The Bloody Faithful Chapter Three Just A Player In The Band free porn video

Chapter Three Just a Player in the Band Rambo Thor showed up at my door, Monday night, three days after my debut at La Chambre Rouge. He wasn't alone. There was another guy with him, taller, older and not as buff. There were also two girls, both attractive, though the younger one, a bottled blonde, looked a little worn. I thought I recognized her from the university but didn't know her name. All of them smelled like Vampers except the blonde. I opened the door and stepped aside for them to come in. I was puzzled when no one moved. "May we come inside?" Rambo asked. "Yeah, sure. Come inside, please." Wasn't that why I was holding open the door, so they could? Then I remembered the stories I'd heard about vampires. They had to have permission before they could cross a threshold. Was that why there was a door man at La Chambre Rogue, so he could invite Vampers in, like me? The idea I might be limited where I could go was disturbing. "Make yourselves comfortable," I told the gang as they padded past across the thick Turkish rug. The older man staked out a seat on the couch with the blonde hanging on to him like a tic sucking blood. Rambo settled into one of the two matching arm chairs. The older girl, a sexy brunette, opted for a spot near the fire, on the rug. "Rick around?" Rambo asked, resting the ankle of his right leg across his left knee. "He went out to run a couple of errands," I told him. "He should be back before too long. Can I get you anything while you wait?" "You got a coke or something?" asked the blonde girl. "We've got Dr. Pepper." That was Rick's favorite, though I couldn't understand why? It had always tasted nasty to me. "That'll do," she said. "As long as it's wet." I liberated one of Dr. Peppers out of the fridge and poured it into a glass from the cupboard. I carried it back to the Blonde and she thanked me. "So what's up Rambo?" I asked pulling out the bench from under the Steinway, taking a seat. "I was hoping to talk to your boyfriend about a proposition I have for you," he said. "But Rick's not here." He spread his arms in a "what can you do" gesture. "We don't have much time so it might have to wait for another night." "You don't need Rick if it's about me," I said more sharply than I intended. "I make my own decisions." "Okay Luv." He leaned forward crossing his arms on his thighs. "It's this. Rick says you're looking to put together a band. We're looking for a front man... uh...woman in your case. I thought maybe we could help each other out." "You guys are a group?" Rick had said Rambo was a studio musician. "Not technically," said the girl by the fire. "We've played together a few times, mostly studio work. I'm Jesse by the way. Jesse Jordan, bass. That's Shredder over there on the couch. He's guitar. You already know Rambo. He doesn't always have the good manners to introduce people." "Faith Goodeblood," I said. "Nice to meet--" The door opened and Rick walked in, a plastic bag dangling from one hand. "I wondered who the van belonged to," he said to Rambo. "Have any trouble finding the place?" "GPS systems are wonderful gadgets," Rambo said. "I brought my cohorts along thinking you would want to meet them." "I'm not a cohort," said the blonde girl. "I'm just here with Shredder." "Let me put up the groceries and we can talk," said Rick. "Why don't you go with Rick, Carrie." Shredder said to the girl. "You can listen to your headphones in the kitchen while we talk." "Okay," she said as if he'd offered her a three day stay at a five star hotel in Bermuda. She got up and followed Rick making me think total zombie. "I was telling Faith about my offer to form a band," Rambo said, when Rick returned. He'd brought a chair back from the kitchen that he placed next to the piano bench. Our arms brushed when he took his seat and my mind flashed back to the bedroom. I'd stood over him while he'd been asleep, fascinated by his bare chest, feeling the warm moisture build between my legs. The memory made me uneasy. "Shame your band... 