A Rocker's Melody (Dust and Bones) Read Online Free PDF Page A

supremely unfair that he was affected like this, while she couldn’t be bothered to give him the time of day.
    “Now I really am hard,” Tank muttered. Dylan resisted the urge to hit him.
    “I said shut it,” Craig thundered. He was really keyed up this morning; what was bothering him? “Melody, these are the heathens you’re so taken with. Heathens, this is Melody, a bass player who’s way too good for you.”
    “Charmed,” Melody said.
    “I don’t know,” Rip said. He gestured toward Melody in apology. “We’re a dude band. It’s a vibe, you know? I don’t know if the estrogen will mesh.”
    “You’ve had problems with everyone who auditioned,” Craig snapped. “You just don’t like the idea of someone replacing Snake. Well guess what, you’re all out of options.” Rip slouched down further in his seat, crossing his arms and glaring at Melody.
    “I promise I won’t go in your club house,” she said dryly. “You can keep your ‘no girls allowed’ sign. I just thought I might be able to help, seeing as I know all your songs.”
    “You know our songs?” Dylan asked, raising an eyebrow. So, she had known exactly who he was at the bar. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much, but it did.
    “Mel’s a big fan,” Craig said, sounding as if he couldn’t quite believe that fact.
    “No way,” Tank said excitedly.
    “Try me,” Melody challenged. Dylan watched her fingers twitch over the guitar strings. Her nails were cut short, painted blue. He noticed the streak of blue in her hair from the night before, the color matching the streak of blue across the front of her bass. The matching color scheme added to the illusion that she and the instrument were fused in some strange, mystical way.
    “ Follow the Night ,” Jesper said, naming one of the more obscure songs off their second album.
    “The B-Side or the shortened, all acoustic track?” she asked without blinking. “As you know, the bass line differs.”
    Jesper allowed himself a small, slow smile. Craig nodded, as if proud of her aptitude. That was the moment Dylan realized he was screwed.
    “Surprise me,” Jesper said.
    And Melody began.
    She closed her emerald eyes and let her fingers fly deftly across the strings. The way she played, infusing the chords with a heartfelt, soulful appreciation, brought the bass line to life in a way Dylan had never heard before. A quick glance at his fellow band mates told him they felt the same. Though Rip still looked irritated, there was an unmistakable admiration glinting in his eyes.
    She was doing more than meeting their superior standards; she was adding something that had been missing from their sound. Dylan was mesmerized; the creative side of his brain was already riffing, compiling set lists that would be better served by the vibrancy Melody brought to the music.
    Then he realized just how sexy she looked when she played—the rhythmic sway of her hips, the way her eyes fluttered open and closed again as she lost herself in the song, the pink flush of excitement upon her cheeks. Dylan remembered why he was screwed.
    “That’s enough,” he said, interrupting her. She stopped abruptly, looking a bit stunned, as if she’d forgotten where she was and what she was doing—and damn if that wasn’t sexy, too. She could probably play the whole thing wrong and Dylan would think it was sexy. So completely screwed.
    “Nice!” Tank whisper-yelled, the way he did whenever he got excited.
    “Snake has never played it like that,” Jesper said, unflinchingly honest as usual. “Well done.”
    “Snake kills that riff,” Rip argued, automatically coming to his oldest friend’s defense.
    “I’m not saying he doesn’t,” Jesper said. “Snake’s on fire with that piece; he brings rage and chaos when he plays. But it’s supposed to be an anthem—and she played it like an anthem.”
    Rip couldn’t argue with that.
    “I’m not sure about this,” Dylan said slowly.
    “What exactly are