FREE FICTION FRIDAYS - WE CAN CALL IT PARADISE

Welcome back to FREE FICTION FRIDAY here at "A Little Something... Wicked." My holiday break ended up extended because I made an unanticipated job change. This was a very good and necessary thing, so YAY! for me. I once again have *time* to write, which kind of makes my life worth living.

This week's post is a flash piece I did based off of a writing prompt. I like where it's headed - but don't know if I'll continue it. So if you like it and want more... ASK. :)

Also, since it centers around a concert performance, I decided to throw in pics of some of the sexiest performers around. If you think I left anyone important out, feel free to mention their names in the comments.

WE CAN CALL IT PARADISE; by Tucker McCallahan:

"I need a beer."

"No kidding. A beer and a shot."

"Did the guitarist really drop his guiter?"

"Twice."

"So I wasn't hallucinating."

"If we'd been hallucinating that show might not've sucked so bad."

I headed straight for the only empty table I saw and put my back to the wall. I was pretty pissed about spending twenty dollars on a ticket for a thirty minute show that was, without a doubt, the worst concert of my life.

Tim made his way to the table I'd snagged after a stop at the bar. I snickered as I watched him undulate through the crowd, a pair of long-necks in one hand and two shots balanced in his other hand. He set the booze on the table and I downed my shot.

"Ugh. What the hell was that?"

"Slippery nipple." Tim sat down beside me. "They're the shot special tonight."

"Man can't get an honest shot of Jack anymore?"

"I'm sure you could, but it'd cost a lot more."

"It'd be all alcohol."

"These are all alcohol: one part Baileys, one part Sambuca."

"You know what Baileys is, right?" Tim gave me a tired look. "It's whiskey mixed with cream. If I wanted milk with my liquor I'd pour Jack in my cereal."

"Damn you're one grouchy sonuvabitch tonight."

"Show was shit."

Tim drank from the tall bottle, nodding his head as he swallowed.

"No argument here." Tim waited until I'd drowned my sorrows with half the bottle of beer. "Cute blond at the bar."

"Balls or boobs?"

"Like you care."

That made me smile, even if the smile itself didn't last very long.

"Maybe tonight I do care."

"She has nice little tits." Tim pushed his chair back a few inches and not-so-subtly turned to scope the bar. "And a bangin' body."

I gave in and followed Tim's gaze. I zeroed in on the chick immediately. Tim was right; she was smokin' hawt. Obviously another concert-goer, she wore a sparkly red push-up bra under a tiny cropped denim jacket with puffed sleeves. Her matching denim skirt didn't look any wider than my hand, and covered only a fraction more.

"Slut-tastic," I murmured.

"Speak for yourself, ya picky bastard." Tim gave the anonymous girl his version of a slow, seductive smile. She winked at him, turned her back to us, and then looked over her shoulder with a toss of hair that hadn’t been its natural color since grade school. I suppose the look she aimed at us was her version of coy. Female had the subtlety of a great white shark.

"Hey man, if you're into groupies, go for it."

"Looks like groupies are into me." Tim grinned hugely as the blond and her sidekick, a chubby goth girl with her hair in pigtails, headed our way with more drinks. "Handle the baggage, would ya bro?"

"No. Fucking. Way." I gripped the empty beer bottle in my hand so hard I thought it would shatter.

"Be a pal."

"Suck my dick."

"I will. Later."

I rolled my eyes but kept my mouth shut. The girls were within earshot, and if I was nothing else, I was a decent wingman. My eyes traveled over blondie's friend. She caught me doing it and hit me with a disintegration glare. I smiled and shrugged.

Blondie set four shot glasses down on the table, leaning down so we could get the full view of her bra-top. My eyes flicked to the glasses. Sure enough, they were filled with that shitty slippery nipple crap. I bit back my sigh.

Just as blondie launched into her introduction speech, the crowd at the front door swelled in greeting. I glanced up.

"Hol-ee fuck."

Tim stopped right in the middle of inviting the girls to have a seat and glared at me.

"What?"

"It's those motherfuckers from the show."

Everybody at the table turned to stare. The lead singer, the bassist, and their drummer strolled in to a weak welcome. The world's clumsiest guitarist was nowhere in sight.

"Oh my god!" Blondie waved at the trio like her hand was on fire and she was trying to put it out. "Over here!"

"You know those dicks?" I couldn't keep the scorn from my face or my voice.

"The bassist is my brother, jerk." The doom-cookie spoke for the first time. She shot me another hateful look that I matched.

"Well they suck."

"So tell them, not me."

"I will."

The three dudes ended up at our table, a waitress with a tray full of drinks trailing along behind them.

"Casey, Sara…Nice to see you." The lead singer bent down and exchanged kisses with the two chicks. He straightened and turned so the waitress could set her tray down. "Compliments of the bar."