'Back Salt' was it?... disbanded. I would have loved to have heard them," Rambo was saying. "If the rest of the group was anything as good your girl here they would have been smashing." "They would have blown your mind 'Bo," Jesse said. "I saw them last year. They did a show at the Grand Casino in Biloxi." "You guys rocked the place," she said to me. "Anyway," Rambo went on, "you're looking for a band. I'm looking to do something outside the studio. And these two," he motioned toward Jesse and Shredder, "need jobs." Jesse made a face at Rambo and flashed him her middle finger. Shredder kept his eyes on me. "Seems like to me this would be to the benefit of all," Rambo continued. "If things don't work out we'll just part friends." Rick looked at me. "What do you say, Faith?" He winked. "Should we?" As far as I was concerned it wasn't even a question. At the same time I didn't want to seem too anxious. Faith was supposed to be something of a diva. "I guess we can try it," I said sounding as casual as I could. "Sooooo," Rambo stretched the word. "We should maybe schedule a first practice, see if we click?" "How about Wednesday," Rick suggested. "That will give me a day to clean out the basement. It's soundproof down there." "I'm good with Wednesday," Rambo said. "What about you two? Jess, Shredder? Does Wednesday work for you?" "Sounds good," said Jesse. Shredder nodded. "It's a date then," Rambo said, rising to his feet. "Let's go, Carrie," Shredder yelled. The girl emerged from the kitchen her headphones hanging from her neck. She looked dazed. I wondered if she was drugged. Shredder took her by the arm and guided her to where Jesse and Rambo waited by the door. Rick and I got up and joined them. "Say we meet around nine?" he suggested to Rambo. "Nine's good," Rambo said. Shredder was first out the door pushing Carrie ahead of him with Jesse following. She turned around at the doorway. Dodging past Rambo she darted back to me. Grabbing my hands, she pulled me forward and kissed me on the lips. The kiss was warm and more than friendly. "See you in a day Luv," she said, turning on her heel following the group down the steps to the van. I watched her leave, stunned at what had just happened. When I followed Rick back into the house, the kiss still lingered on my lips. *** I plodded to the safe room with reluctant steps, forced to give up the living room window because the dawn could not be deterred. I sat at the vanity and picked up the antique hair brush that rested next to a comb, part of what must have been Faith's grooming set. The brush was beautiful with its carved ivory handle and "FG" monogrammed in gold on the back. The comb, also ivory, was embellished with gold filigree. There was also a small hand mirror made of the same materials as the brush and comb with a bronze face. Gazing at my reflection in the large bronze mirror, I began to brush my hair. Black in color, it was long and straight, hanging nearly to my waist. I pulled the brush through it with smooth strokes. "Who are you?" I asked the image as I worked. Are you Paul or are you Faith or are you some kind of monster birthed from their union?" I didn't have an answer to the question. What I did know was that I was beginning to develop abnormal desires. If this continued it was only a matter of time before I lost my identity completely. What then? You're focused on the wrong thing; I told myself. Look at the positive. Rick's' plan is coming together even faster than you hoped. You'll have your band, and before you know it Faith will be beating on the door. With word getting around about your debut at La Chambre Rouge, she may already have a plane ticket home. You'll go back to being Paul very soon and all this craziness will stop. Except, with all the changes happening inside me, would there be anything left of Paul when I did regain my body? Could you go back to being someone that didn't exist anymore? The direction my thoughts had wandered disturbed me. I laid the brush down arranging it carefully next to the comb until I was satisfied it was in the same position it had been before. For some reason I couldn't explain, it bothered me to disturb the order of this room. When had I become so fastidious? I couldn't say. I undressed thinking this was one more bit of Paul being chipped away. My movements were beginning to slow. The sun, now well above the horizon, was talking its toll. I wouldn't feel strong again until it set. I draped my clothes on the chair I'd used while doing my hair and then picked up the remote and carried it to the bed. Easing under the sheets I activated the security cameras, checking the street first. Trees and tall shrubbery cast long shadows across the sun lit pavement as a SUV rolled slowly past: some worker off to another day on the job. How I missed the day. I switched to the courtyard in the back. Like the street it was bathed in shadow with patches of light where the sun managed to pierce through the foliage in the surrounding trees. The only activity here were a few squirrels, their tails twitching as they hopped around searching for acorns or some scrap to take back to their nests. The side yards were clear but I lingered a moment to take in the vivid greens of the banana trees. Dew drops like diamonds sparkled on their leaves. If only I could walk among them and