The first thing I heard was the roaring. It was like the pounding of the ocean surf, but made out of human voices.As we cleared the concrete tunnel, I could see the spotlights flashing out in the darkness – just quick glimpses of them, interrupted by the framework of the stage.Ryan’s family was waiting by the exit. Casey looked like she was about to pee, she was so excited. Mara was trying to be cool, but she was hopping up and down just a centimeter, like she wanted to jump but was holding it back. Ryan hugged his parents – said “Don’t worry, they’ll be fine” to his very worried mother – and then his parents departed, and a bald security guard fell in lockstep with us as Mara and Casey joined the group.We made it to the wings of the stage when a group of crew guys handed Ryan his bass and plugged some kind of a transmitter into Killian’s guitar.Suddenly a voice reverberated over the speakers.“AND NOW… GIVE IT UP… FOR… BIGGEEEEEERRRR!”The pounding surf of voices became a massive
Thirty minutes and two encores later, Derek concluded the show with, “Good night, Los Angeles! Now grab somebody next to you and go get laid!” before he walked offstage to rapturous female screaming.I guess that’s another reason guys liked Bigger concerts: they had a better chance of scoring afterwards.As the band walked offstage, they were dripping with sweat. Derek and Riley in particular looked like they’d been dunked in a swimming pool.On most people it would have looked gross. It certainly did on Riley.On Derek Kane, it looked like a personal invitation to have your brains fucked out.And the smell of him – not just the musk of his deodorant, but the testosterone or pheromones he exuded – it was enough to drive me wild. I’d heard about some woman who started a speed dating thing were you had to sleep in a t-shirt for three days, then bring it to the meet-up. The idea was that attraction really is chemical, and you’ll know someone you’re attracted to by the scent they give off
I stood on the outside of the tile shower room and listened as the hiss of water filled the air. Steam started to drift out.“So, I wanted to ask you about the album cover for Bigger Than – ”“What?” Derek yelled, his voice sounding hollow from bouncing on the tile.“I said, I wanted to ask you about – ”“I can’t hear you over the water – you’re going to have to come in here.”Asshole.I was pretty damn sure he could hear me just fine.But I steeled myself and walked around the corner into the shower room, my heels clicking on the tile.I almost choked.He was standing there, outlined against the white tiled wall, soap suds sliding down his body, his hair wet and slick, his skin luscious and shiny under the jet of water.I recalled a story about some movie studio mogul who wanted to cast an Olympic female swimmer in a movie. In everyday life, she was kind of plain, but put her in a bathing suit and a pool, and she looked amazing. The studio mogul’s comment was, “Dry she ain’t much – b
I composed myself – no mean feat, I can assure you – as I listened to the water turn off. Derek came back into the room with one towel wrapped around his waist, and drying his hair with a second.As soon as he saw me, he gave me a rueful grin and shook his head. “You are the toughest nut to crack ever, did you know that?”“I’m just being professional,” I said, my voice shaky.“Right. We both know you want to, so why don’t you quit using that ‘professionalism’ crap as an excuse?”“Maybe you shouldn’t tell me stories about how you revenge-fucked some music critic’s girlfriend right before you try to seduce me.”He squinted at me. “That really bothers you, doesn’t it?”“What, you using women for your petty little schemes? Yeah.”“She didn’t have any complaints.”“How do you know? You probably never saw her again.”“Sure I did. Two or three more times, as a matter of fact.”Jealousy bit harder.“And it was her pursuing me, not the other way around. That’s how I know she didn’t have any co
The backstage party was crazy.I basically kept to the fringes, continuing my anthropological mindset and watching everything with a dispassionate eye.It’s not that I don’t like to have fun. I do. But I was working, for one thing. At least, that’s what I told myself. Plus, nobody was interested in me. I wasn’t famous, and amongst the women gathered here, I was downright average. The few guys who tried to hit on me, I shot down immediately. They didn’t care; they turned ten inches to the left and immediately started hitting on a much more receptive target.At some point – after Riley had manhandled the asses of basically every woman in the room and gotten slapped by half of them; after enough women had thrown themselves all over Derek, and he’d signed at least another two dozen sets of boobs; after Killian and Mike had jammed on acoustic with the opening band; after Ryan had talked to virtually every music producer and big-name musical act in the room; after Derek and Riley got into a
The backstage party had been crazy.The after-party at the Dubai was crazier.For one, there were more people. In fact, there was already a crowd in the bar by the time we arrived.Two, backstage security at the Staples Center had more or less admitted people (and by that, I mean women) in an orderly manner. Some would come out, more would go in.Here, anybody who wanted to walk in off the street could.And had.In fact, I think every groupie at the concert had tweeted or Facebooked ‘Derek Kane afterparty at the Dubai!’ because it seemed like half the female population of LA – or half the model-actress-wannabe population of LA, anyway – had shown up.And three, there was a lot more booze available at the Dubai’s bar.When we first got there, there had to have been 500 people inside. It was basically standing room only. The hotel staff quickly realized they had a problem and installed a velvet rope outside, but that only slowed the numbers going in. It did nothing about the people alre
Ten hours after I’d arrived at the Dubai, I finally made my way up to my room. It was small but lovely – beautifully decorated, with a luxurious king-size bed. There was a large glass window that looked six stories out over the Sunset Strip, with all its lights and cars and revelers on the sidewalks, even at 1AM. The glass was double-paned, though, so the room was quiet as could be, with no more than a whisper from the air conditioning vent.There was my bag, waiting for me in the middle of the room. I put it on a nearby chair, opened it up, and dug out my super extra-large t-shirt that I slept in. I stripped off my clothes and smelled them. Ugh – stale pot smoke. Same with my hair. Blech. I desperately wanted to slip into bed and just forget the entire last three hours had ever happened, but I couldn’t bear the thought of smelling like this, not one second more. I slipped into the bathroom and took a short, hot shower. The hotel’s exotic soaps and shampoos washed away my makeup and t
It was a long-ass night.A long-ass, frustrating night.I laid awake, fitfully turning in bed for over an hour, replaying the scene over and over in my head.Fuck this.Him slamming me against the wall, kissing me, stroking me, tantalizing me – The stench of a dozen other women’s perfume – I’ve always wanted YOU, Kaitlyn. Just you.My final refusal – You want me? I’m yours. But YOU let me know.It all seemed like a dream.An incredibly hot, but incredibly disturbing dream.Why did I have to say ‘no’? Wasn’t that exactly the thing I’d fantasized about for years – him forcefully pinning me against the wall, taking me, ravishing me?I knew why I’d said ‘no,’ of course. The smell. The perfume. I couldn’t get past it.Why did he have to dance with those women? Why?Why did he have to flaunt it in my face?Why couldn’t we have just left immediately after the concert and come here?He could have been in my arms right now.He could have been inside me RIGHT NOW.I was so hot and bothered I