss, so that he groaned, and then laughed silently as they both paused, wondering if they had been heard.
He grinned, his dimple dancing, and returned to kissing her, sliding his hand beneath her top to close over her breast. “No bra,” he breathed. “I noticed that earlier.” He grazed the palm of his hand over her nipple, and she pressed up into his touch as she slid her hand down the tight planes of his stomach to his fly, releasing the button and easing down the zip so that she could slide her hand within, closing around him.
He drew in a breath, just managing to smother a moan.
He smoothed the palm of his hand up her thigh, beneath her skirt, and eased her panties down to her knees. She wriggled to slide them to her ankles and off as he lowered his mouth to hers again, his kiss lingering and sweet, before brushing gentle kisses along her cheek.
“It is like eleventh grade again,” he whispered into her ear. “Sneaking into your room after our parents went to bed.”
She was on the edge of an orgasm from his touch. “Owen,” she gasped.
“Roll over,” he said and adjusted against her when she did so, rocking her forward onto her stomach as he pressed into her. She smothered her moan into the pillow. He eased them both back onto their sides and reached under her skirt to press his hand against her. “Thank f–k you are wearing a skirt,” he pressed his lips against her, his breath hot and unsteady against her cheek as he began to thrust, pushing her into his hand, so that the orgasm that had been beckoning overtook her.
“F-k,” he groaned, caught up by her orgasm and tugged into his own. “Oh, f-k.” He gripped her hip tight, and pressed hard against her, as he followed her. “Sorry,” he said with a laugh. “Quickies are good, too though, right?”
For a moment, they lay catching their breaths, and then he shifted slightly, sliding his arm under her head so that her cheek rested on his bicep, and gave a sigh. “This is… nice,” he decided. “I think I can sleep like this, if you can Em.”
“Yes,” she wanted that more than anything, to sleep with him wrapped around her. It was a heartache however, the uncertainty that lay between them. She would take what was offered, she decided. One tour, for as long as it lasted. She was a free agent, after all. Free to leave at any time. She lost nothing by staying with him for this time.
“Do you want your underwear?” He asked with a hint of laughter.
“Probably better.” He hadn’t used protection again, and the evidence was sliding down her thighs.
They wriggled until she managed to pull them back on under her skirt, and he fixed his trousers, and then returned to their position, curled against each other as they had lain together for more nights than she could remember. The sorrow of it, along with the exhaustion of the travel and heightened emotions caught up with her, and she cried, her tears sliding silently down her cheeks until she drifted to sleep.
By midday the following day, they had reached the venue. There was already another tour bus parked to the rear of the building, as well as Aaron’s blue Audi. He walked out of the rear door to meet them as they stepped out of the bus, carrying their suit bags.
“Hi,” he grinned at them, clapping Owen on the back. “How was the trip?”
“Great,” James said.
“Did you manage to get some sleep?” Aaron asked, leading them towards the door.
“Yeah, a bit, off and on. Enough,” Owen said.
“Some of us more than others,” James smirked. “But then, the bunks aren’t really designed for two people, are they, Owen?”
Owen grinned. “Better with two.”
“Well, you are opening here,” Aaron led them through a dark and narrow back hallway, the chipped black paint on the walls smothered beneath peeling posters, signatures and almost illegible scrawls. They had to walk single file as other dishevelled and tired looking people were heading in the opposite direction. “For another of my bands, and there are a few local bands that will open for you. Show starts at eight, you are on at half past until nine, so you have got a bit of time to have some food – they do some basic meals in the kitchen here – and grab a shower.”
They stepped out into the main room of the venue. It had been a warehouse in a prior life. The roof was still raw industrial beams, and the wooden floors held the scars of past usage. A large bar was against one wall, and a raised stage on the far wall was already set up with drums, amps, and microphones. Small tables and chairs were scattered over most of the floor, leaving a space immediately in front of the stage for those who wanted to dance or get up and personal with the bands.
“There will be the opportunity to do a practise song, make sure you are happy with the sound and stage,” Aaron told them, and turned back the way they had come. “There is a dressing room with attached bathroom that you can use. No doubt you will all be wanting to grab a shower - bus bathrooms are hell. After your set, you will have a bit over an hour here, have a drink, enjoy the atmosphere, grab a post-performance shower, whatever. Then, back on the bus at midnight or it turns into a pumpkin. Okay?” He opened a door.
“Okay,” Owen replied, stepping into the room. “Thanks, Aaron.”
“I will let you know when you are up for that practise,” Aaron continued down the hall.
They stepped into the room. It was not large, and with four big men, four suit bags and herself, it was crowded. A couch was pushed up against the wall near the door, and a portable clothes rack was against another wall, along with a bench and horizontally long mirror ringed with light.
“That looks like your zone, Em,” Seb commented. “The rest of us don’t have to pucker up to the mirror before we go on.”
“Thanks,” she placed her makeup and hair bag onto the bench and hung her suit bag onto the rack. “Who wants the first shower? I want to eat before I put on make-up.”
“I will shower first,” James said. “I will need to shower after, too, so I grab first showers at both ends of the performance.”
“Alright,” Jeremy agreed. “I will take next.”
“I will double up with Em, it will be quicker that way,” Owen said. “So, we will go third.”
“Ok, I am last then,” Seb shrugged. “Let’s go get some grub.”
“Order for me,” James said. “I won’t be long. I don’t have to shave my legs tonight,” he winked at Emily.
They returned to the bar and ordered a drink whilst they waited for their food, sitting on the barstool and watching the activity in the room. The other band’s drummer and guitarist were similarly positioned, and the men exchanged band talk, comparing schedules and equipment. The other band had been touring for a month, and the shine had worn off.
Emily checked her phone and saw she had missed a call from Megan.
“How’s it going with Owen?” Megan answered on the first ring and did not bother with a greeting. “Did you get some hot ex-sex on the bus?”
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone