Who are you?

"TFH!" The letters gasped out. Verbal

acronyms were something she rarely

used, but hours under the scorching

sun had Marissa Duplei's skimpy shirt

plastered to her skin and the strength

sapped from even her voice.

Being in

the midst of a crowd of equally hot

bodies intensified the suffocation. Her

closest friend, Olivia, habitually voiced

text abbreviations and had no trouble

interpreting

"Too Fucking Hot'.

"You're such a vampire! When

did you stop having fun?" Olivia

complained as they wove through the

throngs of scantily clad partiers.

"We used to be on all day beach patrol."

Her friend referenced their younger

years in their Mississippi coastal towns

and their non-stop troll for guys who

could stop a girl dead in her sandy

tracks. Back then, Spring Breaks and

summer months brought vacation

flings, and temperature had never once

been a complaint.

A refreshment trailer was an oasis

just off the sand, and Olivia passed

her plastic through the tiny window.

Feeling the cool blast of air escaping in

the transaction, Marissa moved closer

as more interesting plastic was pushed

to their side along with the return of

Olivia's credit card.

Curving her fingers around the base

of the cold cup, she wiped at beads

of sweat forming near her hairline.

Idly, she wondered how the newest

Scan drugstore clearance mascara currently

coating her lashes was holding up.

Olivia closed glossy, red lips around

the straw of her super-sized hurricane

drink. Marissa had no doubt that

Liv's lipstick, as well as anything else

painting her face, was a department

store brand priced in, or near, triple

digits, assuring a worTry free day from

smearing or disappearing. Taking a

pull from her own straw, she eyed

the surrounding crowd as the cool

alcoholic slush trickled soothingly

down her throat.

"Better?" Olivia sweetly inquired.

"Much!" Marissa sighed the

assurance and shoved the cheap

sunglasses higher on her nose.

Curving

a smile, she made an effort to seem

thrilled to stroll the 'Hang Fest,' a

yearly festival of live bands, rides, and

vendors.

"Good," Olivia grinned. "Proceeding

with Phase One."

"Ugh.. This time her sigh was one of

annoyance.

Up until now, the mission had been

momentarily abandoned, not aborted,

and she mentally cursed Kel for the

thousandth and one time.

Walking in last week on her fiancé

Kel, with some tramp straddling him

had been devastating.

Worse, there

was a twisted irony of forever knowing

this faceless bitch's name due to it

being a permanent stamp above her

slim butt. The image was branded in

Marissa's brain just as permanently.

Hibernating, she had mopedin

misery around her apartment binge

eating granola bars and yogurt. Olivia

became the only person she spoke

to, wailing to her face, whining into

her calls, and texting chapters of Kel

hatred.

When she quit sending Kel's

pleading and apologetic calls straight to

voicemail, Olivia charged to the rescue

heading up 'Operation Save Rissa From

Herself

Since Olivia's answer to breakups

was hook ups, the given mission today

was to pick herself up, dust Kel off, and

get dirty with someone else.

Just thinking about a random

hook up was terrifying. When it

came to men, Marissa was out of

practice. A local casino was her place

of employment, and the sexy smiles

rehearsed in the mirror were for better

tips from blackjack players, not real

live flesh and bone players.

Olivia sent a look of encouragement

as they paused at the fence jutting

up to the stage platform. Olivia also

worked at the casino, and a backstage

pass tipped to her by a player at her

craps table had her hoping to meet and

mingle with her metal idols.

Marissa had no such aspirations.

Besides not having a laminated access

card, she couldn't care any less about

any of these bands.

"Ten o'clock, Rissa." Direction, and

not time, was the subject of her friend's

clipped, enthusiastic sentence, and as

instructed, Marissa slung her gaze to

the slight left.

A long, lanky roadie had paused

in the stage set up and was currently

honing his attention over the front

area to the two of them.

Olivia held up the badge swinging from her neck.

Nervously knowing that her own

success in passing this hallowed line

would depend on her flirting abilities,

Marissa shuffled her feet.

Putting the awful events of the

previous week behind her, she

mustered her sexiest smile and her

first 'strange' flirt in five years. After

gesturing that he would come to them,

the roadie finished the tear down of a

microphone stand.

"Score!" Olivia did a jig before

grabbing Marissa's wrist and towing

her closer to the gate.

Vaguely, her excitable friend rattled on about which

band members, from which bands,

in which order, she wanted to bang.

Mindlessly, Marissa listened as a severe

case of cold feet set in, and working

through a mild panic, she focused on

her friend instead of the area beyond

the fence.

Bending at the hip, Olivia raked

manicured fingers through her scalp

then flipped her thick mane of hair as

she straightened.

Draining her drink to the last slurp,

Marissa desperately hoped an alcohol

confidence would quickly kick in.

A few paces away, she trashed the cup

ignoring her friend's silent censor.

With the cup, refills were half-price,

and Olivia, despite blowing her money

on designer everything, was into

saving money on alcoholic anything.

"He's coming!" Olivia's frown

disappeared, and she thrust her hip out

as she whispered. Marissa took it as a

hint to strike a similar sexy pose.

Although, initially, he had been

several hundred feet away, recognition

came easy, and the roadie was even

hotter close up. A ponytail of straight

brown hair was elasticized at the nape

of his neck, and heated hazel eyes

perverted them both.

