Breaking Her Bad by Michelle Mankin

 

 

 

 

 

Kyle

Jittery, even after fucking Claire, I tapped my boot on the wood floor. “Where is she?”

“She’ll be here.” Tommy placed his hand on my shoulder. “Just breathe, man.”

“Easy for you to say.” I ran my fingers through my hair and glanced out at the audience. “Difficult to do.”

“Yeah.” He twirled his sticks in one hand. “I can’t believe how packed it is.” He peered around the side stage column like I had.

“Me either.” I gulped in a breath, needing more air.

“Guess the word got out. My dad certainly told everyone who came in the restaurant that his son was performing at Footit’s tonight.”

“I think Missy threatened a few people,” I muttered.

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” He glanced at the bottom of the stage.

A few VIP tables were up front. It was standing-room only in the rest of the large rectangular area surrounding the stage.

“There she is.” He pointed with a stick.

I looked, giving Missy a glance. She looked pretty in a sapphire-blue halter top, skinny jeans, and stilettos.

What I found more interesting, though, was the way Chad’s dad was staring at Claire’s mom. Rachel had just taken his drink order. The dude’s eyes remained glued to her, dipping to her ass as she walked away.

“Ready?” Addy joined us and flipped a bar towel over her shoulder. “You don’t look good. Do you need a drink?”

“Would you serve me one?” I asked.

“Hell no.” She grinned. “Just trying to get your mind off your nerves. You’ve got this.”

Tommy glanced behind us and stiffened. “Oh fuck!”

“What?” My heart racing, I turned and saw Claire, and my mouth went dry. “Wow.”

Claire pushed her glasses further up on her nose and slowly smiled. “You like my outfit?”

I reached for her. When I had her, I knew I didn’t need a drink. I didn’t need anything else. Just her.

“Love, you look fantastic.”

“Thanks,” she said as I continued to take her in.

Her hair was shining like the sun in loose waves around her slender shoulders. She wore a black velvet kimono with silver stitching over a silver bikini top. A black leather bolero circled her neck and hung down between her amazing tits. And she’d paired a silver-studded black leather belt with tight, faded jeans.

I whistled low. “You look like the moon and the sun tonight, baby.”

“You look like a dream come true.” Her gaze drifted over me. “My dream.”

I was just wearing what I’d had on earlier. But I preened from the compliment, glad I hadn’t let Missy talk me into anything else. I wanted everyone in the audience looking at Claire.

“Ladies and gentlemen.”

When the announcement boomed over the sound system, I took Claire’s hand, pulling her close.

Glancing at the stage, I saw Chad standing behind the mic. He looked confident there, and he probably was. Before his injury, all eyes were on him on the basketball court.

“Thank you for coming tonight.” His voice was rich when amped up, deeper and chill-inducing. “It’s my very great honor to introduce a band everyone in Southside will be talking about soon . . . No Quarter.”

The crowd applauded. I noted that Missy stood to get them started.

Placing my hands on Claire’s shoulders, I searched her soft brown eyes. “Ready, babe?”

Biting her lip, she just stared at me, her eyes huge.

“No one expects an angel to set the world on fire, but you will,” I told her before finding Tommy and giving him a chin lift. “We’re all gonna set the world on fire.”

Tommy nodded and stepped out onto the stage. He lifted his sticks in the air, and the crowd’s noise level rose. Chad patted him on the shoulder as their paths crossed before Tommy went to his riser.

“You got this,” Chad said, reaching Claire and me.

“We do.” Claire’s eyes were as bright as shooting stars. “Go.” Looking at me, she pointed at the stage. “Where you go, you know I will follow.”

“Where you are, my life is.” I held my dad’s ESP to my chest and brushed a kiss across her glossy lips, then took my position on the stage.

I lifted my chin to acknowledge the audience. The applause died away, but a hum of silent expectation buzzed in the air.

After plugging in my guitar, I strummed the opening chords. We were leading with “I Was Made to Love You.” From ABCR to now, the circle had come around, only now it was the younger generation’s turn.

Claire stepped out and confidently strode to the center mic. She lifted the microphone from the holder and sang about a love that transcended time, a love like ours.

I felt the emotion in the tune as she sang, and strummed it into my chords. Tommy banged the shit out of his drums. It felt fucking amazing. I turned my head, making eye contact and harmonizing with Claire, and I knew this—

Side by side on a stage was where we both belonged.

Wherever my dad and mom were, I felt like they would approve. I knew for certain Claire’s dad was proud. His songbird, my little sparrow, rocked everyone inside Footit’s nest.

I glanced across the crowd to where Barry the Beast stood by the bar. With his chin up and his shoulders back, it was obvious he couldn’t be prouder. Smiling, Addy stood beside him. Rachel had her hands clasped to her chest and tears in her blue eyes.

After Claire finished the song, she stepped back from the mic. There was a moment of silence, then thunderous applause.

I reached for her hand, and when she placed her fingers in mine, I let her see my love and approval. It shone in my eyes, a mirror reflecting the brightness in hers. With her, I was as free as a bird, and together we were a new song.

When the volume of applause lowered, my gaze was as bright as hers.

“You were right, babe.” I gestured. “This is how it’s meant to be. Music’s meant to be felt. Life is meant to be lived. Love is meant to be shared.”

Then I kissed her, and together we flew to the end, rocking our first kickass show.