Page 1 of Ghost of a Chance
One
The Dead Boys were Kirsty’s favorite band.They’d gotten her through every tough time in her life—breakups, book rejections, moving into her own place…even if it was approximately five minutes from her mom.
Yeah, sure, she was thirty and still talked to her mom every day.But she liked her mom.
Anyway.What mattered was that she turned to the Dead Boys when things were hard.And tonight was one of those times.
She was away from home on a book tour, so the last thing she was doing was normal Kirsty stuff.Tonight she wasn’t the hometown girl that everyone knew too much about.She was here to blow off some steam.Be normal.Whatever that was.
The Zombies Music Hall hosting the event reminded her of House of Blues but slightly seedier, which was totally her jam.
Hardwood floors were peppered with dark patches from too many feet trotting over them.Thick velvet curtains blocked the stage from view with the Zombies logo burned into it.A sea of bodies covered in black, ripped jeans and Dead Boys tees filled the standing room area.Looking around the room, the last of Kirsty’s tension melted away.These were her people.
She’d downed two local IPAs and had a nice buzz going.It was her last night to get wild.Indulge herself and be this Kirsty before she headed back to her real life.The way things were going, she was totally hoping to hook up tonight.It had become sort of a habit to have a one-night stand when she was on tour for a new book.
The bar was packed.The Dead Boys had been popular when she was in college.Though not as popular now, they still did gigs like this one in smaller venues and stages across the country.The Dead Boys were made up of three women who dressed all in black.They had a dark academia vibe that was right up her alley.
The lead singer, who was also the guitar player, wore a long Victorian-style skirt with a slit up one leg.Her hair was always up and she wore dark round glasses with black lenses.Totally giving Mina Harker vibes.The bass player was a goth Britney from her “Baby One More Time” era but with Doc Martens instead of sneakers.The drummer gave Velma fromScooby-Dooif Velma was a salacious, all-black-wearing badass.
Their songs had been the soundtrack to her latest book and the chance to see them live on her book tour was too good to pass up.
Even if it was way too people-y here.
Instead of her normal author garb—which was a basic black with subtle goth makeup framed by her thick fall of black bangs—she was wearing blue jeans and a band tee she’d ordered off the internet.She’d been traveling all day so hadn’t had time to straighten her hair.Instead it was up in a messy bun.And her contacts had made her eyes itchy and red, so she wore her backup glasses.The big, red-framed pair that she liked to use when she was writing.They made it easier to see the monitors on her desk.
Some guy bumped her, spilling some of his beer on her arm.Because of course he would.But this was a concert, and she expected to leave smelling of stale beer and weed.Just not so soon.
“Sorry.God, it’s packed tonight.”
“Yeah,” she said.Trying to make it clear that she wasn’t here to chat.But then she took in his shaggy black hair with long bangs that fell over his forehead.High cheekbones and a mouth that was wide and lush.He even had on the same Dead Boys tee she did.The band’s name and two skeletons with large fluorescent sunglasses wearing sombreros.
This man was sexy and a fan, just like her.So she changed her mind.“Good for the band that more people are into their music again, but sucks for fans like us.”
“Indeed.”
There was a sparkle in his eyes as he clocked her tee.A slow smile lit his face.
“Can I get you a drink instead of just spilling one on you?”he asked.
“I’m not sure we should leave this spot,” she said, glancing around the crowded floor in front of the stage.
“I’ve got a table in the VIP section near the stage,” he said.
VIP seats.There was more to hot T-shirt than met the eyes.She was a fan but hadn’t thought to get the VIP package.
“Nice for you.”
“You too.Want to join?”
“Duh.”
He nodded and turned toward the bar.The rear view was just as nice as the front, she thought.His black jeans were skintight, hugging a cute firm ass.His shoulders were broad and his arms were muscly.Not that she normally went for the jock type.
Not that he was a jock.With the dark hair, eyeliner and black clothing he was dressed like the goth guy type that she was usually attracted to.He had to be broken in some way—we all are.
Did he grow up with too little money?Or too much?He had VIP tickets and that look of ease that said he’d been comfortable growing up.Surely there was more than a bit of envy as she observed him.Stop analyzing it.
Her problem was that after spending so much time at her keyboard writing, she tended to break every person she interacted with down like they were a character in her book, or worse, a puzzle she had to solve.
