One
“Goodnight, Los Angeles! We’re Lucid Mantra and you’re all fucking awesome!” Maddox our main vocalist roars signaling the end of the show. I went off stage even before the lights went off, handing my guitar to one of the roadies waiting backstage. I headed straight for the dressing room though I was aware that the crowd continued to chant for an encore. Normally we’d indulge, but tonight, I just wasn’t up for it. Don’t get me wrong. It was a good show. No, it was the shit. Just like the thirty-five ones before this or the ones for the past fucking seven years. Tonight was the last show of our tour and right about now all I want to do is to get my ass home.
One would argue that being a famous rockstar is the bomb and that anyone would kill to be in my shoes. The kick-ass after-parties, flowing booze, fame, fortune, and the endless parade of women every night, but when things are readily within your grasp or everything that’s been going on has been the same for the past years, the lifestyle loses its appeal. You’re suddenly all about finding change or something more worthwhile, but can’t seem to get any break. The only highlight of my life as the guitarist of the band is when I write and play music. That’s the ultimate high of my life. Music is my passion and I’m blessed that I was given the opportunity to pursue what I truly love with the people who matter to me the most.
I’m aware that I sound like a whiny ass bitch or a 60-year-old burnt-out rockstar, which is hilarious because I’m only 25 and already I feel like I’m having a midlife crisis. To be honest, I don’t and didn’t even have a shitty life. I grew up in a normal setting and had a normal childhood. Met my bandmates in high school, we practiced in my garage, played at some parties, and were discovered by our manager Colin when we were out busking for fun. There were no dramas or tragic pasts, just a few kids who wanted to become famous and we did become famous. That’s the story of my life right there.
I was sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette when Colin burst in. “You alright?” Concern showing on his face. “Yeah, I just have a massive headache.” That was a lie of course. If it wasn’t already obvious, I was just avoiding having a conversation that would make me say what I don’t want to say. It’s not that I have a problem with being honest with the guy or that I feel like he’s not the right person to talk to. In fact, he knows exactly what to say and when to say them. I just wasn’t feeling the heart-to-heart talk tonight.
I mean Colin is a great manager. Tough, smart, a perfectionist, the best in the industry, but he’s also our father figure though he’s only 33. We were the first band he discovered and signed a contract with. Come to think of it, he and the band hit many firsts and every milestone together for the past years. He’s family. That said, I don’t want to worry him too much. He’s been stressed since day one, so a little white lie won’t hurt. “Okay, head to the other side for the after-party when you’re ready,” he said heading out the door.
I sat there for fucking ever staring at the ceiling when a message to our group chat chimed in.
Maddox: Where the fuck are you Sky?
Maddox: Get your cute butt in here!
Jaxon: Yeah man, before Maveewavee fucks things up.
Jaxon: He’s chasing the pussies away and I’m not having blue balls for breakfast!
Maverick: Fuck off Jaxon!
These guys are idiots most of the time. Talented as fuck, but idiots nonetheless and I love them to shreds.
Me: Be there in a minute.
Jaxon: You better or I’m sending someone in there to come on you.
Jaxon: I mean for you.
Jaxon: Sorry, get you. (winking emoji)
That actually makes me chuckle. I don’t doubt that any of them would think twice about sending some willing groupie who’s hungry for a fuck. It won’t be the first and definitely won’t be the last. One year ago I would have dared and willingly obliged to do just that, but tonight, I wasn’t interested in getting laid. Call me fucking crazy, but my dick has lost its urge to go for a ride. Yup, I’m dickless.
I was about to head out when a tall busty blond girl blocked my path. Ah, so this must be the one they’ve sent to get me. “Hey!” She said with a breathy voice, twirling a few strands of hair with her fingers. “Jaxon told me to come here, I’m Amanda.” She’s pretty, has big brown eyes, too much make-up on, and I’m sure as hell she had her boobs done. Not that I have anything against that. If a woman is all for changing the way she looks to feel more confident, then who am I to say no? All women are beautiful that’s what my mother always says and I agree with her.
“Is that so...” Her smile widened. I stood there unimpressed looking at her from head to toe, studying her if you may, cocking my head slightly to the side. She then closed the door and pushed me backward until I fell on the couch. She lowered herself onto my lap until she was straddling me then started brushing her fingertips over my pecs and abs. Normally, having a woman this close sends my dick springing to attention, but even though she sat her pussy directly on my crotch I felt nothing and bored as fuck.
“I can make you feel things you’ve never felt before, Sky.” Yeah, not the first time I've heard of that. I also noticed how everyone seems to want to make me feel something and It pisses me off, “Oh, yeah? If you have a condom because I sure as hell don’t then you can just go on with it, otherwise we can call this a night.” That was rude I know and I’m not going to come up with any excuse for being an asshole. She froze for a bit, but quickly gained her composure. She was now slowly leaning in for a kiss and just when our faces were mere inches away the door flew open. Saved by the bell!
Both our heads whipped toward the door. Blondie looking pissed as hell and I looking confused as hell wondering if the guys have actually sent one more girl in here.
