Gemma
Watching my brother perform has always been the best part of this job. Well, that, and I can't deny the rest of the Spades areseriouseye-candy.
I can admit that my brother is attractive. After all, we share the same genes and I’m pretty damn cute myself, or so guys tell me, but the other members…well, they’re something else.
Ranking in number one in looks and talent, in my opinion, is the lead guitarist: Axel Jermaine. This rank does not include my brother, for obvious reasons. He is the most talented person in the world and as attractive as he may be, he is still my brother, so, yuck. Anyway, currently, Axel is performing Eric Clapton’s infamous guitar solo from “Layla”and my eyes are fixed on him as if under a spell.
“He has such talented fingers,” a girl standing near me all but screeches, and a smile spreads across my face. I look over at her and realize that she’s one of the Spades’ “groupies,” one of the girls (along with some guys) who follow the band around from dive bar to dive bar, city to city. Their fans are pretty chill, as they go, but they’re predominantly young women, of course, and some of the guys can be easily distracted. Sometimes, I get irritated with having to act as a potential bouncer, but I’m in such a good mood tonight that I don’t even feel slightly annoyed.
“I bet,” I drawl, laughing a little, and even though I know he can’t have possibly heard the exchange over the music and amps, Axel’s blue eyes meet mine and he drops a slow wink at me.
Not one to be outdone (or possibly faint as the blonde next to me might have), I wink back, biting the corner of my lip, and Axel grins back widely.
My eyes move from his face to his right forearm as he finishes up the solo. Axel has never revealed what his tattoos mean, and I am more than curious about them, truth be told. Axel and I became close friends almost right away, both being extroverted and a little too blunt at times.
My brother would skin Axel for just that wink if he wasn’t distracted crouching down on the front stage, crooning out the lyrics to a redhead in the front row. Besides, I’m busy enough keeping my brother on the straight and narrow as well as managing his band. I’m not actually interested in dating Axel, or anyone for that matter, but it can be fun now and again to flirt.
The bassist gives me a big open smile as I weave my way to the front to adjust one of the spotlights that appears to be shining directly in his face, and I grin back with a little wave. Sam blushes and I’m endeared, as always. Samuel Hansen is the “baby” of the group, and even though he’s four years older than me, he does seem younger. Sam is a sweetheart, though, much different than the rest of the group…especially the drummer, Locke Kincaid.
I reach over, pushing the spotlight slightly to get it out of Sam’s eyes, and he nods at me gratefully as they start the opening bars of “Baba O’Riley” by The Who.
The first few songs they perform are covers, of course, because all these dive bars have a certain vibe that they expect Jack and the Spades to form into. That will all change when the tour comes, and I’m so excited about it that I can barely contain myself. My brother and I have been writing songs together since we were kids - or at least, sinceIwas a kid, and I’ve had a hand in penning some of the lyrics of Jack and the Spades’ songs. Of course, I never told any of the others that, because Jackson and I do it together, and it’shisdream, not mine.
I’m not sure if I have any dreams. Not exactly, anyway. I just want to make sure that Jackson is happy and successful and pay him back for all he’s done for me after our parents passed so suddenly. If life has taught me anything, it’s that nothing ever lasts forever. And I’m happy doing what I’m doing. So, I’ll continue doing it and making Jackson’s dream come true until I find my own. And I wish mom and dad were here to see it.
No, I don’t want to think about my parents right now. My first filthy martini is down the hatch and my second is sloshing around as I sway to the music, moving back to the middle of the crowd so that I’m not in the spotlight.
It’s not that I mind being the center of attention, it’s just that I want the band to stand on its own, and although they have captured the attention of nearly every woman in the bar, the scouts that we’re looking for in terms of record deals, the ones I email every week without fail, are mostly male.
I guess the saying is true: itisa man’s world.
Jack and the Spadesaretalented, and I don’t just say that because my brother is the lead singer. Axel and Sam can play both lead and bass guitar so that they sometimes swap parts, and even though I’m loath to admit it, Locke is a damn good drummer.
I sigh heavily as the iconic percussion for the song begins. Locke hits every beat as if he’s performed the song a million times, and I suppose he might have. Locke’s the oldest member of the group and he has the most experience and the most ego, at least in my opinion. Jackson laughs at me and says that Locke is one of the humblest musicians he knows, especially given his years of experience and talent, but I beg to differ.
Locke and I have been in a dozen arguments in the last year alone, even though I suppose he’s gotten better in the past couple of months. He’s even given me a compliment before the show, which might be the most shocking thing that’s happened all year, despite me being able to pull off a nationwide tour with just our cover charges and tips over the past two years.
Jackson is so lucky I’m able to save without sacrificing the equipment and venues that the band needs because I know what’s important and I’ve done my research. Especially given his impulsive nature when it comes to things like money (and women, but that’s a different story). I’m able to save without sacrificing the equipment and venues that the band needs because I know what’s important and I’ve done my research. The more successful the band is, the more stability Jackson and I have, and the happier he is, the happier I am. That’s how it’s always been: me and Jack against the world.
Thing is, Jackson is the only family I have, and by extension, I guess the Spades are my family, too. Even Locke. I suppose.
Still standing close to the edge of the stage, not thinking much about it, I glance over at him, since he is in my thoughts. Locke is almost always focused on his drum set or his drumsticks, lost in the music.
Tonight, however, he’s looking out at the crowd, and I happen to meet his eyes while he’s waiting for his next part.
For as much as I want to deny it and push it away, Locke is probably the most attractive of all the members, at least to me. Everyone has a type, you see, and unfortunately, mine is the grungy bad boy. There might as well be a picture of Locke Kincaid underneath that phrase in the dictionary.
Locke is currently wearing a black sleeveless shirt since he’s taken off his trademark black leather jacket and thrown it behind him halfway through the first song, and even with the dim lights of the club, I can see the veins of his forearms as he twists the sticks, the way his biceps bulge just slightly.
He pushes his hair back from his face, sweating under the lights since they’re almost halfway through their set, the break is minutes away, and instead of the polite nod I expect, he gives me a crooked half-smile, and unlike with Axel, I am unable to recover as easily. Locke is my type in a way that Axel is not, that’s all.
Surprised, I stumble sideways into the groupie blonde who’s too busy staring at Axel to even react, spilling part of my martini down my dress and huffing out a frustrated breath.
I couldswearLocke is laughing as I head to the bathroom to clean up, but of course, I’ll never be able to prove it. He’s been acting weird tonight, and I make a mental note to tell Jackson never to let him take shots before a set again.
Locke Kincaid is gonna be the bane of my existence, even on this tour, I justknowit.