Warlord Metal by D Jordan Redhawk Page B

van.
    I don't know what she's trying to prove. I don't know what she's searching for. I wish I did. I see some of the 'babes' she seduces and, frankly, I don't think they're all that great. They don't have what she needs. She needs a woman with intelligence, for one thing. And someone who'll give her a kick in the seat of the pants when she needs it. Someone to hold her at night. Spoil her.
    Love her.
    I can give that to her....
    Jordan drowsed in the back of the van, the sound of the road lulling her. Normally, she'd be lounging in one of the passenger seats but somehow, in all the activity to get on their way, Sonny had ended up in the van with her.
    The redhead didn't know what exactly was going on but, whatever it was, she didn't like it. It seemed that whenever the girl was in close proximity, Jordan couldn't think straight. On the nights she'd stay in the motel room, she got no sleep - preferring to stay up all hours and watch Sonny's face as she slumbered. Her fantasies more and more were consumed with imagined visions of dark hair and sky blue eyes.
    Her control was slipping.
    It was a rotten feeling. And so, rather than be near, Jordan had feigned a need to work on a tune. She'd used her duffel to make a backrest against all the gear and twiddled with her guitar for a time.
    The woman was glad the band was heading south. It's too damned cold at night here! she groused. When she could find someone to crash with, she did. When she couldn't, she spent most of the night walking around. Doesn't make any difference, does it, Jordie? You wouldn't get any sleep in the motel, either, if you had your druthers!
    All in all, it was a very unsettling feeling she had. And the more the redhead put distance between them, the more Sonny found reasons to be near. Like climbing into the van at the absolute very last minute. And the flirting - there were constant touches and innuendoes by the teenager anymore, whenever she was within reach.
    So, fuck her and get it over with! You know she wants it.... What's the problem? Jordan grumbled and jammed an elbow into her duffel in an attempt to get more comfortable. The problem is, she's too close. I don't want to hurt her. I like her!
    By cracking her eyes open a bit, she could see the dark girl's profile as she animatedly discussed something with Hampton in the driver's seat. She was using the brush in her hand to underscore a point in her conversation. Her voice was only a murmur mixed with the sound of the road under the wheels. A quiet little voice piped up clearly in the rare stillness of the redhead's mind. You don't have to hurt her....
    Jordan drifted off to sleep, feeling warm arms envelope her and hold her, smelling the scent that was Sonny's own, feeling another heartbeat pulse in time with hers.
    Sonny stepped into the motel room, closing the door behind her. Her roommate made a beeline towards the bed furthest from the door, dropping her duffel and guitar before flipping the television on and scanning the channels. As usual, the teenager thought, half in vague irritation and half in fondness. And I thought I watched too much TV!
    The dark girl dropped her pack on her bed and settled her suitcase on the luggage rack. They had about three hours before they were due to meet the rest of the band for dinner. Just enough time for a shower and get my hair dry. Sonny unzipped her suitcase and began rummaging inside.
    Several minutes later, a pile of clothes and toiletries in her arms, she grumbled crossly, "Where did I put my brush?"
    Jordan, who had sprawled on the bed on her stomach, glanced over. "You had it in the van. Is it in your backpack?"
    "Oh, yeah! You're right." Sonny stepped into the bathroom to dump her things and returned to her bed. She dug in her pack for several moments before getting irritated at not immediately discovering the item. With a muttered curse, she partially dumped the contents and fished around until she located the brush. "Aha! Found it!" The teenager