Travis Read online

  Travis

  Buffalo Rocker

  N. Kuhn

  Prologue

  November 16, 1996

  Today is my 12th birthday. Dad stopped by, while he’s in town for a show. He bought me a guitar. I can’t wait to start playing it. Mom was mad. She made me come to my room while they fought. She told him he can’t buy me something every time he decides to show up. I wish she wouldn’t get so mad at him, then he never wants to see me. It’s her fault. It’s not like she cares about me. But, now I’ll be able to get lessons and play like my dad, then when I’m old enough, maybe he will let me go on tour with him. That would be awesome. I wonder if playing a guitar just like my dad will make my mom mad. She gets mad a lot when I talk about my dad. That would be cool. When she’s mad, she leaves me alone.

  When my dad decided to pop his head in and make an appearance in my life, it was usually some drunken stupor or hung-over stare down and some extravagant gift. There were never baseball game, football playing, and typical father son bonding. That shit just didn’t occur in my life. Expensive presents, yes. Lots of time, no. My mother, Sidney, raised me by herself, and that wasn’t any better. She was one of those overbearing, control freaks, more focused on her church than her son. No hugs and mommy time in this family. No fun trips to the zoo, or dinners out. How she ever got hooked up with a rock star, I’ll never know. Her ass is wound so tight, I’m surprised I wasn’t hatched from an egg. When I was little, I would lie in bed at night, praying for the stick to be removed from her ass. I always looked up to my dad though, no matter what sort of condition he was in when he stopped by or how long it had been. It never bothered me, I was just happy to see him, and he was my hero. He would pick me up, and hug me as tight as he possibly could, sometimes so hard that he cut off my air. Marcus Dane was not only a rock legend, but he was my dad. Getting my first guitar was the best and worst day of my life. The best, because music is all I ever thought about, talked about, dreamed about. Worst, because my life has been one big shattered dream.

  The first song I learned to play was ‘Summer of 69’ by Bryan Adams. I wanted to be just like my dad. Everyone knew who Marcus Dane was. He was a household name. His band Poisonous Love was on the tip of everyone’s tongue when I was growing up. His songs were on every radio, people sang them, and his face was on TV often. Magazines had photos of women throwing themselves at him. He was in every tabloid with a different girl in each photo, and he got to go to all the big Music Award Ceremonies. I wanted that, to be known for my music, to be a legend. The women, money and fame. Little did I know, the path leading there was a self-destructive one.

  Chapter 1

  Travis

  Rolling over with “Milkshake” playing in my ears, I groan to myself. I hate Kelis so much. Brittany refuses to change the ringtone though. Her rich family made sure she had the top of the line cell phone. She has this new flip phone, a Razor. I hate those things, cell phones. I’ll never own one. Basically, it was her leash, their way of keeping track of her when they knew she was with me. They have never liked me much. I was the bad boy, from the wrong part of town, that dirty musicians’ son. At 6’5”, I’m nothing special. I’m not scrawny, but I’m not buff, with just enough muscle to turn the ladies on. I spend my time doing landscaping, playing guitar and performing in bars, fire halls, carnivals and anywhere else that will have us. Death Polish is the third band I’ve been in since I learned how to play and by far, the most successful as yet. My best friends Bentley, Max, and Sebastian are my band mates. We’ve been friends since we were three, or so our moms say. They all met in church group, and none are too happy that we all decided to play rock music. Go figure.

  Rubbing my hand over my face, the stubble on my chin is rough on my palm. Smiling to myself, I know Brittany hates it. She says it looks bad, and itches her when we kiss. Maybe she will get the clue that she can’t change me. The urge to grow it out into a full on beard is strong. The only thing she doesn’t complain about is my dark brown hair that tumbles in my eyes now and then. She said it makes my brown eyes look golden and deadly. Turning to my side, I shake the sleeping blonde next to me. Ripping the sheet off of her naked, curvy body, I can’t help but stare down at her soft pale skin. Maybe I can get her to give me some before she leaves. My cock is hard, as it usually is when I wake up. Pushing her shoulder to wake her, she moans and rolls over, her perky breasts emerging from beneath her.

