Melody & Styx - Anne Mercier



The Beginning

The first time I saw Trace Styx was at a festival a few years back. His band was scheduled to perform two bands after mine. He was quiet and pensive, while his bandmates laughed and partied. It was like watching Sesame Street where they have the four squares: one of these things is not like the other, which one doesn't belong. Well, that was Trace then, and it was still him when I saw him year after year at the same damn festival.

Each time I saw him, I'd get a lift of the chin in greeting. I couldn't read him with those sunglasses he always wore. I'd always give him a twirl and a faux curtsey and greet him back with, "Styx." That was it. No conversations. No flirting. Only the respectful greeting—though I always felt his eyes on me.

In a way, it ticked me off. I knew he got plenty of sex with the groupies, but a guy like that? He should pick someone better than a groupie once in a while. Yes, I mean me. I'd sex the hell out of him until neither of us could feel our legs. I don't know if that's possible, but, damn, he made me want to try.

With that black hair—that wasn't natural—all those tattoos, muscular bod, tight abs, thick thighs… I could go on for days talking about him. He was simply delicious. But mostly, I would like to have him in bed for days. Or weeks.

When I walked in to the "try outs" for a new band, I was so excited to see Lucy Russo, Sera Manzini, and Jace Warner. We all went to high school together. We played in rival bands, and ended up losing touch somewhere along the way.

I got all warm and tingly in my girlie parts when I saw Trace. His hair was a dark blonde/light brown—his natural color and just wow. I can't even begin to tell you how hot this guy is. Another thing, he wasn't as stoic, which surprised me. Maybe he was really that miserable with his old band. I know he hated the drugs they did. As I played, I listened to Lucy tear up the song chosen. I think Trace wanted to see if she was as good as Cage Nichols said. She was—is.

Speaking of Cage Nichols. Holy hot stuff in a suit. That man gives off some serious alpha male vibes—like Trace. But I can tell Sera's got her eye on the record mogul. Who could blame her? And you know something else? I think he's got his eye on her too. Should make things interesting—especially with the way Ben Kingston—lead guitarist of Falling Down—keeps flirting with her. Cage's jaw gets tight and Sera peeks at him out of the corner of her eye. When those two finally figure their shit out, it's going to be intense.

And Lucy Russo. Well, her crush on Jesse Kingston—which started at the age of twelve, I think—seems to be going strong, and now it seems he's into little Miss Lucy. She might just get to live out those fantasies with him. Lord have mercy, he is a serious studmuffin. Do people use that word anymore? Well, they should if they don't. Because Jesse motherfucking Kingston is just that. All tatted up and pierced looking like the rock god he is. I'd do him. Hell, I'd do him and Lucy—not that I've an affinity for hitting it with women, but to get to participate in any sort of sexual encounter with Jesse Kingston would make it worth my while and then some—if the rumors are true. Him and his monster cock.

Why can't I stop thinking of cock? Oh, because Trace Styx is standing right next to me. I can smell him. I can feel the heat radiating off of him. I'm such a hussy. I'm already wet just being near him, and if that smirk he just gave me is any indication, he totally knows it too. The fucker.

Finally, we all decide we're going to do the band thing together. It's definitely going to be interesting because the band I'd been in, Treatz, was total punk and alternative, and I know this one will be mostly rock, maybe some rock/pop.

"You wanna grab a bite, Megs?" Trace asks as we're walking out of the building.

I want a bite of you, I think. I shrug all nonchalant, "Sure. Where do you wanna go?"

He looks me up and down. "You eat meat or are you one of