Big Girl Backstage Pass (Rock Star BBW Erotic Romance) (2 page)

“This looks way too tight,” Shannon said.

“Just try it,” Jason called through the door. “It can’t be worse than the hot dog dress.”

Shannon pulled the dress over her head. To her surprise, the fabric was clingy but not pinching at her hips. She examined herself in the mirror. Not bad.

“Well? How does it look?”

Shannon opened the dressing room door and Jason gasped.

“Oh. My. God.”

“It looks okay, right?” Shannon tugged at the hem. “I think it’s a bit short.”

“It’s
perfect
. Come here, look in the full-length mirror.”

Shannon let herself be tugged over to the mirror, and she was surprised at what she saw. The dressing room light hadn’t illuminated the dress well from above, and now when she moved she saw that the fabric had a slight metallic sheen that sparkled in the light. The neckline was draped, scooping just low enough to show a hint of cleavage, and the fabric was ruched just above the waist at the right side.

Turning around, Shannon saw that the satiny fabric flowed over her curvy hips and pulled inwards, creating a nice hourglass silhouette. She had to admit, it fit her well.

“You look stunning,” Jason said.

“I don’t know if I would go that far.”

“Stunning,” Jason insisted. “We’re getting it.”

“Okay,” Shannon said. “I like it.”

“I love it,” Jason said. “And you know what else I love?”

“What?”

“Shoe shopping. Get dressed and let’s go find something that will match.”

“Okay,” Shannon said. Jason picked up the unwearable dresses in his arms and walked out. Shannon went toward the dressing room, then paused and turned back to the mirror.

The dress
did
look stunning. She only hoped Alex Wilder thought so, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

 

 

 

Julian Bremmer sat at the end of the bar, trying to avoid eye contact with any of the girls who kept checking him out. They had to know that he was from
Wilder Side
, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was sign another autograph or get hit on by some scrawny bleached-blond type who only wanted him because he was famous. He raised two fingers and the bartender splashed another shot of bourbon into his glass.

Was this his sixth or seventh drink? Julian had forgotten to keep track, but the haze that was settling around him nicely made him think that it was probably more than he remembered.
Call it six.
It was the morning after their last tour stop in San Francisco, and they had slept on the tour bus all night while the Jim drove them down into Los Angeles.

Only a few more shows
, Julian thought.
And then what?

Everything seemed muted, dull. The whole world swirled around him, pouring money into his lap while he tried to make sense of it all. Fame had come upon him suddenly, and he didn’t feel like he deserved it. Someone else should have become the lead guitarist for
Wilder Side
. Someone with more talent than him, someone who would actually appreciate the finer things in life and wanted to fuck all of the young skinny groupies that flung themselves at him after the shows. Someone who didn’t have clouds hanging over his head all the damn day.

Music was the only thing that drove away the clouds nowadays. Well, music and alcohol.

He looked down at his glass, but it was empty. He hadn’t even tasted the liquor. He waved at the bartender again.

“You think you should slow down a little?”

Julian threw a hundred dollar bill on the bar and pointed at his glass. The bartender raised his eyebrows, but didn’t protest. He took the bill and poured the bourbon, and Julian settled down on his stool, his head bent over the glass. He took a breath and tried to remember the last time he had felt something.

A hand clapped on his back and he steeled his face into a smile, thinking it must be a fan. But when he turned to look, it was just Alex.

“It’s eleven o’clock in the morning,” Alex said, frowning at Julian’s breath. “You’re a drunk.”

“And you’re a hack,” Julian retorted. “Go write another song about losing love or finding love or whatever it is we’re doing songs about now.”

Alex grinned.

“Good enough to get us on the main stage at Rock City,” he said. “What is this, your third drink already?”

“Something like that,” Julian said. “What’s it to you?”

“Listen, man. I needed to talk to you. Pat’s worried that you’re drinking too much. We’re all worried.”

“What is this, an intervention?” Julian was vaguely aware that he was slurring his words, but he didn’t care. “Fuck you.”

Alex’s grin evaporated as suddenly as it had come.

“No, fuck
you
. We need to get the sound stuff done, we need to get everything worked out-”

“Daniel always takes fucking forever to set up his amp. It doesn’t matter if I’m late.”

“It matters to me. Rock City is a big stage. This is a
big
break.”

“Um, hello?” Julian gestured at the girls who had clustered together at the door. They were
all staring at Julian and Alex. “We have too many fans already. I’m chasing them away with sticks. We’ve
had
our big break. We’re rolling in it. What more do you want?”

“I can’t believe you’re just throwing this away. We could be HUGE. We could be, like, the next Beatles.”

“Can we skip the Beatles pop rock shit and get to the good stuff, then?”

Alex rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’m trying to do the best with what we have to work with. But there’s so much shit I’m having to deal with right now.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like the last gig in San Diego is all fucked up because Cheap Trix decided they want to play at the same venue as us and the guy is trying to decided who should open for who.”

“Let Pat deal with it, he’s the manager.” The full import of Alex’s words didn’t hit Julian for another beat, and then he was furious.

“Wait, what? Cheap Trix? That girl rock bullshit? What the fuck?”

“I know,” Alex said. “That’s why I’ve been off talking with people on the phone trying to work this shit out.”

“I’m not opening for Cheap Trix,” Julian said, shaking his head angrily. He leaned back on the stool and had to catch himself on the edge of the bar before falling. Dizziness swept over him. Maybe he
had
been drinking too much. Alex didn’t seem to notice, though - he was off in his own world.

