InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 9: Subterfuge ❯ Rockstar ( Chapter 171 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
~~Chapter One Hundred Seventy-One~~
~Rockstar~


- OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

'Hey you – standing in the road, always doing what you're told ...
'Can you help me…?
'Hey you – out there beyond the wall breaking bottles in the hall
'Can you help me …?
'Hey you – don't tell me there's no hope at all
'Together we stand, divided we fall ...'

-'Hey You' by Pink Floyd.


-Evan-


"You know, I don't think he's blinked even once in the last couple hours."

Evan glanced up at Mike, grinning since he didn't have to look to know who Mike was talking about.  One look verified what Evan suspected.  Garret was sitting in a nearby chair with a pair of headphones in his ears, connected to the Aphex media player that Evan had been given a few months ago as part of a promo kit.  He'd dug it out and gave it to the boy late last night when he'd arrived with Bone from the airport.  He'd never used it.  Hell, he never used any of the stuff that he tended to find in hotel rooms or that was delivered to him when he was on tour or that companies would send to Wicked Soundsations to give to him.  He had an older one that he liked better than any of the new ones that they'd come out with since, especially after he'd hacked the OS and reprogrammed it the way he wanted it.  Then he set Garret loose with his vast collection of digital music so that the kid could load it up with as many songs and videos as he wanted.  In fact, there was a good chance that the kid wouldn't have to hear the same song twice in a month, unless he wanted to . . .

It was funny, really.  A few days ago during one of their jam sessions via the video chat, Jack had mentioned that Garret was about to go on Spring Break from school, which had gotten Evan to thinking.  In the end, he'd asked Garret if he wanted to go to Europe with him so he could see what being on the road and setting up for shows was like.  Officially speaking, Garret had been hired as part of the road crew—something that had thrilled Garret to no end.  When he was given his black crew shirts with the bold, white print, 'The Crew did V with Zel Roka,' on the back and his name screened onto the front, he was speechless.  Jack had been more than happy to sign a statement, giving Evan permission to be Garret's temporary guardian for the duration of the tour, mostly in case the need for some kind of medical treatment arose, and they'd gotten it notarized at the same time they'd gone to get his passport.

In fact, Evan had actually offered to bring Kaci Lea along, too, but she had some sort of camp-thing going already, and Evan figured that was all right.  After all, keeping an eye on her might have been a little harder to do with all the guys, and if he knew anything, it was that the road crew tended to be almost as popular with the women as the main attraction . . .

The kicker, however, had come this morning.  Just after Evan had presented Garret with the five crew shirts he'd had made for him, he'd also set Garret down to fill out some paperwork—official crap for the payroll division so that Garret could be compensated for his efforts.  Garret hadn't realized that Evan meant to pay him, too.  Not bad for a quick job over spring break, as far as Evan could figure, and Garret seemed to agree wholeheartedly—after he finished blabbering about how he should be the one to pay Evan for letting him hang out.

The only real problem had been trying to get the kid's passport issued.  Originally, Garret was supposed to fly in yesterday afternoon, but they'd spent so much time in trying to get someone to rush the passport that he'd ended up having to wait around.

In the end, Evan had broken down and had called Cain to ask for help.  Cain had made a total of two phone calls—one to a friend who worked in the governor's office in the State of Kentucky who, in turn, was able to get Garret's passport issued within an hour—and the second one to Evan to let him know that it was a done deal.  But Evan hated asking Cain for help, which was why he'd dragged his feet about calling him from the start.

It was all right now, though.  Garret hadn't slept at all, as far as Evan could tell.  He'd said that he felt a little weird about not telling Valerie what was going on, but it that wasn't their fault, either.  At some point last night, Valerie must have shut off her phone, so they hadn't been able to get through.  Then again, it was also nearly midnight by the time Garret had gotten there, and once Evan had gotten the kid some food and given him a tour of the house—they'd  made a pit stop in the music room for a good hour and a half, just jamming and basically hanging out—it was nearly four in the morning, so Evan figured that might have been why she'd shut off her phone . . .

'Right, Roka, right.  You know the real reason you didn't tell her sooner was because you were all pissed off that Marvin showed up.'

Evan snorted to himself.  'Like I care!  That little jerk can blow me.'

'Is it really such a good idea to leave her here alone with him for any length of time?'

'I . . . I don't care about that guy,' Evan maintained stubbornly, ignoring the irritation that lingered around the edges.

'Yeah, say that if you want to.  It's his ring that she keeps on her finger, though.'

