Caught Like A Fly

If I had known that today would be one of the most life-changing days of my life, I would have gone back to bed. However, that simply wasn't possible. I had a show to play tonight, and my douche bag band members lost my guitar. How do you lose a fucking guitar?! Needless to say, I was well on my way to having the worst day in the history of forever. Yes. It was that big of a deal.

"Connor!" I barked, and the tall, attractive blonde jumped at the sound of my voice. "Are you even looking? We can't fucking play if I don't have a FUCKING GUITAR!"

"Stop, STOP! I've called every place we stopped at, I've searched the entire bus, it's just gone, Andy," he said, and I sighed irritably, the first two fingers of each hand pressing to my temples.

"I'm sorry," I said, letting my hands go to my sides. "What are we going to do?"

Connor had been my best friend for years. Through grade school and middle school, he was the choir boy and I was the band nerd, and we dated for a short time in high school, but we got over that nonsense and started a band after we graduated. It's been three years and now that we have a solid group, we were supposed to open a secret show for Falling in Reverse. They had been disguising themselves as Goodbye Graceful, but anyone that had been streaming their album for free knew better. I was one of those people, even though I would never admit it. I'm going to buy it when it comes out, I swear.

"You could always ask the other bands if they have any spares lying around," he suggested weakly, and it made me want to fall onto the floor of the empty bar and cry. I wouldn't lend someone my guitar, so there was no way in hell anyone was going to lend me one.

I obeyed my own wishes and sprawled onto the worn wood floor, barely hearing Connor say he would try and find something. My morning was going so well, too. My coffee was hot, I had poured the perfect ratio of creamer to coffee the very first try and I had the best peanut butter toast I think I'd ever made. I didn't hit the morning rush and my motorcycle didn't run out of gas on my way to fill it up. An absolutely perfect morning.

Therefore, it was doomed to be destroyed. I was on the floor long enough to hear the opening bartenders talk about their shitty lives and how they wanted to get this audition or that, and they wisely ignored the girl on the floor. I had something my dad liked to call "Little Guy Syndrome". He had always been smaller than his friends in high school, and had built an attitude that rivaled any of their muscles. There was a saying at his old school that you never fought little guys unless you wanted to lose. He never elaborated on that.

Anyway, he claimed that it skipped my older brother and instilled itself in me instead. I stood at a hair above five feet and weighed less than a hundred pounds on a good day. My younger sister always said she was jealous, but I would have traded her any day; in this business, you couldn't be helpless or weak. I always carried a knife with me now. One of my good friends, Rachel, lived with the strangest human being I'd ever met, but she made knives in her garage and taught me how to fight with it. Once you got to know her, she wasn't so bad. Still crazy, though.

"I'll catch up," I heard a man's voice say in a British accent. They weren't uncommon in Hollywood, what with all of the actor-wannabe's flooding the place, but this one sounded better than most. I cracked open an eye to see a figure dressed in all black with a too-smooth white face and bright blue eyes looking down at me, concern etched on it. "The floor isn't a proper place for a woman." He held out a hand and I eyed it suspiciously. I let him help me up and it only took me a moment to recognize him.

"I know you," I said stupidly, and mentally smacked myself. Nice, let's scare him. "Sorry. I'm having a shitty day. My name's Andy. It's nice to finally meet you, Jacky." I didn't even bother shaking his hand, I just sank into a booth near where I was lying. Of course, I would get to meet Jacky Vincent on the worst day of my life thus far. Well, maybe now it wouldn't be so bad.

"Why were you lying on the floor?" he asked, sitting down across from me. It was very polite of him, especially because he had probably been sitting all day. I sighed and laid my head down on the table. My neck didn't have the will to hold it up anymore.

"My band mates are assholes."

"You're in a band?" he asked, and I snorted.

"Don't sound so surprised," I said wryly, and he held up his hands.

"I'm not, you just don't see many girls in our music scene," he said, and I found myself buying that bull shit. "Are you in the opening band?"

"Well, we would be the opening band," I said, my fury resurfacing. "But my lovely band lost my guitar." I could hardly believe I said that without shouting.

"How does one lose a guitar?"

"My question exactly."

"You can use one of mine," he said immediately, and I choked on my own saliva. "I only use two of them. I'll lend you my practice guitar until you find yours." The man was such a sweetheart he patted my back until I stopped coughing. Me? Disgrace Jacky Vincent's guitar with my shoddy guitar playing? Yeah right.

"You're kidding, right?" I asked, and he shook his head. "Why are you being so nice?"

"I can understand being guitar-less," he said like that should answer everything. "Why do you think I'm going to be an ass?"

"You're in Ronnie Radke's band."

"That's not a good enough reason," he said, folding his arms and lifting an eyebrow at me.

"Jacky!" A tall man dressed similar to Jacky paraded--yes, paraded is the correct term--over to the booth we were at with a cocky air to him like he was used to getting what he wanted and didn't give a shit if you weren't going to support that. "Who's this porcelain doll?"

