We'd driven to Kerry's mansion and sat outside in the circular driveway, both of us staring at the geometric-styled house with more windows for walls than plaster. I tried with everything in me not to think about the pseudoendotrizine pill I shoved in my pocket at the last second. One thought, and Johnny would catch on, and try to talk me out of it. But it'd be better this way, and he deserved the real opportunity to talk to one of his oldest friends.
"Well, V, you ready?" Johnny patted his leather-clad thighs in the passenger seat beside me and slid off his Aviators.
I wrung my hands over my knees. "Yeah. Let's delta."
After Johnny glitched from the car to just outside of it, I stuck my hand in my pocket as I exited, lifting my palm to my mouth.
"V, what the hell are you—"
Before he had a chance to take control of my arm and make me toss the pill to the ground, I gulped it down, relinquishing full control before he got to finish his fucking sentence.
When I appeared back in my body, my head felt like a metal spike was lodged in it, my vision going in and out of focus. I groaned and sat up, holding the side of my skull with my palm.
"Thank Christ. Are you out of your fucking mind, Val?" Johnny crouched in front of me, his face inches from mine.
His words sounded muffled, but I still managed to make them out. "What—what happened?"
"You almost flatlined pullin' that 'lil stunt. Why the fuck did you do that? Had to drive us back, drag your ass upstairs to the apartment, and all the while, you still weren't comin' to." He waved a hand in front of my face, trying to make me focus on it. "Not to mention your nose was bleedin' like a goddamned geyser. Had to stick a pussy plug up it to get it to stop."
"It had to be you, Johnny. Kerry would've never bought it. Fuck, may have even shot my ass for makin' such a claim and breaking into his house." I rubbed the back of my neck.
Johnny shook his head and opened my eyes for me, turning my chin to look at him with the partial control he had. "You don't give 'im enough credit. I would've told you what to say. Would he've call it bullshit at first? Yeah. But there are plenty'ah things only the two of us know."
"Did the conversation 'least go good?"
Johnny sighed and sunk to his knees in front of me, his hand lifting to part hair from my forehead. "Yeah. Real good. Even into your one last gig idea. Nance is settin' it up as we speak."
"See? One last round of the red stuff and you'll be good to go." A weak smile crept over my lips.
"Fuck. No." Johnny's jaw squared off.
I tossed him a glare. "Excuse me?"
"You take any more of those damn pills, Val. And it's over. I felt it. Flushed that shit down the toilet." He frowned—an authentic look of dismay. "And if you try to get more from Misty? I'll fucking stop you."
My glare deepened. "You promised me you'd never take full control."
"I did. And I still hold to that promise. But not if you're gonna try to commit suicide when we've come this far."
Sighing, I leaned back on my elbows, not having the energy to even sit up straight. "You said it yourself, Samurai is nothin' without you. How the hell they gonna do a concert?"
"Oh, I'll be there." He pointed at me.
I pointed at myself. "Me? Oh, no. No, no, no." Sweeping off my elbows, I let my back collapse to the floor. "I'm not that good, Johnny."
His body appeared over mine, forearms caging me on each side of my head. "You're good enough. And I'll take over the solo. This was your idea, Val. Already told Kerry you'd be fillin' in for me and to not give you a hard time so, you're fuckin' welcome."
I shook my head, sinuses burning. "Anyone who shows up is gonna know Samurai."
"Don't you?" He raised a dark brow, his long hair falling like chaos over his gaze. "You said I deserved the chance for one last gig. Well, you deserve the chance for a gig. Y'know, you've always wanted to play on a stage—with a band. And this'll be with one of your faves."
"I—I don't know what to say."
He lowered his face, and I could feel his nose brushing mine. "Don't have to say a fuckin' thing. Just promise me you'll play your damndest because it's my name on the line."
He didn't let me answer one way or the other, swallowing my words away with his lips pressed to mine, his hardening cock digging into my stomach.
The next day Nance contacted us to let us know everything'd been set up, and the concert set for that evening at Red Dirt Bar. Butterflies immediately erupted in my stomach despite knowing I wouldn't be alone and Johnny wouldn't let me make an ass of myself because it was just as important for him as it was for me.
With Johnny's permission, I cut the bottom of his old Samurai tank to expose my midriff and make it more feminine. And after throwing on a pair of dingy brown leather pants and cowboy boots, we headed to the venue. I'd gotten so nauseous I ducked into the bathroom to get my shit together as soon as we passed the entrance doors.
Taking deep breaths, I willed my heartbeat to slow and pressed my hands on the sink's edges, staring at my reflection in the dirty mirror. "You there—Johnny?" The question came out meager, my voice cracking.
His body appeared as an overlay with mine at first, our forms seeming one, glitching until he appeared beside me. "Always, Val."
