The Rock Star

Aedin Stray, real name Cary Lowdermilk, the lead singer of the world hottest band of the moment Injustice, leaned back in the leather lounger, shirtless, eyes closed, arms draped over the armrests of the recliner in his dressing room, a half emptied bottle of Kentucky bourbon clutched by the neck by the ring laden fingers of his left hand. His full sleeve arm tattoos, splashes of color from backs of his hands all the way up to his neck, the world “Blissful” in an old English font arced above his navel. Both nipples pierced.

There was a staccato knock on the door, loud, insistent.

“Fuck off!” Aedin yelled without bothering to open his eyes.

The door pushed open, Brian Thompson, the band’s long time manager poked his head around the corner, “Jesus Christ Aedin, you go on in less than two fucking minutes and you’re already bloody tight!” he said harshly, eyeballing the whiskey bottle.

Aedin growled, leaning forward he threw the whiskey bottle at Brian, but hit door, smashing the bottle into a shower of glass and amber liquid as Brian hastily ducked behind the door.

“Fuck!” Aedin yelled loudly, almost a primal scream.

The door opened wider. Brian looked in again, “Get your ass up there!” he said, pointing out the door.

Peeling himself out of the chair, Aedin ambled toward the door, glaring at Brian as he passed into the corridor beyond.

“He’s coming up, kick it off,” Brian said into his two way radio.

“Copy that,” crackled a reply.

Aedin could hear the first licks for the show opener peeling out over the noise of the crowd in the stadium as he walked down the tunnel toward the back of the stage.

“Where the fuck are we?” he asked, looking over to Brian.

“Baton Rouge, Tiger Stadium,” replied the band manager.

Climbing the stairs, Aedin was assaulted by waves of adulation, a physical palpable force as tens of thousands screamed when he suddenly appeared onstage. Moving across the back of the stage, in full view of the screaming horde of frenzied fans, he came to stand directly between the legs of a twenty foot tall statue of the goddess Themis, except this version was scantily clad in a studded black leather bra barely containing oversized rounded breasts and ultra skimpy panties. Standing defiantly challenging, legs wide apart, she was built like hyper sexualized goddess. Her left arm extend up and out, a set of scales clutched in her left hand. In her right hand, she held a sword, resting over her right shoulder, a blindfold across her eyes. Aedin reached up with both hands placing them on her inner thighs, and leered out at the audience, before moving forward and pumping his arms in the air, revving the crowd as crossed the stage to the mic stand to grab the mic stand.

“Hello Baton Rouge, do you want to get down and dirty tonight?” he screamed, holding the mic close to his face with both hands.

The already raucous crowd went insane, a deafening roar drowning out the guitar.

“I can’t hear you, I said, who wants to get DIRTY!”

Even louder than before, a blanket of raw noise and energy shook the stadium.

“Then let’s set this fucking night on fire!” He screamed. Turning, he looked over at the lead guitarist, Edwin Vogel, the Wizard, Eddie to those who knew him before he became ultra famous, and started nodding his head in tune with music, he closed his eyes and cut his god given voice loose on the swirling mass of humanity in front of him.

“Your pretty smile, girl how you beguile, so innocent and sweet, I’m at your feet, nowhere to run, ain’t got no retreat.“

So practiced and routinized, the words rolled off his tongue through the sound system and out over the concert goers. Laser lights danced around, in synchronicity with the pyrotechnics as pair after pair of black feminine underpants rained down from the crowd near him. Catching a lacey pair of black panties out of midair, he made a show of bringing to his face before stuffing them down the front of his black leather pants and launching into the chorus.

 “You’re the devil’s daughter dressed all in lace, going to take all I got, I can’t win this race, I’m on my knees there’s no disgrace. You’ve got black panties and an angel’s face.”

The show passed by like a blur, a dream, like so many shows before, an endless string of performances, he knew they were somewhere in the States, but he couldn’t remember which, let alone the city they were in. When the end arrived, he was spent, sweat pouring off his slender body. Walking off the stage, the roar of the crowd seemed so far away, “Encore! Encore!” they screamed.

Mopping his sodden brow, a smile curled at the corner of his mouth, he stepped back out on stage for another four songs to close out the show. Walking off stage, someone draped a towel over his head and shoulders as he was guided down the stairs by hands belonging to unseen faces.

Back in the dressing room, the shattered glass and whiskey cleaned up, fresh new bottle on the table beside the tray of candied fruit. Flipping the tray off the table, he grabbed the whiskey and collapsed back into his recliner, the leather cold against his sweaty skin.

A banging on the door, snapped him back to the moment, a roadie popped his face in. What’s his name? David? Daryl? Derwood? Whatever, it was the guy he got weed from. “Hey Aedin, couple of, um fans, here to see you,” he said.

Aedin didn’t reply.

Two young women trotted into the room. The first, a girl with long electric neon blue colored hair in a too short form fitting black dress and high heels. Big tits, pretty face. The belt around her waist looked like gold loops encircling her. She held her hands to her face, bright red lips parted into a big smile. The other girl had shorter blond hair and wore an Injustice t-shirt with the sleeves removed and strategic holes cut into the rest of the shirt. Neither of them looked old enough to drink.

