When Rock Meets Melody

Chapter 6 - You're All I Need

One night can change everything. And Nikki and Melody are about to have a night to remember...

(This could get a bit smutty later, readers, and there is some personal stuff included so please grab a box of tissues)

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When I was in school, my mother would always say: study first, boys later.

Well, I'm in my 20s, and it still resides in my head. Hell, I'll be surprised if I say that to my future kids. Thanks, Mom.

Half of me wanted to call Nikki and cancel, make up an excuse that I was sick and stay at home.

But then again, why should I? I thought back on what he said that afternoon, his promise to do anything to make things better between us and our friendship. If I had said no, would he give up that easily? Would he find some prettier model to mess around with until the next one comes along but ten times hotter than the last one? 

I don't know, I don't think he knows, too. 

The last thing I remember was coming out of the taxi, granting a tip, and knocking on his door to his suite in the Hotel Vancouver where the band resided. My chest warmed up a little as soon as Nikki opened the door. On stage, his hair was three times the size of a furball, makeup coated on his face and everything. He looked a thousand times better with mellow hair, no makeup and no facial hair. And he was wearing the same clothes he had on back in the studio. Huge improvement. Apart from holding two pizza boxes and the Twister game.

"I'd give you a hug, but I'd probably drop these," he said, making the boxes rattle together.

"Pizza and Twister, huh?" I replied, then instinctively shrug. "At least it's better than just a boring fancy dinner."

Allowing myself in and Nikki closing the door behind us, I motioned around the suite.

"I'm glad you came back," Nikki said, his voice filled with emotion.

"I'm glad, too," I whispered, feeling a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

What else have I missed other than him after rehab? Nikki returned with two bottles of Coke, joined me on the sofa, and we clinked our bottles. I took several gulps of the darn thing like it was whiskey.

"Why didn't you tell me that you could sing?" Nikki spoke up after a minute's silence.

"I gave my reason back at the studio. Remember?" I reminded him.

"I know you did. But it's been on my mind for a few years and there's something I don't get; what made you want to join Mötley in the first place?"

Of all the things that have happened, the thought of becoming a singer was already blanking out.

"You didn't hear this from me, but I was a huge Joan Jett fan when she started with The Runaways," I explained with a chuckle, my legs crossed together. "You know, the girl band with their song "Cherry Bomb"? God, something about her image drew me to rock music in the first place. And others like Blondie, Aerosmith, Bowie, and KISS came out of the woodwork, too. I even had a crush on Alice Cooper of all people to admire in music. But I never told anybody that I sang."

"Why?" He questioned, his head resting on his fist.

My deep sigh meant I had a few memories ready to shed light on.

"I, um-- I have stage fright," I elaborated, trying to hold back the tears that stung from the painful memory. "We did this stupid play at the end of the 5th grade and before I did my solo, I freaked out. The staring threw me off so badly, I ran off stage crying. And ever since then, I've been called a "mute box" because I can never speak. I turned to anti-depressants during my teens because of the anxiety and going through puberty before it further went to..."