Nerve by Jeanne Ryan

it’s hard not to envision jungle cats disemboweling their prey. This dare sucks. Even more than the last one. But I’m not totally alone; Ian has to do a difficult one too. That’s when I get an idea.
    I will myself not to take a step backward, the way the rangers teach you to do at Yellowstone if a bear sniffs around your campsite. When the girls are almost within striking distance, I say, “There’s a musician who’s supposed to be here after his concert tonight. Maybe you’ve seen him?” I try to smile, girlfriend to girlfriend.
    The lighter-skinned girl licks her lips. “Musician?”
    I bounce in my flats, all groupie-like. “Yeah. His name is Ian, uh, Jagger. His dad is in the Rolling Stones? They’re an old rock band? So it’s like father, like son. Cool, huh? Anyway, Ian’s band had a show in Seattle tonight. I saw on his fan page that he’ll be looking for company afterward and he mentioned a bar near here. You know The Flash?” That’s the name of the club where arrests occur every weekend, right? I have to take a few breaths after this speech to avoid hyperventilating.
    The girl scowls. “Why would he go to a lame-ass place like that?”
    I scan the street and do a theatrical double take when I spot Ian about twenty feet away. “Oh my God!” I rush up to him with the girls jingling close behind.
    I grab his arm. “Ian Jagger! I love, love, love your songs!” My panting doesn’t need to be faked.
    Ian hides his surprise with a big smile. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
    The girls, reeking of perfume and cigarettes, push me aside. How do they expect to attract business smelling like that?
    “Hey Ian,” the darker-skinned girl says, “I’m Tiffany. You really famous?”
    Ian shrugs and smirks in perfect rock star style.
    The other girl announces that her name is Ambrosia. “Damn straight he’s famous. I recognize his face from the magazines.”
    This is going better than I thought it would. Does Ian realize what a huge favor I’m doing him? And how much he’ll owe me in return?
    He gives an
aw shucks
smile that brings out those killer dimples. “We’re only in town for the night. Don’t suppose you know where I could go for a little fun?”
    “Oh, I could show you some fun, baby,” Tiffany says.
    Ian passes me his phone. “Hey, princess, can you get a shot of me and these lovely ladies? My label likes to see what I’m up to in different cities.”
    I take the phone and point it. “Sure, but I can show you more fun than these girls, and I won’t charge anything.”
    Tiffany balls her fists as she takes a step toward me, “Who said anything about charging, bitch?”
    Bingo. “Sorry, I just assumed…”
    Ambrosia, hands on hips, stomps forward too. “Don’t assume nothing, slut.”
    Ian steps in between the girls and me. “Hey, forget about her. So you both wanna hook up with me? No strings attached?”
    Tiffany says, “Sure. You gonna post our pictures on your fan site?”
    He smiles my way. “Your faces will be all over the Web. I promise. That’s why I gave the scrawny-ass girl the camera.”
    They both give scrawny-ass me a triumphant look down their noses and ask Ian where he’s staying and whether they can order room service.
    That’s when a huge white guy wearing a fedora approaches us. A fedora? Is he kidding?
    His hands are shoved deeply in the pockets of a trench coat, which really should have a leopard collar if he wants to complete the look. “Tiff, Am, this guy giving you any trouble?”
    Tiffany and Ambrosia almost trip over themselves scurrying to the guy. Each girl takes one of his arms and whispers in his ear.
    He frowns at whatever they’re telling him. “I’ve never heard of no Ian Jagger.”
    I hold the camera at my chest, hoping the guy doesn’t notice me. His eyes narrow in Ian’s direction. He pushes the girls aside and approaches him. “I said I never heard of you.”
    Ian shrugs. “We play mostly emo.”
    “Homo? You play homo music?”
    “No,