feel the sunlight on my skin. Soon Paul, I told myself, very soon this will all be over and then you will. Clinging to that thought like I would a life preserver in rough waters, I drifted off to sleep. *** I wasn't sure I wanted to stage the rehearsal with Rambo and the others in the basement. This was going to be a test to see if we fit as a band. The last thing I needed to be was to have the uneasiness I would feel down there show up in my performance. Actually, I wasn't sure I wanted to descend those stairs ever again. What happened there was too traumatic. Rick poo-pooed on my phobia, insisting it was the only practical location in the house. "It has the best acoustics and it's soundproof," he argued. "The last thing we need is for the neighbors to call the cops because of the noise. Not to mention I spent all afternoon getting it ready. I hate to think I did all that work for nothing." He paused to see if his argument was having any effect on me. "Look Paul," he argued when it didn't. "Eventually you've got to put what happened down there behind you and move on. It's just a room for God's sake. I'll bet money once you guys start to play you'll forget all about where you're at and concentrate on the music." "Fine," I said, giving in. I followed him into the basement to see what he'd done. I smelled the fresh paint before I saw the light blue color that replaced the previously dark gray walls. "I treated the bricks with a sealant before I painted them," Rick said. "That should take care of the mold problem." That wasn't all he'd done. The table Luther had strapped me to was gone along with the boxes of old clothes and the other junk. An electric keyboard connected to a small amp took its place along with another amp connected to a microphone. The reel to reel we'd been using to tape my practice sessions sat on the work table. "Tomorrow night we'll run everything through the mixer," Rick said, "but I hooked up the keyboard and mike directly to amps tonight in case you want to mess around." "Maybe later," I said. I did have something I wanted to try. I'd written a song, but I and wasn't ready to share it. As repulsive as this room was, I thought I might come back down here after Rick went to bed. If this place really was soundproof then I would be able to work on it in private. I waved goodbye to Rick when the tour was over and went back upstairs. The fresh paint and other changes made it easier to deal with the basement, but it would still take time to adjust and I wasn't ready for that now. When I got upstairs my first stop was the kitchen where I made myself a cocktail. I carried it to the living room to drink. I'd had one already and knew how a second would affect me, but with the upcoming rehearsal and my recent odd behaviors I had a lot on my mind. As I took a seat at the piano Rick walked past. "It's getting cold in here," he said. Actually it was almost summertime warm outside (New Orleans weather was unpredictable this time of year) but the house did keep a constant chill about it no matter the weather did. He crossed the room to the fireplace, selected a poker from the rack of tools and began jabbing at the coals teasing them back into life. Then he added bits of wood feeding the newly birthed flames. I sipped at my drink watching him work. The excess of blood was lulling me into a reckless, not-give-a-fuck kind of mood. Rick had his back to me and I mapped out the muscles beneath his shirt and the way his broad shoulders tapered to a trim waist. He wasn't buff as Rambo but he was fit and a hell of a lot better looking. What would it be like to have those narrow hips between my legs, his toned muscles driving his rod into me over and over? I pressed my thighs together rubbing them against each other imagining how it might feel. I was playing a dangerous game right now but I didn't care. My breathing quickened and the warm moistness inside me rose like a flood. I felt wet and ready, like I had in the bedroom when I gazed at Rick's nakedness. Just then Rick turned around intending to say something, catching me in the act. What ever was on his mind the words died on his lips as his eyes dropped to my thighs. Embarrassed, I opened my legs and gazed into my drink to avoid him seeing the guilt on my face. There was no way he couldn't have known what I'd been doing. He looked at me for a long moment, the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. I pivoted away from him and faced the piano, pretending to study the music I'd scribbled earlier on a sheet of manuscript paper. Annoyed and embarrassed I'd been discovered, I blamed it on the blood. I'd drunk too much. Rick walked over to the window, drew back the drapes, and looked