She supposed she should be excited to be so close to the stage, but Melanie much preferred stadium seats to the pit. She liked to listen to the music, not defend herself from injury. The pit was hot and sweaty: crowded, loud, lewd, and dangerous. Nikki called it exciting. Melanie called it painful. Nikki spent the next forty-five minutes trying to get the attention of the band's lead singer; Melanie spent her time avoiding elbows in the face by two enthusiastic fangirls and keeping the guy behind her from squishing her against the metal bars of the barrier fence and prodding her in the ass with his junk. How could Nikki enjoy this?
Melanie watched the lead singer—the current object of Nikki’s obsession–prowl the front of the stage. He could’ve been a gorgeous man. Tattoos ruined his otherwise good looks. Had he been dressed in a nice suit and discussing philosophy instead of wearing ripped denim and screaming something about descending into Hell, Melanie might have admired the wide cut of his shoulders and his strong, handsome profile. But, yeah, the ink completely turned her off. She wondered what color his eyes were. He had yet to take off his sunglasses. The stage lights were blinding, but she figured the shades were part of his image. He’d worn them onstage the night before, too, and by the way the two fangirls were screeching Shaaaaade every time he stalked in their direction, she assumed he’d been named after his fondness for eyewear. Melanie had a heck of a time keeping the names of the band members straight even though Nikki had gone on and on and on about them on the drive down from Wichita.
Melanie did enjoy watching Shade and the other band members interact with the crowd and each other. The bassist was surprisingly popular with the audience; Melanie found most bass players to be obscure by default. This one had a softer look than the two guitarists— handsome, even features, a normal haircut sans black dye, a perpetual smile, and gentle eyes. Had he not decorated his every inch of his hard-muscled arms with tattoos and bore piercings in his eyebrow and lip, Melanie might not have crossed the street if he’d approached her in public. Why did these men insist on destroying their looks with permanent accessories? It was a damn shame.
The lead guitarist, who had an inordinate fondness for black, was big on chains and trying to upstage the vocalist. They competed for the crowd’s affection with an active rivalry. The rhythm guitarist, who had a gorgeous mane of long, straight hair and no shirt—much to the delight of any female who didn’t mind a fully inked torso—mocked the competing stage hogs behind their backs. The bassist found his antics so hilarious that he had to pause a few times to catch his breath from laughing so hard. Melanie doubted she would’ve noticed the nuances of their dynamic from stadium seats, so at least she had something interesting to watch as she tried to convince the guy behind her that her ass was off limits and not designed as a pincushion for his boner.
Near the end of the final song of their set list—the same set list they’d played the night before—the lead singer hopped off the stage and walked the narrow path on the other side of the barrier fence, slapping hands with fans in the front row as he passed them. Nikki used Melanie for leverage so she could stretch her body into Shade’s path. She got a hand on his skintight T-shirt, but was unable to keep her hold as he blazed past. He returned to the stage just as the song ended on a long, wailing guitar note.
“I touched him,” Nikki squealed excitedly and covered her mouth with her rock-god-blessed hand.
“Congratulations,” Melanie said.
“God, I want him.”
“What about the rest of the band? They’re all totally your type.”
“They’re my backup plan, but Shade is the one I really want.” Nikki’s eyes rolled upward, and Melanie suspected she was in the throes of an orgasm. Melanie took a deep breath and shook her head at her friend. What was the appeal?
When the band pretended their set was over and the crowd began to chant for an encore, Nikki started tugging Melanie toward the side of the stage. Melanie accidentally stomped more than one toe in the darkness. She spouted a litany of sorries as she was given no choice but to follow her determined friend, who had an iron grip on her wrist. The crowd was bathed in darkness to excite them for the final song as well as let them know the show wasn’t actually over: Sole Regret’s biggest hit was yet to come. Even Melanie had noticed they hadn’t played “Instigator” and they’d blown the roof off the stadium with their high-energy rock anthem the night before.
Melanie had no idea how Nikki managed to see well enough to slip past security, but they were suddenly free from the crowd and standing next to the stage. They were so going to get caught. Melanie clung to Nikki’s hand, hoping they didn’t get chewed out too severely when one of the distracted security guards noticed them. In the darkness, Nikki managed to find the cute roadie she'd been talking to the night before. Melanie wondered if Nikki was wearing night vision goggles. Her own eyes were still trying to adjust to the lack of illumination after she’d stared up at bright stage lights for almost an hour.
"This is her," Nikki said. She tugged Melanie against her and kissed her on the mouth with heated, seeking lips. It wasn’t one of those you're my bestie and I've had a too much to drink, so I'm feeling affectionate kisses. It was more a we go down on each other, wanna watch kind of kiss. Melanie was too shocked to do anything but breathe. And even that was a struggle.
What the fuck? Was this the ruse Nikki had mentioned?
“Oh yeah,” the cute roadie said when Nikki ended her plundering assault on Melanie’s lips. “That’s totally hot, tater tot.” He reached into the front pocket of his mega-baggie jeans and pulled out a backstage pass on a lanyard. He draped it around Nikki’s neck. “I only have one left.”
“But what about my friend?” Nikki directed her morose-puppy look in his direction. The guy didn’t stand a chance.
“Show Tony what you just showed me, and he’ll let you both backstage. Trust me.”
The stage lights flashed on and the band started their encore with a hard and heavy drum progression. Melanie covered her ears with both hands.
“It’s loud,” she yelled.
Nikki grabbed Melanie’s wrist again and led her behind the stage to where a man stood guarding a door. Nikki flashed her pass at him and he opened the door, but stuck out his arm to bar Melanie’s entry.
“Jack said you’d let us both in,” Nikki said. “He only had one pass for us to share.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Melanie was secretly hoping he refused to let either of them in. What in the world was Nikki thinking? Kissing her on the mouth. Letting that guy think it was natural for them to make out. Just so she could meet some weird lead singer who called himself Shade, of all things.
“Because we want to see Shade,” Nikki said. “Both of us.”
And the next thing Melanie knew, her best friend had her tongue in her mouth and her hand on her ass. Melanie jerked away. She’d been shocked the first time. Now she was just pissed.
“What the fuck, Nikki?”
“She doesn’t like to do it in public,” Nikki explained to the security guard. She cupped Melanie’s breast and gave it a squeeze. The guy groaned and shoved them both into the backstage area and shut the door behind them.
“What is wrong with you?” Melanie slapped Nikki’s hand away from her breast.
“I knew you wouldn’t agree with my plan if I asked.” She shrugged. “Last night, I sorta told that roadie guy that I was into threesomes and I had this hot girlfriend I wanted to share with Shade.”