As always, this is a work of fiction. Any similarity to people, events, and places are entirely coincidental.
Enjoy!
Caged Bird, Pt. 2
We all funneled out of the green room into the empty hall, passing a long wall of security guards as we went. Abram and I were the last ones out. Guards flanked us both beside, ahead and behind, and no sooner had we turned the corner did I understand why.
The deafening but incomprehensible roar of the crowd was terrifying. The floor vibrated with the stamps of Christ knows how many people all waiting impatiently for the headliner to arrive. By the time Abram and I walked through the door to the back of the stage, I was starting to sweat with anxiety at all the noise.
Abram left me alone with the stage crew as he went to make the “final preparations for his role” (his words, not mine), and instantly my anxiety ratcheted up a notch. To calm down, I glanced quickly around the huge stage, trying to find something that wouldn’t trigger a panic attack. My eyes found a group of rainbow colored girls huddled off the sides of the stage. They were staring at me unabashedly, each pair of eyes filled with shock. I quickly glanced away again – that totally was not helping me.
In search of a private corner, I walked towards the back end of the stage.
“You’re running off.”
“Am not.” I turned quickly at the sound of Abram’s low husky rumble and found myself staring into the face of the Grim Reaper…if only the Grim Reaper wore smeared red lipstick and had smoky grey eyes enhanced by black eye liner.
“You clean up nicely,” I told him, kind of meaning it. If I was one of those girls in the corner, Abram would have his night fully devoted to me. Unfortunately for him, I was not one of those girls. Yet, my little voice teased.
Abram gave me a half-smile. “And now you’re blocking.”
I stiffened a little. “I’m not blocking.” I glanced around by habit and found that Abram’s arrival had drawn a bit of a crowd. I somehow managed to lock eyes with the displaced California sun god and found him glowering at me. In the future it would probably be my best interest to avoid him, I noted dryly.
“Listen,” I began slowly, my mind racing as I tried to filter my words. Thanks to the few shots, I was having a harder time than usual. It also didn’t help that Abram had taken a step closer, bringing in the smells of Drakar, leather, and his natural musky scent.
“I’m listening,” he said in that irritatingly patient tone of his.
I met his gaze and ignored the amused sparkle in them. “I appreciate you giving me this all-exclusive pass, but…” I faltered at his arched eyebrow and glanced away again. This time I saw the entire band was watching. Oh, perfect.
Pulling myself together, I straightened my shoulders and met his gaze head-on. “But I don’t get why,” I finished.
Abram smiled fully in a grin that seemed more wolfish than any smiles previous. “That’s the point, Cayde,” he said quietly. “I want to keep you on your toes.”
I think my mouth may have fallen open, but I wasn’t for sure.
“A minute ‘til show, Abram,” said a low, male voice behind me. Instantly my entire body went on alert, and Abram’s crazy pseudo-psychoanalysis-mental mindfuck crap was forgotten the moment a fuzzy arm brushed against my back.
Abram suddenly looped an arm around me and turned us all in one smooth gesture before taking purposeful steps towards the sullen brat pack close to the front of the stage. They watched us approach with wide eyes, as though the expression was eternally frozen on their faces.
“Enjoy the show,” he told me, letting me go. I felt his fingertips gently push me forward and into the awaiting arms of the pack. “Take care of her,” he told the girls before disappearing onto the now pitch-black stage, his duster flapping behind him. It would be rude of me to not credit Abram for his showmanship. He had his ‘persona’ down to the T.
“Here, take these.”
A candy red pair of noise reducing headphones was shoved abruptly into my hands. I eyed the heavily tattooed chick beside me, a bit surprised. She smiled warmly and gestured to the headphones.
“You'll thank me in a minute, I promise,” she said before donning a hot pink pair that matched her hair color tit-for-tat. Beside her were four other girls, two of which were twins. All of them had on color coded headphones as well.
I put on the headphones, adjusting them self-consciously over my ears. It wasn’t a secret that I had retarded elephant ears (thanks Mom!) but Jesus Christ for once I wanted to not feel like a fucking awkward prepubescent girl and calm and cool like the people around me.
The crowd's roar was intense even through the headphones. I shielded my eyes as the curtain was dropped and multi-colored strobe lights crisscrossed and danced around the stage and over the crowd, flashing and illuminating key members of the band as guitars and a keyboard swiftly added to the cacophony.