Evan snorted indelicately, refusing to comment on that bit of logic.  That was stupid, wasn't it?  Regardless of that pathetic bit of gold she wore, he knew that he was making progress with her.  It wasn't that, at all.

No, the only thing he really worried about was the normal, day-to-day stuff, like her morning jogs.  He never had been happy about that.  It was all over the news all the time: women being attacked while they were out jogging, minding their own business, and while he knew that she always had a bottle of pepper spray on her as well as a GPS chip in her sports watch, it didn't really help when he'd rather that nothing happened to her, to start with . . .

"I think he's afraid he's going to miss something if he closes his eyes, even for a second," Mike went on with a chuckle.

Evan grinned, too.  "Yeah," he agreed with a sage nod.  "That's all right, though."

Mike chuckled again, then frowned as one of the stewardesses stopped beside Garret, only to lean down to whisper something to him.  The kid's face darkened to a lovely shade of rose as he stared at the girl with the wide-eyed look of wonder that only Garret could manage without seeming almost stupid.  Her breasts were mere inches from his face, and it seemed like he was having distinct trouble keeping himself from glancing down her shirt at what had to be a spectacular view.  "Oh, that may not be good," Mike muttered, slowly shaking his head as the stewardess—her name was Bunni—touched his cheek with the back of her knuckles.  "The groupies and such that follow you around are going to tear that boy up . . ."

Evan sighed.  He'd kind of thought so, too.  It wasn't that he thought he needed to tell Garret what he could or couldn't do, but he didn't have to be brilliant to know that the sixteen-year-old kid hadn't had any real experience with girls at all.

The thing was, on an international flight, there was a lot of time to blow, and Evan had figured that out a long time ago.  One of the first things he had done when he'd bought the plane was to hire the hottest stewardesses he could find, and while he might not be as interested in seeing what kind of services they could provide these days, the same couldn't actually be said about Garret, if the expression on his face meant anything at all.  Bunni, Evan knew from experience, gave a hell of a titty fuck.  Caramel liked to suck dick, and Lana?  Well, Lana liked it all . . .

Evan grinned and stood up, moving over to the vacant seat beside the boy.  "Having fun?" he asked as he settled in.

Garret glanced at Evan then laughed.  "Oh, yeah," he said, casting Evan a nervous little smile.  He almost seemed like he was frightened that he was going to do something wrong or say something that might offend Evan.  "This is so awesome."

"Well, this is pretty low-key at the moment," he told Garret.  "Most of the crew's flying in tomorrow, but they're going commercial, and I've gotta tell you, there's nothing worse than a commercial international flight."

"I-I could've flown in tomorrow with them," he blurted quickly, cheeks pinking.  He obviously worried that Evan might think that he was some sort of nuisance, which was entirely ridiculous.

Evan shook his head.  "Nah, besides, V would've killed me if I had left you behind."

Garret nodded but didn't look any less anxious.  "Your plane's really cool," he ventured.  "Your own private plane . . . It's bad-ass!"

Evan chuckled.  "You think the plane's cool?  Just wait till we get to London," he told him.

Garret looked even more excited.  All in all, he kind of reminded Evan of a puppy that just couldn't settle down to sleep.  "It's gonna be so awesome," he said, his voice almost reverent.  "I mean, I've been to some shows, but nothing like this, and I've never gotten to see you live . . ."

He grinned.   "It's all right," Evan reassured him.  "We'll make sure that you've got front row seats and all that shit."

"Uh, no!  I didn't mean—"

"Don't worry about it," Evan interrupted before Garret could protest further.  "Anyway, you know that it'll be a few hours before we land, right?"

Garret blinked at the abrupt change of topics and nodded.  "Yeah, that makes sense."

"Hey, Bunni . . ."

The woman turned to face Evan.  She had been delivering a cup of coffee for Mike.  "Yes, sir?"

Evan snorted, raking a hand through his now-brown hair.  "Drop the 'sir' shit," he instructed.

Bunni giggled prettily, her cheeks blossoming in a very becoming shade of rose.  "All right, Mr. Roka."

He snorted again, but let it go since it wasn't really worth the argument.  "Why don't you take Garret, here, to the back so that he can get a little sleep . . . or whatever.  Make sure he doesn't need anything, will you?"

Bunni spared a moment to look Garret over, and she nodded, her smile widening.  For the briefest of moments, Evan almost—almost—felt sorry for the kid.  The way the woman was eyeing him, Garret could have been little more than a bit of meat on a stick, dangling in front of a hungry lioness . . .

"Garret . . ."

"Huh?" he said, only halfway paying attention to him since his gaze was still glued on Bunni.