Without checking for access badges,

he pushed the gate open and stepped

to the side enough for them to pass

through, but not enough that they

could avoid brushing against the tee

shirt he wore.

The small talk went fast

although their pace was slow. They

strolled, one on either side of him,

answering the usual questions, name,

where they were from, and getting the

same back.

Dirk was from New York City, and

he had Olivia's undivided attention

when he spoke of one of the bands

she idolized. Resting a foot on a stoop

to one of the many trailers parked

around, he inquired with a secretive

smile,

"So you want to meet Jackal?"

"You mean it?" Olivia bounced

from one heel to another, almost

dropped the empty hurricane cup in

her excitement, and gushed,

"Oh hell yeah!"

Marissa remained silent studying

the guy's expression, and instinctively

disliked what she saw.

His smile stretched. "I know all the guys in the band. So, yeah, if you want to meet them, just hang with me."

There was no mistaking the insinuation when his eyes lingered on Olivia's cleavage, and if this was not disgusting

enough, his hand dropped for a quick

adjustment to the fly of his jeans.

Without so much as a trite excuse,

Marissa pivoted on the heels of her

Doc's but turned back when Olivia did

not follow.

"Liv!" The hiss left her lips as an

annoyed breath and was quickly

sucked in again when her friend, not in

the least perturbed, hurried over.

"T'm going to hang out," Olivia

announced, then puckered a frown.

"Aren't you?"

Olivia was wild in her ways and had

abandoned Marissa for various guys

she had to have many, many times.

However, to offer whatever favors

Some stranger wanted in exchange

for a chance to meet some idol was

reckless in a way that left Marissa

wondering if Liv had pregamed before

picking her up this afternoon. Surely,

alcohol was to blame for this irrational

behavior.

When Dirk, the jerk, butted into the

argument, Marissa lost the battle, but

not before demanding Olivia's phone.

On the pretext of making sure it

was set to take calls, she switched the

tracker on and returned it into the

pocket of Liv's designer jeans.

"Answer my texts." With a

threatening frown, she worriedly

lingered.

Liv disappeared with the roadie into

the tiny trailer while calling back a

mocking, "Yes ma'am!" just before the

door slarmmed.

The girl was mental. Had Liv really

grown overly careless and crazy after

Marissa had moved in with Kel and

quit prowling with her? Maybe she had

always been that way, and Marissa had

overlooked it..

A ball of fur colliding with one of

her ankles was an interruption to these

musings, and curious, she glanced

around in search of anyone the dog

could belong to. The next music act

was on, and a woman's voice mingled

with the pounding of the instruments

from the stage. Numerous trailers,

trucks, and buses were parked in neat

numbered spaces of what seemed to

be a private parking area.

A few large tents broke up the rows of metal and

tires.

The leash trailing behind the pup

was clear evidence that it was lost.

As a child, for a few brief months,

Marissa and her siblings had a pet Jack

Russell Terrier, affectionately dubbed

Bones' by her older brother until her

"Hey, sweetheart! Want a hit?"

There was no Olivia by her side

to rebelliously snatch the joint and

voice a flirtatious retort, yet she

moved closer intent on finding any

information on her new four-legged

friend.

Politely stretching her hand, she

took a fake drag. Humorously, she

hoped if second-hand smoke rumors

were true, then the random drug

testing threatened in the employee

manual would not suddenly be sprung

Monday at work.

"This puppy, I was wondering who

he," here Marissa paused because

she had never scoped any identifying

details not readily visible on the

canine, "or she?...might belong to?"

"Jack." The dude with a goatee let

out the hit he was holding, and her

face must not have cleared because he

elaborated, "Jack Storm."

The name briefly registered as one

olivia had earlier tossed about, and

Marissa hopefully extended the leash.

"So could I get you to-?"

Immediately, her question was

squelched with a negative shake

of three heads and a guffaw about

girly dogs. Kneeling, she scratched

the tan fur between the pup's ears in

consolation from their ridicule.

Jabbing a thumb in a general

direction, 'mutton chops' stopped

laughing long enough to give

directions.

"The bus with the blue lightning bolt down the side,

sweetheart."

Nodding her thanks, she moved off.

The terrier sprinted ahead stretching

its leash to the max, and reflexively,

her grip tightened. Three rows down,

the tip of the mentioned lightning bolt

came into view, and her steps slowed.

Her thoughts were uncertain as she

pictured knocking on the door to a rock

star's mobile crib.

The door burst open stopping her

heart for more reasons than startled

surprise. The doorjamb framed the

finest specimen of the male species she

had ever beheld.

Her eyes were drawn first to the

6 massive expanse of bare chest and the six pack just on the verge of an optical eight pack. A convulsive

swallow tightened her throat.

Fully inked sleeves tapered off between

his shoulders and collarbone barely

meeting at the throat. Denim jeans

snugly encased his legs, and the button

of the fly was open revealing the

barest tip of hair on a flat abdomen.

Reluctantly dragging her gridlocked

gaze upward, past these heavenly

sights, her look landed on his striking

features and finally stopped on deep

chocolate-brown irises.

A smile had worked well for her

thus far, and somehow she summoned

one yet received a scowl in return.

Shaggy, dark hair brushed his shoulder

when his chin directionally jerked

toward the asphalt beside where she

stood.

"What the hell are you doing with my dog?"