The White Amah by Ann Massey Read Free Book Online

was just that Speed’s style was aggressive, machismo, and introducing a girl as feminine as Crystal would ruin their image.
    ‘ “Smells Like Teen Spirit”. ’ Crystal knew Josh was a Nirvana freak. ‘You’ll play for me, won’t you, Tom?’ She tried to steady her breathing. Her heart was pounding like it did every time she looked at him.
    Tom was standing in the middle of the stage like he owned it, dressed in black-studded jeans and a fringed suede jerkin, open at the front. Cables from the sound equipment snaked on the floor around his Cuban-heeled leather boots. He was worlds apart from the other band members in their torn jeans and shapeless grey-white T-shirts. No wonder he’s angry at playing second fiddle to Josh, Crystal thought. Anyone could see he should be the star.
    Tom nodded, his eyes dark and brooding. He reached down, picked up his electric guitar and began to play the opening riff, hesitantly, as if he was trying to remember how it went, when in fact he and Crystal had secretly been rehearsing the rock anthem for days.
    Crystal crossed the stage and sat on a straight-backed wooden chair, head down, her bare legs spread wide apart. Josh thought she looked a dream in her cut-off blue jeans and one of his old T-shirts, but he’d never seen anyone who looked less like a metal chick. He noticed she was trembling and his heart went out to her. The poor little darling was nervous. He winked and gave her thumbs up.
    Crystal licked her lips. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She hadn’t felt this nervous when she auditioned for the White Diamonds against twenty wannabes. She had to get a grip … take a breath … breathe … She knew she was good. Tom had assured her that their take on the number was going to blow Josh’s mind. At the sound of the first discordant chord her head snapped back, a low primitive growl started deep in her throat and she began to rock backwards and forwards, throbbing with the demanding beat.
    Go for it, bitch, Tom mouthed, jerking the guitar hard against his chest like an impatient lover.
    ‘Hello, hello, hello, how low?’ she howled, the microphone crammed hard against her mouth, her voice a strangled whisper as Tom played and replayed the pounding riff as if he could keep it up for ever.
    ‘Yeah, yeah,’ she yelled, threshing wildly as the music peaked.
    Geoff nudged Aryn. ‘Fucking hell, I think she’s coming,’ said Geoff.
    Aryn never heard him. He was staring at the stage in openmouthed awe.
    Josh didn’t know where to look. He couldn’t believe Crystal had simulated an orgasm in public and in front of his best mates. That’s what comes of getting mixed up with that White Diamond crowd, he thought with disgust, too shocked to grasp how, by sheer audacity and cheek, Crystal had made Cobain’s macho lyrics her own.
    ‘Am I in?’ Crystal asked Josh, her face like sunshine.
    Josh’s stern gaze softened as he looked at her and his balledup fists unclenched. She’s got about as much idea as a newborn kitten, he thought. He wanted her real bad and wished he didn’t have so much to do or he’d take her back to their room right now. ‘Can we talk about this later?’
    ‘No, we can’t. I want to know now.’
    ‘I’m sorry. You’re phenomenal but you don’t look metal. We wouldn’t be taken seriously with you in the line-up.’ Even to himself he sounded unreasonable.
    ‘She’s too chocolate-box pretty, isn’t she, Josh?’ drawled Willie, looking down his long, thin nose in the way that always got Josh’s back up.
    ‘That sucks,’ said Tom. ‘Give her a chance. She can’t help it if she’s drop-dead gorgeous.’
    ‘How about we take a break for an hour and I’ll try to figure out how we can use you.’ Josh’s mind was racing through their stock songs. He knew one thing for sure: there was no way she was going to sing ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ on stage ever again.
    ‘Josh, you’re wonderful.’ She put her arms round his