Free Fully Automatic (Bullet) by Jade C. Jamison Page B

the wall and sat in Val’s now-empty chair.
    It gave him an excuse to return the favor.  This woman had been trading glances with him for the better part of an hour, and he’d enjoyed the hell out of it.  He wanted to see her in action.
    She was amazing.  Brad wondered why she’d been so full of doubts and fears.  She had a strong voice, loud and powerful yet sweet and smooth like an angel’s.  And once she started, there was no hesitation.  She sang as though she’d been doing it her whole life.
    Goddamn.  That made her sexy in Brad’s eyes.  She was feeling the music, and when she would close her eyes at certain spots in the song, she never lost the strength.  It got Brad to thinking, thinking about other possibilities, but those thoughts would stay tucked in the back of his mind a little while longer.
     

 
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    BRAD MIGHT HAVE been able to keep one set of thoughts at bay, but another—that of his growing attraction to Valerie—he wasn’t able to deny.  Ethan began playing the solo at the end of “Moon Baby,” but he went off on his own musical tangent.  Typical Ethan, but the guy usually managed to pull it off in a spectacular way.
    Val slid the mike back into the stand and moved beside the chair Brad was sitting in to watch Ethan’s mad solo.  Brad couldn’t resist.  He wanted to find a way to acknowledge the insane attraction he was feeling, so when she glanced over at him, his smile was wide and he patted his knee, offering her his leg as a seat.  God…if she took him up on it, he’d die.  But she didn’t.  The look was all over her face—no way would she do something like that in front of Ethan.
    Brad wasn’t about to become a supreme asshole, though, so he stood up.  “Seriously, go ahead and have a seat.”  He waved his hand toward the chair.
    But she refused.  “No, really, I’m good.”  Well, no way in hell was he gonna sit down again, so he stood next to her watching Ethan journey through a long but bad ass guitar solo.  It was hard just standing next to her.  He wanted to talk to her, ask her about what she liked and disliked, what her fears were, her hopes and dreams.  He wanted to ask her the qualities of her ideal man, because he wanted to give it a shot.
    What the hell was wrong with him?
    Ethan finally finished, and it seemed an insane amount of time later.  But everyone congratulated him just the same.  He really was an incredible guitarist , and he always put off a cocky vibe.  If Brad didn’t know his friend as well as he did, he would have hated the guy, but deep down Brad knew Ethan was insecure and unsure.  The arrogant act was just that—an act.  And Ethan would often showboat as a way to gain a little bit of praise, because he was typically the guy who got none.
    When they were done, they shut off the space heaters and went to the kitchen.  Val managed to sit between Zane and Ethan, and Brad understood why.  They were already her friends, and she was comfortable with them.  It was okay.  Brad knew he’d been coming on too strong, and it was time to back off.  He got them all sodas out of the fridg e and talked a little band talk but spent more time answering Val’s questions.  She wanted to know about their plans, yeah, but even more, she asked questions about their favorite instruments, who’d influenced them musically, things like that.
    She asked , “What inspires the words you write?”
    Ethan answered first.  “Brad and I write the lyrics, and so I know he’s different.  I usually pick a theme and just run w ith it.  I think of my words as kinda in the Kurt Cobain vein, if that makes any sense.  You listen and listen, and then it starts to make sense in a universal kind of way.  I think Brad’s are a lot more personal.”
    Val looked over at him.  He wondered why she was so curious about the lyrics, but he didn’t mind answering.  “Yeah, they are.  They usually center around something that is