Fighting Faith B&N 2 Read online

  Fighting Faith

  By

  Brandie Buckwine

  Published by Brandie Buckwine

  Copyright 2011 Brandie Buckwine

  Chapter One

  It was like being high. The band fed on the energy from the audience, and tonight, the audience was explosive. It was as if they knew this performance was the beginning of something big. From the Soundgarden cover, Blow Up the Outside World, to his very own, Losing Myself to You, the crowd couldn’t get enough Utopian Society. Neither could Eric. He tore up the stage, his lead guitar and vocals at their best. He wasn’t in any hurry to sift through the rush of women that waited to pounce on him after the show, guaranteeing him a night of hot sex— always a bonus of playing live. No, if he could, he would keep playing all night tonight, just to keep the feeling alive.

  At a table near the stage, Sarah, Jose’s girlfriend —their biggest fan— sang along and blew kisses at the drummer. Eric had to laugh. The two were like teenagers, inseparable and constantly making out. Jose ignored Eric’s warning that making it too obvious that he had a girlfriend could hurt the band, especially when Jose attracted more women than the rest of them. Even Tim and Daniel, the plainer of the foursome, had more women chasing them than they could handle. If the music industry rumors were true, the number of women would skyrocket once they released a real CD and began a real tour. No more local gigs after tonight. The next time they came to Rockabilly Hole, it would be to party and dance with the rest of the patrons.

  Eric glanced toward Sarah’s table again. A woman sat with her, a gorgeous woman. The woman looked to the stage and met his eye. Gorgeous was an understatement; she was a Goddess. She smiled and Eric missed a beat and forgot the lyrics to Default’s, Deny. He looked away, determined to keep his groove and make this his best show ever. And to impress the hell out of Sarah’s friend.

  Seven songs later, they thanked the audience and made their way offstage, even as the crowd screamed for more. In an attempt to hide his eagerness, Eric did not follow the guys to the table. Instead, he headed to the bar. Women swarmed him, and he glanced to Sarah’s friend to make sure she saw all the women clamoring to get his attention, hoping to take him home.

  To his fan’s dismay, he finished his drink, pecked a few of them on the cheek, and headed to join his friends. He pulled up a chair and sat. Sarah interrupted Daniel’s story, about the black eye he received at the hands of an over-zealous groupie, to introduce her friend.

  “Eric, this is Faith, the one I’ve been telling you about. Faith ran with the same crowd Jose and I did back in high school.”

  Faith smiled and extended her hand. His brain turned to mush as he grasped it within his own, but he kept it together, giving her a cool nod.

  “She’s a videographer and she’s interested in doing the documentary of the band’s studio recordings,” Sarah said.

  The record label suggested they document their sessions as a promotional tool, and right away, Sarah and Jose offered their friend’s services. Paying for it was the issue. They brought in a decent living, playing to larger crowds than in years past, but the kind of production they wanted would cost some serious bucks.

  “Faith will work with us on the price, I’m sure of it,” Sarah told them when she first mentioned the idea. Us? Since when was she part of the band? Still, with the prospect of someone who would work cheap, Eric overlooked Sarah’s assumption.

  “How long have you been in business, Faith?” he asked.

  “I’ve been out on my own for about three years. Before that, I worked for Icon Productions.”

  Up close, she was even more gorgeous, and she had the cutest dimples. “Judging from what you just saw, do you think you could work with us?” Eric asked.

  “I do. I love your energy, but I have to ask, do you have any material with any original rhythm patterns for your album?” The blood drained from Eric’s face and his gut seized. “I mean, if you really hope to make an impact as an up-and-coming band, you can’t just copy what’s already out there.”

  The table’s other occupants shifted nervously, all eyes on Eric. The blood that fled moments before raced back, his head pounding and his pulse racing. “I write all our songs,” he said through his teeth. “It’s all original.”

