Heavy Bass

Grit's decision.

'Get me some faaaackin' ice.'


'What?' Xavier placed his hand between my shoulder blades while I coughed. I could barely breathe, she'd crippled me. As a result, my voice was slurred.

'Ice!' I hissed between agonizingly clenched teeth. I could feel the molars grinding together, and the sensation made me cringe. Wonderful evening. Patrick interrupts me before I shoot my load into succulent red lips, and then the displeasure of meeting with Gellar and his golden girl. Culminating in the worst pain a man could suffer.

I heard the padding of Xav's feet as he went to get medical assistance. And I got to thinking about the brunette with the attitude. How dare that posh bitch come in here ranting and raving about coming to our aid in some charitable move, only to kick me in the nuts. Bitch. She was probably one of those feminists, the kind of woman that wore Doc martens boots and went on hunger strikes chained up outside parliament. The kind that grew out her arm pit hair in the name of equal rights.


A bolt of pain stabbed me in the dick and I winced, grabbing hold of the chair next to me. I'd been kicked in the balls before, once by a guy who charged backstage to inflict some damage, on account of me screwing his wife the night before. Did I know she was married? I saw the ring, I just have my own set of beliefs. If a man can't satisfy a woman, and that woman looks elsewhere for a little relief, is that really such a bad thing? And if I remember rightly, she had the time of her life.


'You did pinch her arse.' Sniggered Johnny, breaking my train of thoughts. If I wasn't in the most pain I'd ever suffered in my entire existence, I'd have smashed him right in the nose. We'd always wound each other up, more like brothers than band mates or colleagues as Patrick sometimes called us. But right now? I felt like my testicles were about to fall off.


'We'll sort this shit out Grit, we always do. Neil's just pissed about the money thing.'

'Yeah.....Well once I'm able to fucking stand I'm headed over to that jumped up so-called song writer and I'll tell her where to go, once and for all. Fucking trollop.'

And then everything went black.



.............


I blinked at the light, at first I thought I was dead, but I didn't see any naked chicks around. Just Patrick, the tour doctor and Xavier. The doctor shone the light into my eyes and I knocked it clean from his hand, sitting up and rubbing the back of my head.

'I'll sue that bitch for this.'


'You're fine. You just need to keep ice on it.' Doc muttered, dismissively.


'We're playing a show tomorrow night in Indianapolis.....'


'Well maybe you won't be getting your end away any time soon.' Patrick chided. 'And is that such a bad thing?'


'Feck off Paddy. You're a bloody Judas.'


'How so?' The older guy raised a brow, looking down at me, impeccably dressed in his standard grey suit. As always.


'You brought her here. You didn't tell us about the accounts....'


'Now hold on for a second. I heard Paddy trying to tell you a dozen times.' It was Erin. From somewhere in the room. I hadn't recovered all my senses yet. 'You're always avoiding the issue. Brushing it well under the carpet. That's what you do Grit.'


'Erin could you stop being such a fucking bitch all the time.'


I saw her now, standing beside Xavier, arms folded. 'You know what Jeff?'


I wasn't about to let another woman wade into our band tonight. I felt my jaw lock, and eyes narrowed to slits. I'd condense the team a little. To save a little money. Since we seemed to need it.


'You're fired, Erin.' I trained my eyes on hers.


'Excuse me?'


'You heard me. You're fired.'


'Grit...' Xavier shook his head. 'Come on dude let's sleep on this.'


'I think your time working for The initiative has come to an end, don't you think Erin?'


'I hope you catch some sexually transmitted disease and instead of a kick in the nuts I hope your dick falls off.'


And that was the moment Erin Abramovich ceased her employment with us. A mutual decision in the end. Don't you think?


.................

In the limo back to the hotel, we were all silent. Me, because my dick felt like it belonged to someone else and I was pretty sure it was paralyzed, and Xavier, because he'd fallen asleep. Just like he always did on the way back to base camp. If he was pissed off with me for getting rid of Erin without consulting anyone else, he didn't show it. Johnny sat beside me, hands gripping the neck of his guitar, but Neil was missing. The city of New York blurred by, my eyes fighting sleep as the street lights became a bokeh haze, with the soundtrack of a thousand beeping car horns and vibrant night life. New York was one of the best places to get laid, one time I was standing in Times Square at three am screwing a girl while my face looked back at me from a billboard. It was a heady life affirming moment.


The car stopped, abruptly, and she got in. The violent song writing feminist.


She slid in opposite us, crossing her legs demurely and looking out of the window, as if nothing had happened.


'What are you doing here.' I growled, hands gripping the seat either side of me, rage bubbling to the surface. I'd never been too good with anger. I did fury well.


'I'm headed back to the hotel. Same as you.' She tapped away on an iPad, scrolling through pages, and smiling at something. And it pissed me off.


'Put that fucking thing away and let's talk.'


'Talk? Really? Is that something you can do, Jeffrey?'


Jeffrey. She was purposefully messing with me, trying to wind me up. This was her plan. Conniving ho.


'I'm going to take the higher ground, Miss.....'


'Hamilton.'


'Miss Hamilton. I'm taking the higher ground here. You think I'm not capable of speech? You just drove your foot into my junk.'


'You know why I did that.'


'Enlighten me, love.'


'Don't call me love.' There was a note of actual malice in her tone. She meant it.


'Don't use your foot as a weapon.'


'I told you. You know why I did that.'


I chuckled without the briefest sliver of humor. 'If I can't fuck for a month I'm suing your bony little arse for every penny you have.'


'I'll consider it my contribution to society. My good deed for the year. Sparing probably hundreds of women from your so-called charming personality.'


'Women love me.'


'Certain types of women, Grit.'


'Every kind of woman. I'm on more bucket lists than you could imagine.'


'Trust me. Your female following is made up primarily of daddy issues and self destructive personalities. Nothing to brag about there.' She counted off those two characteristics on her fingers, looking pleased with herself.


'I want you gone. By tomorrow I want you back on a plane to whatever rock you crawled out from under.'


'That sounds like a threat, Grit.' She turned her attention back to her iPad, irritating me almost to the point of explosion, as she continued flicking through pages.


'It's just a little friendly advice, Miss Hamilton.' I rasped, as another pang of pain coursed through my dick.


The woman was as good as gone.