REBEL RAGE MC ROCKER by Addy Archer: Release Blitz, Excerpt & Teasers

He glances over his shoulder and gives a sharp whistle. The guy who took his guitar earlier comes rushing back with a Gibson Hummingbird and hands it to him. He holds it out to me with a smirk and I can’t help myself when I cringe at the thought of playing, mainly because I know my fingers are going to hurt from not playing for such a long time. Great. Now the arrogant asshole thinks I’m cringing for my upcoming embarrassment.

Deciding I might as well warm his ego up to its pending doom, I lean in and ask, “What’s your name?”

He rears his head back and growls, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I knew.” I shrug.

“Owen,” the man snaps and grabs the mic giving me a condescending look. “Folks, we’re gonna let this little one have her few minutes of fame. Better cover your ears just to be sure ’cause I’ve heard some of the things coming out of her mouth and it wasn’t pretty. But I guess everyone deserves to shine, right?”

A wave of screams and clapping flows through the air as if he’s giving me a chance to shine in the spotlight out of the goodness of his heart. I repeat; arrogant sonofabitch.

Throwing the guitar strap over my shoulder, I put my fingers in place and internally smile at the familiarity. No matter how much I hate being on stage because it’s tied to many emotional memories, the feel of the guitar is soothing.

“Here you go, doll,” the man I recognize from backstage who carried naked Sandy off tells me as he plugs in my guitar and hands me a pick.

“Why thank you, handsome.” I give a grateful smile to the bass player. “Are you and the rest of the guys going to back me up?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Sure thing, what do you have in mind?”

“Does the song ‘Lovely Lost’ ring a bell?” I question, requesting the number one hit I had with my father.

“Ah, a rock song from what, five years ago? A fine choice, one we’ve covered a few times so I’m sure we can manage,” he replies with a grin showing off his white teeth and stalks to the other guys to pass on what song I’m going to do.

I step forward while Owen places the mic back into the stand and covers his hand with it as he leans in and asks me, “And what name do you want me to tie to your performance? You can still back out, you know. Let me take over while you stand there and look pretty, then we’ll go backstage and–”

I’ve had enough and cut him off with, “No worries, Owen. You’ll know my name soon enough. Might even scream it too.” I wink and my fingers start to strum, knowing the song by heart because I was the one who wrote it.