  Faith took a drink of her beer, unaware of how close she was to being picked up and thrown out of the club. “I’m sure you did write them, and they’re good, but every riff and pattern is taken from another song. Eddie Van Halen says that, eventually, you have to put your own mark—”

  “I know what Eddie says,” he slammed his drink to the table, now seeing the woman across from him for the bitch she truly was.

  “Okay, you don’t have to get so mad. I was just making an observation.”

  “Leave the song writing to me, and you can go make your little videos somewhere else.” He stood, “Yeah, that’s right, fuck you.” He stormed away, tossing “Bitch,” over his shoulder, satisfied he made his point. Who the hell did she think she was, telling him how to write music? What kind of production princess went around quoting Eddie Van Halen?

  Eric downed several drinks at the bar, reevaluating his plans for the night until he saw two men approach Faith and his friends. Both men fawned over the trollop, kissing her cheeks and rubbing her shoulders. She stood, took one on each arm, and the three exited the club together. Slut! How didn’t he guess that about her? Usually a much better judge of character, he disappointed himself.

  Last call and two drinks in his hands, he returned to the table. They all stared at him, but no one spoke.

  “What?”

  Sarah shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “I can’t believe you were such a dick to Faith. You do know it will be impossible to find anyone else who’s decent for the job, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, you really blew it, man,” Tim nodded.

  “I’m sure we can find someone else. I don’t want to work with that cunt.”

  “Eric!” Sarah squealed.

  “I’m sorry, but that woman is the devil in disguise.”

  “She happens to be a very close friend, and she’s one of the nicest people I know. It’s not her fault you can’t take a little constructive criticism.”

  “Constructive criticism? Is that what you think that was? She doesn’t know shit! People love our songs.”

  “Love them or not, you’re going to have to suck it up and work with her,” Daniel said. “I’ve checked around, and anyone else will be so far beyond our budget, it just won’t happen.”

  Jose nodded.

  “You too, Jose? Am I the only one who can see this is a bad idea?”

  “Sorry, Bro. I’ve seen her work, and she’s an artist. Even if there is someone else out there as cheap, I bet she’s ten times better.”

  Outnumbered, Eric conceded. It was only for a couple of weeks. He could survive it, but he determined to make her life hell until it was over.

  ~

  Bundling the two tripods under her arm, Faith swung her camera bag over her shoulder. She was late, and she knew Eric would be a huge asshole about it. She lost track of time going over Mark and Patrick’s civil union ceremony. They made such a sweet couple, and she owed them for rescuing her from Eric and his buddies the other night, after their show. Tripping across the parking lot to the studio, she promised herself she’d finish their video that night and drop it off at their house.

  Sure enough, as soon as she walked into the studio, Eric started in.

  “It’s about time. You’re supposed to run on our schedule, not the other way around.”

  She wanted to slap the sneer off his face. “Why? Did you have a quality moment of talent, and I missed it?” It was all she could do not to burst out laughin
g at the look on his face. So easily ruffled. This is going to be fun. The man did have talent, not that she’d ever tell him that, but there was a barrier between his current abilities and greatness. He was so close though. That was the only reason she accepted the job: she wanted to be around and involved when he finally jumped the hurdle and found his gift. Well, that and because Jose was an old friend. She’d do anything for him or Sarah.

  There was also the fact that she felt like a bitch in heat whenever Eric was near. The first time he smiled at her, she creamed her pants. He was sexy beyond belief and chock full of charisma, but he had an ego as great as the pyramids, a huge turn-off. It was kind of a relief that he turned off the charm and turned on the asshole whenever she was around.

  She set up her tripods and cameras in optimal locations, and checked her remotes while the band warmed up. Everything was ready. She started with her handheld, walking around, focusing in on each band member in succession.

  Eric stopped playing mid-song. “What’s the point of putting all that shit in our way if you aren’t even going to use it?”

  “It doesn’t look like it’s in your way, and how do you know I’m not using it?” She held up one of the small remotes.