  “Britt, your mom is calling you again. Can you answer or turn that shit off?”

  Her arm flails out to the side, knocking things from my night stand in an attempt to find her phone. An ashtray and a few empty beer cans clatter to the floor. Leaning over her, my body pressing to her breasts, I reach for it.

  “You’re mushing me Trav, get off of me.” Pushing my chest off her with the well-manicured hands, I drop the phone on her stomach and lie back down.

  “What do you want mom?” I hear her yell into the phone. This battle again, I really am sick of it. Britt and her mom are always fighting, and mostly it’s about me. Brittany Landers father is a high powered attorney here in Buffalo. The great Joshua Landers. Everyone knows who their family is. Her mom is like the pinnacle of house wives. Always keeping things perfect, including her looks. She’s still pretty hot for a mom. Nothing like mine, with her puritan clothes and demeanor. My mother lives for drab colored skirts and blouses. When I was younger, she always made me wear khaki pants and button up shirts. I hated it. Sebastian used to sneak jeans and tees to school for me to change into.

  Lately, I’ve been busy trying to get Death Polish ready for our next gig. Writing lyrics, strumming out music and practicing takes up what time isn’t used for work or gigs. There’s a big Battle of the Bands coming up, and my dad promised he was going to come. There will be an agent there, his agent, and it’s a big deal for us, if we can win. The last thing I need is Brittany and her mom distracting me. Closing my eyes, I wait for their argument to end.

  “Yes mom, I’m with Travis. What does it matter where I slept? I’m twenty years old. You can’t control me anymore.” Yes she can, I think to myself. She will control you as long as you want her money and house, drive her BMW and she pays your bills. At twenty, I have my own apartment, I work landscaping, play music and even though I struggle, I pay my own bills, or at least half of them. No one controls me. Sebastian lives with me, paying half the rent and utilities. We work for the same Landscaper. During the winter, we try to live off the money we make at gigs. Here in Buffalo, New York, there’s not much landscaping to do when it’s all covered in snow. We shovel and plow a little, but not much since we don’t have a truck.

  Finally after a few minutes of yelling back and forth, Brittany slams her phone closed, dropping it to the floor next to my bed. When I look over to her, she has this sly little smile on her face.

  “What’s up vixen?” I ask her, even though I already know what’s on her mind. Trailing my finger across the tattoo on her stomach, she looks at me with a glint in her eye. Leaning down, I kiss the black and white guitar. Without a word, she reaches over and begins to stroke my hard cock. Shutting my eyes, I relish the feeling of her smooth hands as they seek to only pleasure me. One thing she’s good at, getting me off. No other woman has made me feel the way she does. The heat pulsates as it ripples through my whole body, I can feel my balls tighten, readying for what’s coming. As she lowers her face to me, the instant those moist lips wrap themselves around me, its pure overload of passion. My legs shake, and my hips begin to move with her rhythm. Using her hand that isn’t stroking me, to steady my hips, she hates when I do that, but I can’t help it. It’s an involuntary reaction.

  Pulling her mouth from the tip of my head, she runs her tongue around the top. My hardness is more than I can bear. Grabbing Brittany’s shoulders, I pull h
er up, so she’s straddling me. Rising to meet her, I slide a hand down her bare back, landing on her plump, round ass. Giving it a squeeze and pulling her closer, she squeals. I can feel the hot, moist wetness of her folds. They hover on top of my cock. As she slowly moves her hips back and forth, gliding over me, she coats me in the wetness that is her. Watching as the diamond in her belly button glitters with the early morning sun, it drives me nuts. Tilting my head, I take her breast in my mouth. Gripping it with my hand, I suck and nip, gently biting the nipple until it’s a hard little bud. Shifting my head over, I repeat with the other one, fondling her ass cheek while assaulting her nipples with my mouth. Her soft moans and warm breath beat against my ear as she holds tightly to my neck, her arms wrapped around me tight. Unable to take anymore, I reach down between us, inserting my finger into her folds. Sliding it in and out, I crush my lips to her mouth, quieting the moans of pleasure. Slipping a second finger in, I curl them, tapping the sweet spot inside that drives her crazy.

