Page 36 of Under the Ink

Naomi didn’t care if he meant a cigarette or a joint—she wasn’t interested. “No, thanks. I’m gonna listen to the band.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you. You’ll be sick of the new shit before you know it.”

Naomi just smiled and shrugged. Shewasn’tgoing to the alley with these guys to smoke. She didn’t even know if weed was legal in California, and she also didn’t know if she’d be guilty by association. She wasn’t about to take any chances.

A couple of the guys followed Sippi when he asked, “You comin’, Andy?”

“Naw. I’ll hang here with Miss Naomi.”

She started laughing as the other guys headed outside. “Miss?”

“You ain’t amissus, are you, darlin’?”

“No.”

“Thenmissit is.” As a half dozen crew members walked outdoors, Andy asked, “So how are you feeling about ST’s latest album?”

“I’m not sure. That’s why I’m giving it a listen now.”

“Did you like their other albums?”

It was time that she might as well fess up. “I don’t listen to a lot of music. My old job played a lot of alternative and pop stuff, but—”

“What’s your favorite kind?”

“I don’t have a favorite.”

“Aw, c’mon. You gotta likesomethin’.”

“I don’t know. I, uh, didn’t listen to a lot of music growing up—and when I was in high school, I played in the band and kind of developed a taste for that kind of music. You know, with horns and stuff. I also played drums in jazz band, so I can’t help liking that, too.”

“But do you like hard rock? Metal?”

She shrugged again.

“Then we gotta get you closer to the stage. Not too close, ‘cause the shit’s loud—but you need to hear it and feel it. You’ll be headbanging before you know it.”

“I don’t know about headbanging, but yeah. Let’s do it.”

So they made their way deeper inside and, once they opened a door to the official backstage area, they were assaulted by the sounds of Shock Treatment. And even though the sounds of the guitar wielded by Johnny (known to the fans asJ.C.) and Mickey’s bass were loud and Kiefer’s voice could be heard over them, Naomi found herself first focusing on the drums.

After all, that was the part she was slightly responsible for.

Sage was a solid drummer—after just half a minute, she could tell that. More than anything else, Naomi knew it would be easy enough to ignore, instead recognizing the beat and rhythm of the song without giving the man credit as its driving force.

Butsheknew. She could feel it in her bones. In her soul.

In this particular song, she heard what sounded almost like two different drum tracks, one soft and hardly audible, the other hard and driving. Although she wasn’t sure she could trust her ears, it made her want to pay even closer attention. This song was pretty loud and intense, the kind of thing her parents calleddevil’s music.

Therealreason why she’d never listened to much music like this.

And although she wasn’t sure if it would become her favorite genre, she knew she didn’t hate it. In fact, the melody spoke to her. There were sharp notes here and there that gave the song a mournful but surprising quality and, as she eased herself closer to the stage, she found herself appreciating it.

Andy tapped on her shoulder—something she found quite annoying. Why hadn’t this guy figured out she didn’t like to be touched? Still, she turned her head, ready to ask him nicely not to do that, but he’d just wanted to get her attention to show her the two folding chairs that he’d found and brought to where they stood. She couldn’t hear him but understood what he was offering.

They might be here a while, so why not?

When the song ended, Kiefer was talking to the crowd. “You guys know L.A. is one of my favorite places on the planet—so thanks for having us here.” Their cheers told Naomi the feeling was mutual. She tried to remember how big this venue was, how many people could fit in here, because Sage had scowled when he’d said it. Smaller than a lot of other places they’d played, but she thought he’d said a thousand people.

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