Page 15 of Enjoying the Band in Lockdown

“It’s easy. You’re going to keep doing this competition. I get my night. From nine pm until six am or until you leave my fucking bed, you’re mine.”

“The competition is about who can make me come the quickest, you’re not gonna win if you take nine hours.”

“Oh, but my little Lolita. I can win that competition hands down. I want the bonus points.”

“For what?”

“Who can make you come alive.”

I snuck in the side door of the pub. The old wood charm hitting me alongside wafts from stale beer and decades of fried schnitzels, burgers and chips. This stone building had been our home for three weeks of lockdown. The bar room and pool table for relaxation. The restaurant turned into a rehearsal studio. Two floors of bedrooms usually reserved for tourists or drunken patrons.

Ours. Six people in one pub. Free accommodation for looking after the place for the owner. Living the Australian dream.

Jax didn’t follow me upstairs, and no one else noticed. A cold shower, first of the day, a necessary indulgence before finding my bag already unpacked. A sweet gesture from my main man.

Coming back downstairs, wet blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, I found Xavier and Chase in the kitchen. Prepping for lunch and continuing their never-ending argument over one song.

“Hey,” I whispered into his ear, hugging Xavier from behind. “What have you got for me?”

“Did you?”

“No.”

His tense shoulders relaxed under my touch and because of my answer. For some reason, Xavier never minded about me being with Devon, or even Chase. Yes, he was always involved, but they were icing. Not the cake. But there was something about Jax and me that Xavier either didn’t like or trust.

“Have you been in the kitchen all this time?” I needed a redirect. Get his focus away from Jax before my blushing gave away my sins. No, we hadn’t fucked. But that didn’t mean we hadn’t connected on a way that didn’t require actual sex.

“No. I was trying to make those assholes understand we have less than two weeks to get Dirty Blonde ready for public release.”

“Like I keep telling you, it’ll be ready. You’ve just gotta chill and let the music flow.” Chase had dropped his arrogance, trying an uncharacteristic conciliatory tone. Shit, things must be desperate.

“My brother has given us an opportunity. One fucking song as part of his online concert. One fucking opportunity to show the world we can do more than half-baked originals and great covers. We can actually make our name with this song.”

“So, what’s stopping you?” I stood back, hoping that if these two could work things out, the others would fall into line.

“Your asshole boyfriend won’t agree to the final verse.” Chase dropped nice for sneer. Not the look I liked the most, but it went with his tall, brooding demeanor.

“What’s wrong with it?” It’d sounded perfect when Xavier had sung it on our way back from the beach.

“You’re darling boyfriend wants to make it a love song about you.”

“I don’t know what to say about that,” I laughed, embarrassed. Xavier and I were many things, but love? “What do you want it to be?”

“It’s about the one who got away.”

“What do the other guys think?” I asked as Jax joined us.

“That’s easy.” Jax now pressed between Xavier and Chase. Doubling the heat in the kitchen. “It’s the perfect song to make every woman feel just like you do right now. As if it’s written for them. We belt it out and there won’t be a dry panty in the house. We’ll have our pick of women, and every fucking guy in the place will download and play it any time they want to reach inside a woman’s pussy. Xav, our parents fucked to your brother’s song. This will be the song for our generation. It will be the kick-ass, fuck-buddy of a song, for our kick-ass fucking gorgeous girl here.”

“Then, that’s what you’ve gotta do.” I pressed hands against two chests. Needing space before we all did something, crazy. “I want you guys to finish the song. Set the world on fire.”

“Which brings us back to the final verse.” Xavier’s look towards Chase could slice ice.

“Chase, it was always your song,” I reminded them. “Beautiful Brunette.”

“Until it became Dirty Blonde.”

“So, it’s a love song; a rock anthem, for the girl who got away, who was never yours?” I put it to Chase, knowing he’d see sense. Unrequited love did not make a commercially successful rock anthem.

---