“WELCOME TO HELL, DALLAS,” Abram said in a rich, smooth growl that was more sexy than it was foreboding. Just then, the intro stopped abruptly. A soft, lilting tune on an organ began, gradually building up steam and impatience as the seconds ticked by. Soon, the venue vibrated with the sound of an unholy Mass, punctuated by screams and yells as the crowd cheered on the dark tune. I broke my eyes from the crowd to see Abram staring right at me.
It was an interesting picture, to be honest. Here was this random guy dressed in priest’s robes and a duster, surrounded by five other guys dressed as executioners; the sound of what could possibly be a satanic call-to-arms reverberating between the walls of The Offering. And all he does is simply smile at me and raise the microphone to lips smeared with red paint and lead the masses into a familiar but odd prayer.
When he finished, the organ fumbled to a halt, as though the organist had been ripped off its stool. For a minute all I could hear was the eardrum splitting sound of fevered screams and hoarse male cries. Through it all, Abram only smiled, and the smile was only reserved for me.
“MERCY!” he cried in a voice torn between a hoarse scream and a pleading cry. Suddenly the entire tide of the show changed. The gritty guitars chopped out a fast series of chords playing seemingly on endless loop, the drums were soft, muted ticks on the snare and the bass drum had complete control of the song.
Abram held out his arms to the crowd, as though embracing them. Arms stretched across the metal banisters reaching out towards him, faces contorted into desperate pleas for his touch, his smile, his anything. But he was already lost in the music and in a completely other world than ours.
I looked over at the four girls beside me and saw their heads bopping to the music, completely enamored with the show. Mentally shaking my head at how fucking weird this night was turning out to be, I turned my focus onto Abram and his “shepherds”.
“I AM FATHER AZRAEL,” Abram boomed in his sexy growl to the crowd. A cry of “FATHER! FATHER! FATHER!” went up, nearly overpowering the music. “AND THESE…ARE MY GHOULS.”
What…the…fuck.
Abram laughed low and husky into the mic when the crowd completely flipped out, screaming and chanting at the top of their lungs. His free arm went to his hip as he paced across the stage and even under the makeup I could tell he was smug. “WHY, CHILDREN…” he laughed, shaking his dreads. “YOU MAKE MY BLACK HEART SING.”
The drums suddenly exploded to life and the strobe lights went berserk. For a moment I couldn’t even look at the stage because everything was so out of whack. Colors flashed and zipped in every direction. The guitars began to wail and I felt like I was in some hellish nightmare come to life. For a moment I was completely convinced the entire venue would burst into flames and fall apart simultaneously.
Then it all stopped.
The stage blackened until one single light focused on “Father Azrael”.
“Behind the blanket of innocence,” he crooned sickly sweet in a voice touched with gravel, “lies a world pure from the thrall. I took a bite of the ripest fruit, then stepped back TO WATCH YOU FALL!” His scream made me jump, as did the simultaneous slam of the organ and guitar that followed.
Then it became quiet and still again.
“Shedding skins is your favorite drug,” he crooned once more, “But your freedom takes its toll. The angel that I once knew…is now a devil LAYING IN RUINS!”
“HOW DOES IT MAKE YOU FEEEEEL?
Despite my many, many reservations…I found myself getting into Abram’s show. After the first two songs, I slowly began to realize that the entire point of the show – and can you believe it I’m being philosophical at a rock concert – was that it was all just a joke. His lyrics couldn’t be taken seriously – I mean he wasn’t really singing about massive hoards of people going out and banging virgins, worshiping Satan, or committing mass murder on those who wrong you. I mean, he was, but not really. It seemed to me that this music was Abram’s catharsis, his creative response to the crazy world around him. Or, if I was really testing my psychoanalytic skills to their fullest, Abram’s music was intentionally meant to start shit by being as lyrically profane and grotesque as possible. Whichever, it sounded really good.
“Aaaaand she gets it.”
I looked over at the girls to see them smiling at me.
“Huh?” I asked intelligently.
“You understand Abram’s point,” said the hot pink haired pixie. Her electric blue eyes darted out to the stage where the song was wrapping up.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Part of me is wondering if I’m over-analyzing it…but I think I do actually get it.” I accepted a water bottle from one of the stage crew and started to unscrew the cap.
“It’s for the guys!” the pixie laughed, swatting at my arm before I could take a sip. I felt my face heat up as I tightened the cap again.
“Oh.”
“Come on,” said the twins in creepy monotonic unison. “They’re taking a breather.”