out onto the street. Though I was relieved he'd shifted his attention from me to something else, the silence was oppressive. We were never this quiet. I repositioned the song I'd written on the music rack and picked out the first two measures on the piano, paused to make a change in the notation, and then continued through the verse. While I worked, I heard Rick leave the window. He stopped behind me and I could feel him studying me. I kept my eyes on the song I was writing, acting like I was too busy to notice he was there. "Looks like you need some time to work out that piece of music." He said "I think I'm going to turn in. It's getting late and I have a lot to do tomorrow before Rambo and the others get here." "Go ahead I'll be fine," I said, my eyes locked on the sheet of music. "Good night," he said. "'Night," I echoed. I was relieved to see him disappear down the hall. I stayed at the piano until I was sure he was in bed and asleep. When my ears picked up his soft snores I got up and went quietly to the door. After a moment I stepped into the cool night. This was my first time outside the house alone. I found a spot to settle on the porch steps and I spent a few minutes staring up at the stars. It had been stupid to do what I'd done and Rick had caught me. He'd been gracious not to have commented on what he'd seen although he'd obviously been amused. I deserved whatever came from it. When I was done beating myself up, I closed my eyes and listened to the night sounds of the city. Several blocks away I heard a city bus. Cruising so silently it might have been a ghost, only the air it displaced, an almost whispered whoosh, and the low pitched conversations of it passengers marked its passage. More blatant were the rattles of several taxis (all of them needed valve jobs) and a lone sax player performing on some street corner for tips. I heard clomps of a horse's hooves, the squeaky wheels of the carriage it pulled and a drunkard's rough voice singing in Cajun French as he staggered home. All of these, lonely voices of the night, were a part of the world I now inhabited. I was about to go back inside when I sensed the car. I felt more than heard it. And I couldn't say how, but I was sure it was coming here, for me. I didn't sense danger in its approach but more of a curiosity that launched its mission. Judging by its speed, it would reach Eighth Street any minute. I settled back down to wait. And then there it was, rounding the corner with Jesse behind the wheel. The car was one of those European sports models, a small convertible with only two seats, possibly a Triumph or a MG. Despite it being cool this late at night she had the top down so her long dark hair flowed behind her like a cape. She squealed to a stop in front of the house and motioned me over. "I knew you would be waiting for me," she said, leaning languorously against the driver's door gazing lazily out at me through lidded eyes. "I could feel your ...um... unsettledness." I didn't ask her what she meant by that. I wanted to know how what I'd just experienced was possible. "How could you...uh, we --" I began. "How could we sense each other from such a distance? Some Vampers have that ability though usually only ones related in some way. Get in," she said. "We need to talk. Just us girls." I opened the passenger's door, slipped in beside her and we pulled away from the house. She steered down the street turning left on Camp Street, and then took another left when we reached Second. When we turned onto St. Charles she gunned the engine pushing the little car to dangerous speeds. We blew through one intersection after another, the wind catching my hair, streaming it behind me as we played a crazy game of chicken with the cross street traffic. The responsible thing would have been to tell her to slow down before we smashed into something and ended up in a crumpled heap of metal. But her daredevil driving had once again awakened something sexual inside me. The feeling was completely feminine and satisfying. I rode it like a surfer would a perfect wave, milking it for all it was worth. Jesse glanced at me and grinned, she knew I was aroused. We were sharing a moment and though she still hadn't told me what this was about, I was enjoying the ride too much to care. At Lee Circle she picked up Howard Avenue and then took a zigzag route that ended on Esplanade. "Where are we going?" I asked. She laughed. "It's a surprise. You'll have to wait and see." The surprise turned out to be the New Orleans Museum of Art. Jesse parked a little distance from the museum, in a deep pool of shadow. We got out and I waited while she waked around the small convertible swinging her hands as if