This is a true story! (I wish!) No, all characters are owned by Stephenie Meyer and any resemblance to persons living or dead is in my mind.

Baby You Can Drive My Car

Chapter Six

The FLM's were a fucking inspiration. For a three-piece line up they sure had a big sound, partly because Tyler and the drummer, Riley, were such a solid and distinctive rhythm section. Their guitarist played dizzy, woozy shit that just slid the fuck all over the top of what they did, and then there was Jasper, Fuck-me-deadly. I went out the front to watch and the Sexinator was nothing short of dazzling, with his snakehips, and his raspy, husky voice, and that grin beaming like a lighthouse the whole time. I thought he must have more than the usual allocation of teeth and decided next time I got up close I was going to count them. With my tongue? Down, Bella, Christ! As soon as we were backstage together slugging bourbon, which with any luck would be within the hour, I would surreptitiously check them out. Meanwhile Lauren was standing and grinding in time right along next to me and we still hadn't really had much of a girlie talk but I figured we'd do it tonight in the boy-free sanctuary of our room once we got back after the gig. She and I could drool all we liked, and no-one would know. I was pretty sure she was only just holding the drooling in check, as she didn't take her eyes off Tyler.

When the set finished the audience howled and got the Monsters back out for three encores and Lauren and I stomped and yelled along with the rest of them for the first two, and then wandered to the shared band room.

Gog was nowhere in sight - good job, because he should be off working hard towards our greater success and glory. Earning his fucking keep, in other words.

Mike was in there talking to an actual girl, which had me grimacing with distaste.

"Did you finish that course of antibiotics? Did the rash clear up? What a nasty place to have it, " I said to him snarkily on the way past and he shot me daggers.

Jasper arrived a minute or two later and made straight for me, all skinny legs and tight jeans and tangled hair and his shirt sticking to him. He grabbed a towel and wiped his face, eyes closed, fingers long and thin.

"Bella, girl, get those shots lined up will you, honey?" he drawled. Oh, baby. You're standing there all sweaty and storm-tossed like that and asking me for something? Anything you want, it's all yours.

Our rider asked for beer for the boys and wine for me and Lauren. Our band hadn't gotten to the level of success yet where we dared asked a venue for spirits, but the Monsters were well into that stage. I went to the fridge and found a bottle of Maker's Mark.

"Better still, let's just drink it the time-honored, old-fashioned way," Jasper grinned. "Come and sit down right here," and he patted the chair next to him, holding his other hand up to me.

I sat while he twisted the cap off the bottle and took a mouthful. "God of Bourbon, I salute you," he sighed. "Here you go, babe."

I had lifted it my lips and was just about to take a swig when the bottle made a sudden sideways swoop.

"Huh?" I mumbled, following it with my eyes, and there stood my nemesis Deadwood, holding on to my next, actually my first, swallow of liquid amber, smiling at Jasper with a friendliness that belied the swiftness of his action.

"Bella doesn't share drinks," he said. "Bella has to look after her voice, and that includes not exposing herself to possible throat infections by drinking out of a bottle someone else is drinking from."

The fucking fun-ruiner! Whoever heard of such a bizarre and stupid claim?

"I believe bourbon kills most germs, streptococcus included," Jasper replied, with his easy charm. "But you're quite right. We need to take very good care of Bella's throat. I'll make sure I stick close and see that nothing bad happens."

Apparently the easy charm didn't work on Edward. "Thank you for your concern, Jasper," he said firmly. "But you don't need to stick close to Bella. That's my job. You look after your own throat and leave Bella's to me."

"The fuck what?" I spluttered, but he turned to the others and announced, "I am leaving for the hotel in ten minutes. Be at the van. Or else."

"Or else what?" I began but he'd already left.

"You own personal pitbull. Nice," Jasper grinned and I shook my head, muttering, "Just where exactly does he get off? Fucking ordering us around like a bunch of little kids..."

Jaspinator put his hand on mine. "He's right about your throat though, sweetheart. I should have been thinking. If you damage your voice it's all over for your band. You're the lynchpin. Anything goes wrong with the vocalist, it's end of story for the rest of you, basically. Look how you got onto this tour - the other band had to cancel because the singer wasn't up to it. I won't keep leading you astray like that. Separate glasses from now on."

"Are you colluding in my oppression?" I demanded.

"Is that what you call it? He's pretty high-handed, but he's trying to look out for you. And it is only the second night. We need you to make it all the way to the last night, honey," he said, always smiling, his voice managing to sound suggestive.

"He's not like that with the boys! He's sexist, and he's got it in for me," I complained.

I did actually happen to notice Mike was risking a throat infection right then and there by engaging in a truly horrible tongue dance with the girl he'd brought back to the room. Quick fucking worker. He had all the appeal of a worm-eaten slug so I couldn't see how that had happened, but it was possible she was both desperate and of poor judgement. Edward hadn't said anything to him about hygienic and safe oral practices!