I gulped as they strode onto the stage around the large Faustian-looking hellish mural, following after the drummer.
“You’ll get used to them after awhile,” the pixie laughed. She hooked her elbow with mine just after I had taken off the headphones and began to lead me out onto the stage. I watched her beam a smile at the bass guitarist and we suddenly changed direction to approach him. “I’m Isla. The twins are Skylar and Sasha. Skylar has blue hair, Sasha has electric blue hair.”
I peered across the darkened stage at the backs of the tall twins and couldn’t see much of a difference.
“Uh, okay,” I told her.
“That’s Peregrine, you can call her Perry though,” Isla said quietly, gesturing to the black-haired Victoria Secret-like model standing next to the keyboardist. Ink black feathers had been somehow braided into her dark hair, making her look half-fey. Her smoky black makeup only made her dark eyes creepier.
“Duly noted,” I said quickly, giving Isla a brief smile.
The bass guitarist reached us then and pulled down the black covering over his face. Sweat made his pale skin shine and his dark hair clung to his thin cheeks.
“And who is your friend?” he asked Isla a bit breathlessly in a smooth, deep voice reserved for TV adverts selling beer or suits, gleefully taking the water bottle off her hands.
“This is Cayde,” Isla said with a broad smile. I glanced at her quickly in surprise but she was too fixated on the rather handsome – if menacing – bass player to notice.
“I’m Orion,” he told me after swallowing over half the bottle. “You’re Abram’s girl?”
“I…just met him,” I said slowly, a little unsure of what to make of that.
Orion smirked and nodded as he handed back the bottle to Isla. “Thanks, love.” He took a towel from one of the stage crew and wiped off his face. When he saw me still standing there, he laughed. “Go find Abram. He’s going to need that,” he told me, tapping the bottle with a chipped black fingernail.
Biting the inside of my cheek to keep a many number of sarcastic retorts in check, I walked further back behind the mural, finally understanding its importance. The big screen basically separated the stage into two, first providing a backdrop for the band and secondly giving them a place to regroup. I carefully picked my way around taped wires and set lists, narrowly avoiding busting my ass as one wedge caught a loose flyer.
“Careful.” A warm hand caught my forearm and held me steady until I had my feet under me again.
I held up the water bottle to Abram, knowing it couldn’t be anyone else. “Orion ordered me to find you,” I said dryly as I turned.
Abram smiled as I handed him the Ozarka. “And you did.”
I narrowed my eyes as I looked over the crowd of stage and road crews fussing around backstage. “He also called me ‘your girl’.”
Abram lowered a now half-empty water bottle and lifted his impossibly light grey eyes to mine. While part of me was a bit freaked out at the unnatural hue, another part was trying to figure out what color they were. Pearly grey? Campfire smoke? Trans-fucking-lucent?
“And?”
I blinked in surprise and pushed my match-the-color argument aside for future contemplation. “What do you mean ‘and’?”
Abram half-smiled. “If you’re not my girl then why does it matter what he calls you?”
I glowered. “Reverse psychology is more annoying than cute.”
Abram tucked back a strand of my hair, bringing in the heady smell of musky sweat, leather, and Drakar. It was a potent mix. “You either want me or you don’t. How long you stay or if you go doesn’t make me any difference,” he said quietly.
“That’s brutally honest, you know,” I pointed out. And completely at odds with what you’re projecting right now, I wanted to say. I bit my cheek on that one too.
“If you stay, Cayde, you’ll learn that I’m the most honest guy you’ll meet.” He pinched my chin gently and backed away. “I have a show to finish.”
“You may take your leave, Father Azrael,” I said dryly, turning on my heel to head back towards the edge of the stage.
“Cayde.”
I stopped and looked over my shoulder, just in time to watch Abram put his hat back on. Even that simple gesture turned my chest into a batting cage for my heart.
“I hope you stay.”
Before I could even begin to over-analyze that, a hand clapped down on my shoulder and the next thing I knew I was wavering on my heels beside Isla at the wings of the stage.
“Wha…?”
“So you just met him, but yet he wants you to stay,” Isla said slowly, watching as the guys took their place on stage.
I regarded my surroundings suspiciously (like seriously, who in the hell just shoved me over here?!) before looking over at her. “Does he let girls stay…often?” I pried.
Isla shrugged one heavily tattooed shoulder. “Depends.”
I glowered. “That doesn’t help me any.”