she were conducting a symphonic piece. When she was finished she brushed her palms together and smiled. "What was that all about?" I asked. "Charming the car so the cops won't notice it if they happen by," she said. "Vampers can do that?" I blurted out in surprise. Immediately I bit my lip, cursing silently. Faith would have known that. I prayed I hadn't blown my cover. Jesse didn't seem to notice. "I can," she said and grinned. "This girl's got skills." She led me away from the car, past the museum, to a set of gates. The gates were bordered on each side by a small, square, squat building. Both buildings sat behind "walls" the same width and slightly shorter than the buildings. Raised metal letters anchored into the panels on the right hand "wall" declared this was the Sydney and Walda Sculpture Garden. Though I'd been to the museum I'd never visited the Sculpture Garden. I hadn't even been aware it was there. "It's closed," I said looking up at the tall barrier blocking our way. "Of course it is," said Jesse. "Did you think I'd come here if it wasn't? Come on." Flexing her knees, she leapt into the air and to my amazement rose to within easy reach of the top of the gate. With a graceful swing of her hips she vaulted over dropping lightly to the ground on the other side. "Your turn." She laughed through the wire mesh. I glanced at the gate. It had to be at least twelve feet high, maybe more. "Come on, Faith," Jesse called. "What are you waiting for, the sun to rise?" I took a breath. This was going to be embarrassing but I had to try. I bent my knees and then thrust upward with everything I had and nearly sailed over the damn thing. If I hadn't of snagged the bar at the top with my hand, I would have. Using my arm as a pivot I flipped over the gate and landed beside Jesse. "Nice vault," she said, "come on, I want to show you something." I followed Jesse down a concrete path that snaked past a variety of sculptures that included a giant safety pin, several shapes I couldn't identify and every imaginable variation of the human form an artist could conceive. Cloaked in the night, they seemed alive and watching. We continued on, our trek taking us across a small bridge spanning a stream, the water dark and still beneath the canopy of trees sheltering it from the starlight. We stopped at a bench on the other side. "We're here," she said taking a seat on the bench. She patted the spot beside her for me to follow. "That's the L'arbre aux Colliers, The Tree of Necklaces," she said, pointing to an ancient oak as I settled next to her. "The beads are some kind of artist statement. They hung slaves from that tree." I studied the tree. Long streamers of Spanish moss drooped like beards from its twisted limbs. Mixed in with the moss were several strands of oversized Mardi Gras beads. "It's beautiful," I said, watching the beads shimmer in the starlight. "It's terrible what the tree represents though. I mean they hung people." "I thought you would appreciate it," said Jesse. "Your family being from New Orleans and all." "Yeah," I said, unsure of where this was going. The last thing I wanted was to get grilled about Faith's background. There was too much I didn't know. It would be way too easy to trip me up. "You said you wanted to talk," I reminded her. "What's up?" "I thought we should get to know each other since there's a good chance we'll be working together." I cocked my head and studied her. Was she joking? We'd driven halfway across the city to have a conversation we could have held on the porch steps. It didn't make sense. "So how long have you known Rick?" She asked, her voice way too casual. "For a while," I said. I had no idea how long Faith and Rick had known each other. "Yeah, but how long?" she pushed back. "I know it has to be over a year because he managed Black Salt. But I want the details. You know, how you fell in love, a Vamper and human stealing each others hearts. That's so romantic." I eyeballed Jesse with suspicion. She didn't come across as the romantic type. "Hey, I'm a girl like you," she continued. "You know how we're suckers for that stuff. Rick told me a little. He says he met you at a Vamper Bar. You were doing a solo act and he dropped in to listen. He said you spotted him in the crowd and dedicated a song to him. You remember that?" That last bit was almost too "storybook" to be true. Rick had certainly never mentioned it to me. But at the same time he could have just never got around to telling me. There was only one way out of this that I could think of. "I should have mentioned this earlier," I said, "Rick and I are going through some issues. So if you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about it." "What