Conviction(5)

In the ten or so steps it took for my brother to reach us, the pain ripped through me. I was confused at first, I didn’t know what had hit me. My breath and my step faltered as I walked toward my brother. The sharp pain eased, leaving me with a dull ache, down low in my belly.

“Where are you girls off to?” my brother asked.

I opened my mouth to answer and the pain hit again, this time much worse than before. My legs went from under me, spots appeared in front of my eyes and everything went black.





Conner



I stand on the edge of the stage, eyes closed, arms raised, caught in the draft of the giant fans sitting in the wings, my hair lifts off my neck and it feels good, so f*cking good. I count the beats to the final drum roll of our last song for the night... for the tour in fact and wait for the roar of the crowd as I pull my earpiece out. I open my eyes and look out across the sea of faces, arms waving in the air as Jet throws his arm over my shoulder and kisses my cheek. He’s wearing a white feather boa around his neck, black leather jeans and he’s shirtless and barefoot. Gunner Vance and Dom Trip, our drummer and bass guitarist join us front and centre of the stage and we all take a bow.

We’re done. Eighteen months on the road is finally over. I’m going straight back to England tomorrow and I won’t have to look at the ugly f*cking faces of my other three bandmates until sometime next year. Well, I’ll probably see Gunner at some stage as we live not far from each other, but the other two are crazy Americans and unless we have any public appearances scheduled, then naaa, I’m done travelling for a while. I’m heading home, home to England, my house, my dogs, brothers, nieces and nephews and I can’t f*cking wait.

A pair of knickers land at my feet as a girl screams, “Reed, take me home, take me home and f*ck me.” I bend my knees and shield my eyes from the house lights that are starting to come on so I can get a better look at her.

Jet leans down and says in my ear, “Get her up here, just in case the rest don’t show, man.”

I look up at him. “Can you see her? What’s she look like?”

He shakes his head and winks at me. “I don’t give a f*ck. She has holes, at least three that are of interest to me, get her up here and let’s get back to the room to play.”

I tap the security bloke on the shoulder and point to the girl that screamed out to be f*cked. I’m not sure if they’re her knickers Dom now has on his head or not, but I’m sure it’s not gonna be long till we find out. The giant security guard lifts the girl up over the barriers and onto the stage. She turns around to the crowd and punches the air, earning herself a massive cheer and a few boos. Jet hooks his arm over her shoulder and steers her off stage while we all follow.

No nonsense tonight, no backstage meet and greets, no fake smiles, just straight in the cars and back to the hotel to play. Gunner and Dom are both married and their wives are backstage waiting for them as we head toward the corridor. There are people hanging about everywhere and as a beer gets shoved into my hand, I pause for a second and take a few swigs.

“Mr. Reed, sorry to trouble you sir, but I wanted to give you these and wondered if you’d just take a look at them?” I lift up my sunglasses and look at the bloke standing next to me, he’s more of a kid than a bloke, eighteen, nineteen at most. He has a few sheets of paper rolled up in his hand and he’s holding them out to me.

“What are they?” I ask, gesturing with my chin at the paper.

“They’re songs, sir. Songs that I’ve written. I’ve put my email address and cell number on the bottom. I just thought, well...” He blushes and looks down at the floor. “I’m good. What I write is good f*cking shit and I just need a break. I just need someone to listen.”

Fuck, I might be a prick a lot of the time but I’m not a complete arsehole, especially when it comes to kids that need a break. That was me once, all I needed was a break and Jet happened to come along and hand it to me on a plate, after he’d tried unsuccessfully to get me to suck him off that is. But once we established that wasn’t going to happen, he invited me to join the band anyway, and the rest, as they say... is f*cking history.

“What’s your name, mate?” I ask.

“Mitch, Mitchell White. It’s all on there.”

I give him a wink. “Okay, Mitch Mitchell White It’s All On There. I’ll take these back to England with me and I’ll have a look at them. If there’s anything I see with potential, I’ll be in touch. How’s that sound?”

His eyes widen. “Seriously, you’re not just f*cking with me?”

Jet appears at the kid’s side and runs his hand over his chest. “Ohhh, pretty new toys. For me?”

“Fuck off Harrison, your toys are waiting back at the hotel.”

He folds his arms across his chest and pouts like the diva he is. I hold my hand out for the song sheets and the kid passes them to me. “Now f*ck off out of here kid. There’s nothing but freaky weirdo’s hanging around backstage after our shows, and you’re best staying well away from any of them.” He nods and is gone in seconds. I turn Jet around and push him toward the exit and our limo that’s waiting to take us back to the hotel with the lovely Lara, who we pulled out of the crowd earlier, already naked and sitting with her legs open on the back seat.

We climb in, close the doors, open the central console and find what we’re looking for. A bottle of vodka and a nice big bag of Charlie, with six nice neat lines all ready for us on a little mirrored silver platter.