Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  The Wild Side

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing

  His eyes sweep the crowd and her stomach leaps when he locks onto her. It must be an illusion - surely he can’t see anything past those lights. But still, he raises a hand to the crowd, and she feels he’s reaching straight for her.

  Then he flashes a wicked smile to break the spell, and his guitar rips into a ferocious riff. The crowd cheers again and bounces along with the music. She stands back, away from the madness, hoping the darkness hides the flush in her cheeks when Leela presses a beer into her hand.

  “Tim Michaels is HOT, isn’t he? Don’t worry, we’ll meet them later,” Leela’s shouting into Tessa’s ear, leaving it ringing. Tessa nods and sips her beer, which she doesn’t normally drink, but Leela didn’t ask what she wanted.

  Tessa finds she doesn’t mind the beer - enjoying the heady spice on her tongue while she watches Tim Michaels pace the stage like a wild tiger. Tonight was supposed to be something different, and so far, it’s delivered. She licks her lips, not able to take her eyes away as he thrusts his hips towards the audience. She’s captivated by his every move, letting the beer and the excitement of the crowd sweep her away.

  The Wild Side

  by

  L.A. Monteiro

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  The Wild Side

  COPYRIGHT © 2022 by L.A. Monteiro

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Diana Carlile

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Edition, 2023

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-4751-6

  Published in the United States of America

  Tessa raises her chin defiantly. Her jaw clenches at the sniggers of a girl in line behind her. Leela raises a pierced eyebrow. “I told you to wear black,” she says unsympathetically.

  “I felt like wearing this,” Tessa says back icily, crossing her arms over her chest, her handbag slung over one shoulder. I won’t pretend I’m something I’m not, she adds silently. Leela rolls her eyes.

  With a highly tousled nest of stiff black hair and a mass of silver piercings, Leela fits right in with the line waiting outside The Pit for the Blood Runners gig. Meanwhile Tessa’s hot pink, figure-hugging minidress--the one that’s almost too short, and almost too tight--is the only bright spot in a sea of black.

  “Are you lost, princess?” someone from behind Tessa calls out. Leela raises a finger at them and scowls.

  “S’okay, it’ll be dark inside,” Leela says.

  Tessa’s lips twitch in irritation. This isn’t her crowd, but she likes the band, and she deserves a night out, dammit! Her life since the breakup with Dan has been nothing but work. She wants to feel hot in this dress she loves but hasn’t had the guts to wear before now.

  She wants to feel feminine, and not like the aggressive, unadventurous lawyer that Dan accused her of turning into.

  She’d left the house feeling optimistic. The hot Australian summer’s day had turned into a gloriously clear, warm night. She wasn’t expecting the entire black-clad queue to stare at her. She didn’t even know this many metalheads lived in Perth!

  They reach the front of the line--finally! The bouncer looks normal compared to the crowd--he has a short back and sides haircut and is wearing a security uniform. She didn’t notice the eyeliner until now. He eyes her legs, and she resists the urge to pull her skirt down.

  “Hello, dollface. You look like the toys my little sister used to play with,” he drawls, eyeing her dress. She’s glad she’s pulled her long brown hair around her shoulders to cover her cleavage.

  “Keep it in your pants, Drew,” Leela snaps, handing him their tickets. “This is a friend from school. She’s visiting the wild side for the evening. Sans dress code.”

  “Always happy to see you, Leela,” he says, sliding his hand around her bare waist in a half-hug. When he releases her he lets his hand linger. Leela doesn’t seem to mind. “It’s going off in there.”

  “We still good for later?” she asks.

  “Yeah if you’re good for your part,” he says.

  “I always bring the party,” she says. “Even the entertainment,” she shoots a sidelong glance at Tessa and Drew chuckles.

  Tessa frowns and folds her arms. She barely recognizes the light-hearted blonde she went to school with. This stops now. “If you’re going to be a bitch I’m going home,” Tessa says.

  Drew steps back and raises his eyebrows, looking between the girls as if wanting to stay out of it.

  Leela rolls her eyes. “Relax,” she says. “I was only joking. The dress isn’t doing wonders for my street cred, but you look hot as fuck so it’ll pass. You coming?” She waves a hand for Tessa to enter the club, but Tessa doesn’t budge. “I promise it’ll be fun, and you like the band, right? We’ll watch the band, and hang out at a party afterwards. I promised you a good night, and I plan to deliver.”

  You’re so unadventurous. It’s Dan’s voice in her head, rather than Leela’s promise, that pushes Tessa on. She can’t have a wild night without stepping foot in the door. Tessa nods, uncrosses her arms, and walks through the door.

  “Have fun, dollface,” Drew says as they walk past him, pausing to get their wrists stamped by a girl sitting at a table inside the door.

  A few steps in and Tessa is hit by a wall of sound--it’s not the band, it’s the sound of a thousand people talking, chatting, excited and expectant. There’s enough lights to see, but they’re spotlights in an otherwise dark room, cutting through smoky air above them. The air feels thick and humid compared to outside.

