Bad for You

By: Candy J. Starr



“You heard the songs tonight. You tell me.”

I regretted saying that when he went off on a big spiel about it. Could he be any more boring? I yawned and cut him off.

“Yeah, enough about that.”

A few more questions, mostly wasting my time. I wanted to get backstage and party, forget the meh reaction of the crowd. There’d been a chick hanging around before the show, all legs and tits with her tongue hanging out for action. I’d have her up against the wall in the band room within ten minutes. That was the best way to work off this feeling.

I took another swig of vodka and lolled on the chair they’d set up for me. The questions droned on. I tried to look interested.

“So, what do you think of the recent criticisms?” one guy asked.

Huh? Criticisms? Yeah, I get them all the time. I ignored them. I just snorted in reply.

“It’s pretty harsh stuff, that everything you’ve done is just a pale reflection of FORSAKEN and that all your talent has just piggybacked off Tex O’Malley.”

That made me sit up straight. It was nothing new. Shit like that came up on a semi-regular basis, but it still got my back up. I’d worked damn hard since then. My sound was nothing like Tex’s. My song writing was nothing like the stuff we’d done together. I should just shrug it off but it added to the darkness surrounding me.

“It’s much more bombastic than anything Tex did,” said the journo I’d cut off earlier.

“Bombastic?” What the fuck was he even talking about?

I gave him a second look. He was vaguely familiar. I think I’d slept with his girlfriend once.

“The staging, the sound, it’s all over the top. Like you’re trying to compensate.” If his words weren’t enough, the smug look on his face made me want to punch him. All satisfied and full of his own self-importance. Fucking douche canoe. I stood up.

“Interview’s over.”

I walked out, leaving it at that. Fuck them. The manager went into damage control. He should’ve been thankful that I didn’t throw the vodka bottle at that idiot. I would’ve done once; I’d matured since then.

Yeah right, more like I didn’t want to waste good vodka.

As I walked back to the party room, I noticed Brett, the bass player, screwing the brunette I’d had my eyes on. Fuck him. I wanted first call on her. Hopefully there’d be more where that came from.

The black mood got even worse when I entered the room. A few hangers-on approached me. They were all perky and full of praise. So full of shit, more like it. We’d sucked balls. The more I thought about that, the more I believed it. Maybe I was nothing without Tex. I worked hard but he never needed to. He had that magic, that touch of genius. Bastard. I should’ve left him wallowing in his own misery instead of helping the bastard out with his problems.

Fuck Tex and fuck Julie. Fuck both the O’Malley siblings. Between them, they’d made my life hell. The shadows they cast would never leave me. I’d be an old man in a rocking chair and they’d still be torturing me in one way or another.

I necked the vodka bottle again but it was empty.

I threw it across the room at the rubbish bin but missed and it smashed on the concrete floor. A woman standing nearby screamed.

“What are you making a fuss about?” I called security over and got her thrown out.

The brunette came in from the hallway and put her arms around my neck, purring in my ear. She reeked of drummer, so I peeled her off. That made her pout but she should’ve thought about that before she let Brett put his cock in her.

Going back to the hotel to brood alone seemed like a fine option but first I needed a piss. After that, I’d find a driver to take me back.

Someone was in the bathroom. I banged on the door but they didn’t respond.

“Get the fuck out of my toilet. I need a piss.”

Still no response. Some dick having sex or doing drugs, no doubt. I had a “no drugs backstage” rule but that didn’t stop them. I sure as hell didn’t want to see some spaced out moron emerge though. There was another bathroom around somewhere. For the staff. I’d go find that.

My bladder felt like it was going to burst.

The backstage area of this place was a labyrinth though. All the staff were either still packing up gear or getting messed up, so the hallways were deserted. Jesus. I should’ve just gone out the back door and pissed in the car park. I thought I knew where I was going but even if I didn’t, at least it was quiet. Worst case scenario, I could find a corner to piss in.

▶ Also By Candy J. Starr

▶ Last Updated

▶ Hot Read

▶ Recommend

Top Books