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 |  Where music moves me. Here are my stories. Album #1 |
"It's A Long Way To The Top (If You Wanna Rock 'N' Roll)" Ridin' down the highway Goin' to a show Stop in all the byways Playin' rock 'n' roll Gettin' robbed Gettin' stoned Gettin' beat up Broken boned Gettin' had Gettin' took I tell you folks It's harder than it looks It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll If you think it's easy doin' one night stands Try playin' in a rock roll band It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll Hotel motel Make you wanna cry Lady do the hard sell Know the reason why Gettin' old Gettin' grey Gettin' ripped off Under-paid Gettin' sold Second hand That's how it goes Playin' in a band It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll If you wanna be a star of stage and screen Look out it's rough and mean It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll Well it's a long way It's a long way, you should've told me It's a long way, such a long way    The first thing Camron heard as he was waking was his pulse. A very loud thump thump at the base of his skull, booming a tempo that was quite familiar. He knew he should get his ass up and get to work. It's the only cure for a hangover, but that meant opening his eyes and dealing with reality. And by the soft snore in the bed next to him, the reality was a woman whose name he didn't know. At least he hoped it was a woman. There was that one time in Cincinnati... He rolled to a sitting position and looked over. Oh right, the blonde. Damn, that was one hell of a good time last night. The party over in Jackson's room carried on until morning. Shit started to get crazy and the band had to throw everyone out when the hotel security came knocking. Eh, the band always paid for any damage. A shower would be good. He stretched, grabbed his pants and felt for his wallet. He learned years ago, you don't leave your pants or your wallet alone. Anything else can be replaced. He hoped the chick in the bed would take a clue and get out while he was washing up. He walked back out of the bathroom, pants on and wallet stowed in the back pocket. The blonde was sitting by the window, smoking. She looked a little tussled. He smirked. "Hey, baby. Did you have a nice time?" He didn't remember one way or the other. His throat felt like gravel and his voice was hoarse. He walked over and cuddled her a little. "Do you want me to drive you home?" She didn't even glance at him. Uh oh. "She doesn't remember. I guess you don't either. But I was there, I saw what you did. You wanted a piece of ass from this little groupie. It's all about the band having a good time, right?" The angry baritone came from across the room by the door. Ice formed in the pit of his stomach as Camron turned to see who spoke. "Who're you?" Whomever it was, he knew this wasn't a friendly visit to his hotel room. "I'm baby girl's big brother. She kept telling me she'd be all right. But when I came to pick her up, I see she's got track marks. She just got out of rehab, you asshole." The guy rose out of the chair and pulled his hands from his jacket pockets. He took a couple steps forward and grabbed the chick, pushing her toward the door. "Go wait in the car." She didn't even glance at Camron. Yep, this was gonna be bad. He glanced around the room for possible weapons. Beer bottles, lamp, maybe the microwave...not much. He hoped Jackson in the next room would hear. The guy took a stance and lifted both fists, the metal spread across his fingers and reflecting in the lamplight. Damn, brass knuckles? Well, this was it. He gets one swing. The guy charged and Camron dodged, letting his opponent crash into the wall. He bounced off the wall and came right back, swinging. Camron grabbed him around the neck and hauled him toward the door, ignoring the hooks to his midsection as he dragged the guy. They got halfway across the room and the dude twisted out and got a punch to Camron's face. Camron sent a couple uppercuts to his face and faded back. This wouldn't be hard. You waste energy fighting angry. You gotta fight smart. Camron grabbed the lamp and ripped the cord from the wall. He swung it hard, connecting with the guy's arm. Right then, Jackson slid inside the door behind Mr. Brass Knuckles. Camron nodded and Jackson leapt, holding the guy in a choke hold while Camron hammered his gut with serious blows. Jackson belted the man in the face and hauled him toward the door. He threw him out the door, slammed it shut and bolted it. Sirens screaming into the parking lot assured the guy wasn't coming back in. Jackson walked over and examined Camron's face. "Got a cut, not too bad. Gonna be a black eye though." "I wear shades on stage, it'll be fine." He jerked his chin out of Jackson's hand. Jackson sighed. "We're getting too old for this shit, dude. I just want to make music, man. Fuck the chicks and drugs." "Isn't this why we started the band in high school? Camron mumbled. Jackson laughed and clapped him hard on the shoulder. "Yeah, man. But we're old and tired now. Let's just make music and sock away some cash to retire. I'm ready for the beach." They could hear the cops talking with the guy outside. "Let's get out there and smooth this over." Camron slipped on his shades and rolled his shoulders. They both pushed through the hotel door to put on the dog and pony show for the cops. You know, the public persona face, being all friendly-like and shaking hands with the cops. "You know how it is, those groupies can't stay away." "Let her brother take her home, it's all good." "Just another day on the tour, fellas." The cops hung out while they gathered up their stuff and loaded the truck. Time to rock 'n roll. 889 words |
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