you really mean is you can't talk about it because you don't know," said Jesse. Now her voice held an edge. "I faked that story. If you were Faith you would have known that." Suddenly she was hovering over me. She'd moved with incredible speed. Her hands gripped my shoulders and I found myself lifted off the bench. She drew me to her until our faces almost touched. I stared into eyes that had gone black, I could feel the same rage pouring off of her that I'd felt inside me when I faced off with Molten Orange at La Chambre Rouge. "Who are you?" she hissed. "You're not a witch; you wouldn't have been able to vault over the fence. So who are you? What did you do to Faith Goodeblood?" Anger flared inside me. I resented the way I'd been tricked to come here just to be accused. I grabbed Jesse's wrists, tearing her hands from my shoulders. Tightening my grip I held her before me easily as I would have a child, watching the shock spread across her face as she realized she'd been out matched. "I didn't do anything to Faith," I said coldly. "She did this to me." I took a breath, forcing the angry fire burning inside me to die down. "If I turn loose of you will you let me explain what happened?" Jesse nodded, and I released her. Visibly shaken, she sat back down on the bench. When I was sure she was calm, I began my story. I told her everything except the details of how Luther violated me. That was something I wasn't ready to share. When I was done she looked at me with a sort of wonderment. "Damn you're strong," she said, rubbing her wrist. "Look, I'm sorry I set you up but I had to know. I mean there was something different about you. You didn't smell exactly right. You were like a vamp and not a vamp. Most Vampers probably wouldn't notice but I'm sensitive to that stuff." She paused. "It has to be really rough with no foster to help you adjust. I mean it's great that Rick's there but he's not a Vamper. There's only so much help he can give you." "I won't be like this for very long," I said. 'Rick's confident that by putting a band together it will draw Faith back to New Orleans. And when it does I'll switch back." "So let me get this straight," Jesse frowned. "The band thing is just a scan to get you back into your original body. Thanks for being so honest with us." "I'm sorry," I said. "But would any of you have been interested if you'd known the truth? Besides there's a good chance Faith will want to keep the band together, even after we switch back. Rick said this was what she was after all along." "I don't want to be in a band with that Faith. I want you," said Jesse. "Besides, anyone that would jack somebody else like that has to be a real bitch." "Shame too," she went on. "I was finding you kind of sexy. I was hoping we could maybe develop a relationship of the personal sort along with making some sweet music together." I had to admit Jesse was attractive and I hadn't minded the kiss. I also had no problem climbing into bed with a girl even though I was one myself. But now that she knew the truth the game was pretty much over. "So I guess this is it then," I said. "You're going to tell the others and that will be it." Jesse leaned forward, her arms thrust between her knees staring out into the dark. What ever she was thinking she kept it to herself. When she faced me again she was smiling. "So this is what I'm proposing. I'll keep your little secret between us two if you give me and you a try. Rambo was excited about your sound, so we'll let him and Shredder think everything is the way you and Rick presented it, that you're Faith Goodeblood and you're putting your band back together. As long as we're a couple I'll stay quiet." Who knows," she said after a moment. "You may decide you like it so much you won't want to switch back." That wasn't going to happen. I was going back to being Paul but that was for me to know and her to find out. "So what do you say? Deal?" She struck out her hand. "De--," I began but was cut off by her lips pressing against mine. *** "That sounded bloody fantastic," Rambo exclaimed. We were seated in the living room. Rambo had claimed the thickly padded arm chair that he favored. Shredder was back on the couch with the ever present tic- zombie, Carrie, at his side. Jesse had squeezed in next to me on the small love seat Rick had hauled down from upstairs that morning. The love seat was the same blood red as the rest of the furniture and I suspected it had originally been part of the living room. Rick was seated in one of the kitchen chairs he'd flipped around so he could rest his crossed arms on the back. He was parked next to the baby grand, operating the tape recorder he'd placed on the piano bench. Earlier he'd