  Although Tessa walks in first, Leela charges on ahead, squeezing her way aggressively through the crowd, heading straight to the bar. Tessa hurries after, trying to keep up, ignoring the up and down looks of some of the people she’s pushing past, but soon loses Leela in the press of the crowd.

  Fuck. She should never have come tonight. Looking around, she sees a raised wooden box in front of the wall to her right, near the door she came in. The pathway to it is relatively clear, and if she stands on that she might be able to see where Leela’s gone.

  She makes it in a few quickly marched steps, fueled by impatience and a little fear. If someone else makes a comment on her outfit, she’s going to scream. She steps up on the box, moving quickly before she can feel too self-conscious about her short skirt, and scans the crowd.

  Tessa thinks she sees Leela by the bar, but it’s hard to pick her out in the sea of black. She puts a hand over her eyes to block out the glare of the spotlight and cranes forward.

  Suddenly something swishes into her from behind and she jumps, almost losing her footing. She squeals, pitching forward. The floor comes rapidly into view.

  Arms wrap around her hips, steadying her from behind. She clutches at the support before righting herself.

  “What the hell!” she snaps, turning her head. There’s a man peeking up through a black curtain that covers an opening that starts around her shoulder level. He snatches his arms back from her hips.

  “Er, sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be standing there. Wanted to get a look at the crowd.” He looks genuinely apologetic. He’s also gorgeous, she realizes. Not conventionally so--not with that long black hair and eyeliner, or the all black clothing. But he’s tall and broad. She wonders if he’s in a band, but the guys she’s seen in bands tend towards lean. He’s probably a roadie.

  “It’s okay,” she says, realizing she’s taking her night out on him. “I’ve lost my friend. I think that’s her over by the bar but I’m not sure I can reach her before the band starts.”

  “Do ya need a hand?” he asks.

  “No…not unless you can fly me over all those people to find my friend at the bar.”

  “Yeah, there’s a pathway back here that’ll take you there.”

  “Really?” She asks. “I mean, are you sure that’s okay? I’m probably not allowed back there with a famous band playing and everything.”

  He smiles broadly at that. “It’s alright,” he says, “They’re mates. C’mon, I’ll help you down.”

  She awkwardly scoots down to sit on the box, while he politely avoids looking up her skirt. When she’s sitting she sees the floor he’s standing on is a few inches below what she was expecting--he’s a lot taller than she realized.

  “Here,” he says, and grabs her hips and lifts her down. His hands are big around her waist, and she’s sorry when he lets go. His size, like her dress, makes her feel feminine for the first time in a long time.

  Maybe tonight won’t be a total loss after all.

  He threads them along the corridor, past backstage rooms and a long stretch behind the stage. He’s taking her all the way around the building to get her to the bar. People walk all around them, shou ting orders to each other. He speeds up.

  “Tim!” A man gestures to him from a doorway. “Time!”

  “Gotta leave ya here,” the roadie says, “It’s the third door on the left. Good luck finding your friend.”

  “Thank you so much!” she says. “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble. I was almost about to go home, to be honest--as you can tell, this isn’t really my scene.” She gestures down at her dress.

  “Nice dress,” he says, and smiles at her. His eyes flick away quickly, as if he’s shy.

  She smiles back. “Um…come find me when you finish working maybe? I’ll be hard to miss.” He smiles more broadly at that, meeting her eyes again, then turns and jogs back the way they came.

  ****

  Lachlan shoots Tim a raised eyebrow when he gets back to the greenroom. The rest of the band are putting more eyeliner on, smearing it down their faces for full theatrical effect. Lachlan is tense like he always is before a show, and Eddie is in his zone, zen and calm on a speaker box nearby, makeup on and ready to go.

  “Are you serious, man? We’re on now and you’re chasing a groupie? You ready for that drama again?” Lachlan shoots. Tim breathes deeply. Lachlan is his best friend and lead guitarist of Blood Runners, but sometimes he takes his role as the ‘dad’, as the oldest one in the group, a little too seriously.

  “She didn’t know who the fuck I was,” Tim says, reaching for his own extra eyeliner.

  “Yeah right, I’ve heard that one before,” Lachlan snipes back.

  “That’s one of my favorite groupie games,” Max says, sniffing audibly. He’s high again, his skinny arms flailing out in excitement.

  Tim exchanges a look with Lachlan, who shrugs as if to say, ‘what are we supposed to do?’

  “Some of us are a little too old for the groupie game,” Eddie intervenes calmly.

  “Not my fault you can’t pull anymore, man,” Max says.

  “Yeah his wife and kid are real sad about it,” Lachlan says.

  The stage manager pokes his head around the corner, a kid around twenty years old, and says politely, “Are you guys ready?”

  Tim nods, lifting his chin into the mirror. It’s game on time.

  ****

  Tessa follows Tim’s instructions and breaks out into the venue near where Leela is ordering drinks. It’s much louder near the bar, but there are fewer people, and she reaches Leela quickly.

  “There you are!” Leela says. “They’re about to start!” She turns back to the bar, conversation evidently over. Tessa takes the time to look around the room. Most of the crowd is facing the stage, with only a few people still around the bar.

  The lights go out. The crowd cheers and the area around her is suddenly emptier as the crowd compresses towards the stage.