  A quick shake of his head, and Eric started them over from the beginning. After a few minutes, he told them all to stop. “Tim, stop trying to play with me on this. You’re bass. You don’t follow Daniel and me.”

  “I’m not. I’m trying to fill in the blanks, I just can’t tell where you’re going ‘cause you keep changing it up.”

  Faith couldn’t resist. “I don’t play bass — I fill space.”

  Eric’s head whipped around to look at her.

  “That’s good, I like that,” Tim said. “How’d you come up with that?”

  “She didn’t,” Eric growled. “It’s a quote from Rick Danko.”

  “Who is Rick Danko?”

  “Arguably one of the best bass players in history,” Eric said, just as Faith said, “The best bass player ever.” He scowled at her. “How do you know that?”

  “I’m a student of rock and roll,” she shrugged. “I probably should have learned to play, but my parents didn’t want me to. They wanted me to go into law.”

  “They must be so proud,” Eric said, rolling his eyes. He turned to Tim, “Seriously, how do you call yourself a bass player, but don’t know who Rick Danko is?”

  “Sorry,” he shrugged. “I just play. It’s easier when I have something to play along with.”

  Faith turned her head away to grin, but she could sense Eric’s rage. Temper, temper!

  She spent the next ten hours waiting for them to get it right. A quick dinner break to a burger joint around the corner proved Tim and Daniel to be nice guys. Thankfully, Eric stayed behind.

  “So, seriously Faith, how do you know all these obscure quotes from famous guitarists?” Tim asked, sticking fry in his mouth. “I loved the Eddie Van Halen thing the other night.”

  “I don’t know. I read a lot of interviews, watched MTV all the time growing up. In high school, I had almost all the back issues of Rolling Stone, read every one, cover to cover, but my mom threw them out.”

  “You’re kidding. Why would she do that?” Daniel asked.

  “She said I was becoming a packrat and wasting my time on crap. I cried for days,” she said, tears filling her eyes at the memory. “We don’t get along very well,” she added.

  “I remember when she did that,” Jose said, nodding. “We took you out and got you shitfaced. Do you remember?”

  “Not very well.” What she did remember from that night was her ex-boyfriend, Taylor, leaving her sitting on her front steps, too drunk to know she was home.

  “So tell me another good one,” Tim said.

  “What, a quote?”

  “Yeah.”

  She thought a moment, searching her mind for something memorable. “I don't want you to play me a riff that's going to impress Joe Satriani— give me a riff that makes a kid want to go out and buy a guitar and learn to play. Mr. Ozzy Osbourne”

  “I’ve heard that one,” Daniel said. “I like it.”

  Jose checked his cell phone. “Hey, it’s getting late. We’d better get back.”

  “Should we get something for Hitler?” They all laughed at her.

  “You don’t pull any punches, do you?” Daniel asked.

  “I call ‘em like I see ‘em,” she said. “No sense lying to people just so they can feel better about themselves when they shouldn’t.”

  “He’s really not that bad, in fact, I’d describe him as a nice guy,” Tim said. “I don’t know why you bring out the worst in him.”

  “Yeah, well, there’re two sides to that coin: he brings out the worst in Faith, too,” said Jose.

  She snorted. “I’ve seen enough to know that there isn’t enough good side to make up for bad with that one. The guy’s an asshole.”

  “Well, I’m going to grab Hitler the asshole a burger and fries.” Jose stood and headed for the counter.

  Chapter Two

  Morning dew clung to the bushes and showered Eric as he brushed past them, descending the steps to Faith’s deck. A pair of clippers would go a long way to clearing the place up. It was so thick with growth there was almost no view left. It figured the stupid bitch preferred to be surrounded by flowers than the glory of the mountain vistas. Eric couldn’t decide if his hostility to her shrubbery was based on the shrubbery itself, or his intense dislike for Faith. It didn’t matter; he didn’t want to be here, period.