tied it into a mixer to record our first basement session and we were listening to the results. I'd been amazed with how well the group played together. They had also put on a show. Though we'd been alone in the basement, they'd gyrated as if they were performing in a packed arena. Jesse sashayed across the floor, prissy as any prostitute you'd find on Esplanade, flashing her sexy smile, and making kissy faces at me. Shredder twisted and dipped sometimes dropping onto one knee hoisting his guitar behind his head as his fingers flew across the strings, sending Carrie into a fit of applause each time he did, his vibrato sharp and piercing as a bee sting. Rambo twirled his drumsticks, tossing them into the air then snatching them back never missing a beat. His drums pulsed like a finely tuned machine. Jesse's' bass lines combined with Rambo's blast beats and Shredder's rhythm cells throbbed like a monster heart creating the perfect platform for my vocals. We'd sounded fucking fantastic. "What do you think Shredder?" Rambo asked the older man. "Wasn't bad." (He pronounced wasn't as wud-dent.) "That's high praise coming from Shredder," said Rambo addressing Rick, then me with a sweep of his head. I looked at Shredder and he shrugged. "It was okay," he said. "So what do you say mates?" Rambo went on. "I say let's give this fucking thing a go. All agreed say aye." "Aye," we all said together and Jesse and I laughed thinking we sounded like a gang of pirates. "We need a name," said Jesse. "What are we going to call ourselves, 'Bo? And don't come up with some stupid British name like the "Wall Nuts" or that other one, what was it...? Oh yeah, "The Cat Birds." She looked at me. "Rambo thinks he's still living in the '60's." "Dear Jess," Rambo said with good humor. "Show a little faith. A band's name is important and should reflect its music. Those were both excellent names for the type of music those blokes played. I realize this group is different, darker, more metal than punk. Still a band's name needs to lend itself to CD covers and playbills, something easily remembered but edgy. Taking those things into account I--" "Going to sleep over here 'Bo," Jesse said, faking a yawn. "You need to get on with it." "Patience Luv, we have to do this right." He paused long enough to offer Jesse a stern look. "For you benefit I'll cut to the chase," He leaned forward so he hovered over the coffee table and began to tap a drum roll with his fingers. "Are you ready for me to reveal the name?" he asked continuing the roll. Jesse made a face and waved her middle finger at him. "I'll take that as a yes," he laughed. "And name of the band is...... He tapped louder... "The Bloody Faithful." "Ewwww," Carrie cried. "That's gross." "I like it," said Shredder to the tic-zombie girl. "You don't fucking count anyway." "It's a play on Faith's name." said Rambo when no one else spoke. "Her last name is Goodeblood and of course Faith. I think it's fucking clever." "It's perfect," said Rick "Glad you agree, mate," Rambo said. "What about you girls?" "It fits," said Jesse. "What do you say, Faith, are you cool with it?" I shrugged, feeling a little self conscious. "I guess." "Don't be so fucking modest," said Jesse giving my shoulder a playful shove. "You love it and you know it." "So we're all agreed?" Rambo studied the faces around him. "Great!" he said when everyone nodded. "I'll get started on the legal stuff," said Rick,"Draw up the contracts, submit the papers to register the band name and promotion. Of course you'll all have to approve everything before I make it official. I've also got a first gig lined up whenever you think you're ready. Maggie said she'll clear a spot for us at La Chambre Rouge anytime we want to play there. She's paying top money." "Well then," said Rambo rising to his feet. "I'd say our work is done for tonight. Say we meet a day from now for our next rehearsal?" "Sounds about right," Shredder said. "Hey," Carrie cried. "That's Friday. You were supposed to take me out that night to one of those clubs you talk about." "Things come up, babe," Shredder said. Carrie frowned but that seemed to be the extent it. I thought I'd ask Jesse what the deal was between her and Shredder. "If you're ready, mates, I think we should provide our hosts with a little downtime before the sunrise." Rambo said, heading for the door. "See you later sexy," Jesse said and then gave me a quick kiss. I watched her rise admiring her long beautifully shaped, jean clad legs as they walked past. Rick and I saw them out and waited until they piled into the van and drove away before we went back in. I noticed Rick was frowning. I wanted to ask him what he was upset about but he seemed