"I don't know if I can do this." My light purple eyes stared back at me, new burdens, hardships, and failures reflecting in them.
Johnny's hands slipped over my bare, tanned shoulders, massaging them. "You can. And you will. Can't go lettin' 'em down now after they went through all this trouble."
Right. How selfish of me.
"Let's motor," Johnny encouraged, squeezing my arm and staring down my reflection in the mirror until I moved for the exit.
"There you are," Kerry bellowed, motioning me over to a table where Nancy, the keyboardist, Denny, the drummer, and a guy I didn't recognize stood. "Come 'ere."
Looping my thumbs through belt loops, I rolled my shoulders back, puffed my chest, and walked over.
"This the one you were talkin' 'bout? The one you swear can play like Johnny?" Denny pointed at me with a skeptical smirk, the unruly ringlets of her dark hair shifting as she moved her head between Kerry and me.
"Yeah. Got a problem?" Kerry cut her a glare.
It was odd the way Kerry acted around me. It'd technically been the first time we'd met, but at the same time, and it had to be Johnny's memories, I felt like I'd known him for years.
Denny shook her head and held up her open palms. "Nope." She leaned on the table and looked at me. "I hope you're as good as he says you are, sweetheart, 'cause we got a full house who came here to see Samurai. Not some cheap knockoff."
Did she just call me cheap?
Johnny glitched behind Denny, shaking his head. "She's always been a spitfire. Don't take it personally. Got every right to be skeptical. Once she hears those first notes from you, she'll come 'round."
"I'll be sure not to disappoint you, then." Lifting my chin, I folded my arms with a confident smile. "Where's—Henry?"
Kerry and Nancy's eyes widened while Kerry tried not so discreetly to wave his hands at me to shut up.
Denny glared and pushed from her chair to stand. "Henry can eat shit and die. Poured liquid cement into my damn pool just last week, the fucking asshole. Told Nance when she called if he'd be here, they could forget about me."
Johnny leaned on a nearby table, lighting up a cigarette. "Those two—always goin' at it. Some things never fuckin' change."
I cleared my throat and bounced on my heels. "Sorry I asked."
"This here is Drausin from Cutthroat." Kerry patted the back of the tall man with a silver mohawk's back. "Gonna be fillin' in on bass."
Drausin slipped his hands behind his back. "Hey, Big Fan, huge fan. You too? Got all their albums, I mean, I never dreamed I'd—"
"Well, I'll be damned." Johnny chuckled from the sidelines.
"Chill, choom. She's in the same boat as you." Kerry leaned an arm on the table, his black leather studded vest shifting to one side. "Wanna talk to a star? Talk to me. And get that shakin' under control."
Johnny rolled his eyes and hitched a knee. "Oh, brother."
"Think my shakes're the same or worse," Kerry mumbled, looking away from the group, his gaze peeking from over his shades.
Uh-huh. Think ya spoke too soon, Johnny. Seems Kerry has just as much a façade as you do.
A small smile formed on Johnny's lips, and he appeared beside me, pointing at the guitar lying in the open case on the table. "Cut the shit, and pick it up."
I gulped, staring at the instrument, recognizing it immediately. "Is this—" My hands hovered over the strings.
"Yup. Axe used to belong to Johnny," Nancy said with a smile. "Try 'er out."
Hesitation coiled in my gut, and Johnny's touch trailed my exposed stomach, his lips pressing to my ear. "Go on, Val. Ain't like you never stroked somethin' of mine before."
As I picked it up, the weight of it felt perfect in my hands, and when I ran my fingers over the strings—damn near orgasmic.
I could do this. Johnny'd be with me every step of the way.
Giving a curt nod, I threw the strap over my head. "Let's do this."
We'd moved onto the stage and a lump formed in my throat, breaths quickening.
Johnny whispered into my ear, "Don't forget to tune it, princess."
Right.
After strumming a few notes, turning the pegs on the headstock until they sounded right, and Johnny guiding me when I'd been off twice, I nodded at Kerry, who stood front and center, his hand resting on the mic stand.
"Signal Denny when you're ready to go," Johnny said.
He could've done it on his own—could've made me move my hand, but the fact he gave verbal cues instead had my insides twisting into pleasuring knots.
I pointed at Denny, and she started the beat.
Fuck. They never told me what song we were playing.
Johnny's chrome arm appeared interlaced with mine for a fraction of a second as he started the opening riff for me.
A Like Supreme.
"Got it, babe?" Johnny asked, only relinquishing control when I nodded.
Kerry sang, and my fingers flew over the strings, the notes of the song coming back to me like a suppressed memory. It'd been a decade or more since I'd played the music in my bedroom, but between my own recalling and Johnny's expert memories, I played that damn song like I owned it. The crowd already started to cheer, whoop, and bounce. Adrenaline spiked through my system, and I couldn't stop the dopey smile forming on my lips.