"That ten minutes applies to you too, Newton," I called out to him and he didn't even acknowledge me. It was then I noticed Lauren and Tyler had their heads together, talking quietly. There was a distinct possibility that there was some exchange of inhalation and exhalation going on there as well. How come I was the one getting in fucking trouble when half my band was risking their fucking lives just being too close to other people?

"Are we at the same hotel? I can meet up with you later, Bella. We can discuss care and maintenance of the trachea," Jasper offered, but his band were already stars and we weren't. They were staying somewhere different.

I decided to go and find Lord Fucking Gog. It was a bit labyrinthine backstage but I found him striding out of an office with a sheaf of papers in one hand and looking at his watch. He didn't see me until he was almost on top of me.

"Bel - ?" he said, startled. One more step and we would have been much more closely acquainted.

"I've come to ask you a little question," I said nicely, and he raised one eyebrow and tilted his head, waiting.

"How come we have to leave so early tonight?"

The eyebrow went back down. "It's not early, it's midnight."

"Midnight's early in this game. It's normal to hang around after the show to unwind, you know. Well, you don't know, obviously, since you're new at this, so I'm telling you. The band plays, the band hangs around afterwards to relax. We chat with the other band. It's called bonding. It's very good for morale. You wouldn't want to be responsible for a drop in morale now would you?"

"You've got another ten shows to bond with the FLMs. It doesn't have to be tonight. Accelerated bonding is artificial."

"Oh, really? Well I happen to know you don't have a psychology degree and unless you did some sort of kooky faux minor as part of your journalism communications claptrap that remark is specious. A mother and a newborn baby can bond immediately - you call that artificial?"

"I'm leaving in seven minutes."

Fuck, he was annoying. He deserved a fucking medal for annoyingness. He went to keep walking, stepping carefully so as not to brush against me.

I snapped. "Okay, sergeant major, which admiral made you the fucking boss of me?"

"Carlisle."

"And who pays Carlisle?"

"Carlisle is paid by you to manage your career. He has appointed me to act on his behalf. You are paying me to boss you, as you put it. I call it keeping this show on the road. Six minutes."

I was reduced to having to scuttle after him. "You know about your precious concern for my throat? You want to know what's bad for my throat? Getting mad. I tense up, I get constricted, my muscles spasm, and I start to get hoarse. It's very serious."

"Here's some advice. Don't get mad."

That was it! "Why are you treating me like this? Why do you dislike me so much? What is your fucking issue with me?" I demanded, abreast of him now.

"I don't have an issue with you. I don't dislike you. I've got a job to do."

"It's because I kissed you, isn't it? And then you thought I had something going with Lauren - which I don't! And now you're just being a giant-sized prick and you'd better cut it out or I'm calling your Daddy and getting you taken off this fucking tour because I'm not going to put up with you!" I shouted.

"You're the one with the issue, Bella," he replied, and we were at the back door which led out into the carpark. "You're welcome to call Carlisle. He can't come on the tour himself, as you know, but he can probably manage to find a last minute replacement. He won't thank you for it, though. How about you get over your constant tantrums and childish behavior and act your age for the duration?"

I stood there with my mouth open, gasping at the nerve of him. He wasn't riled up in the slightest, and I was practically busting blood vessels.

"Just because you're so fucking good-looking doesn't give you a license to be an ass-hole!" I spat at him.

To my surprise, he looked taken aback for a split second, and he blinked. Was it because I'd called him good-looking, or ass-hole? Interesting. Once I'd worked out which one had gotten to him, I'd hammer it home. Was it the abuse?

"Fucking creep," I muttered, watching him closely. He didn't bat an eyelid. Ah-ha!

I might just let him stew overnight and then tomorrow I'd try a different approach. Yup.

"So that would be four minutes now, would it?" I asked him. "How about I go and round up the others and tell them Edward the four minute man is waiting? How about that?"

He put a hand up to his hair and pushed through it. "Tell them three and a half," he said.

Okay, had he had a sense of humor bypass, or did he just crack a joke? And did he just take me up on my double entendre at his own expense?

Docile and obliging, I went back to the band room, Edward just behind me.

"Guys and girl, we're heading out! Take the last train to Clarksville!" I sang.

Mike left the girl behind, Lauren left Tyler, Ron and Ben grabbed up all the beer they could carry, and Jasper saluted me with the bourbon bottle.

"See how easy that was?" I purred to Deadwood. "It's all in the delivery. No-one resists when you're pleasant about it."

"Thank you so much," he returned. "I'll bear that in mind."

In the van I was next to Lauren and I lowered my voice as the boys passed out beer. Not to Edward, of course.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, in an undertone.

They started singing one of the Monsters songs, and I would have joined in, ordinarily, but there was important business at hand.

"Yeah, pretty much, sort of," she replied, not sounding too positive.

"You need to fill me in on one or two things, madam," I said to her darkly.

She let out a snort.

"So do you, missy," she said. "Apparently a couple of people are showing a great deal of interest in your mouth."

Considering what had happened in the band room, apparently, she was quite right. We really needed to have a little girl-to-girl chat.

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Take the last train to Clarksville by the Monkees