Evan chuckled again and tapped Garret's arm until the kid finally looked at him.  "Check the drawer in the nightstand," he said with a wink.

Garret looked utterly confused for about ten seconds.  And then he blushed crimson.  "W-I-Th—" he stammered.

"Take care of him, sweetheart," he said to Bunni.

She giggled again as Garret shot Evan a wild-eyed look, but he let Bunni take his hand and pull him out of his seat.  Evan bit his lip as she led him away.  A moment later, Mike dropped into the seat that Garret had just vacated.  "You're going to burn in hell for that," he predicted with the finality of an executioner.

Evan shot him a shit-eating grin.  "Better now than later," he insisted.

Mike snorted.  "How do you figure?"

Giving a little shrug, Evan sat back in the overstuffed chair, making himself comfortable for the duration.  "One stewardess or a bunch of groupies, Mikey.  Which do you think would be worse for his first time?"

Mike heaved a sigh and shook his head.  "You know that V's going to hang you up to dry when she finds out about this."

"He's not a baby," Evan countered.  "V might wanna think that he is, but he's not."

"We'll see if you're still talking big when your balls are pinned to the wall, Roka," Mike predicted.  "Damn, I'd hate to be you . . ."

"Nah, it'll be fine," Evan insisted.  "You'll see, Mikey.  You'll see . . ."


-Valerie-


Valerie stepped out of the bathroom, dabbing her face with a towel as she shuffled toward the living room with a sigh.  There was no sound in the quiet apartment.  Marvin sat at the desk, reading through a thick journal that she recognized.  He'd carried it everywhere he went for longer than she'd known him, even though she knew that he had a perfectly good electronic jotter that would be simple to transfer onto his computer.  He'd told her once that he didn't trust anything when the battery could easily die, so he jotted everything in that journal, from appointments to research notes, in the meticulous little shorthand that only he could read.  He'd tried to explain it to her one time, but it hadn't made much sense to her.  Besides, what did it matter as long as he knew what was there?  At the moment, he was busy, transcribing his notes into his palmtop computer.

She stopped and folded the towel in half then carefully set it on the table next to the hallway before sinking down on the sofa and reaching for the television remote.

"Val, would you mind turning that down a little?" Marvin asked in a half-apologetic tone.  "It's a little distracting for me."

Valerie glanced over at him and smiled.  "Oh, sure," she said, hitting the volume down button a few times.  "Sorry."

Marvin smiled back—that relieved kind of smile, as though he had expected her to yell at him or something like that.  "Don't apologize," he told her quickly.  "I'm just trying to go over these notes and stuff . . . I'm almost done.  Just a few more minutes . . ."

Evan's plane was probably about halfway to London now.  He had Mike fax over an itinerary earlier, complete with the travel log that they were planning on keeping.  For some reason, the knowledge that Evan was so far away made her feel lonely, which was silly, all things considered, but worse than that was the rather stilted phone call just before he'd boarded the plane.  Evan was being strangely formal, even when he assured her that he'd be on his best behavior while he was gone.

Heaving a sigh, Valerie blinked in surprise when her phone beeped.  She reached for it and wasn't surprised to see that the message was from Evan.

There was nothing in the message but a url, and she frowned, somehow just knowing that whatever he was linking her to simply could not be good, but clicked on it, anyway.

She rolled her eyes as the webpage loaded.  Some sort of fanfiction archive?  Just what was he doing?

And then it occurred to her.  It wasn't just a fanfiction archive; it was an archive for fanfiction about famous people, and the link he'd sent her was for a one-shot about Zel Roka, of course.  The proper part of her told her to close the browser, but her curiosity forced her to read.

"Oh, good God," she muttered to herself.  It was kind of like the proverbial train wreck: she knew that she shouldn't watch, but she just couldn't help herself.  It wasn't just about Zel Roka, after all.  No, it was about Zel Roka and Dieter, his closet gay lover . . .

Knowing Evan and how twisted he could be, he probably thought that this was fantastic.  Valerie, on the other hand, felt the look of disgust that surfaced on her features as she continued to read, and as much as she wanted to stop reading, she just couldn't.

'"Don't you think it'd be better if we just came out and told everyone about us?" Dieter asked, staring deeply into Zel's dusky orbs as his hand slipped torturously slowly down the rockstar's chest.  Toying with the button at the waist of Zel's sinfully skin-tight leather pants, he nearly moaned as his knuckles brushed over the roughened hair—the sparse, narrow path that widened slightly as it disappeared below Zel's waistband.  With trembling fingers, Dieter swallowed hard and unzipped his pants, hand burning as he pushed them down over Zel's buxom ass.  His man-meat sprang free, bobbing up and down in front of him as he fell to his knees, staring lustfully as a drop of pre-come seeped out of Zel's member.

