Sad_Girl
Blue Crack Supplier
Disclaimer: Though the author spends much time pondering the subject, she has absolutely no insight to U2's true feelings and reactions. This is all a work of her imagination, reflections of her perceptions. None of it is real, true or ever will be.
Chapter two: upstaged
“Oh, you’re fucking kidding me!” She accidentally spoke her thoughts aloud to the entire arena. The audience seemed slightly amused and very baffled by her reaction, since they could not see what she saw. Cat’s heart seemed to have stopped completely, her mouth going dry and her throat closing up on her.
She adored U2, they were her idols! Why did they have to be here tonight? Damn it, this was supposed to be her night to shine. She had gotten the ball rolling on this benefit, they were the local favorites and they had a personal stake in the charity.
Why would U2 even be here?
The answer wasn’t exactly difficult; they had loved the time they’d spent in Memphis, and they were well known to be activists for important causes. The right person had mentioned the benefit at the right time and 'viola!’ here they were.
Seeing the look on her face and hearing her shocked outburst, Bono jumped into action, moving out onto the stage to introduce himself and the band. He didn’t seem to consider the fact that Tequila Monster had only just begun their act.
It took about half a second before the first person recognized Bono and the crowd was in an uproar. There are very few more recognizable people in the world, after all, with his swagger and charisma. They recognized his dark, shaggy hair and those unique sunglasses which many people now referred to as ‘Bono shades’.
He lifted a hand and smiled broadly at his adoring fans, not noticing the scowl that had planted itself firmly on Catalina’s pretty little mouth.
“Hello hello!” he greeted them, stepping up to the microphone on it’s stand and effectively bumping her out of the way. The crowd was cheering so loudly, he didn’t even hear the name she called him under her breath, but Adam could tell exactly what she had said as he walked past and he chuckled at her irritation.
“He’s always been a bit of a show stealer.” He told her as he plugged his bass into the amp which had been set up earlier. She forced a smile and disappeared off the stage, leaving her band staring after her as U2 started in on one of their most recent chart toppers.
After the song wound down, Edge made a few comments about Memphis and the Aids awareness society while Bono stepped just off stage for a drink. Gunnar nudged his brother when he saw their feisty little lead singer approach the man aggressively. It was clear that she was not happy, anyone with eyes could see it in a glance.
Her heart was spinning in strange, wild circles, jumping crazily as she approached him. There were few people in the world whom she admired more than Bono, but at the moment he was invading her territory. She drew in a sharp breath as he looked up at her, his blue eyes peeking out over the top of his dark glasses. He was better looking in person than she had believed possible.
“It’s great that you’re here to help and everything,” she started, and he looked at her in shock as her angry demeanor reached him. “But what the fuck are you doing?” She demanded, forcing herself to get past the man’s allure. “Our band was the headliner that brought people in, we should get to do at least half our set before you guys interrupt.”
“Yeah, this is quite a turn out, the arena is nearly half full.” He told her, trying to be playful. It didn’t work. He rubbed the back of his neck as she glowered at him.
“We were asked to perform, that’s what we’re doing.” He told her, baffled by the fact that she was not thrilled just to be in the band’s presence. This was not the reaction they usually received. Maybe they had been awarded one too many honors lately, if they were acting like celebrity jack-asses. It was something none of them ever wanted to be.
“Well thanks, but we were asked to perform, too.” She told him. After a brief moment of stunned (and uncharacteristic) silence, he stepped aside, holding out his arm in gesture for her to go back out onto the stage. She stared at him suspiciously for a moment, then hurried back out onto the dark half of the stage.
“We’re up again.” She told the men, who looked baffled.
“What?”
“We’re up. Let’s do ‘Black Leather’.” She told them, and they just looked back and forth at each other as if she were speaking a foreign language. “What’s the matter?”
“We’re really going to attempt to share the stage with, what is that charming little phrase you use every time someone mentions U2? Oh, yeah; the best thing that EVER happened to music?” Alex piped up and she glared at him.
“Yes, this is our gig and we’re going to play it!” She insisted. The men picked up their instruments and she grabbed a microphone. “C’mon guys, this is Memphis, our home town. It was OUR name on the posters, OUR band which people expected to see. We have the edge.”
