Hit the Lights

Title: Hit the Lights - Chapter 2
Author/Pseudonym: ScrewTheDaisies
Email: herself@heathergwells.com
Archive: Please ask
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction based loosely on the public personas of the members of the band Metallica. No harm or impeachment is intended by this work.
Summary: James and Lars: the early years.

Lars showed up to play the next day and bluffed his way through the tension between the he and James with near nonstop chatter, to the point where James cranked his amp up to 10 and then stood right next to it for the rest of practice. Even Ron and Lloyd shook their heads and exchanged looks over Lars's even more excessive than usual blabber.

The day after went slightly better and the one after that even better yet. By the end of a week, things had pretty much returned to normal, which thrilled Lars to no end because it meant it was time to take the handful of raw ideas he'd come up with for his next plan, polish them, and put them to work.

So on Monday he told James that he had a family thing he couldn't get out of the next evening. It was true; he did have a thing to go to. But as soon as he could worm free of it, he hit the strip. Once there, he felt a little awkward--he'd never purchased a woman before--but after strolling the sidewalk and brushing off come-ons from the ones that didn't appeal to him he found two chicks that looked like they might be willing to listen to what he had in mind.

"Wait, so...you don't want us for tonight?" asked the shorter of the two after he explained the scenario. This girl was a curvy, older teen--probably eighteen or nineteen--with a heart-shaped face and maybe just a little too much make-up, but not as bad as some of the hookers he'd passed up this evening. Her friend, taller and with crimped blond hair that was adorned with a string of purple feathers dangling from a roach clip, had so far done nothing more than look from Lars to the other girl and back to Lars, all the while slowly massaging a wad of gum in her jaw. Her feathers fluttered every time she turned her head.

"No, Friday night. We're having a party."

"How big a party? I mean, we're gonna charge by the guy...."

Lars shook his head. "It's just me and my friend you have to do. Fucking ignore everyone else. And don't let on that you're being paid. That's the most important thing."

"So you're friend doesn't know?" asked the tall one, tilting her head to one side.

"Right. And I want to fucking keep it that way."

"That's weird. Ain't it, Angie?"

The short one nodded.

"Right, but it doesn't fucking matter because you're getting paid for it, right?"

Both of them nodded. Then the short one, Angie, shrugged. "We'll do it. We just think it's weird. I mean, how ugly is he?"

Lars shook his head again as if to clear it. He didn't think the request was all that weird. Didn't they do this shit in the movies, where one guy buys his friend a hooker but doesn't tell him it's a hooker so he gets to enjoy a nice night where some chick jumps into bed with him, no questions asked? If they hadn't done it yet, they should. Fucking prostitutes, you'd think they'd have come across shit weirder than this, especially in fucking L.A.

"He's not--fuck it." What was the point? They were so shallow they'd probably think James _was_ ugly when they saw him. Fucking chicks, always looking for perfect hair and pretty boy faces. James was no Scott fucking Baio or whoever the fuck was hot this week.

Instead of getting into all the ways that James _was_ hot, way hotter than that fucking guy in the Superman movies, for instance, he gave them the time and place for the party and made them repeat the setup to him twice so he was sure they got it. Then he pulled ten percent of the agreed-upon price out of his wallet and handed it over. He'd have to hit Torben up for more cash before Friday. At least it gave him a couple days to come up with a good story for it.

Come Friday, James did his unwitting best to fuck everything up.

"I don't feel like going out." hy thy this of all fucking nights? "Fuck, James, we've been planning this all fucking week."

James twisted his mouth and shrugged. "It's not that big of a fucking deal. Come on, it's just another fucking party and I'm beat. I fucking worked all day. Can't we just stare at the TV and not do shit? Or just fucking play?" He reached for his guitar.

"It's gonna be a good fucking party. Come on. There'll be chicks there, maybe we'll get lucky."

James looked up at him from under his eyebrows as he settled the guitar across his lap. He strummed a chord.

The corner of Lars's mouth snuck up into a devilish smile. He said, "You're right. We could just hang out here.... Who needs chicks anyway? They're just a pain in the ass. After all, we have each--"

James practically jumped out of the chair. "Fuck it. We'll go."

Lars tried not to laugh.

After they arrived at the party and settled in with some beer, Lars's eyes began to wander with increasing regularity toward the door. With every passing second, he grew more and more antsy. The girls were eleven minutes late and counting.

"What the fuck's up with you?" James asked. "Fucking relax. Here, have another beer."

Lars took the plastic cup from James's hand and drank, his attention still on the door.

"Seriously, man, who're you waiting for?"

Finally, Lars said, "This chick."

James's eyebrow went up. "A chick? Like a date?"

Lars shook his head. "I heard she might be here tonight so...."

"So that's why we had to come."

Lars nodded. Where the fuck were they? He hoped he hadn't just lost the twenty dollar deposit he'd given them, though that was nothing compared to having his plan go to hell.
So wSo who's this chick? You didn't mention anyone."

Lars shrugged. "Just some--there she is." Fucking finally. He grabbed James's arm and dragged him over to the girls, who stood, with slightly bored expressions, just inside the door.

"Angie!" Lars said, relieved to have her name come suddenly to mind. "Imagine running into you here, huh? Fucking awesome. Hey, this is my friend, James, and James, this is Angie's friend, uh--"

"Trish," the taller one said, then she passed her piece of gum from one side of her face to the other.

