Coda (Hard Rock Harlots Book 6) by Kendall Grey

Author:Kendall Grey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Howling Mad Press, LLC
Published: 2021-11-01T22:00:00+00:00

16

LOCAL.HUNNY ONLYFANS

MEET RAX WRATHBONE: POSTED 8/15/2020

<<<Must be 18 or older to enter>>>

*CLICK*

0:00 Fade into a wide shot of a local.hunny concert at a large venue. Camera tightens on Rax Wrathbone slashing strings. Around him, his bandmates perform acrobatic leaps, strike power poses, and launch strained screams. A montage of Rax’s most popular solos and onstage interactions with fans from 2017 - 2020 accompanies the narrator’s voice over.

0:15 Narrator

The unexpected departure of local.hunny guitarist Tim Ash was a huge blow that left the band in a bind for their 2017 tour. Kitsch von Bitchen discusses the process he employed for filling the gap.

0:26 Kitsch von Bitchen, lead singer

Losing Ash was a kick in the balls. He’d spun out of control too many times to count, but he was always able to get out of whatever bad situation he landed in. When he finally went fully off the rails in Albuquerque, he got himself arrested, which resulted in a conviction. Eighteen months in prison for possession of meth. It sucked. Fucking sucked.

We didn’t just lose a guitar player. We lost a mate.

Our manager told us if we didn’t fill Ash’s spot, we’d have to cancel the tour, and we’d lose our arses in the fallout. So, I started looking for replacements. I needed someone who could not only go through the motions onstage every night, but also compose music with me. That first bit—an egomaniac stroking himself off with a pick and strings before a crowd—was a piece of piss. The second qualification was a bit harder. Most of the blokes I met with were strictly touring guitarists. If Ash fucked up in prison or decided he didn’t want to play with us anymore when he got out, I didn’t want to have to start over, you know? I had to protect the band. And our brand. I needed someone I could rely on.

One day Cooch comes up to me at rehearsals, grinning like a motherfucker. “Kitsch,” he says, “listen to this.” He plays me a song I’ve never heard from a few years before. Says he heard it on one of the satellite radio stations. Not exactly our kind of music, but fuck, the guitar was striking. Razor-sharp precision offset by these amazing, heavy, big-sounding riffs. It was so fucking clever. I didn’t care much for the singer’s voice. The rhythm guitarist was as simple as a game of tic-tac-toe. The drumming was mediocre, and the bass made my nuts ache. But that lead guitar was everything.

“Who the fuck is this and how do I get them in the band?” I said. Cooch tells me. So, I go and track down this bogan fucker called Rax.

1:58 Justin Beaver, drums, off camera

Fuck off, you twat. Cooch found him and flew him to us. You were too busy getting your dick sucked by a barely legal kid from Texas to bother.

2:07 Kitsch

[Yells at Justin out of frame] Eat my salty cock, you gelatinous quim pudding. [Flips a bird and returns to the camera] Anyway, I meet with this guy, tell him what I want, and he says, “Tour with the number one band in the country? Sure.

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