Guitar Freak

By: Candy J Starr

Chapter 1: Damo





SHE WALKED INTO THE sound check like she owned the place. Typical groupie in heat: leopard-print fake fur coat, fishnet-covered legs that went on for miles, sunglasses covering her eyes, glossed-up lips and that “fuck me” attitude.

She had to be here for Elijah. Everything about her screamed his type. Elijah shrugged without missing a beat on his bass. Then he shook his head at my unspoken question.

Not his? Well, she sure as hell wasn’t Crow’s type. I wasn’t even sure if Crow had a type but if he did, it wouldn’t be her. And the new guy, Matt—he had no interest in groupies. Not when he had that hot model girlfriend.

She might’ve been my type once. Before I grew up and got serious about my music. It hadn’t taken long to learn that girls like her were bad news.

Hell, we’d only been in Berlin a few hours before we headed to the arena to set up. It wasn’t like any of the guys had had time to pick up. She had to just be a general band hound, looking for what she could get.

And what she could get would be gone. I had zero tolerance for groupies in sound check.

I kept singing and playing but searched the empty arena until I caught the eye of the head of security. I gave a nod toward the groupie. We’d talk later about how the hell she’d been allowed in. For now, I just wanted her to hightail it out of here instead of leaning on the barrier in front of me, all tits and legs and eyes blazing with sex.

Ever since the fans had found out I didn’t do groupies, I’d become a challenge for a certain type of woman. The type who thought they were the exception. I’d been promised the best head of my life, threesomes, foursomes, and much, much more. If the human mind could conceive of it, I’d had a groupie offer it. But I had zero fucks to give. Literally. There was me and my music. I wasn’t a saint, but I didn’t screw around on tour. I had bigger plans. Plans that involved no dramas and no distractions.

Hell, she sucked on a lollipop. Way too obvious and way too immature. But, Jesus, that was hot. She took it out of her mouth and ran her tongue around it. The way her tongue flicked over that sweet orb made my cock twitch. I wouldn’t let my cock control me, though. It was just a visual stimulation.

I tried not to look at her. We were already running about half an hour late with this sound check, but the sound guy just couldn’t get the mix right. For the first night of the European leg of the tour, this wasn’t looking good. I inhaled. I wouldn’t lose my temper with him. That wouldn’t help at all. And I wouldn’t look at that groupie, either.

Instead of staring straight ahead, I checked out the arena. It wasn’t much different from a thousand other places we’d played. Three levels. Cleaner and newer than a lot of places we’d played. A few massive screens around the place. I bet Elijah had sussed out every screen and every camera. He loved nothing better than seeing his ugly mug up there, larger than life. Loved it even more when he got a crotch shot on camera. So did the fans, to be honest. We had to have one showman in the band.

The arena wasn’t that huge. Only around 17,000 capacity. I’d wanted to play somewhere bigger, but management said sold-out shows in a smaller venue would create a bigger buzz. I couldn’t argue with that. He’d also said that the acoustics in this place were phenomenal, but I wasn’t feeling that, not with this sound check.

“Still too much bass,” I said over the mic when we’d finished the song.

That damn groupie hadn’t moved. The security guard approached her. I watched them out of the corner of my eye but went back to the beginning of the song. We’d get this sound right, no matter how long it took. We wouldn’t be going onstage tonight sounding anything less than perfect.

I waited until the security guy was throwing her out to start playing again. He stood beside her, letting her know she wasn’t welcome. Instead of leaving, though, she put her hands on her hips, all sass and attitude. Standing like that, with her coat open, I couldn’t miss the perkiness of her breasts. That dress she wore couldn’t be any tighter.

I don’t know what she said to the security guy, but he let her stay.

I’d made myself clear. No matter what they promised, no groupies in sound check. Ever.