'"Shut the fuck up and suck my dick," Zel growled, grasping Dieter's head by the hair and slamming him down on his rock-hard tool so violently that Dieter gagged just before he greedily sucked.

'The feel of Dieter's tongue, bathing his manhood, was almost more than Zel could bear.  But as hard as he tried to hold back, he knew that it wasn't possible.  Dieter was damn good at sucking cock, after all.  His stint in prison had assured his education.  He'd told Zel once that he'd had an uber-hot affair with his cell mate, an ex-biker who liked to take it between the buns, he'd said.  That had pissed Zel off to no end, and he'd dealt with the news by tying Dieter to his bed for a week.  He'd shot more come down the bassist's throat and up his ass that week that it was hardly believable, but he had to admit, it turned him on to see his beloved Dieter, covered with his squirt.  With a grunt, he shot his load down Dieter's throat but miraculously didn't lose his hard-on.

'"It's so big," Dieter groaned as he pumped Zel's cock.  He leaned down and kissed the bulbous head then turned around, wiggling his quivering ass high in the air.  "I want it—I want it now!"

'"You want it, bitch?  Do you want me to shove my throbbing member up your ass?" Zel growled, grasping Dieter's hips as he rested the tip of his steaming rod against the tight little hole.  Then he yanked hard on Dieter's body, plunging his turgid, tumid love gun in all the way to his balls as Dieter screamed in absolute delight . . .'

Valerie snorted as the message box popped up on her screen, announcing that she'd just received a new message.

'Awesome, right?' was all it said.

Valerie giggled.  'Your gay lover, huh?' she sent back.

'Damn straight . . . or gay, I guess,' Evan responded.

'Don't send me stuff like that,' she chastised him.  'It's like really bad porn.'

'I always wanted to be in porn,' he quipped back.

'Because you're a weirdo.'

'Absolutely,' he assured her.  'You could be my porn queen.'

'In your dreams, Roka.'

'Admit it, woman.  You want my throbbing member.'

"Is . . . is something funny?"

Valerie blinked and glanced up at Marvin, her giggles dying in her throat.  "Oh . . . Just Roka, being silly," she told him quickly.

Marvin broke into a wry smile and sat down next to her.  "He left today, right?  Those, uh . . . gigs, right?"  For some reason, the word 'gigs' out of Marvin's mouth just sounded wrong . . .

She laughed.  "Yeah," she told him.

"That's got to be hard," he said at length.  "Out on the road all the time?  Never being at home?  Guys like that probably never have any real relationships, you know?  I mean, how could he?  Sleeping around with women he won't even remember in the morning, and the risks that go with that . . ."

"What makes you think he's like that?" she asked, unable to control the clipped, brusque tone.  It brought to mind the conversations she'd had with him in the past, only the words coming out of Marvin's mouth had come out of hers at the time . . . But something about the condemnations, no matter Marvin's tone of voice, bothered her . . . a lot . . .

Marvin didn't notice.  "Oh, come on, Val.  It's not really a secret, is it?  Besides, who really wants to live like that?  And who would really be crazy enough to want to be with someone like that, anyway?" he went on.  "Women who like the idea that he's famous, maybe, but anyone with any real self-respect?  No way . . ."

"Funny," she remarked, scooting over a little bit.  "I don't remember you ever being so judgmental before."

"I don't think I'm being judgmental," Marvin mused with a thoughtful frown.  He almost sounded philosophical, and that bothered her, too.  "You hear the stories all the time, don't you?  Famous people like that and their five minute marriages . . . It's a whole different lifestyle—a kind of sad one, at that."

It didn't sit well with her; not at all.  Marvin's assumptions about Evan's lifestyle—about Evan himself—just wasn't all right.  A tiny voice in the back of her mind asked her why.  After all, she'd thought those same things, hadn't she?  Time and again, she'd sold him short, too, but . . . She'd learned a hell of a lot about him, and while he was a rockstar, while he certainly had his moments . . .

"That's probably why so many of them end up in rehabs and stuff like that," Marvin went on, oblivious to Valerie's tell-tale silence.  "People like that don't have a clue what real happiness is.  They aren't like us."

"Not like us," Valerie echoed thoughtfully.  Something about his words, about the absolute confidence in his tone amused her in a sick sort of way.  It didn't make her want to laugh, exactly.  Well, maybe it did—that hysterical kind of laughter that always left everyone else feeling just a little uncomfortable . . . "We're happy?"