"How does it feel to be a rock star?" Johnny whispered against my neck, his hands resting on my hips.
It was all I could do not to sink into him.
Everything I thought it'd be and more.
And I did want more of it. But would probably never get the chance. It was now or never. I began to sway my hips, moving within a squared portion of my area on stage, smiling and winking at Kerry as he looked over me—surprised.
Johnny glitched between us, his brow raised. "Back-up vocal comin'."
Slinking to the mic stand in front of me, I continued to play, and when Kerry reached that portion of the chorus, I sang, "Kill it all for a like supreme," harmonizing with him.
Johnny slid his Aviators from his nose, staring at me dumbfounded, and I grinned at him.
The looping note started, and I repeatedly threw my fist in the air over the crowd to the beat, counting in the song's bridge and flashing devil horns once it hit.
Ready for that solo?
"You mean that sick solo?" Johnny smiled against my cheek from behind before his body transferred into me, his chrome arm overlaying mine again.
He propped my left knee on the amp in front of us, resting the guitar's body against my hip, and played a solo that had the crowd going batshit crazy.
After finishing, he pulled from my body, making me gasp. "Bring it home, Val."
Kerry started a one-person mosh pit on stage as he stepped from the mic, focusing solely on guitar playing. Grinning, I joined him, and at one point, our backs pressed together, our guitars held vertically, and feet keeping time to Denny's drumming. We played and played. To say the experience had been surreal, would've been a gross understatement.
When the crowd's cheers had died down, and they began to clear, we all slunk from the stage, and as Denny backpedaled away with Nancy at her side, she pointed a finger from each hand at me and said, "I underestimated you, V. You're good. Damn good."
Smiling, feeling my cheeks blush, I waved a thank you and moved to the bar where Kerry sat, resting Johnny's guitar in front of us.
"Think you missed yer calling," Kerry said, grinning.
I leaned an elbow on the bar. "Why's that?"
Kerry let out a single, "ha." "And she's modest too. I'm talkin' 'bout the helluva show you just put on. Was that all you?"
Johnny appeared at my side with his arms folded and despite the Aviators hiding his eyes, I could feel the steely glare. "Not the solo. But the rest? All me."
"Well, I'll be damned. You actually gave me credit." Johnny displayed a snarky grin.
"Man, this is so fucked up," Kerry stammered, pinching the bridge of his nose and halfway grinning.
Johnny glitched to the other side of the bar, leaning his hands on it, and eyeing Kerry.
"Which part exactly?" I hung my hands between my legs.
Kerry tapped his finger against the guitar's body. "I was so fucking nervous about this entire thing, y'know? And I mean, you weren't even Johnny. Or I mean—you are but—fuck I don't know what I'm tryin' to say."
"You don't have to say it, Kerry. Been dealin' with this a lot longer than you. I get how fucked up it is." I offered a small smile.
Kerry scooted closer to me and Johnny's arms tensed. "You know what's crazier? I feel—comfortable around you. Like, like I've known you for decades."
"You've known Johnny for decades. Only reason why." I extended my hand. "Name's V."
Kerry smirked and shook my hand, holding it longer than probably necessary. "Is he—is he always around?"
We were still shaking hands, and Johnny's fingers creaked against the bar top as his grip tightened.
"He's here. Right now."
Kerry shifted his gaze from left to right, finally letting go of my hand and leaning back. "Has he uh—told you much about me?"
"Some." I shrugged. "But he doesn't have to." Pointing at my head, I stole a glance at Johnny, who stared daggers into the side of his friend's skull.
"Yeah? And what those memories deduce?" A charming, shit-eating grin played over Kerry's lips, the charcoal surrounding his eyes making the blue coloring pop.
"You were about as big of a dick as he was."
Kerry burst out laughing, and Johnny's gaze finally cut to mine with a grin.
"You're alright, V." Kerry patted my thigh. "You're alright."
Johnny threw his hands in the air. "Jesus Christ. It was always questionable on any given fuckin' night whether Kerry'd prefer dick or pussy. But tonight? He's clearly after pussy. Yours."
Considering our personalities are melding together, sure he's not more attracted to you?
Johnny's lip twitched, obviously holding back a smile, and he appeared beside me, his breath wafting over my neck. "I don't think I like what you're implyin'."
I wanted nothing more than to kiss the ever-loving shit out of him just then, but the thought of everyone else seeing me swirl my tongue to thin-air with my eyes closed, squelched that desire.
"V?" Kerry cocked a brow.
I jolted. "Sorry. Day dreamin'."
