Domination Read Online Free PDF Page B

anyone within the station’s broadcast range. She holed
up in her suite—another beautiful set of rooms, these furnished in sunset
colors—in the cool, low-slung white adobe hotel. The air-conditioning froze the
back of her neck as she typed into her laptop.
     
    It’s Day Two of the World Domination Tour and we’re
rolling into San Antonio, Texas, everyone very tired after last night’s
debauchery. [See previous post. Artie, link here please.] Bus rides are as boring
as backstage, I’m sorry to tell you, with fewer groupies. But we did have
barbecue and lots of it. And, needless to say, beer.
     
    Struggling to keep Bram out of her post had reduced her
writing to bland mush. As she tried to think of something fascinating to report
that didn’t involve sucking his cock, her phone rang.
    “Josie! Tell me everything!” Melanie squealed.
    Josie laughed to hear her roommate’s high, sweet voice.
Melanie was a wannabe singer, working backup gigs around L.A. and waiting for
her big break, just like everyone else in that city of dreamers. She was
excitable, relentlessly optimistic and had a debilitating crush on the lead
singer of Domination.
    “Didn’t you read the first post?”
    “Yeah, but I know you got some dirt on Bram Hunter. What’s
he really like? Did he keep that accent up the whole time?”
    Melanie wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box but she had a
big heart.
    “He’s a Brit, Mel. That’s the way he talks all the time.”
    “So how hot is he in real life? Does he really drink panther
blood? Does he have a girlfriend? She must be so beautiful.”
    “Smoking hot, no on the panther blood and…”
    Did he have a girlfriend? Mel was right about one thing—if
he did she had to be as supernaturally gorgeous as he was. Another reason not
to dream about holding hands and walking on the beach with the likes of Bram
Hunter.
    “I haven’t seen him with any girls.”
    “Then I still have a chance. Cool beans!”
    “Mel, you haven’t said anything about the blog post.” Josie
was anxious to get feedback from someone who wasn’t paying her. One of Artie’s
dictums that had always stuck in her mind was to be aware that what they did
was subjective—you never truly know if you’re good at it. Some great talents
spin their wheels, some idiots inexplicably fall upward and any writer can expect
a hundred different reactions to the same set of words. It made not just
writers but any creative person needy for outside validation.
    “I read it, Josie. Sounded pretty cool, the party and all.
You made the show sound really exciting. I liked that part.”
    “But…”
    Josie could just see Mel twisting a blonde curl around one
finger while she searched for the right thing to say.
    “It’s not a big but or anything, but it didn’t feel like
you. Usually I have to look up half the words you use, and this one seemed
kinda…simple? Bloodless. Is that a word?”
    Josie had forgotten that for an airhead Melanie could be
weirdly insightful. Even Artie hadn’t pointed out she’d lost her mojo. He had
one foot out the door of the business anyway. She had to stop depending on her
editor to fix her flaws. She was on her own now in the cybersphere.
    “Thanks, Mel. You’re a peach.”
    “I never know if you’re being sarcastic.”
    “It’s usually a yes but not this time. Really, thank you.”
    “Okay. Not sure when I can call again. I’m doing open mikes
every night and still waitressing at Cantor’s. But try to reach me when you get
a break. And if you get anything on Bram Hunter, you have to swear to
tell me first!”
    Josie laughed again. “Take care, Mel. Break a leg.”
    She looked at her computer screen. It’s Day Two. Bus
boring. Barbecue and beer.
    Jesus, could this be any duller? Mel was
right—bloodless, toothless, colorless. Bram’s little bargain had put her in a
bind. Without the lead singer’s curious magnetism, animal sexuality and wry, laconic
way of speaking, it was just another