  Pushing my tongue into her mouth, I buck my hips, moving us to the mattress, with Brittany beneath me. I pull my fingers from inside of her, licking them, tasting the sweet nectar from her body. Kissing from her chest, down further, lightly placing more kisses in a line to her stomach, I reach her waist. Gliding my tongue down further, leaving a wet trail, I come to her clit. I bite at it, and grow harder as she groans from a mixture of pleasure and pain. Inserting my tongue into her, I get a better taste, lapping up the sweet juices she leaks. Licking harder on her clit, moving my tongue around the nub in circles, her pants increase. Breathing hard, she squirms as she nears her release. Right as she’s about to let go, I stop. Jumping on top of her, I slam my cock inside the folds. Sitting there for a moment, allowing her muscles to constrict and ease around my girth, I relish the feel of her surrounding me. I’ve been with a few other women, and no one has ever felt as good as Britt.

  Slowly at first, I pull out, almost all the way, slamming back in hard. Brittany grunts, wrapping her legs around my hips.

  “Harder, Travis, harder,” she says, panting, barely able to speak. Her arms snake around my neck, rubbing down my back, digging her nails in. Gladly giving her what she wants, I begin thrusting harder and deeper, trying to reach inside all of her. I can feel the muscles of her pussy walls clamp down on my cock as she reaches her brink. I feel her fall over into the oblivion of her orgasm, and she screams out my name.

  “Oh God, Travis, oh,” she yells. Instantly I hear Sebastian pounding on the wall, as I hurry to finish.

  “Keep it down in there whore, it’s fucking too early to listen to that shit.”

  Laughing as I pull out of her, I cum on her stomach.

  “Oh gross Trav, why the hell did you do that? You ass. What the hell is Bas’s problem anyways?” she yells at me, “Screw you asshole. At least he’s getting laid,” Britt yells at the wall. Those two are always yelling and bitching at each other about one thing or another. What Brittany doesn’t know, is that I would choose him over her in a heartbeat. I can get laid by any one of our groupies. She’s just an easy lay, and convenient for me, comfortable.

  “Leave him alone Britt. You should go home before your mom shows up and drags you out of here.” Tossing her one of my shirts, so she can clean up, I pull on a pair of boxers. A red thong happens to fall out of the shirt in her hand. Holding it up with one finger, she stares at me.

  “Who’s is this? My ass isn’t this big.” Running a hand through my hair, it’s pointless, as it just falls right back into my eyes. Turning to look at the naked woman in my bed, she is beautiful, even when she’s angry. Maybe this is what I need, Britt’s a handful right now. She will only drag me down and I have to focus on music. Now that we have the Battle of the Bands to get ready for, and we have gigs almost every night, Death Polish is on its way. We will be the next Poisonous Love. I’m going to be just like my dad.

  “I said who’s is this? Are you screwing around on me Trav? What the hell? Some groupie skank I would assume,” Brittany pouts, snuggling back up under the sheets.

  “Britt, you need to go. Bas and I have to go practice. I don’t have time for this shit. Get dressed and run back to mommy. Go get your nails done or something.”

  “You know what Trav? You’re a loser. Fuck this. I’m done. You treat me like crap, and I don’t know why I put up with it. I can get a better lay anywhere else, from guys with more money than you. You will never amount to anything. You’re just a wanna be loser with big dreams that won’t come true. Sticking your dick in anything that comes along. Why can’t you get a real job? A real place, instead of this shit hole? Time to grow up and be a man. We aren’t in high school anymore.”

  “Just stuck my dick in you didn’t I? Guess that’s true,” I shoot back at her.

  “You’re a loser like your father. You’re nothing.” Anger pulsates through my body, as I step over to her, before I realize it, my hand lands across her face. I watch her head bounce back up, and she looks at me, with a nasty glare, blood starting to drip from her cracked lip. She licks at it with her tongue and glares at me.

  “We’re done. You spineless piece of crap. You’re nothing. You feel like a real man now?”