“No, no actually, Cat THEY have The Edge. Literally, The Edge. C’mon, we’re gonna look like chumps!” Alex informed her in his usual cynical, self-derogatory manner.
Cat eyed the little red-haired man as if seeing him for the first time. Alex was a fine drummer, definitely good enough to be considered professional, although his confidence was shaky. He’d developed a sarcastic sense of humor and sharp wit as a means of self-defense, having always been the shortest man in the room although his blazing red hair had made him easy enough to find. His older brother, Gunnar, had always been willing to defend him when he wasn’t the one initiating the teases. Which he usually was.
Still, Gunnar had been the first to invite Alex into the band and credited him with a better musical ability than he felt he had himself. Gunnar didn’t play one instrument particularly well, but what he lacked in raw talent he made up for in versatility. He could play basically whatever the song required, most often the bass since Cat had taken the lead. Cat was a good Bassist, but usually preferred not to play and sing at the same time simply because it allowed her more freedom of movement.
Krash, he was magic on the guitar. It was as natural for him to play a guitar as it was to breathe. He’d picked up his first guitar at age six, and much to the chagrin of his family, he’d rarely been without one since. They had not expected their little boy to choose a life in music, since no one else in the family had any interest in the arts at all. Throughout his teenage years, his parents hoped and prayed it was simple teenage rebellion. Now he was 23 and still attached to his guitar every time they saw him.
The guys weren’t exactly a pretty bunch, by most standards; Gunnar took the ‘grunge’ look to new depths, the holes in his t-shirts and jeans revealing a myriad of tattoos. His brown hair was kept shaved close to his scalp because he hated to brush it, and considered washing it an even more tedious chore. His eyes were deep, dark hollows in a gaunt face, and when he smiled his broad, boyish smile it made a person’s heart ache. Odd, how a smile could make someone seem more sad, but that’s exactly what his smile did.
Krash was Asian-American, his mother Korean and his father the son of a French man and Vietnamese woman. He was just taller than Cat, with jet black hair which he wore long and spiked upward, much like Keanu Reeves circa 1989.
Alex’s awkwardness, Gunnar’s vagabond appearance and the quiet, unassuming appeal of Krash’s boyishness worked. They were a group of misfits who suited each other perfectly. Cat loved these guys more than anyone else in her world.
“You guys, don’t try and beat them. Don’t try and BE them! We’re good enough as we are. Charlene wants to see a video of US tomorrow morning, are we going to disappoint her?” She asked, and as U2 wrapped up their second song, she gestured to the people in the control booth. They’d been working with them all week and they had a developed a good rapport, so they knew what Cat was thinking. The lights cut out on the entire stage for a heartbeat, wrapping them all in a complete darkness which seemed to swallow even the din of the crowd.
The lights drew up on Tequila monster’s side of the stage and Cat pointed at Alex who set the rhythm. As the guitarists hit their first chords, she spun to face the crowd again. During the moderately long introduction she played up to the crowd, dancing and making little comments to this person or that whom she saw in the crowd. When, finally, she was standing front and center and the intro built to it’s breaking point, the crowd was waiting on pins and needles.
“Black Leather!” She sang, her voice sharp and clear, ringing out over the audience and echoing for a second before the heavy guitar music began again. This was one of their own songs, one which they had recorded at Sun studio and then marketed locally on their own dime. It had quickly become a hit in Memphis.
Bono looked over at Edge who was watching Krash intently, studying the boys unique sound and filing it away in his nearly photographic memory. Adam’s eyes were on the girl, and he watched her with such naked interest Bono wondered if he was even aware they were still on stage.
Larry met his eyes, a look of surprise on his friends face at the strength and charisma this girl emanated. Bono smiled and shrugged. He loved the energy of being on stage, of making music. He certainly hadn’t been prepared for this girl; this band. All he had been told was that they had some local entertainment, but no headliner.
It had been a spur of the moment decision to do this show, one made from generosity more than anything. Now, as he watched the girl play the crowd, enchanting them thoroughly, he wondered if they had ever really been needed at all. More people would have been here, if they had agreed to do the show earlier and they could have advertised. Maybe she was right and they were just intruding tonight.
