Home > Finn Beckett(3)

Finn Beckett(3)
Author: MJ Fields

I glance back, and None-ya is chucking stars at me with her eyes. And when I say stars, I mean the sharp bitches that ninjas throw. She’s no starry-eyed fan girl looking to suck my dick or get in my bed. No, she means to wound.

I look at Memphis, who is making out with his girl. Then I look at River and Billy, both smirking, as the crowd seems to get louder and louder. Nickie D is introducing us and pumping them up. My band mates are eating it up, getting even higher on the applause than they already were.

“Let’s get some.” River pounds my back as I sling my guitar around me.

I feel the daggers in the back of my head, but fuck that. I’m not going to play the game and look over my shoulder at the bitch. I walk, and I walk alone.

I pull my aviators over my eyes before we take the stage in a storm of electric steel.

River beats us in, and then Billy and I play our asses off. I watch them eyeing the crowd, both looking in awe. I don’t even look. It’s me, the band, and the music when I have Black Mamba in my hands. The only time I put on a show for the crowd is when I’m singing. Then I give them a look inside, but not too deep.

Memphis, he’s another story.

When Memphis takes the stage and starts belting out “Bang, Bang,” the crowd roars, reaching a new climax. With his injured arm from the bar fight in Miami, he can’t play lead, so Billy is taking his place.

Tonight, I’m not singing. X-man and Nickie D weren’t all too happy with that. Then again, they know, when I’m done tweaking, when I’m ready, I will put on a fucking show for the people paying my bills while I’m doing what I love, what I do best, and that’s creating music that is balls deep.




We all head off stage at the end. They didn’t want us to stop playing. Fuck, I was so deep in the rhythm and beat, still buzzing from the hit I took when we came off stage for a set change, that I’m pretty fucking amped, too.

Tonight, we decide on not going out. Tomorrow, we’ll party.

I walk by Taelyn, who congratulates me. Then I look up, and standing next to her is None-ya. That fucking look on her face is still there.

“Thanks.” I nod at Taelyn and keep walking.

River and Billy, who have chicks surrounding them, wave me over. However, I draw my hand across my throat and point to the back exit.

I walk outside and see the chick who plays drums for Stevie Daniels’ band—I don’t know her fucking name—leaning against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette. She has long, dark hair tucked under a black beanie; and she’s wearing a black, tight-ass tank top, showcasing her rack nicely; a red and black flannel tied around her waist; and a short skirt. She’s hot, but not my type, which is perfect right now.

“You got a smoke?”

She looks me up and down. “Not menthol.”

I must look at her funny ’cause she smirks as she reaches into her black, little purse thing that’s slung across her chest.

She hands me one. “Pot heads smoke menthol.”

“Thanks. I’m not a pot head,” I say as she holds out her lighter. I inhale and let it burn. I haven’t smoked in years—not pot and not cigarettes—but something changed today, and I need it.

“Right.” She shrugs, then tosses her smoke to the ground, crushing it out with her thigh-high, black boots. “What are you looking at?”

“Your legs,” I answer bluntly. Why hide that shit?

“Like what you see?”

“Sure do,” I answer.

“You going out tonight with the crew?”

“What’s your name?” I ask.


“Kellie with the boots. Thanks for the smoke.” I walk down the steps to my bike, then stop and look back. “I’m not going out.” I grab my helmet as she walks toward me, and I hand it to her.

“Nice bike,” she says as she puts the helmet on. I go to mount the bike, but she puts her hand out, stopping me. “I’m driving.”

“Is that so?”

“You sure as hell aren’t, four-twenty.” She mounts my bike like a pro and cranks her to a rumble.

I stand there in a cloud of confusion and exhaust. She did not jus—

“Where we headed?”

“My place,” I grumble as I swing my leg over and get on.




I wake up in the morning in a fog, feeling like a troll shit in my brain. I don’t miss that shit at all.

I roll over and see a note on the nightstand next to a half pack of Camel Lights. Grabbing the yellow piece of paper, I lie back.


Thanks for the ride. I liked it better when you were in control. Hope you can keep that beast on the road. Would be a loss to all those women who haven’t had the opportunity yet.

Meeting with your management and my band.

May see you around. If not, it was a pleasure.


I take in a deep breath. I shouldn’t have brought her back. Not that it wasn’t well worth it since she was a fine piece of ass, but I crossed a line by fucking her.

I swing my legs over the side of my bed and force myself up.

Today is another day, a new day.

I can only hope I was just in a funk last night and that None-ya isn’t going to be an issue from here on out.

Today, I will force myself to walk alone … again.



I close the book and set it on the hotel room nightstand, taking a deep breath before throwing my legs over the bed, ready to take my first step of the day. Each step should become easier, but it doesn’t.

Seeing Finn Beckett yesterday brought on a plethora of emotions I wasn’t ready for. I have hated him for years now, so I was prepared for that emotion. What I wasn’t prepared for was the look in his eyes, those deep brown pools of muck.

The hair stood on the back of my neck. I could hear the blood rushing through my veins, feel my temperature rise. Then hate mixed with anxiety, and I could swear he saw something in me, something I couldn’t afford for him to see.

I walk across the floor and hit brew on the single serve coffee pot. I gave up coffee a long time ago, but today, I knew I would need it. Today, I had to face Xavier Steel, Stevie, and the band.

I stand under the steaming hot shower and tip my head back, allowing the water to hit my face. I take pleasure in the heat and the feeling. It reminds me of the days not long ago when I allowed myself to feel emotions and cry when I was sad. I don’t allow myself to feel sad anymore.

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