“Abram doesn’t normally have to ask girls to say,” said the girl named Perry as she tossed her long river of ink black hair back behind her left shoulder. She gave me a small smile but that didn’t really help the nervous roll my stomach took when I realized what she was implying.
To take my mind of it, I turned back to the stage, resetting my headphones. Just then, the sixth song started up and before I knew it, I found myself becoming lost in Abram’s world.
*^*^*^*
“THANK YOU, DALLAS! YOU’VE BEEN AMAZING!” Abram/Father Azrael called out. He kissed three fingers and saluted the still-frenzied crowd Hunger Games style, his ghostly white smile absolutely radiant. Sweat trickled down his face and left marks in his makeup before falling to the stage as he bowed once, then twice and took his leave. Orion and the drummer grabbed merch and tossed it into the crowd, blowing kisses and posing for the hundreds of photos I knew were being taken right now. The drummer leaned out over the stage and gave a girl with candy-red dreads a sloppy kiss on the cheek. I almost thought for a moment she would die of happiness with the way she was gasping and screaming. Someone threw a bra at Abram, which he caught deftly and examined the large cups. With a coy smile he tossed it to one of the security guards at the end of the stage, winking at him as he walked passed.
“You didn’t want to keep that?” I asked him, laughing a little in surprise.
Abram held up a gloved finger and pried two off-white noise plugs from his ears.
“Pardon?” he asked with a shy smile.
I gestured to the flummoxed security guard still holding a heavily padded crimson laced bra in his hands. “Some really excited girl threw that at you and you just tossed it away? I bet she’s heartbroken,” I teased.
Abram rolled his eyes and began to pry off his gloves. “She’ll live,” he told me.
I eyed Isla in the corner of the stage. She was pretending to talk to Orion and Perry, but all three were less-than-covertly glancing over at us, completely blowing her cover. Perry caught on quickly and stuck her finger in her mouth before pulling it out with a loud pop.
I colored as the gesture’s meaning set in.
That crazy bitch knows I’m a—
“Want to get out of here?”
I started as Abram stepped closer, blocking Perry and the others from my view. Abram’s warm palm rested gently on my shoulder as he waited for me to find my voice.
“Sure,” I said hoarsely. Quickly I cleared my throat and took a step away. “After you, Father,” I joked nervously.
Abram’s brow furrowed for a second before his face cleared and a tiny smile grew. Wordlessly he tossed his arm over my shoulders and pulled me into his damp body. I glanced up when a wolf howl cut through a heavy metal rendition of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” and saw Mr. California Sun God glowering at me.
“I think you’re number one fan is contemplating murdering me in a dark corner somewhere,” I said into Abram’s side.
Abram’s eyes briefly flickered over to the beach bunny before looking down at me. “He’s cute, but the only dick I like is my own.”
“Make sure you let him know that,” I said under my breath as I pulled away from Abram. We passed the glowering groupie by and I let out a heavy sigh of relief once we were out in the hallway behind the stage.
Suddenly, Abram spun me around and grabbed hold of my wrist so I couldn’t pull away.
“Wha…?”
“Stay,” Abram said in a hoarse whisper.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Even my inner cynic bitch was silent.
Abram suddenly smirked. “Stay here,” he reiterated. “I have to grab a few things from the bus.”
Suddenly Mr. California stepped out into the hallway and I stared pointedly at Abram. He sniffed as he passed us, his bronzed chin held up high. He pushed open the door to the exit, revealing a screaming horde of fans before the heavy metal door shut behind him again.
Abram and I looked at each other. “Alternative escape route?” I asked hopefully.
Abram made a face and scratched one buzzed temple. “Not that I’m aware of,” he said slowly. He jerked his head back down the hall. “The Pulpit okay with you?”
Before I could ask the obvious, the door to the stage burst open again, emitting Orion, the girls, and the rest of the band. Once they saw us, they howled again, but instead of leaving us alone, Perry grabbed a hold of Abram and tugged him along after her laughing. Isla took my arm and soon the four of us were bouncing into one another down the hall.
When we made it back to the lounging area, there were people everywhere. Metal music blared from the overhead speakers and a DJ and his equipment occupied the upper level where he was busy head-banging his bald head to the beat. The band I had seen on stage when I had walked into The Offering was gathered around a pool table with beers in one hand and their cues in the other. Everyone else was using the large open floor to dance.
I looked up at Abram and saw a huge smile on his face. He looked down at me and the smile only grew wider.
“Want to dance?” I asked him, stepping back towards the crowd.