“What d’ya want to do?” Larry asked as Bono wandered over beside him. He was considering disappearing from the stage and simply coming back out for an encore later, when the girl turned and pointed at him with a wink as she sang;
“You think you got what it takes, but you’ll never get between me and my, my, my…BLACK LEATHER!” The crowd roared behind her. Bono tilted his head to one side and a cocky smile split his face. Larry rubbed his eyes at the sight, suddenly aware that it was going to be a very long night.
“Oh, this is gon’ ta get ugly isn’t it?” He asked, and Bono’s face lit up with the challenge. Bono did not answer him directly but lifted his mic and turned it back on, calling out the name of their next song.
“I will follow!” And the rest of the band quickly picked up his lead, the lighting technicians having to guess at just what they were doing since the concert had turned into chaos. The crowd cheered wildly for one of U2’s most energetic songs. Cat frowned and stepped off stage, watching as Bono flirted with the women in the crowd, his personality magnetic and energizing.
She knew her own feisty stage presence would never outweigh Bono’s sex appeal, his natural ability to make every single person in the crowd feel as if he were singing directly to them alone. Sure, maybe the straight men out there would prefer to look at her than him, but his enthusiasm for the stage more than balanced that out. He wasn’t the type of guy who girls loved, (wanted, needed, desired…) and whom other men could not stand. He was down to earth; real and just rough edged enough to be the sort of guy a man would want as a best friend.
If she tried too hard to be sexy, she would be perceived as slutty, a trap which so many female performers fell into. She had to think of another way to compete for the audience’s affection. She wasn’t about to disrobe and dance around like a stripper just for a little attention, anyway. There had to be some way she could be flirtatious and entertaining without becoming skanky. She smiled to herself as a possibility dawned on her.
Of course! The thing which always worked when she wanted a mans attention was to give her attention to another man. She was sure it would work on an audience as well. She took a long drink from her water bottle and shook her hair, going for a mussed ‘bedroom’ look. She looked out at the crowd and realized that it was growing. The more distant seats which had been empty at the start of the concert were now beginning to fill in. Word had gotten out of U2’s presence, and people were rushing in for the chance to see this surprise performance. She hated to admit that the mayor and Angie had been right to get them here. They were going to double the profits tonight.
As soon as U2 had finished ‘I will follow’, Cat sauntered over to Adam, the sway in her hips even more pronounced than it already had been. His strikingly blue-green eyes glinted with interest.
“I think everybody here knows you all pretty well.” She said into the mic as she walked, looking back over her shoulder at the crowd. “Do y’all know these gentlemen’s names?” She asked and the crowd cheered. “And y’all know, then, that this is Adam on the bass guitar?” She asked, her southern drawl dramatically overpronounced now as she played up to the crowd. She stopped to eye Adam up and down as if considering having him for dinner. Or perhaps, more like, dessert.
“But did you know…” she said, walking around behind Adam closely, eyes scanning him like a predator. “That I also play bass?” She asked, and the crowd cheered, many of them already being Tequila monster fans.
“Mr. Clayton, would you be so kind as to let little ol’ me play that there gui-tar?” She asked playfully, cocking her head to the side and batting her eyelashes at him. He smiled a toothy grin at her, his full lips as sexy as ever. He nodded silently and lifted the strap over his head. Then, holding out the bass for her, he draped it over her shoulder himself. She surprised the man when she rose up on her tip-toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. The bass hummed noisily, as it was pressed between them, until Adam managed to turn it off.
The crowd raved when she pressed her lips to his. She’d intended it to be nothing more than a simple peck, but when her lips found his and the electricity shot through her body, she was swept away. She opened her wet lips, extending an invitation for him to deepen the kiss. This was an invitation which Adam, apparently, could not refuse.
She lost her breath when his tongue flicked over hers, tentatively invading her in a most tantalizing way. She felt the swell of his generous lower lip between her own lips and shivered. Her limbs trembled and her muscles went weak, her hand relaxing and losing it’s grip on the microphone. Luckily, the microphone slipping out of her hand and dropping noisily to the stage reminded her of where she was, even if the thunder of the crowd had not. Her plan had very nearly backfired on her.