Marvin laughed.  "Of course we are," he said.  "Oh, that reminds me . . .Since I'm going to be home for a little while, is there anything you need me to help you with?"

"Help me with?" she asked with a shake of her head, momentarily confused about what Marvin was talking about.

"Yeah, for the wedding," he reminded her.  "I know you said before that everything was under control—Oh, would you mind if I added a few more people to the invitation list?  Just a few—maybe thirty and their guests . . . I've gotten to be pretty good friends with them, and it'd be nice to have them there."

Valerie blinked at the blatant reminder.  She'd forgotten all about that, hadn't she?  She'd known on some level, sure, that their wedding date was little more than a few months away, but she'd been so busy lately that she hadn't even thought about double checking the arrangements that she'd already made, either, and adding another sixty people to the guest list . . .? She frowned.  "Well . . . If you want to add that many people, then we're probably going to need to book a bigger place, and booking somewhere nice on such short notice probably won't be possible . . ."

Marvin looked a little surprised by the nonchalance in Valerie's tone.  "Would it really be that hard to book somewhere else?  I mean, they've done so much for me, it seems wrong not to invite them . . ."

She sighed.  "The nicer places are always booked months in advance," she reminded him.  "The best we could get would be six months from now—if we're lucky."

"Six months . . ." he echoed, sounding both thoughtful as well as disappointed.

Valerie blinked and stared at him.  "You want to put off the wedding again?"

He made a face and hurriedly waved a hand.  "N-N-No, of course not . . ."

She didn't miss the reluctance in his voice, but she had the feeling that he was more worried about the idea of upsetting her about the whole thing than he was about the thought of waiting another six months to get married, in the first place.  "If you think that it's important to invite your . . . friends . . ." she said slowly, carefully.  "I mean, I haven't finalized anything yet, anyway, so it won't be a big deal . . . except for the deposit I had to make on the hall . . ."

Marvin sighed and tried to smile, but his disappointment was evident.  "Yeah, that was nothing to sneeze at."

"No, it wasn't," she agreed, biting her lip.  "Then again . . . It's your wedding, too, and . . . and it'd be pretty selfish of me to tell you that you can't invite anyone else."

"But—"

"If it means that much to you, then it's . . . It's okay."

Marvin looked cautiously optimistic. "Are you sure, Val?"

She forced a little smile.  "Of course," she told him.  "That's the whole point, isn't it?  To . . . To celebrate with . . . with your friends . . ."

Marvin's smile widened, and he hopped up, as though he suddenly had more energy than he knew what to do with. "This is wonderful!" he told her with an almost giddy little laugh.  "I would have been okay with leaving things as they were, but, wow, you're such an fantastic girl!  A peach, Val!  A real peach!  I know, not many women would be as understanding as you are.  That's just one of the great things about you!  You know what?  I'm going to go open that bottle of wine we bought earlier . . . I feel like having a drink!"

She said nothing about Marvin's enthusiastic praise as he hurried out of the living room and into the kitchen.

'Dodged the bullet, didn't you?' the little voice in the back of her mind whispered.

Valerie sighed, her smile finally faltering and disappearing.  It wasn't that, was it?  Of course she was disappointed.  That was normal.  That sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach . . . But having his new acquaintances at the wedding was important to Marvin.  If she denied him that, then what kind of person would she really be . . .?

"You hear the stories all the time, don't you?  Famous people like that and their five minute marriages . . . It's a whole different lifestyle—a kind of sad one, at that."

Maybe Evan was different.  Maybe he'd come from a family where marriage really did mean something, but she'd seen it herself, hadn't she?  She'd seen the mayhem of Evan's life on the road.  She'd seen the legions of girls who wouldn't think twice about sleeping with Zel Roka, regardless of whether he had a wife at home or not, and as much as Evan might think—really believe—that he wouldn't be like that, he certainly wasn't any more perfect than anyone else, was he?  Even good intentions only got someone so far in life, and Valerie . . .

But maybe the real reason that she just couldn't reach out, just couldn't accept what Evan said so readily, was simpler than all of that.  Somewhere along the line, Evan had become dear to her—maybe more precious to her than anyone else had ever been.  If she took that kind of chance—if she opened herself up to that . . .

If he fell out of love with her, how in the hell would she ever survive . . .?


~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~= ~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~
A/N:
'Hey You' by Pink Floyd originally appeared on the 1979 release, The Wall.  Copyrighted to Roger Waters.
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Final
Thought from Evan:
That fanfiction was awesome!
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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Subterfuge):  I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga.  Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al.  I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.
~Sue~

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