Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
I was officially dumbfounded.
What were they doing to me?
Did they even know the affect their music had on people?
Why weren’t more people talking about Left Turn?
One million albums sold?
It should’ve been a billion.
The song ended and I mourned its loss. I couldn’t hide my despondency. Noah picked up the bottle of water, sipping at it, and I shuffled forward, still in a trance.
“Guys,” I stated, unsure of what to say. “I’ve never…. I don’t….” Placing my hands on my chest, I panted, “My body….” Finally, I ended with a thick sounding, “You’re amazing.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “But you already know that.”
Lee looked incredulous. “You like that?”
My voice was hoarse. “I loved it.” Trying to control my breathing, I revealed, “Nothing has ever made me feel like that before. Not ever.”
Hell grinned then howled like a wolf. “Yes! Another one converted. One poor soul at a time, we’re taking over the world.”
Connor looked at me strangely.
I didn’t like him acting like a jerk, but sadly, he was cocky for a reason. “I’ve never seen anyone handle a guitar the way you just did.”
“Like that, did ya?” He barely spared me a look.
“It was…” Words left me. I found one that might fit the bill. “Breathtaking.”
While Connor ignored me, Noah grinned happily. “I’ll get you an album.”
My eyes widened. “Yes.” But then, “Actually, don’t worry about it.” When he silently questioned me, I shrugged. “I don’t have anything to play it on.”
He lightly fingered the strings on his guitar, playing a repeated set of chords. “You have a smartphone now, Em. I’ll show you how to use it.”
“Oh, no. That’s cool. I’ll work it out.” I didn’t want to be a hassle.
Hell counted them in and Noah began to play. Connor followed, then lastly Lee. It was loud and I felt every chord booming in my chest but I’d listen to them till my ears bled.
The next evening, I stood exactly where I’d started off the night before. I was stage side, best seat in the house, and I watched people file into the stadium.
It seemed to take hours and just when I thought the arena was at capacity, more people were somehow squeezed in.
Only minutes earlier, I’d been in the green room with the guys when Noah poured shots. I watched them each take a shot and down it. When Lee spotted me, he pointed. “Emmy didn’t get a shot.”
“Oh,” I startled. “That’s okay.”
But Noah was already pouring another small glass. Surprisingly, it was Connor who spoke. “It’s tradition. We cleanse ourselves before every show.”
I took the glass, now filled with an amber-colored liquid, and stared at it.
Hell must have taken my silence for discomfort. “Don’t make her if she doesn’t want to.”
“Emmy, you don’t have to,” uttered Noah, reaching for the glass.
But I pulled back, opened my mouth, and tossed back the shot. I started to speak. “Your traditions are—” I started to cough as my throat began to burn. Tears filled my eyes as my gut warmed. I wheezed out, “Your traditions are very important to me.”
Oh my God, what did I just drink? Pure ethanol?
It burned.
Now, at the side of the stage, I watched the opening act ready themselves. Up until last night, I hadn’t known there was an opening act at all.
“Hot stuff, coming through.” I jolted at the husky feminine voice, and when I made eye contact with the tall woman, she threw me a wink. Three other women followed, and I knew this was them.
The Ultra Violet Vixens.
The women looked utterly vicious.
Each of them wore leather in some way, shape, or form. They all wore identical army boots, and each of them had their hair dyed a different shade of purple. Actually, violet, I guess.
I’d never seen anything like them. They were awe-inspiring. And when they started to play, I quickly realized they were more than just a bunch of pretty women with purple hair.
I immediately liked them. Their sound was raw but feminine. Melodic but heavy. And when the petite lead singer screamed into the microphone, the entire stadium shook from it.
They sang eight songs, and forty-five minutes later, they were unplugged and thanking the crowd for coming out. As they passed me, I called out to their backs, “You guys were awesome.”
All at once, they turned to face me. The shortest member with the longest hair spoke first. “Thanks.” She glanced at my pass. “Who are you with?”
I held out my hand to her. “Left Turn. I’m their assistant. Hi, I’m Emily.” I don’t know why I added, “But you can call me Emmy.” It was probably because I’d unknowingly been christened with the nickname, more so because I actually liked it.
She took my hand. “I’m Beth. Nice to meet you.”
The tallest woman narrowed her eyes at me a short moment. Her hair was the most vivid violet I’d ever seen, and she wore it teased. “What’s up? I’m Cherry.”