Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“I took the day off. Might as well make the most of it.” I catch the server’s attention and order, “Another round, please.”
3
Shane Faris
I feel like the center of the fucking universe on stage. I’m a rock god with twenty-two thousand disciples of Faris Wheel singing the lyrics back to us.
No drugs nor alcohol can beat the high of performing live for fans who can’t get enough of you. I have no complaints, but the three months of touring with only a handful of breaks makes it hard on the mind and body.
My hands are blistered and bloody from giving my all every night on the drum kit. I lost a drumstick mid-song when pain shot through my wrist. But there’s no better high than killing it on percussion during the solo to end the show.
I won’t disappoint. I never do.
That’s why the ladies love me. Well, that and my—
“Shane Faris on drums!” Nikki says, closing the concert. “Thank you, and good night!”
Grabbing the shirt I pulled off halfway through the show, I walk to the edge of the stage and toss it into the audience. Plenty of beauties vie for my attention, but they’ll have to be satisfied with my sticks. I give them to security to choose whoever he wants to give them to. He’ll probably get laid. It always works for me. With a wave, I leave the stage, traveling down the steps.
I ruffle my hand over my hair to shake off the sweat dripping from the ends and move into the dark, where a curtain is pushed aside for me.
“Great show,” Nikki says before drinking water. Soaked strands of her hair stick to the sides of her face. “But I lost my hairband on stage.” She lifts her hair and rolls the cold bottle of water along the back of her neck. She kills it on stage every time she walks out there, captivating the audience with her vocal range and the edge she’s mastered to rock our songs.
No doubt she’s been the key, but we all must hold up our part of the show, or it falls apart for the band.
“I sweat my ass off.” I reach for a bottle of water. It won’t be enough to replace the water I lost during the performance, but it’s a start. “These summer tours are brutal.”
Laird grabs ice from the cooler to run over his shoulder. “Especially in Arizona.” His guitar was left on stage, but the strap left its mark across his body, his neck rubbed raw. My cousin slips on a shirt that a roadie tossed him, then grabs another bottle of water to finish off.
Nikki kicks the toe of her shoe against her brother’s, and asks, “How many shirts have you guys gone through on this tour?”
“Too many,” I joke, wondering why no one tossed me a replacement. “Laird’s end up on auction sites while mine end up in bed with hot-as-fuck women. I consider it a service to sacrifice my garments for their sexual pleasure.”
“Disturbing,” she adds, laughing right after.
“And fucking lies. My shirts make it home with plenty of women. I just don’t keep track anymore. Why would I when I have the best wife a guy could ask for waiting for me at hom—”
I shove him sideways. “What happened to you, man? You used to be fun.”
“Now he’s in love,” Nikki says, turning just in time to end up in her husband’s arms.
Where the fuck did Tulsa Crow come from?
Lifting our lead singer, he kisses her. He’s a cocky and sneaky fucker, but we all get along, which is good since he’s a part of the family now. She wraps herself around him, and they kiss again like they just met, though they’ve been married for years. He says, “You were amazing on that stage, darlin’.”
I’m with Laird, looking anywhere but at the lovebirds. She is my cousin, and I have no interest in seeing her make out with her husband. I can imagine it’s worse for Laird. Realizing he’s also a traitor, leaving me wingman-less and kicking it with the honeys on my own these days, I don’t know how to feel lately. I’m the band's third member, but I’m starting to feel like a fifth wheel in our lives.
The three other members of The Crow Brothers band saunter over to hang at the side of the stage with us before they’re announced to go on. Thank fuck. This whole lovey-dovey scene was getting on my nerves.
“How is it out there?” Jet asks, trying to catch a glimpse of the audience.
When Tulsa sets my cousin down, she tugs at her skirt, and replies, “Considering the heat, they’re fantastic. I’d keep an eye out for any heat-related situations. Medics are standing by.”
“Okay, I will.” Since he’s front and center playing guitar and singing, he’ll have that same view she had on stage. We’ve toured the past three summers with them since they’re practically family, with Nikki and Tulsa being married and having a kid. It brought the Faris family and Crows together. The two bands touring to support each other was a natural step. But we should step into the headliner spot in the lineup next time.