Her green eyes glittered with interest as she pulled away from Adam’s kiss, and she saw that he was quite pleased with himself for the way he’d disrupted her concentration. He smirked at her knowingly as the crowd was still ‘woo-hoo’ing wildly behind them.
She bent over and picked up the microphone quickly, sliding it into it’s stand a few feet away. She turned to Gunnar who had moved forward to take the microphone, having set his own bass aside and picked up a regular six string. Cat nodded for Gunnar to take the lead and they began to play the Rolling Stones classic ‘Beast of Burden’.
She quickly regained her composure as she played, grooving to the music in a very enticing way, wiggling her hips and shoulders in time with the sexy bass line.
“Am I hard enough? Am I rough enough? Am I rich enough?” She joined in on the back up vocals, and Adam leaned back against the drum riser to watch. Larry nudged his friend on the shoulder and arched an eyebrow. Adam smiled a full, toothy grin, not particularly ashamed or embarrassed by the flirtation of the considerably younger woman. “Am I hard enough? Am I rough enough? Am I rich enough?” she sang along again, glancing back over her shoulder at the men.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Bono asked as he joined Adam and Larry. Adam chuckled under his breath, amusement sparkling in his eyes.
“What? We’re putting on a show. That’s why we’re here, i’nit?” He replied, and Bono turned to look at Larry and then over his shoulder at Edge to see the amusement written on their faces as well.
Didn’t they see that this was no longer just a gig but an all out competition? This girl was trying to steal the show from him. She was challenging him, and he was more than ready for the battle. He had been doing this for as long as she’d been alive. Longer, more likely.
He wasn’t worried, but he had never been the sort to back down from a challenge. Everything about Cat challenged him. Her green eyes practically broadcast ‘I DARE you!’ when she looked at him.
“Whatever. You’re the one who said she was just like me an’ then yer snoggin' her.” Bono teased his friend, grinning brightly as the others laughed out loud at this observation. Adam groaned melodramatically, but laughed all the same. Bono’s eyes turned back out to watch the girl again, a strange feeling gathering in his stomach.
He was not used to women being anything but worshipful to him. He loved them nearly as much as they loved him. Not only did Cat seem less than impressed with him, she was trying to out do him at his own game. He could hardly stand it, and at the same time he was having more fun tonight than he had in a long time.
Chapter two: upstaged
“Oh, you’re fucking kidding me!” She accidentally spoke her thoughts aloud to the entire arena. The audience seemed slightly amused and very baffled by her reaction, since they could not see what she saw. Cat’s heart seemed to have stopped completely, her mouth going dry and her throat closing up on her.
She adored U2, they were her idols! Why did they have to be here tonight? Damn it, this was supposed to be her night to shine. She had gotten the ball rolling on this benefit, they were the local favorites and they had a personal stake in the charity.
Why would U2 even be here?
The answer wasn’t exactly difficult; they had loved the time they’d spent in Memphis, and they were well known to be activists for important causes. The right person had mentioned the benefit at the right time and 'viola!’ here they were.
Seeing the look on her face and hearing her shocked outburst, Bono jumped into action, moving out onto the stage to introduce himself and the band. He didn’t seem to consider the fact that Tequila Monster had only just begun their act.
It took about half a second before the first person recognized Bono and the crowd was in an uproar. There are very few more recognizable people in the world, after all, with his swagger and charisma. They recognized his dark, shaggy hair and those unique sunglasses which many people now referred to as ‘Bono shades’.
He lifted a hand and smiled broadly at his adoring fans, not noticing the scowl that had planted itself firmly on Catalina’s pretty little mouth.
“Hello hello!” he greeted them, stepping up to the microphone on it’s stand and effectively bumping her out of the way. The crowd was cheering so loudly, he didn’t even hear the name she called him under her breath, but Adam could tell exactly what she had said as he walked past and he chuckled at her irritation.
“He’s always been a bit of a show stealer.” He told her as he plugged his bass into the amp which had been set up earlier. She forced a smile and disappeared off the stage, leaving her band staring after her as U2 started in on one of their most recent chart toppers.
After the song wound down, Edge made a few comments about Memphis and the Aids awareness society while Bono stepped just off stage for a drink. Gunnar nudged his brother when he saw their feisty little lead singer approach the man aggressively. It was clear that she was not happy, anyone with eyes could see it in a glance.