"This is Andy," he said uncomfortably, but I didn't understand why he should be that way. "She's in the opening band."

"That band kicks so much ass," Ronnie said, and whatever brownie points he earned there, he would lose later. "She was the one on the floor?"

"Yup, that was me," I said, making my voice louder than necessary. The last thing I needed was to be pushed around by guys that were six feet tall. "Ronnie, right?"

"That's me," he said, and shook my hand. I made sure that was firm, too. "Shouldn't you be warming up?"

"Shit," I said, slapping my forehead. "Yeah."

"Come on, let's go get my uh, my guitar," said Jacky, trying to be sneaky about what he was up to. "You know, to make sure it feels right."

"Just call it sex, Jacky, no need to be embarrassed." Jacky's face turned beet red and I was sure mine looked the same as we walked together to the exit.

I was relieved to feel the cool breeze touch my skin, and felt my heart racing when Jacky unlocked the back doors of their van and handed me a white guitar that looked exactly like the one he would be playing tonight. Neither of us said a word as I sat down on the back bumper of the van, noodling around with a couple of scales on it as he watched. It was way nicer than my lost guitar.

"Are you sure you want to lend me this?" I asked, looking from the guitar in my hands to his pleased face. "I mean, this is a really nice guitar."

"Yes," he said firmly. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, it looks good on you." He smiled at me and it sent shivers down my spine. Whoo. That was not okay. Well, maybe it was. He's sexy.

"Thank you," I said, smiling back. "You just saved my life."

"Glad I could help. Let's get you to your band."

* * *

"Is that...that's Jacky fucking Vincent!"

"Just Jacky Vincent, thanks," said the irritatingly gorgeous guy standing next to Andy.

"Connor, shut your face," she said, but it was in an affectionate tone. "We owe him. He's letting me use his guitar."

"Wow," I said, shocked when I saw the easily recognizable white guitar in her hands. "Lucky."

"I know, right!" she squealed suddenly, and Jacky beamed at her like her happiness was all he needed to survive. Asswipe. "Come on, let's warm up! What are you losers doing?" I was shooed backstage and spied Andy and Jacky exchanging words and smiles before he put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. It was just a hug, but it always looked worse when some other man was touching your true love.

Andy hadn't shown the slightest sign of affection toward me since we dated in high school, but I still hadn't gotten over it. There were other girls that I liked and dated, but I always came back to Andy. It was always Andy. I obeyed her orders after I couldn't stand watching her get all moony-eyed over him.

* * *

Our performance killed like it usually did--there was a reason we were picked to open for Falling in Reverse--and I actually got a high-five from Ronnie, who I thought was a complete jerk until I met him. We all watched Falling in Reverse completely dominate the place side stage, and Jacky was that much more impressive in person. Connor kept giving him dirty looks, but I ignored that. He thought I didn't know he was still in love with me, but I was very aware. He needed to get over it; we were never meant to be together.

I was surprised but pleased that Jacky came straight to me when they were finished and asked me to follow him back to their dressing room. The rest of his band was off meeting fans and the room was empty when he closed the door behind us.

"You should keep it," he said, pointing at the guitar slung over my shoulders.

"What? Jacky, no!" I said, taking it off and putting it in an empty stand. "I won't take your guitar. I won't do it."

"You shredded it just as well as I do, it won't miss me," he said with a chuckle. "You really are good."

"A simple 'you're a good guitar player' would be fine, you don't have to give me your guitar."

"But I want to give it to you."

"You'll regret it," I said, and he stopped arguing for a moment as he looked at the twin guitars. Nothing he said would tempt me into accepting that kind of gift.

"Well, can you kiss it then?"

"You want me to what?"

"Kiss it. With lipstick or something. Leave your mark on it."

"Uh..." My eyes were probably bigger around than teacups as he produced a random stick of bright red lipstick. "This is the strangest thing I've ever been asked to do."

"You've never been to London," he said seriously and handed me the lipstick. I put it on as thick as I dared and planted my lips on the bottom left section of the body by the knobs, the only place generally untouched on a guitar. "There. See, that wasn't that bad."

"Yeah, but now I'm covered in red shit," I said, trying to wipe off the stubborn makeup. Jacky laughed and licked his thumbs.

"Oh, sit still," he said, holding my face and gently rubbing the makeup off with his wet thumb. I don't think I could have moved if I wanted to. Jacky Vincent's spit is on my face! Oh my GOD! Even after he was finished, he didn't move his hands. "There, that's better." My heart hadn't beat that fast in any memory I could remember at the moment, which wasn't saying a whole lot, because I couldn't remember much with his breath touching my lips and making my mouth water. By the time our lips had parted and were about to touch, footsteps made us leap from one another.

"Andy? Are you in here?" rang Connor's God-forsaken voice.

"I WILL KILL YOU, CONNOR!" I shrieked, half chasing Connor from interrupting the greatest moment of the worst day of my life and half running away from Jacky's succulent mouth and roaring laughter.