"You girls want something to drink?" he asked, sliding his arm around Angie's shoulders and leading her toward the keg in the kitchen. He looked back to see if James and Trish were following behind. They were, but with a good five feet of distance between them. Lars leaned into Angie's ear and said, "You two only get paid if he gets laid by the end of the night."

Angie pulled back and glared at him. "Then you don't get laid until he does."

Lars dragged her close again. "That's fine. I want us to do it at the same time."

"Trish is right. You are weird."

Lars let go of her so he could get them all beers. Then the four of them stood in a circle, drinking, and not saying much. Mostly, they stared at each others' shoes.

The worst fucking thing about fucking plans was that they relied so heavily on other people.

Finally, Lars said, "I'm hot? Are you girls hot? It's fucking hot." No one answered. Fuck it. "Let's go outside." He herded them all out the back door.

It was dark out already. They wandered in silence to a corner of the yard. Then Trish dropped down on the stubbly grass, putting her hands behind her and leaning back on her arms. Angie settled more gracefully beside her, tucking her legs up and smoothing her short skirt down over her thighs. Lars caught James's eye and shrugged, then they both plopped down beside the girls.

"So what do you guys do?" Angie asked.

"We're musicians," Lars said. "We have a band. Metallica."

"Metallica?"

Lars nodded.

"Never heard of it."

"We've got a track on the Metal Militia album that's fucking coming out soon."

Angie nodded like she could care less. She'd plucked a blade of grass and was now winding it through her fingers. Lars sighed.

"What instruments do you play?" asked Trish.

"Drums," said Lars, then he nudged James.

"Uh...guitar. Mostly."

"He fucking sings, too."

James grimaced.

"He doesn't want to. We're looking for a singer."

"I like to sing," Trish said.

"Yeah? What do you listen to?"

"Um...." She worked the gum in her mouth a few times. "Oh, Hall & Oates. 'Your kiss, your kiss is on my li.' .' that one. And that '9 to 5' song by Dolly Parton. I don't like country or anything, but, you know. It's a cool song. Great movie."

"And 'Jessie's Girl!' Don't forget that one. We have it on tape, the whole tape's that one song. Well, that and my 'My Sharona.' That's a good party song."

Lars snuck a peek at James and wasn't surprised to find him staring at the back of the house they'd just left, probably watching people through the window.

He cleared his throat and turned back to the girls. "Well, we're a little fucking harder than that."

"Like Aerosmith?"

"Or the J. Geils Band?"

Lars wrinkled his brow at that last one before shaking his head. "Hard like fucking Black Sabbath, fucking Deep Purple, fucking Judas fucking Priest...."

Four overly made-up eyes glazed over. A small, pink gum bubble appeared for a second between Trish's lips before she sucked it back into her mouth and popped it with her teeth.

Fuck, this wasn't going anywhere.

"Listen," he said. "Forget music. What do you girls like to do?"

Trish shrugged. Then she said, matter-of-factly, "Fuck."

He could have kissed her!

Instead, he acted shocked off his ass. "Fuck? Like--"

"Like fuck. Fucking. Screwing. Getting it on."

"Yeah," said Angie. "Wanna go someplace?"

Lars glanced over at James, who was still staring at the fucking house, but at least he'd turned a shade or two redand and his mouth hung open.

"James? Earth to James?"

Slowly James turned his face to him.

"Your place?"

"Uh...sure."

"Let's go." Lars jumped up, brushed grass clippings off his ass, and then held out his hand to help Angie up. He was relieved to see James do the same for Trish. Once Trish was on her feet, she didn't let go of his hand. Perfect.

As he and Angie followed behind James TrisTrish, Angie leaned over to whisper, "Happy?"

"Yes, thanks."

They brought the girls back to James's house and, just as Lars had instructed them, the girls insisted on doing it in the same room together so Angie pushed Lars into a chair and Trish pushed James onto the couch and then the girls fucked them senseless.

Thirty minutes later, the girls pulled on their clothes. Angie shot him meaningful looks. He nodded and held up his palms.

"Uh, James, the girls have to go."

There was silence.

"James?" He looked over at the couch. James lay sprawled across it, his spent cock lying limp and shiny on his thigh. His eyes were closed and his mouth open. "James?" He was out.

Just to be safe, Lars stepped out of his line of sight before pulling his wallet out of his jeans and handing over the hundred and eighty dollars he owed the girls. As he watched Angie fold it and hand it off to Trish, who stuffed it into the front pocket of her jeans, Lars suddenly thought that it was a lot of fucking money. It better fucking have been worth it.

"Thanks, girls."

"No prob. If you ever need us again...."

"Uh, yeah." Uh, no.

He closed the door behind them and leaned against it, his heart beating fast. Step one of the New, Super-Complicated Round-About Fucked-Up Plan to Win James Over had been accomplished. Now he needed a good night's sleep and some alcohol and he'd be ready to move to step two. He rubbed his palms together and grinned. Then he finished dressing and let himself out. He would have loved to stay and watch James sleep for a while, maybe even jerk off...but he couldn't risk James waking up and catching him doing anything that could be turned around on him tomorrow.

He could always jerk off safely at home while _thinking_ about James.

~Continued in chapter 3~