“It’s a crossover audience, man,” Alex said. “I don’t mind them playing the same stage. But they should be opening for
us
.”

“Fuck girls.” Julian gulped the last of his drink. “Fuck ‘em. And not in the good way.”

Alex got an odd look on his face, and not for the first time Julian wondered if he was gay. The lead singer had always had tons of girls milling around him after shows, but he never had a girlfriend. Sure, he might have been one hundred percent obsessed with music instead, or maybe he was a straight-edge morality guy, but no, Julian didn’t think so. Julian was pretty sure he just wasn’t interested.

Whatever. It wasn’t his life, and it wasn’t his problem. He had other issues to deal with. Like the fact that his glass was empty.

Alex’s voice was still going, and Julian tuned back in.

“And we’ve got to find a new sound guy and driver, because Jim is quitting, and we need a graphics person and a tour photographer and get the new recording mixed.”

“I thought it was already mixed.”

“Asher didn’t finish his recording until yesterday.”

“What? Why not? We’ve been done with that for days.”

“His girlfriend was fighting with him on the phone until like 1am the night we recorded.”

Julian rolled his eyes.

“Like I said, fuck girls.”

The girls by the door had gotten up the nerve to approach them, and they were within hearing distance. Two of them tittered nervously at Julian’s comment.

“Um, hey, are you guys from
Wilder Side
?” The blond girl in a miniskirt and furry boots cocked her head, flashing a broad smile at them. Alex smiled back but Julian just looked down balefully at his empty glass.

“Sure am. Can I sign an autograph?”

“Oh my god, you’re Alex Wilder!” One of the other girls flipped out. “I can’t believe it’s really you!” She pulled out a cell phone and started taking picture after picture. Alex dutifully signed autographs, and the last girl pulled up her shirt to have him sign her boobs. He blinked hard and carefully wrote his name across the generous cleavage. Julian imagined that he could see the singer shudder.

“You’re the guitar player, right?” the girl with the boobs asked Julian.
Ah, shit.
“Would you autograph me, too?”

Julian stood up a bit shakily, pushing another bill across the bar.

“Sorry, I’m not allowed to write on flesh before noon. It’s a Lutheran thing.” He pulled Alex’s arm roughly away from the cluster of girls. “We’ve got to do a sound check, anyways.”

“Thanks for listening, ladies,” Alex said, waving as he was dragged away. “Make sure you check out our new album.”

“It’s a Lutheran thing?” Alex said accusingly when they were out on the street. Julian shrugged.

“It might be. Anyway, you wanted me to stop drinking and look.” He spread his hands out innocently. “No more drinking.”

“You don’t have to be so rude to our fans,” Alex said.

“I don’t give a shit about our fans,” Julian said. “I just want to blot everything out until the music starts, okay?”

“Look, I get it,” Alex started to say.

“No, you don’t.” Julian frowned, unsure of how to explain the depression that had blackened all of their tour. The halo of liquor was already starting to wear off now that they were
out of the bar. The sun seemed entirely too bright in the sky. “You don’t get it.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t get it either,” Alex said. He looked down at the ground and they walked side by side in silence.

Maybe I don’t get it,
Julian thought
. But at least I know what my demons are.

It had always seemed to him that everybody else around him walked on air, but maybe it wasn’t so simple. It struck him that he might have just been overlooking the hurt that each person carried inside. You couldn’t see hurt, after all. A man who looked liked he owned the world might have a crack running through his heart, deep and black and invisible, and Julian would never know. Maybe Alex was one of them.

Surprisingly, this didn’t make him feel worse. Instead, he felt the loneliness lift off of his shoulders, as though the shared burden of invisible pain had given him a new circle of friends, even if he didn’t know who they were. He put one arm around Alex’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry man,” he said. “I’m gonna try to do better, I promise. I
am
trying.”

Alex’s eyes lifted, and a small smile brightened his face.

“Thanks, Julian,” he said. “I appreciate it, I really do.”

“Sure thing,” Julian said, smiling back even though it hurt. “Now let’s go be rock stars.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER
THREE

 

 

 

 

 

They were in the concert hall and Shannon thought she just might die of excitement. The security guards saw their backstage passes and waved them through the first barrier. They had made it all the way up to the front of the stage, fielding nasty looks from some of the other fans. Finally the lights went down and Shannon held her breath. It was incredible that they were about to see Alex Wilder himself.

Shannon screamed along with the rest of the fans when Alex came on stage, but her attention was strangely drawn to the other members of the band. Now that she was actually seeing
them play, she was fascinated by how all of the different musicians worked together. The energy that came off of them was palpable. She wished that she had been able to bring her camera to the show, but photography wasn’t allowed.

Except for cell phones, Shannon thought, rolling her eyes at the crowd of fans waving their phones in the air to take pictures. She would rather not have photos at all than have stupid crappy photos. ARGH. If only she had her camera! She didn’t think of herself as a photography snob – a Canon 60D wasn’t much to be snobby about – but damn if she didn’t hate the latest trend of blurry sepia-filtered cell phone pictures being posted all over her social networking sites.

The closest band member was the lead guitarist, Julian Bremmer. Shannon didn’t know much about him, but as she watched him play she was mesmerized by how his fingers flew along the strings, dancing to the rest of the music. Alex Wilder was walking around the stage, feeding off of the crowd’s energy. Julian, on the other hand, seemed to be focused entirely on his guitar and the music. His head was bent over the strings, his loosely cropped dark hair falling just over his forehead. It would make a great portrait study, Shannon thought.

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