ALL ACCESS

Chapter 10

After the show we went to the airport, and arrived in Des Moines and our hotel in the early hours of the next day. Exhausted and wanting to call it a night, everyone took to their rooms. Unfortunately for us, the flimsy curtains let the bright afternoon sun in and woke Chris and I much too soon.

The whole day's vibe was off-kilter. You could feel it. Something maliciously vile whirled about in the air, and it stunk, really bad. Everything that could go wrong, did. James wanted to cut off someone's balls because his favorite guitar disappeared between the airport and the hotel; Angela left him, said she was tired of playing second fiddle and stormed out. Someone filched Chris' precious stash from the black bag, and he was in one righteous nasty mood as trying to procure wasn't going to be easy in this town. Derrick was the band drunk. Jules was being a foul-mouthed bitch. Lisa and Nick told everyone they were spending the day attempting insane Kama Sutra positions but judging from the sounds heard coming from their room they weren't very orgasmic in nature. That left me as being the sane one.

Chris and Paul stormed out of the hotel, in what my guess (and hope) was to fix the stash problem. With Chris gone I had time to kill and thought it would be a perfect time to begin writing in my journal again. I found a corner in the hotel's coffee shop and put pen to paper about life on the road, the band and all their foibles, my beautiful friends and their lovers. But mostly I wrote about the fans and the music. Watching them watch the band, seeing the musical lust that shone from their eyes, and not just from the girls either, the guys too. The give and take of arcane energy and how it was a lot like sex; hot and heavy, soft, rough, passionately insane, slow and heady. The tribal infused dancing, head bopping, swaying, with hands held high like one had reached nirvana. To be in the audience or standing off-stage, either spot was perfect to watch the slow, sensual tease begin from the band, see it heighten then culminate, bringing their audience to orgasmic bliss.

I sucked down gallons of coffee as I scribbled the late afternoon away. My shoulders ached from all the writing, but it felt great to be doing it again, what a drug. As I packed up my things, I heard a knock on the window. Turning, I saw Chris waving at me. I waved back. Within a minute, he came bounding into the coffee shop like an ape in a room full of bananas, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Grabbing me, he twirled me around, then stopped and kissed me like there was no tomorrow. Releasing me, I turned away and he slapped my ass. His raucous laughter at my stunned look sounded like a cross between Woody Woodpecker and Daffy Duck. Something tells me the stash problem is fixed.

Chris and Paul decided everyone needed a night out to party and just chill. According to the locals, the best place to go was a bar called Uncle Sam's and that's exactly where we were two hours later. Money changed hands and Flux owned the club for the evening. Roadies Clive and Mark manned the door and only let in what they termed the "cool" kids; it became one huge, raging fiesta. The aroma of whiskey shooters – everyone's drink of choice tonight – and the reek of weed added to the general funk pervading the building. A dark, nasty corridor led to the billiards room in the back where a scarred round table held a square mirror laden with white lines, cut and ready for consumption.

This is where we stayed. Kids with an ounce of bravery came back looking for autographs and a bit of snow. But to get it, they were required to perform an act, one the group would make up on the spot. It could be anything from showing your tits, to pant dropping, to whatever crazy idea floated the band's boat. No one ever said no and most people, especially the girls, were game for anything to the delight of the band.

Clive brought this one girl back to meet the band, introducing her as Racy Stacie, a tiny thing with a chest to rival Jules', and a mop of curly, flaming-red hair - the kind of color one saw on autumn leaves. Wearing stilettos and dressed in leather and lace, this girl breathed trouble. I sensed it. Her blue eyes took everything in and the ruby lips held a devil-may-care grin.