  Just give her the stupid bag and get the fuck out. The less time he spent around her, the better. Only a week in the studio with her stalking their every move had him at his wits end. He approached the sliding glass doors and raised his hand to knock, but Faith appeared from the side of the house. She jumped when she saw him and slapped her hand to her chest.

  “Eric,” she said, her head tilting to the side.

  He started to raise the bag, but froze as she came into full view. The lacy black slip she wore hugged her curves, and he swallowed hard. He could make out her nipples clearly through the thin material, and his dick stiffened. He lowered the bag to conceal his growing erection, angry with himself for reacting to her this way— angry with Faith for parading around in something so skimpy.

  “Something you wanted?” she asked, in that snotty tone that to him, sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

  Looking anywhere but at her, he said, “Yeah, I had a bet with everyone. They said if I came over this early, I’d find the four guys you fucked last night still taking turns ramming your ass, but I told them that nobody would be caught dead with you, sober, in the light of day.” Eric didn’t know why he said it, for some reason it made him feel good to put her down.

  With a sneer, she said, “Well, I guess, as always, you’re the winner. Now, what do you want?”

  With his dick back in its place, he reached out and handed her the bag. “Sarah asked me to bring these to you.”

  She took the bag and looked inside at the assortment of homegrown vegetables. “Anything else?”

  Before he could stop himself, he blurted, “Yeah, before anyone else sees you, I should let you know, you look like a heifer in that get-up.”

  “Fuck you, Eric.”

  He could tell the comment stung. Women— always so hung up on their weight. “You wish you were lucky enough to fuck me.” He laced the comment with as much conceit as he could muster. She rolled her eyes and turned to go inside. The beautiful shape of her rear as she wrestled the stubborn sliding door open revived his hard-on. “Yeah, you best get that fat ass inside before it eclipses the sun.” She froze in the doorway, her body visibly tense. Why did he say shit like that? Why did he feel the need to be that guy when he was around her?

  Faith whipped around. “What is your problem?” she asked, through gritted teeth. “Why the hell do you act like such an asshole?” She crept toward him, not stopping until she was just inches away, and glared up at
him. Eric could see the fury in her eyes; he could also see the shape of her supple breasts as they heaved in anger. He hated that it turned him on as much as it did.

  “I don’t like sluts and I think they should be treated like the trash they are.” He heard the words travel through the air, and was amazed that he would talk to a woman that way.

  Without warning, Faith’s hand flew up and slapped him hard. “You’re a prick!”

  “Whore,” he shot back, as the sting spread across his face. When her hand rose again, he was ready and grabbed her wrist before she could make contact, squeezing it harder than he knew he should. Her left hand shot up in the form of a fist and caught him on the jaw. The hard hit rattled his brain for a moment, but he still had the presence of mind to grab her other wrist. Glaring down at her, he asked, “Are we done now?”

  She didn’t answer, but fire filled her narrowed eyes and perspiration spotted her brow as she tried to pull free. Not wanting to risk being hit again, Eric held her by her wrists until he saw her breathing begin to slow. When she seemed calm, he eased his hands away, but no sooner had he let go than she reached up and grabbed both his ears, pulling them as hard as she could.

  “What the hell Faith?” The pain was immense. Eric grabbed at her hands to pull them away, but it only made her pull harder. He couldn’t help but lower his body, trying to follow the direction she pulled. His brain flashed white light; he couldn’t believe it hurt so bad. He squeezed her wrists to keep her from pulling any harder, but when he tried to pull her away, her nails bit into his skin.

  He could see the hatred in her face. Did she think she could kill him this way? By now, the pain was so intense he wondered the same thing. Rage filled him, and he yanked her arm as hard as he could, but her grip was so tight it did nothing but bring them both to their knees and send agonizing tendrils of pain through his body. Her expression changed to one of smug satisfaction. She held him there, not letting him move and threatening to rip off both of his ears if he struggled anymore.