Chapter 40 #2
Several up-and-coming bands travel to a remote location to play a music festival, but the event organizer is actually an evil billionaire who’s been triggered into psychosis by the death of his favorite rockstar.
So instead of inviting a crowd of music fans, he locks the bands inside the compound and forces them to play what starts off like a pretty innocent battle of the bands.
But soon enough, it turns into a fight to the death, and what ensues is a dark comedic horror bloodbath.
Heads would be sliced off with cymbals and faces shredded with electric guitars.
The final band standing gets injected with the billionaire’s invention, a serum that will let them live forever.
I sketch a rough idea of what the billionaire’s creepy mask would look like, and of course, picture Jett wearing it, breaking out in goosebumps from head to toe.
I stare at the paper for several minutes, wondering if it’s just insane enough to actually work. I snap a picture of it and send it to my manager, asking her to have a beautiful floral arrangement delivered to Mickie with a card that has this idea typed up inside, along with this message from me:
The only thing better than being immortal would be getting to write this crazy ass movie with my best friend.
Please consider, and I will apologize every day until you’re ready to talk.
I love you, and I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for you.
I promise I will never take that for granted again. Mads loves Mick forever.
I sigh, realizing I had been in a trance and missed two songs.
I focus on the way Jett moves downstage like he’s crawling through a cemetery after creeping up from his own grave like a zombie on a mission.
His voice crackles with effort and elicits desire as he sings Dying Love, and now I'm picturing something different entirely.
Jett playing the final boy, the last rockstar standing, crawling through the carnage he had to endure, the evil he had to unleash, to win, in order to become immortal.
Kel arrives at my side, and I, in a whisper, praise her for how cool that sequence was and all the work she did to make that happen.
She gives me a tight squeeze and then begins to make sure my cleavage is perfect, dusted with holographic powder, my wig is straight, and my thigh holsters have both prop knives secure.
She taps the notepad with questioning eyes, and I hand it to her with a nod. She starts vibrating halfway through reading it, and by the end, she’s practically jumping up and down, silently fist-bumping the pad in the air. Guess that means she likes it. I grin.
Quiet in my ear again, she says, “So freakin’ excited, babe! I will be with you every step of the way!”
“You always are. Thank you, Kel baby.”
We embrace again, and when she steps back, I find two blood capsules in my hand. “Just in case you want to get messy out there.”
I feel for the tiny pocket on my black catsuit shaped like a teeny heart and stash the caps inside. And now I’m the one vibrating out of my skin as more songs fly by and we get closer to Kill Me Maybe.
“Look at them.” She grins, peeking through the side curtain at my family of zombies in the front row, stage left. “They look like they special-ordered a very particular son-in-law designed by God and the devil, and he’s finally been delivered.”
I snort because that can’t be refuted. “Right? Like, look at Jude, I haven’t seen him impressed with anyone who enters our lives. I never thought he’d look at someone like that unless Kurt Cobain rose from the dead.”
She snorts and then quickly sobers like the true alternative girl she is, whispering with a little head shake, “Too soon, Maddy.” I nod and hold in a laugh.
When it’s time, she places my glittering Ghostface mask on me and makes sure I can see.
My nerves are jittering from head to toe, and the confident, badass, rockstar girlfriend mantra comes back into play until I’m ready to go out there.
The lights on stage are dim, except now there are two spotlights ready to follow us on our chase.
The band starts up Kill Me Maybe, and the fans are screaming so loud that I can’t hear my thoughts. That’s probably a good thing.
She gives me a little shove, and I’m instantly prowling around the stage, looking for Jett.
My wanting him is never an act, so my eyes are really working overtime through the mask, trying to spot him.
This song is his most metal adjacent one, and Kennedy is absolutely blasting those drums like he thinks he’s Lars and this is a Metallica show, the bass drum reverberating through the stage floor and up through my bones.
I’ll admit the bass gets me into my sexy stalker vibe, and so does the crowd’s screams.
Jett sings the first verse and then makes a big show of seeing me stalking him and acting scared of me.
I try not to giggle inside my mask, but someone so obsessed with me pretending to avoid me is just too cute.
Plus, it is kinda fun being the one doing the stalking.
Jett is once again shirtless, and his face and neck have blood smeared across them, but there just isn’t enough on his torso for my liking, so I decide he will soon be covered in it, thanks to me and Kel’s capsules.
I whip a knife from my thigh holster, and oh, the crowd likes that, as I continue stalking Jett around the stage as he sings.
Pretty little nightmare, beautiful disaster. Stop wasting time, just destroy me faster!
Jett takes out his knife, and we play armed cat and mouse until I’m frankly dying to catch him.
The boy looks so mouthwatering, all bloody like that, and he needs more.
I hide behind the cauldron while Jett shields himself with our new drummer.
Zombie Dean and Jack try to block me with their guitars as I duck and weave, trying to catch my prey.
I’m stalking towards him, and he turns on his heel, lunging at me, so I become the hunted.
Don’t be shy, you’ve ruined me, Baby. What are you waiting for? Kill me, maybe!
Okay, I am definitely putting this song in our movie.
Jett hurdles his prop through the air, and it flips several times before it grazes my leg.
I drop to the stage floor and crawl through the fog until Jett catches me by the bad leg and drags me downstage as I attempt to scratch and claw at him.
I would scream, but no one would be able to hear me anyway; there’s a lot of competition in this arena.
He grabs me by my leather thigh garter and flips me onto my back, pretending to slam his boot down on my abdomen to capture me.
I reach up enough to snag my pointer fingers through his belt loops and tug him down till he’s on top of me.
He finishes the song right as he wraps his fingers around my throat, and the crowd is here for it.
I thought we were ending our scene on the stage floor, but suddenly, he’s lifting me by my throat, and I’ll choke if I don’t go along with it.
He doesn’t let go or let up, but his other hand has the prop knife in it.
I quickly grab the knife, flip its direction, and drag it across his chest while my other hand smears the blood capsules until the red is oozing down all eight abs, a shiver rippling through me.
Jett rips off my mask, and we did not rehearse any of this.
He throws it on the ground and slowly releases the power grip he has on my neck.
He takes my hand and raises it between us to thunderous applause – no booing –, and it makes me grin from ear to ear.
He raises an eyebrow to the crowd. “The only person who loves my fans more than me is Matilda. Now, are you going to behave?”
Again, no booing, and I relax a little until Jett drops to his knees before me like he did that first damn night we met. I’m back to shaking everywhere as Jett grabs my hand, steadying me.
“Matilda, eight years ago, when we met, I knew you just thought I wanted to get in with your family and never even realised it was you I wanted in with. Inside your heart and soul and everywhere else. They all know I believe in love at first sight,” he says, gesturing to his faithful fans, “since I’ve got at least five songs ‘bout that. I’m sorry it took so long to tell you how I felt, but I was a twit!
I didn’t think I deserved you, and it took this long to get to where I think I finally do. Is this all right, Mum and Dad?”
The audience gasps as Jett pulls a ring box out of his pocket and flicks it open.
My heart leaps into my mouth, and I taste the metallic burn that accompanies it.
The cameras zoom in on my parents as they shake their heads and flail their arms around in an objection-like manner to get the audience going.
“I promise.” Jett bats his lashes. “I’ll never film her naked again. Pleeeeeease? I’ll give you grandbabies, I know your other kids don’t give a shit about that.”