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Valkyrja
Brat
- Joined
- Jan 26, 2009
- Location
- East Coast, USA
It had been one hell of a long drive in what seemed like an overly cramped tour bus. Aimee Jade sat in a small bunk trying to ignore the smell of what could only be explained as ass, body odor and alcohol. Her band had been invited to tag along on a tour around the United States from coast to coast and back again and as much as Aimee’s band loved to tour, it got pretty tiring after a few weeks of the same thing. They were in luck though; they were only about an hour away from the next down but were off for the next two days. Aimee hopped down from her bunk and flatted out the black shirt that covered her body before walking into the mini lounge area near the front of the bus. In front of her were seven guys, four of them that were in her band, one that sold their merchandise and two that were trying to get their roadie careers started. It used to be weird to be surrounded by guys all of the time but Aimee had quickly gotten used to it, having been accepted as nearly one of the guys herself.
“Hey guys,” she smiled, brushing a hand through her mid-back length dark crimson hair, “what do you say we pool a bit of money together and get a few hotel rooms for the next few nights?”
“Shit, that would mean I could take a shower someplace other than a sink!!” Matthew, her bassist, exclaimed.
James, the merchie of the band, looked up and shook his head, “At best we can maybe manage three rooms if we put our money together if we want to continue eating for the rest of tour.” He was the realistic one of the group, always keeping track of expenditures and watching over the rest of the guys like a chaperone. He was the oldest out of everybody but only by two years.
Aimee laughed, “Fuck, as long as it doesn’t smell like your guys’ dirty feet I’ll be happy. And real beds! Come on, for me?” She pouted at the guys, hoping they’d say yes. “Anyways, with three rooms and eight of us…It’ll be fine.”
Brian was swinging a drumstick through his fingers and just laughing, “Fine, anything for you, Aimee.”
“Damn, look who’s whipped!” Matthew called out only to receive a drumstick thrown in his face. What followed was a bit of a dog pile on the floor and Aimee couldn’t help but laugh. She viewed her bandmates as brothers; loud, burping, farting, sweaty brothers. They always looked out for her as the baby of the group even though she was twenty. She was a petite girl, standing at 5’3” and weighting 125lbs which curved her frame nicely. Her pale skin made her dark blue eyes stand out against her dark crimson hair and despite the innocent look she gave out, the second she opened her mouth you could tell she was in control. Maybe that’s why she made such a good frontman for the melodic death metal band.
Jumping over the three boys who were wrestling on the floor she went up to the driver of the tour bus. “Hey Andy. We’re getting some hotel room in the next town, mind stopping once you hit a Marriott or something?”
“Of course, sweetheart!”
No more than two hours later the eight of them were sitting in a king sized bed downing beers and arguing about who gets what room. Aimee had already claimed the room they were sitting in right now and had won the fight over who got the two-person bedroom.
“Cheers, to a great tour,” Aimee smiled, holding her bottled beer out towards the boys.
“Hey guys,” she smiled, brushing a hand through her mid-back length dark crimson hair, “what do you say we pool a bit of money together and get a few hotel rooms for the next few nights?”
“Shit, that would mean I could take a shower someplace other than a sink!!” Matthew, her bassist, exclaimed.
James, the merchie of the band, looked up and shook his head, “At best we can maybe manage three rooms if we put our money together if we want to continue eating for the rest of tour.” He was the realistic one of the group, always keeping track of expenditures and watching over the rest of the guys like a chaperone. He was the oldest out of everybody but only by two years.
Aimee laughed, “Fuck, as long as it doesn’t smell like your guys’ dirty feet I’ll be happy. And real beds! Come on, for me?” She pouted at the guys, hoping they’d say yes. “Anyways, with three rooms and eight of us…It’ll be fine.”
Brian was swinging a drumstick through his fingers and just laughing, “Fine, anything for you, Aimee.”
“Damn, look who’s whipped!” Matthew called out only to receive a drumstick thrown in his face. What followed was a bit of a dog pile on the floor and Aimee couldn’t help but laugh. She viewed her bandmates as brothers; loud, burping, farting, sweaty brothers. They always looked out for her as the baby of the group even though she was twenty. She was a petite girl, standing at 5’3” and weighting 125lbs which curved her frame nicely. Her pale skin made her dark blue eyes stand out against her dark crimson hair and despite the innocent look she gave out, the second she opened her mouth you could tell she was in control. Maybe that’s why she made such a good frontman for the melodic death metal band.
Jumping over the three boys who were wrestling on the floor she went up to the driver of the tour bus. “Hey Andy. We’re getting some hotel room in the next town, mind stopping once you hit a Marriott or something?”
“Of course, sweetheart!”
No more than two hours later the eight of them were sitting in a king sized bed downing beers and arguing about who gets what room. Aimee had already claimed the room they were sitting in right now and had won the fight over who got the two-person bedroom.
“Cheers, to a great tour,” Aimee smiled, holding her bottled beer out towards the boys.