Her heart was spinning in strange, wild circles, jumping crazily as she approached him. There were few people in the world whom she admired more than Bono, but at the moment he was invading her territory. She drew in a sharp breath as he looked up at her, his blue eyes peeking out over the top of his dark glasses. He was better looking in person than she had believed possible.
“It’s great that you’re here to help and everything,” she started, and he looked at her in shock as her angry demeanor reached him. “But what the fuck are you doing?” She demanded, forcing herself to get past the man’s allure. “Our band was the headliner that brought people in, we should get to do at least half our set before you guys interrupt.”
“Yeah, this is quite a turn out, the arena is nearly half full.” He told her, trying to be playful. It didn’t work. He rubbed the back of his neck as she glowered at him.
“We were asked to perform, that’s what we’re doing.” He told her, baffled by the fact that she was not thrilled just to be in the band’s presence. This was not the reaction they usually received. Maybe they had been awarded one too many honors lately, if they were acting like celebrity jack-asses. It was something none of them ever wanted to be.
“Well thanks, but we were asked to perform, too.” She told him. After a brief moment of stunned (and uncharacteristic) silence, he stepped aside, holding out his arm in gesture for her to go back out onto the stage. She stared at him suspiciously for a moment, then hurried back out onto the dark half of the stage.
“We’re up again.” She told the men, who looked baffled.
“What?”
“We’re up. Let’s do ‘Black Leather’.” She told them, and they just looked back and forth at each other as if she were speaking a foreign language. “What’s the matter?”
“We’re really going to attempt to share the stage with, what is that charming little phrase you use every time someone mentions U2? Oh, yeah; the best thing that EVER happened to music?” Alex piped up and she glared at him.
“Yes, this is our gig and we’re going to play it!” She insisted. The men picked up their instruments and she grabbed a microphone. “C’mon guys, this is Memphis, our home town. It was OUR name on the posters, OUR band which people expected to see. We have the edge.”
“No, no actually, Cat THEY have The Edge. Literally, The Edge. C’mon, we’re gonna look like chumps!” Alex informed her in his usual cynical, self-derogatory manner.
Cat eyed the little red-haired man as if seeing him for the first time. Alex was a fine drummer, definitely good enough to be considered professional, although his confidence was shaky. He’d developed a sarcastic sense of humor and sharp wit as a means of self-defense, having always been the shortest man in the room although his blazing red hair had made him easy enough to find. His older brother, Gunnar, had always been willing to defend him when he wasn’t the one initiating the teases. Which he usually was.
Still, Gunnar had been the first to invite Alex into the band and credited him with a better musical ability than he felt he had himself. Gunnar didn’t play one instrument particularly well, but what he lacked in raw talent he made up for in versatility. He could play basically whatever the song required, most often the bass since Cat had taken the lead. Cat was a good Bassist, but usually preferred not to play and sing at the same time simply because it allowed her more freedom of movement.
Krash, he was magic on the guitar. It was as natural for him to play a guitar as it was to breathe. He’d picked up his first guitar at age six, and much to the chagrin of his family, he’d rarely been without one since. They had not expected their little boy to choose a life in music, since no one else in the family had any interest in the arts at all. Throughout his teenage years, his parents hoped and prayed it was simple teenage rebellion. Now he was 23 and still attached to his guitar every time they saw him.
The guys weren’t exactly a pretty bunch, by most standards; Gunnar took the ‘grunge’ look to new depths, the holes in his t-shirts and jeans revealing a myriad of tattoos. His brown hair was kept shaved close to his scalp because he hated to brush it, and considered washing it an even more tedious chore. His eyes were deep, dark hollows in a gaunt face, and when he smiled his broad, boyish smile it made a person’s heart ache. Odd, how a smile could make someone seem more sad, but that’s exactly what his smile did.
Krash was Asian-American, his mother Korean and his father the son of a French man and Vietnamese woman. He was just taller than Cat, with jet black hair which he wore long and spiked upward, much like Keanu Reeves circa 1989.
Alex’s awkwardness, Gunnar’s vagabond appearance and the quiet, unassuming appeal of Krash’s boyishness worked. They were a group of misfits who suited each other perfectly. Cat loved these guys more than anyone else in her world.