so moody I decided to wait. He'd tell me when he was ready. "I'm going to get myself a Dr. Pepper," he said, a hint of irritation in his tone. "You want anything?" "Maybe a small cocktail," I said. "If you don't mind." "No problem. Happy to do it." He didn't sound happy. Rick disappeared into the kitchen leaving me alone with the odd sense something was terribly wrong. I walked over to the piano and sat down to play. This was my therapy when something was troubling me. My hands hovered over the keys but the music didn't come. I wanted to know why Rick was acting so weird. Things tonight couldn't have gone better. We'd sounded great. Personality wise we were also a fit. Who could have asked for more? He'd been as pumped as the rest of us earlier. So why was he so negative now? Rick returned with two glasses, one held my cocktail, the other his Dr. Pepper. He handed my glass to me and then took a seat across from me on the sofa. I shifted around on the piano bench to face him and took a single sip of my cocktail. I waited for the warmth to radiate through me before I spoke. "Good rehearsal, huh," I said. "Yeah, it couldn't have been better." "Are you all right?" I asked. "I'm fine," was the reply. But he didn't sound it. I took another sip of my cocktail, watching him brood over the rim of my glass. "You and Jesse have gotten awfully cozy," he said after a minute. "I like her," I said putting my glass aside. Was this about Jesse? "Like her? How do you like her?" He stressed the "do". "How does anyone like someone Rick?" I asked. "You enjoy their company." He made a noise like a snort. "It looks to me like you're doing more than just hanging out. She was all over you tonight. Are you developing a thing for her?" He barked the words. "What if I am?" I shot back. "Is that going to be a problem? What the fuck is wrong with you, anyway?" His head snapped back as if he'd been slapped. He'd half risen when he began his tirade but now his shoulders slumped and he sank back down to the couch. "I need to tell you something," he said so low he barley uttered the words. He looked down at his drink but didn't reach for it. Instead he wet his lips nervously with the tip of his tongue. When he looked up at me I could see the strain on his face. "I'm not proud of what I'm about to say. But I need to say it." He hesitated. "I don't know how to begin." "What is it, Rick?" I asked, my voice gentle. "We're friends. What ever it is, you can tell me." "Okay." He sucked in a breath. "More and more," he said "I'm thinking of you as Faith. I know you've caught me looking at you. You know... like a man looks at a woman. I want to apologize for that but I can't help it, you move like her you talk like her... . " His voice dropped off. "Are you serious?" "That you walk and sound like her I can accept as part of the body swap." He continued ignoring my outburst. "It's the other things, small stuff like the way you sit at the piano when you play, the way you twirl your hair around your finger when you're puzzling out a piece of music, the way you swirl your drink between sips. It's too much like her. It's beginning to make me wonder..." "You miss her," I said filling in the pause. "That's all it is. You miss her and so when you look at me of course you see her." "You don't understand." said Rick. "It's more than just you looking and acting like her. I'm starting see you as the Faith I wanted her to be." "Huh?" "I don't think I want Faith back," Rick rushed on. "I think I want you. I've seen the way you look at me like you did the other night and I think, why not? This could work. We could make it work." Suddenly I was afraid. Things were getting out of control. "We can't," I said. "Why not." I could see the pleading in his eyes. He wanted this. "Because..." I struggled for a way to explain why we couldn't, why it was wrong but I was fumbling too much for the words. "We just...can't." "It's her isn't it. That damn girl Jesse." I could see the anger flash behind his eyes. "She's trying to split us up, come between us." "It's not her, Rick," I said. "It's me. I don't want this." His movements jerked to a halt, his expression frozen as his eyes stared at me in unbelief. I couldn't speak. All I could do was shake my head no. He got to his feet and walked over to the coat rack where he'd hung his jacket. "I've got to go out for a while," he said, lifting his jacket off its hook, slipping it on. "I'm not sure when I'll be back." I started to follow him out the door but decided it was best to let him go. Moving to the window I watched him back out of the driveway. As the taillights of Rick's car disappeared down the street a foreboding overcame me I might never see him again.