Abram followed after me, but I stopped him. When I tugged on his jacket, a single eyebrow went up.
“That duster has to go,” I told him. Abram laughed and shrugged out of it and his priest’s robes before tossing both into Orion’s gaping face.
“Anything else, princess?” Abram teased.
I shook my head as I tugged him by his brass knuckles belt buckle into the crowd with me. “You’re perfect.”
I turned away quickly before I could lose my nerve and tugged him further and further into the mayhem. By the time I got close to the center, the song had changed to Hollywood Undead’s “Levitate” and girls had come out in gusto to take over.
I found myself sandwiched between Perry and Isla as the chorus kicked in. We danced and swung together, singing in unsynchronized harmony and laughing at how off-key the other sounded. I spun in a circle when Charlie Scene blasted off about covering with bandages from all these goddamn damages and found myself eating muscled pecs and damp t-shirt.
I took a step back and looked up into Abram’s face. Instantly I was lost in his smoky eyes and his slightly arrogant smirk and I didn’t give him my notorious “go-the-fuck-away” look when his hands rested on my hips to draw me closer into him.
“You were supposed to be my dance partner,” he chastised playfully.
“You totally enjoyed the show,” I said with a smile.
Abram’s smirk grew broader now. “Hell yeah, I did.” He looked over my head and grinned wolfishly at the girls. “She’s mine for the night, ladies.”
Perry waved us on. “Finally!” she laughed, gently pushing the both of us away.
The song changed to a familiar radio-friendly rock hit and Abram led me away from the tight inner ring of dancers to the outer edge where he proceeded to show me that Goth boys can too dance.
With Abram, it was easy to see that while he was definitely into me, the music was his first love. His body found the beats and the rhythm well before anyone else on the floor did and he had no problem adjusting my body to fit into the motions with his. He was music personified and he didn’t mind showing it.
While we were dancing I couldn’t miss the stares all the girls gave us – his lifestyle and obvious notoriety made it clear that people wanted him. Naked, more than not. But not once did Abram ever leave me for one of those girls – he didn’t even give them the time of day. I’m not so fucking naïve that I couldn’t see his attention for what it was – an obvious alpha male making his intentions clear. Something about that silent and subtle gesture turned me on more than it turned me off. Unusual, definitely, but fuck it. This entire night had been unusual, so what could I expect?
I turned my attention back to Abram and the music, but eventually my long work week began to take its toll. Finally I couldn’t keep up with Abram anymore, even if I had all the Red Bull in the universe.
I started to turn around to face him when his arms came around me and pulled me back into his chest.
“Where are you going?” he asked, almost having to yell over the music.
I turned to look at him over my shoulder. “If I don’t take a break, I’m going to sit down on the dance floor and take one,” I warned, half-jokingly.
Abram grinned and released all but my hand. We headed towards the safety of the bar set up in the corner. We ordered two longnecks and made our way to the Pulpit. One glance at the definitely occupied room had us heading back out into the lounge.
“Outside?” Abram inquired.
“Get me the fuck towards fresh air,” I groaned, waving a hand against my face. Abram just laughed and led me out into the hallway, past a few doors and into the warm summer embrace of a Texas night.
“This is fucking torturous,” Abram moaned, tugging at his tee. “Come on.”
Holding my hair up off my neck with one hand, I rested the sweating beer bottle against my neck, relishing the cold kiss. I followed after Abram through a crowded parking lot filled from diamond chain-link fence to diamond chain-link fence with RVs, small touring vans, and one tricked out school bus. Abram managed to open the doors of one burgundy, black, and white striped RV with two fingers. I followed him up the stairs and encountered a bottomless Perry getting eaten out by the topless keyboardist on a small kitchenette table.
“I’ll wait outside,” I told Abram, immediately making my exit. I didn’t wait for Abram’s response, but I wasn’t going to. Abram joined me outside not but three minutes later with a bag over his shoulders and a pair of keys swinging around his ring finger.
“You left your beer,” I reminded him as he started to walk away.
“Don’t need it,” he called over his shoulder.
I looked over at the venue where music was still thump thump thumping from and back at Abram’s retreating back.
“…How long you stay or if you go doesn’t make me any difference,” he had said.
So, should I stay…or should I go?
Taking three final pulls from the bottle, I swallowed any last reservations I had left and tossed it into one of the large overflowing dumpsters pressed flush against the back of The Offering.
When Abram turned around to search me out, I was right beside him, willing to follow him anywhere.
*^*^*^*
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