  Tessa’s heard the band’s music on the radio, and likes them, but doesn’t know much about them. She only knows they’re metal, and they’ve had mid-level success for years. They’ve broken through into the mainstream recently.

  When they file on stage, the crowd roars. Three tall men, pale-skinned, with long hair, black clothing, metal studded wristbands, and messy eyeliner. The drummer takes his seat. The bassist and guitarist pick up their instruments. And then the lead singer walks on.

  The crowd lets out an almighty roar. Tessa’s heart beats faster. It’s the roadie--it’s Tim. And on stage, he’s something else. He towers over his bandmates in both height and girth. His long black hair flows around him as he slings his guitar on and takes a stance, snarling at the crowd. Strumming a chord, his tight t-shirt grips his broad chest and biceps, and his leather pants sit tightly on muscular thighs. The crowd screams again.

  He lets the chord ring out and stands before the microphone, completely still, head down, until the crowd hushes. Then he croons, and Tessa feels a thrill down to her core as his voice fills the room, low and deep.

  His eyes sweep the crowd and her stomach leaps when he locks onto her. It must be an illusion--surely he can’t see anything past those lights. But still, he raises a hand to the crowd, and she feels he’s reaching straight for her.

  Then he flashes a wicked smile to break the spell, and his guitar rips into a ferocious riff. The crowd cheers again and bounces along with the music. She stands back, away from the madness, hoping the darkness hides the flush in her cheeks, when Leela presses a beer into her hand.

  “Tim Michaels is HOT, isn’t he? Don’t worry, we’ll meet them later,” Leela’s shouting into Tessa’s ear, leaving it ringing. Tessa nods and sips her beer, which she doesn’t normally drink, but Leela didn’t ask what Tessa wanted.

  Tessa finds she doesn’t mind the beer--enjoying the heady spice on her tongue while she watches Tim Michaels pace the stage like a wild tiger. Tonight was supposed to be something different, and so far, it’s delivered. She licks her lips, not able to take her eyes away as he thrusts his hips towards the audience. She’s captivated by his every move, letting the beer and the excitement of the crowd sweep her away.

  Towards the end of the show, he puts down his guitar. It’s him with the microphone, standing center stage, his band waiting behind him. He looks vulnerable somehow, no longer sneering. The crowd goes quiet, tense. His eyes go straight to her--he quirks a smile, as if glad to find her there. Her skin tingles, her nipples hardening under her dress.

  “Don’t you know?” he sings. “That I want you…” Her pulse quickens, recognizing their best-selling song, softer than most of their tracks. Live, it’s something else, especially with his eyes drilling into her soul. When the song’s over and the last chord rings out, the crowd roars and she blinks, as if waking from a dream.

  After the show, Leela grabs her hand and they spill out into the chill of the night air, laughing with the adrenaline of the show. “That was awesome!” Leela says. “And the night’s not over yet.” She drags Tessa back into another entrance. It opens into a dark hallway full of sound equipment.

  “Hey!” someone yells at them.

  “It’s me, Drew,” Leela says, “With party favors,” she purrs, and pulls a baggie out of her bra, flicking her hand to smooth the bag out so he can see the pills inside.

  Fuck. Drugs were not mentioned as part of the deal tonight.

  Drew jerks a nod, unsmiling, to acquiesce. Leela grabs Tessa’s hand and drags her through another door

  “Leela, wait…” Tessa says, but they’ve already burst out into the brightness of an open-air carpark where the band is standing in front of a parked limo. Tim Michaels is right there.

  ****

  Tim’s lips curl into a smile. There she is--the girl in the pink dress. From the stage, she’d stood out like a neon sign in a sea of black--her eyes fixated on him. He always loved to perform, but tonight, he’d played extra hard, thinking of her eyes on him, the shock of her seeing the roadie becoming the rock star. It was almost like the thrill of the first few years.

  Now she’s with a goth girl he’s seen hanging around their hotel lobby--his manager had warned them about her. There goes the idea that she’s not a groupie. He knows what comes next--the offer of drugs, the pushy behavior. Lachlan rolls his eyes and shoots Tim a pointed look.

  The goth girl says, “Hey, I’m Leela--where’s the afterparty? Drew said you guys might need some party favors and company?”

  “Yeah,” Max says, and leers, eyeing her up and down. “We’re about to head back to our hotel room.”

  It’s a tired script and they’ve been here a million times before. It was fun for the first five years, but as they got older, they got over it--all except Max, who was younger and newer to the band.

  But Tessa still isn’t acting like a groupie. She pulls her dress down, avoiding Max’s gaze. In the brighter lights in the carpark he can see how clearly uncomfortable she is. She’s wearing white shoes for heaven’s sake--they’re already grimy and black from the sticky venue floor. Her eyes dart to him as if looking for safety, while her friend is already walking towards Max, saying, “What hotel are you guys staying at?”

  It’s a familiar script, but Tessa’s an unfamiliar character.

  “We’re actually pretty tired,” Lachlan says, trying to shut it down.

  “I’ll be up for a couple of hours,” Tim says, and takes a step towards Tessa, ignoring Lachlan’s irritated look.

 

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