"Johnny?" Those sky-blue eyes of Kerry's damn near sparkled.
Snickering, I nodded. "He's both the devil and angel on my shoulder."
"Well, fuck. Kinda dig that analogy." Johnny crossed his arms, standing beside us.
Kerry cleared his throat, his gaze shifting to guitar on the bar top. "If you weren't dyin', V, I'd almost like to think we could be chooms. Close ones, y'know?"
"Is he fuckin' serious right now?" Johnny's hands fell at his sides, and he took a step toward Kerry with his chest puffed.
Calm the fuck down, Johnny. I really do think he means friends.
I patted Kerry's arm, testing the waters, and watching his reaction. He didn't focus on my touch. Only glanced at it and frowned. Yeah. He meant only friends. Nothing more. "I haven't punched my timecard yet, Ker. We could still be yet."
"You two figure shit out, you better let me know about it. Understand?" Kerry pointed a finger, the rings catching the pink bar light.
"Sure. Yeah." I eyed the guitar sidelong.
We should give it to 'im.
Johnny moved to my side, wrapping his chrome arm around my shoulder. "I like that idea."
"I had fun tonight, Kerry. Really appreciated this. And Johnny did too."
Kerry wrung his hands together. "Yeah, that was a hell'ah good time. But one last gig was enough for my taste."
"Then—" I slid the guitar closer to him. "You should take it. As a souvenir. Johnny insists."
The surprise on Kerry's face was evident, his eyes growing wide. "You sure?"
"You're as much to Samurai as Johnny is, and he'd never play without ya. Wouldn't be the same. So—take it."
Kerry scooped the guitar into his palm, resting it on his lap. "Well, if we're exchanging mementos." He removed a pistol from his belt and rested it on the bar. "You should have this."
Picking it up, I marveled at the etchings on each side, and the cherrywood in the handle. "Aw, you shouldn't have. You know just what to get a merc."
Kerry absently played the guitar, chuckling and shaking his head. "Nah. That there is the very gun I tried to shoot Johnny with—when he broke into my house."
"Yeah, the little prick. Almost had a fist-sized hole in your left shoulder," Johnny grumbled.
What had I said, huh? If it were me, I probably would have gotten shot.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatt'ya want me to say, huh? You were right?" Johnny shrugged.
Yes.
"Fine. You were right. Happy?"
Very.
"You two, uh, have a lot of conversations in your head, I take it?" Kerry grinned.
I pushed my thumb between my eyes. "Fuck. Sorry. I forget how long I'm sittin' there starin' off into space—or as it looks to everyone else."
"Johnny, he uh—he really likes you, y'know?"
I scratched my cheek, feeling it warm. Johnny kicked an imaginary pebble on the floor. "Yeah. I like him too." I smiled. "Most of the time."
A gooey grin melted over Kerry's lips. "Damn. Too bad you both didn't meet under different circumstances. He could'ah really used a chick like you. Especially after all that shit with—" He trailed off and shook his head. "Never mind."
All that shit with Alt and then Rogue. That's what he was going to say.
"Thanks, Kerry." I squeezed his knee. "For everything."
Kerry coughed and cracked his neck. "Yeah. Sure thing. Back to work then."
I tapped my fingernail on the bar before rising and exiting with a deep sigh. As I passed an alley, I felt my body lurching to the side, only to have my back pushed against the wall.
Johnny's face glitched in front of mine, his hand pressing above my head. "That didn't suck near as much as I thought it would."
I folded my arms in a huff. "You tellin' me you thought I'd screw up a note or two after that pep talk you gave? All the shit about how I'm good enough?"
"Aw, don't be mad. You'd never performed on stage before. How would I know you wouldn't choke under pressure?" His lips grazed mine, and I moaned, bucking my hips against him.
"Hey, V? Got a minute?" Rogue's voice blasted through my mind, and I gasped. I'd been so caught up in Johnny's touch I hadn't even heard the ring.
After wiping a hand over my mouth, ignoring Johnny's confused expression, I answered, "Sure, Rogue. What's up?"
Rogue went silent for a beat. "I've been following leads on Adam Smasher."
My blood froze. The guy who'd killed Johnny—or borg rather.
"Any progress?" I'd asked at the same time as Johnny.
"Unfortunately, not on Smasher, no. But one of the gonks we interrogated did have information on—Johnny's remains. I can send you the coordinates if you want."
Johnny took a step forward, pacing, antsy. "For fuck's sake, yes. Why haven't you asked already?"
I held my hand out at him, concentrating on Rogue's holo image. "Yeah, Rogue. Send 'em over. We'll take a look."
Rogue nodded. "I hope he finds what he's been lookin' for."
I glanced at a still-pacing Johnny, who switched between rubbing his chin to yanking on his hair. "You and me both."