Fiction Outtake: A Body for Practice

A while back, I brought you some of the Lyric/Mitchell agreement. Here’s how it all got started.

Mitchell was collecting cords, thinking he looked pretty cool, the way he knew to coil them by using his palm and his elbow as posts. Roadies did it this way; nevermind that he was band, roadies had the look down. Besides, if the band tanked… Dad always was telling him to have something to fall back on.

Eric was there on the stage with him, yawning and grumbling to himself.

“We headed to Roach’s after this?” Mitchell asked.

“Think so,” Eric said. “At least, I am.”

Mitchell nodded, like it was all decided. Going to Roach’s after shows was becoming a ritual — and the growing number of fans were figuring it out. Daniel didn’t think they’d be able to do this much longer. Mitchell didn’t care. It was all about right now, and right now was pretty damn fun.

“Hey,” someone said behind him.

He looked over his shoulder at a girl with brown hair that looked like it had been braided when wet, then let loose when it was dry. She wore jeans and cowboy boots, and a tight t-shirt that was some faded out orange color. He couldn’t call her hot, but she had something about her…

“Need something?”

“Yeah,” she said and lifted her chin, like she was expecting a fight. Mitchell fidgeted; this might be good.

“I need a body.”

Eric and Mitchell exchanged looks, trying to figure out who was willing to volunteer. After all, there were bound to be plenty of other, hotter girls at Roach’s… Hopefully.

“I’m training to be a massage therapist,” she said into the silence. “I need someone to practice on and I thought that someone who thrashes around as much as you guys do would want some free massages.”

Mitchell stretched his arms over his head, then put his hands on his waist and twisted. “Yeah, that could work.” He looked harder at the girl. She looked familiar… “Hey, you’re Melody’s girl!”

Eric turned to look at her at last. His jaw dropped, as though Lyric was Melody herself.

“I’m Lyric, yes, and if you think this is some invite to be in one of Mom’s movies or something, forget the whole deal. This is real massage, not massage-your-peter. Got it?”

“Whoa,” Eric said and, grabbing the cables from Mitchell, hurried off the stage.

“Let me get this straight,” Mitchell said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down from the stage at Lyric. “You’re Melody’s girl, but you’re not offering sex.”

“That’s right.”

“For free.”

“No.”

He arched an eyebrow at her and waited. She’d figure out soon enough what he was waiting for.

She did. “I want a ShapeShifter t-shirt and my name on the permanent guest list.”

“Is that all?”

“I could charge cash. Everyone else in my class does.”

Mitchell didn’t bother to hide a smile. Everyone in town knew you didn’t fuck around with Melody and her girls. “But you won’t.”

“Does that mean you’re in?”

He glanced around, not sure why the guys weren’t around. There was more gear to pack up and he’d be damned if he was doing it all himself. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m in.”

He half-expected her to squeal and throw her arms around his neck. But all she did was nod like she’d known he’d go for it.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“Now?”

“Got a date?”

“Yeah,” he said, wondering if hanging at Roach’s with the guys counted. “Tomorrow. Noon. You tell me where,” he added, hoping she wouldn’t pick some public place and humiliate him.

“I’ll call you in the morning.”

“You have my number?”

“Melody’s kid knows who Patterson’s kid is. Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you.”

Mitchell stared, speechless, as she turned on one of those cowboy boot heels of hers and walked out of the club like she owned it. If she didn’t now, Mitchell didn’t doubt that with an attitude like that, one day, she just might.

In the meantime, he’d be getting himself some free massages. Damn, but the guys were going to be jealous when they heard that. Assuming they got their asses back inside and packed their shit up, anyway. If they left it all for him, Lyric was going to be his own little secret for as long as he could swing it.

He grinned and picked up the last of the stuff he was responsible for. Fuck ’em. Fuck all three of ’em. They snoozed. They loozed.

Why haven’t you joined the Poetry Train yet?

And stay tuned; I’m going to try to make time to start giving you some of the fun stuff I picked up at RT.