“I can’t believe you’re Aedin Stray,” said the blue haired girl, voice high pitched and manic with excitement.

He smiled weakly and nodded, “In the flesh,” he said, voice raspy as it usually was after a show, lifting his unopened bottle in salute.

“Can I take a picture with you?” asked the little blonde, moving closer, fumbling to get out her phone.

”Whatever,” he said. She leaned in beside him, fingers moving over his leanly muscled chest, clicking off a number of shots, the other girl dropped to the other side of the recliner, leaning her face in beside Aedin’s for a couple of pics before turning to kiss him on the side of his face and blindly snapping a few more shots.

Pushing them both back, he leaned forward in the recliner and climbed unsteadily to his feet taking a few steps forward before turning.

“You know, we could both stay,” said blonde girl from behind him, tone hopeful, big eyes full of dusky promise.

He turned and frowned, trying to clear the veil from his eyes. The blue haired girl dropped to her knees directly in front of him, hands fumbling with his belt.

He looked down a second then moved back, “Don’t you even care?” he asked, pulling the bottle to his lips and taking a swig.

“Of course I care, I love you Aedin,” she said, moving forward, hands back at his belt.

He pushed her hands away, “Get the fuck out of here!” he yelled, turning away, belt buckle and pants hanging open. “Derwood! Get these fucking chicks out of here!” he hollered.

The door opened, the roadie came in “Dylan,” he said to Aedin. Looking at the girls, “Okay ladies, you heard the man, time to go.”

The blue haired girl stuck her lower lip out, “But,” she protested.

“I think Eddie is taking visitors,” he said, hustling the girls out of the room. Pausing at the door, “Sorry man, I just thought, you know,” he said closing the door behind him.

Aedin staggered toward the couch and collapsed into it. Unscrewing the cap on the bottle, he tilted it up and savored the burning sting of the alcohol as it passed over his tongue and down his throat. Closing his eyes, he massaged them with his free hand.

There was a light rapping on the door.

“What!” he bellowed

“Brian asked me to tell you the car is here to take you to the hotel,” said Karli, Brian’s assistant, in a soft voice. She was neatly attired in a light grey skirt and matching jacket, white blouse, black shoes. Her brown hair was up and she wore black framed glasses which seemed to magnify her powder blue eyes. At 5’4” she commanded a much larger presence, especially when she was angry.

He pulled his hand away from his eyes and smiled at her, not only was she incredibly cute, she was genuine, a rare commodity in the world he inhabited. “You know he sent you to tell me because the last time I almost pegged him with a whiskey bottle,” he said, half smirk on his face.

She chuckled, but didn’t move.

“I’ll be right there,” he said, sitting forward, making a sticky noise as his naked flesh pulled away from the leather.

“He instructed me to escort you to the car,” she replied, a slight frown on her pretty face.

He shook his head. Setting the whiskey bottle down on the ground, he pushed himself to standing, “Where are we playing tomorrow?” he asked.

“Travel day tomorrow with the contest winners, then back to back shows in New Orleans,” she replied, not needing to consult the clipboard she carried in her left hand.

“The Big Easy,” he said, nodding. The thought of Bourbon Street bringing a smile to his face.

She smiled as he grabbed a t-shirt off the table and pulled it over his head, struggling a bit to get it down over his sweaty torso.

“How are you doing?” she asked, knowing engaging in personal questions was contrary to Brian’s client management policy, but seeing how worn and ragged Aedin seemed, she didn’t care.

He smiled half-heartedly, “Tired,” he said.

“Five more shows and this tour will be in the books,” she said, flashing him a big smile.

“Including the two in New Orleans?” he asked.

“Five after those two,” she replied.

He nodded. Walking with Karli, he made his way to the rear of the stadium where the limousine was waiting. Crawling inside, she followed him in.

Charlie Kelley, the band’s drummer was already inside the limo, seated near where the vanity screen between the driver and passenger compartment would come up.

“Hey Karli,” he said when the assistant manager climbed into the car, giving her a smile and a wink.

She smiled and nodded, straightening her skirt, “Charlie,” she replied, nodding politely.

“Aedin, me and Pete”, Peter McCrary, the band’s bassist, “Are planning on going on a gator hunt before the show day after tomorrow, you want to come?” he asked.

Aedin frowned, “Not my thing,” he said, massaging his temples.

Charlie laughed, “Going to blast me a new pair of boots,” he said, raising his arms up like he was actually holding a shotgun and taking aim, before jerking back like he had just fired a shot. “Blam!”

The car started pulling away, the lights passing by faster until the car was out and away from the stadium.

Aedin looked around the inside of limo for booze, finding none, he frowned.

“You need to dry out some for tomorrow,” she said.

Aedin laughed, “You my babysitter now?”

She half smiled, “Do you need a babysitter?” she asked, pushing the glasses back up her nose.

“Good point,” he said, leaning back and closing his eyes.

Back at the hotel, safely up to his room, Aedin jumped in the shower. Usually he liked to shower at the stadium before coming back to the room, but he’d been getting lazy over the last couple of venues. Crawling into the king sized bed, slumber came quickly.