Jamie ext 461
I smoothed down the frayed hem of my cutoff shorts, letting my fingers linger on the tattered band patch sewn onto them. Another city, another arena, another high that pulsed through me like the bass line thrumming through the floor. I wasn’t some starry-eyed fan at the barricade; I was part of the chaos, an honorary member of the circus.
My life was a blur of tour buses, grimy green rooms, and the fleeting intimacy of late-night hotel rooms. Some girls want the ring, the white picket fence. Me? I want the next gig, the next scream from the crowd, the next chance to lose myself in the primal rhythm of a live show.
the tattered band patch
I’m a call girl, but they called me a groupie, yeah, and sometimes a whore. I had my ways of making sure I always had a pass to the after-party, and enough cash to keep the wheels turning. My independence was my own brand of anarchy, and I preferred to be the one calling the shots, even if those shots were just making sure I was always where the drummer was. lol It wasn’t about love. It was never about love.
I knew their pre-show rituals and their post-show crashes, I knew which ones preferred a stiff drink, which ones just wanted silence, and which ones wanted me to worship their cocks and make them feel like a god. I was their temporary muse, their fleeting distraction, literally anything they wanted…But I came with a price.
Tonight, it was The Hellions. I’d been with them for three weeks now, riding the wave from Denver to Chicago. Their lead guitarist, Jake, winked at me just before they walked out. He knew. They all did. I wasn’t searching for forever; I was only there to show their cocks a good time.
Jamie ext 461
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