I helped myself to another beer. I didn't particularly like Heineken, but if it was free, I was drinking it. For Tim's sake, I tried to keep my face neutral. The lead singer was a walking stereotype, right down to his Hot Topic wallet chain. If that's what tripped blondie's thermostat, Tim wasn’t getting shit tonight.

"Who're your friends?" The tallest one, the bassist, tugged a black pigtail and the doom-cookie aimed one of her destructo-gazes at him.

"This is Tim." Blondie was now in Tim's lap, having given the lead singer her chair. "And that's Conn."

"Conn as in Connor?" The lead singer smiled, beer in hand, relaxed as could be.

"You guys suck."

Conversation halted as the entire table stared at me.

"Conn–"

"Rude much?"

"S'cool." The singer held up his hands surrender-style. He glanced at me. "Opinions vary."

I folded my arms over my chest. I didn't bother hiding my disgust.

"It's not an opinion, dick. It's the truth. You had no business charging for what you put up on stage tonight."

Everybody talked at once: band members, groupies, and Tim. The lead singer, though, said nothing. He just stared at me, eyes narrowed. I stared back, unapologetic, and grabbed a third beer. I had a nice little buzz going and was starting to look forward to the prospect of a fight.

"You got anything else to say?" The bassist looked ready to grind bones for bread. Perfect.

"I haven't even gotten started."

He started around the table for me but the singer shoved his chair back and blocked the dude's path.

"Nick… chill." As the bassist returned to his seat, still glowering at me, the singer's dark eyes locked on me again. "Speak your piece, man. Get it all out."

"What kinda band plays a thirty minute set? And where's your ax-man? He drop his brain beside his guitar?"

"What answers will make you happy?"

"None, motherfucker! I want my fucking money back!"

"Are you requesting a refund?" His lips puckered into a cute little smile. Damn he was pretty.

"Did I stutter?"

"I'll make sure you get your money's worth tonight."

The two girls and the bassist gaped at him.

"You ain't pimping my sister out, Shawn."

"Not my intention." The look Shawn-the-singer gave me was unmistakable, and he wasn't subtle about it. Tim choked on his beer and laughed. I glared at him.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?"

"Nothing man. Not a thing. Guy wants to taste your rainbow that's between y'all."

"Whattaya say?" Shawn's seductive smile was about a thousand times sexier than Tim's. My jeans got tighter the longer he aimed it at me, and all that did was crank my anger up.

"That you prolly don't suck dick any better than you sing." I stood up and glared at Tim. "Later."

I headed for the bar. I wanted to salvage my buzz before my night got any suckier. Bounce was within walking distance, which meant there was a nice uncomplicated blowjob in my future. I bulldozed my way through the crowd and ordered a double shot of Jack. I tossed it down and relished the burn of real alcohol.

The crowd parted for me on my way to the door. My mad face will do that sometimes. I stepped out into the cool night air.

"Hey!"

I turned automatically. Shawn stood to the side of the doors, that damn smile still on his face. He really was pretty. He walked over.

"You leaving?"

"Nothing here I want."

His big dark eyes flicked down to my zipper, his smile widening.

"Liar."

"You want my fist in your face?"

He stepped up, close enough that I could smell the leather of his jacket and see the perfect fan of his eyelashes in the sodium vapor lights. Goddamn he was beautiful…and he knew it.

"Not in my face." This time his soft seductive smile set a bomb off in my gut that was twice as hot as the Jack Daniels.

Shawn pressed into me, one hand gripping my hip as our thighs and chests kissed. His lips were fucking bitable.

"You've got a nasty temper." Shawn's other hand slipped up under my t-shirt. When that hot hand hit my abs I couldn't help it; I growled. "I like it."

"Yeah?"

"Sure you want to leave all mad?"

"I'm getting less mad by the second."

I took the kiss I wanted. Shawn tasted like slippery nipple shots. And damn if I didn't like them better secondhand. He whimpered against my mouth and pressed even tighter against me, his fingers gripping my side.

I left his bitable lips to suck at his throat, my hands gripping his ass so I could grind against those stupid trendy pants he wasn't going to be wearing much longer. He shuddered in my arms, and I reached for his zipper. He pulled away from me reluctantly, like taffy stretching, and chuckled.

"You wanna do this out here in the parking lot?"

"You think it would be better in front of the bar?"

"Come on." He stepped further away from me but jerked his head toward the nearby lot. "I got a place." He walked backwards, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, that seductive smile cranked up to maximum and aimed right at me.

What the hell. I followed him.

For the clueless, the photos, in order from left to right beginning at the start of the story are:

Brian Molko, Placebo
Jared Leto, 30 Seconds to Mars
Jim Morrison, The Doors
Dave Navarro, Jane's Addiction
                      Red Hot Chili Peppers
                      Nine Inch Nails/Marilyn Manson
                      Guns 'n Roses
                      Spirits In the Sky
Layne Staley, Alice In Chains
David Bowie
Joe Perry, Aerosmith
Henry "Hank" Rollins, Black Flag
                                Rollins Band

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