  “So go Britt, I don’t care. You think you’re the only groupie who wants to throw herself at my dick? You deserved that shit. You make me so angry. Don’t say that crap. I’m going to be big. Bigger than my dad, and yes, I fucked around on you. Why not ask your friend Melanie about it.” And begins another argument. We have one of these at least once a week, except this time, it’s because she found out I screwed her best friend. We break up, we get back together and it’s a never ending cycle. Though, it’s the first I’ve ever hit her. This time, I’m done. My life is finally on a fast track and I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be held back by some high school chick living off of mommy and daddy. I’m going to be someone.

  “You will never be your dad. You need to stop living this dumb dream and act like an adult. You’re nothing Travis.”

  As Brittany scoops her clothes up off the floor, I light a smoke and throw myself back down on the bed. Picking the thong up, I twirl it on my finger. Watching her leave I feel partly empty and partly relieved. As the rage subsides slightly, I don’t need her, she’s just comfort. She’s familiar, and it’s time to head out into the unknown and make a life for myself. She slams the door on her way out of my room, half dressed, still tugging at her white tank top. I can hear her and Sebastian going back and forth on her way out. He never liked her anyways. He’ll be happy to see her gone. That annoying ringtone plays again. ‘My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.’ I want to smash the damn thing, which is actually a good idea. My apartment is on the second floor of our Black Rock apartment. Opening the window, just as Britt emerges from the building, I throw it at her. She spins to face the door, as the phone shatters on the ground by her feet.

  “You scumbag,” she screams up at me, tears running down her cheeks. As she scoops up the little pieces, I can’t help but laugh.

  “Don’t worry Britt, mommy and daddy will buy you a new one.” Slamming the window shut, I return to my bed.

  She lives in Williamsville, the ritzy area. We both went to school there, but my mother didn’t have as much money as her family did. When I moved out, Black Rock was about all I could afford. It’s a rundown area, gangs, thugs, and guys like me who just can’t afford more. But, I’m close enough to downtown Buffalo that I can get to any gig by bus if I need to. I have a ‘93 Dodge Shadow, bought it from the scrapyard and fixed her up myself. The backseat is big enough to fit equipment that we can’t squeeze into Max’s Jeep. Staring up at the fan spinning above my bed, when I’m rich, I’m putting a mirror up there. That’s the shit. Watching all the groupie chicks while they suck my dick, that’s the life I want.

  “Trav, come on man, we have to load the car and get to practice,” Sebastian yells from outside my door. Jumping up, I pull on a ripped pair of jeans from my floor, and grab a white tee, sniffing
it first to make sure it’s clean enough. Snubbing out my smoke, I grab my guitar and head out. The owner of the landscape company we work for lets us practice in his garage after hours and on the weekends. It’s out in the burbs, Clarence, so we don’t really bother anyone, don’t have to worry about complaints or anything. Plus, the acoustics in that garage are impressive. Seeing as how a lot of our gigs are in warehouses for parties or outside, it helps us hear what we sound like. We definitely have a classic rock, 80’s sound to our music. Thank my dad for that influence. We pile Bas’s bass into the backseat, along with my six string. I refuse to use electric. Marcus never did, I won’t either. That’s selling out man. The sound from a good ole fashion guitar is best for us. My guitar is my prized possession. I would go homeless and starve before thinking about selling it off.

  As we pull away, Bas whips out a baggie with the coke we scored last night. Max and Bentley aren’t really into this shit like we are. They smoke pot with us, but they don’t go for this. Even though I keep telling them how great it is for energizing us, we would be able to practice longer. But, whatever. On our income right now, the less people we have to share with the better. Dishing out two lines on the Nirvana CD case we have, Bas holds it up so I can snort my line while still driving. We’ve got a pretty good system down. As the blast hits me, I rub my nose, and sniff, making sure I get every last particle there is. At the red light, I lean back, closing my eyes, and letting the feeling wash over me. It’s hard to explain the high you get from coke. It’s like an instant burst of adrenaline, but you don’t shake. Your heart races, you get warm, and cozy, and your mind empties. You can think straight, and I needed this right now. I know, my decision with Britt was for the best. For all of us. Time to move on.