“You guys, don’t try and beat them. Don’t try and BE them! We’re good enough as we are. Charlene wants to see a video of US tomorrow morning, are we going to disappoint her?” She asked, and as U2 wrapped up their second song, she gestured to the people in the control booth. They’d been working with them all week and they had a developed a good rapport, so they knew what Cat was thinking. The lights cut out on the entire stage for a heartbeat, wrapping them all in a complete darkness which seemed to swallow even the din of the crowd.
The lights drew up on Tequila monster’s side of the stage and Cat pointed at Alex who set the rhythm. As the guitarists hit their first chords, she spun to face the crowd again. During the moderately long introduction she played up to the crowd, dancing and making little comments to this person or that whom she saw in the crowd. When, finally, she was standing front and center and the intro built to it’s breaking point, the crowd was waiting on pins and needles.
“Black Leather!” She sang, her voice sharp and clear, ringing out over the audience and echoing for a second before the heavy guitar music began again. This was one of their own songs, one which they had recorded at Sun studio and then marketed locally on their own dime. It had quickly become a hit in Memphis.
Bono looked over at Edge who was watching Krash intently, studying the boys unique sound and filing it away in his nearly photographic memory. Adam’s eyes were on the girl, and he watched her with such naked interest Bono wondered if he was even aware they were still on stage.
Larry met his eyes, a look of surprise on his friends face at the strength and charisma this girl emanated. Bono smiled and shrugged. He loved the energy of being on stage, of making music. He certainly hadn’t been prepared for this girl; this band. All he had been told was that they had some local entertainment, but no headliner.
It had been a spur of the moment decision to do this show, one made from generosity more than anything. Now, as he watched the girl play the crowd, enchanting them thoroughly, he wondered if they had ever really been needed at all. More people would have been here, if they had agreed to do the show earlier and they could have advertised. Maybe she was right and they were just intruding tonight.
“What d’ya want to do?” Larry asked as Bono wandered over beside him. He was considering disappearing from the stage and simply coming back out for an encore later, when the girl turned and pointed at him with a wink as she sang;
“You think you got what it takes, but you’ll never get between me and my, my, my…BLACK LEATHER!” The crowd roared behind her. Bono tilted his head to one side and a cocky smile split his face. Larry rubbed his eyes at the sight, suddenly aware that it was going to be a very long night.
“Oh, this is gon’ ta get ugly isn’t it?” He asked, and Bono’s face lit up with the challenge. Bono did not answer him directly but lifted his mic and turned it back on, calling out the name of their next song.
“I will follow!” And the rest of the band quickly picked up his lead, the lighting technicians having to guess at just what they were doing since the concert had turned into chaos. The crowd cheered wildly for one of U2’s most energetic songs. Cat frowned and stepped off stage, watching as Bono flirted with the women in the crowd, his personality magnetic and energizing.
She knew her own feisty stage presence would never outweigh Bono’s sex appeal, his natural ability to make every single person in the crowd feel as if he were singing directly to them alone. Sure, maybe the straight men out there would prefer to look at her than him, but his enthusiasm for the stage more than balanced that out. He wasn’t the type of guy who girls loved, (wanted, needed, desired…) and whom other men could not stand. He was down to earth; real and just rough edged enough to be the sort of guy a man would want as a best friend.
If she tried too hard to be sexy, she would be perceived as slutty, a trap which so many female performers fell into. She had to think of another way to compete for the audience’s affection. She wasn’t about to disrobe and dance around like a stripper just for a little attention, anyway. There had to be some way she could be flirtatious and entertaining without becoming skanky. She smiled to herself as a possibility dawned on her.
Of course! The thing which always worked when she wanted a mans attention was to give her attention to another man. She was sure it would work on an audience as well. She took a long drink from her water bottle and shook her hair, going for a mussed ‘bedroom’ look. She looked out at the crowd and realized that it was growing. The more distant seats which had been empty at the start of the concert were now beginning to fill in. Word had gotten out of U2’s presence, and people were rushing in for the chance to see this surprise performance. She hated to admit that the mayor and Angie had been right to get them here. They were going to double the profits tonight.
As soon as U2 had finished ‘I will follow’, Cat sauntered over to Adam, the sway in her hips even more pronounced than it already had been. His strikingly blue-green eyes glinted with interest.
“I think everybody here knows you all pretty well.” She said into the mic as she walked, looking back over her shoulder at the crowd. “Do y’all know these gentlemen’s names?” She asked and the crowd cheered. “And y’all know, then, that this is Adam on the bass guitar?” She asked, her southern drawl dramatically overpronounced now as she played up to the crowd. She stopped to eye Adam up and down as if considering having him for dinner. Or perhaps, more like, dessert.
“But did you know…” she said, walking around behind Adam closely, eyes scanning him like a predator. “That I also play bass?” She asked, and the crowd cheered, many of them already being Tequila monster fans.
“Mr. Clayton, would you be so kind as to let little ol’ me play that there gui-tar?” She asked playfully, cocking her head to the side and batting her eyelashes at him. He smiled a toothy grin at her, his full lips as sexy as ever. He nodded silently and lifted the strap over his head. Then, holding out the bass for her, he draped it over her shoulder himself. She surprised the man when she rose up on her tip-toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. The bass hummed noisily, as it was pressed between them, until Adam managed to turn it off.
The crowd raved when she pressed her lips to his. She’d intended it to be nothing more than a simple peck, but when her lips found his and the electricity shot through her body, she was swept away. She opened her wet lips, extending an invitation for him to deepen the kiss. This was an invitation which Adam, apparently, could not refuse.
She lost her breath when his tongue flicked over hers, tentatively invading her in a most tantalizing way. She felt the swell of his generous lower lip between her own lips and shivered. Her limbs trembled and her muscles went weak, her hand relaxing and losing it’s grip on the microphone. Luckily, the microphone slipping out of her hand and dropping noisily to the stage reminded her of where she was, even if the thunder of the crowd had not. Her plan had very nearly backfired on her.
Her green eyes glittered with interest as she pulled away from Adam’s kiss, and she saw that he was quite pleased with himself for the way he’d disrupted her concentration. He smirked at her knowingly as the crowd was still ‘woo-hoo’ing wildly behind them.
She bent over and picked up the microphone quickly, sliding it into it’s stand a few feet away. She turned to Gunnar who had moved forward to take the microphone, having set his own bass aside and picked up a regular six string. Cat nodded for Gunnar to take the lead and they began to play the Rolling Stones classic ‘Beast of Burden’.
She quickly regained her composure as she played, grooving to the music in a very enticing way, wiggling her hips and shoulders in time with the sexy bass line.
“Am I hard enough? Am I rough enough? Am I rich enough?” She joined in on the back up vocals, and Adam leaned back against the drum riser to watch. Larry nudged his friend on the shoulder and arched an eyebrow. Adam smiled a full, toothy grin, not particularly ashamed or embarrassed by the flirtation of the considerably younger woman. “Am I hard enough? Am I rough enough? Am I rich enough?” she sang along again, glancing back over her shoulder at the men.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Bono asked as he joined Adam and Larry. Adam chuckled under his breath, amusement sparkling in his eyes.
“What? We’re putting on a show. That’s why we’re here, i’nit?” He replied, and Bono turned to look at Larry and then over his shoulder at Edge to see the amusement written on their faces as well.
Didn’t they see that this was no longer just a gig but an all out competition? This girl was trying to steal the show from him. She was challenging him, and he was more than ready for the battle. He had been doing this for as long as she’d been alive. Longer, more likely.
He wasn’t worried, but he had never been the sort to back down from a challenge. Everything about Cat challenged him. Her green eyes practically broadcast ‘I DARE you!’ when she looked at him.
“Whatever. You’re the one who said she was just like me an’ then yer snoggin' her.” Bono teased his friend, grinning brightly as the others laughed out loud at this observation. Adam groaned melodramatically, but laughed all the same. Bono’s eyes turned back out to watch the girl again, a strange feeling gathering in his stomach.
He was not used to women being anything but worshipful to him. He loved them nearly as much as they loved him. Not only did Cat seem less than impressed with him, she was trying to out do him at his own game. He could hardly stand it, and at the same time he was having more fun tonight than he had in a long time.
