Alternate Endings

by Olivia Cunning

While I love a happy ending as much as the next romance author, I can’t help but wonder what the ending of Backstage Pass would be like if it were of a different genre. To experience guitarist Brian Sinclair's happily ever after ending, you’ll have to read the book, but here are a couple alternate endings that might have been, if Backstage Pass were not a smokin’ hot erotic romance.


If Backstage Pass was a spaghetti Western...

     Six-string slung over his back, Brian strode down the dusty road toward the center of town. The sound of his footsteps echoed off the clapboard store fronts. It was ten minutes to high noon and the town lay as silent as a broken amplifier. Even the saloon seemed unoccupied. On closer inspection, Brian noticed Sinners’ groupies peeking out at him through windows and lining the alleyways. He’d put off signing autographs until later.
     A tall, lithe figure loomed at the end of the lane, blocking Brian’s path to a confrontation that could have but one victor.
     “I don’t take kindly to ruffians dueling in my town, boy.” Sheriff Eric tilted his head back to peer at Brian from beneath the brim of his lucky hat—a floppy leather fedora with questionable origins. He fingered the drumsticks in the holsters at either hip.
     “This town ain’t big enough for two guitarists.” Brian brushed past the sheriff and continued toward the crossroads.
     It stood empty.
     “Trey Mills, you best show yourself! I’ve got a string to pick with you,” Brian yelled.
      Something flashed beneath an awning. Was that? Sure enough, Trey Mills leaned against the wall with a sucker stick protruding from between his lips. His devilish smile had caught the light.
     “About time you showed up, Sinclair.” Trey pushed off the wall and sauntered out into the crossroads. He eyed Brian warily from beneath his long bangs.
     The two fastest guitarists in the West circled each other like caged tigers. At some unspoken signal, they flipped their guitars over their shoulder and settled their instrument into place at hip level. The two rockers began to wail. Their fingers moved faster and faster over the strings as they tried to out solo one another. Brian knew he had Trey beat when a discordant note rang from Trey’s guitar and he fell over backwards from sheer exhaustion. When the dust settled, there was only one guitarist left standing.
     “And that,” Brian said to the unconscious loser at his feet, “is why you play rhythm and I play lead.”

If Backstage Pass was science fiction...

Visual aid because
Robin thought Captain Lionheart
looked like Shatner, uh no....

     “There’s something unusual on radar, captain,” Ensign Brian Sinclair said. “Looks like a Groupinian vessel.”
     “Damn, I thought we outran them,” Captain Sedric Lionheart said. “What more could they possibly want from us?”
     “Permission to launch your sweat-drenched t-shirt as a diversion, captain,” Ensign Trey Mills said.
     “We tried that, Mills. It only occupies them until they realize I’m not still inside the shirt.” Captain Lionheart  hauled his six-foot-four frame from his chair and paced the deck.
     The ship lurched unexpectedly. Red lights flashed. Warning sirens blared. The captain braced himself, much too cool to take a tumble.
     “They’ve managed to sink their claws into us,” Ensign Mills reported. “They’re tearing the ship apart!”
     “They’ll do anything for a backstage pass,” Brian said, trying to steer the SS Sinners out of the clutches of the Groupinian ship.
     A voice filtered in through the intercom. “I think I’m about to blow, captain,” Engineer Eric Sticks shouted.
     “Why are you watching porn at a time like this?” Captain Lionheart bellowed. “Get back to your station.”
     “I meant the engines, sir,” Eric said.
     Captain Lionheart ran a hand over his shorn black hair. “There must be someone on this ship who can placate Groupies.”
     A door hissed as it slid open. The beautiful and talented ship’s counselor, Doctor Myrna Evans, stepped on deck. “I think I have the solution.”
     Ensign Sinclair watched her move across the shuddering floor with his mouth hanging open.
     “Well,” the captain said, “what is it?”
     “First of all, you guys need to stop looking so unbelievably gorgeous.”
     “Can’t help that, can we?” Ensign Mills said with an ornery grin.
     “Secondly, the musical talent must go. No more concerts in front of sold out shows. Ensign Sinclair, you absolutely must stop playing all those amazing guitar solos. Do you have any idea what they do to a Groupinian?”
     “But I like playing solos.”
     “Same goes for those sexy growls of yours, captain. You cannot produce that kind of vocal without driving droves of Groupies into a frenzy.”
     “Is there any other solution?” Captain Lionheart asked.
     “None that I can think of. Unless you plan on satisfying all of the Groupies.”
     “I don’t see as we have another choice. We won’t give up our music.” Captain Lionheart tapped the S-shaped communication device on his shoulder. “Seymour, prepare to beam me onboard the Groupinian vessel. Any of you guys want to join the away team?”
     “I’ll go,” Mills said, climbing from his station.
     “Count me in,” Engineer Sticks called over the intercom.
     Byebye Yergonnadye, a roadie in a red shirt, eagerly joined the group.
     “I think I’ll stay here on the ship with the counselor,” Ensign Sinclair said. “Someone needs to command the ship in your absence, captain.”
     “I’ll show exactly where you can steer your ship, Ensign Sinclair,” Dr. Evans said, one eyebrow cocked suggestively.
     “Stardate 224-dash-1632,” Captain Lionheart’s voiceover said. “As promised, the Sinners crew satisfied all the Groupies and the alien beings have returned to their home planet. The crew is exhausted, but at peace.”
     In his private quarters, Captain Lionheart collapsed on his bed and closed his eyes.
     “Captain?” Ensign Sinclair’s voice came over the intercom.
     “What is it, Ensign? I need my rest.”
     “There’s something unusual on radar,” he said. “Looks like a Groupinian vessel.”

To find out more about the real Backstage Pass, or to read reviews and steamy excerpts, please visit my website: http://www.oliviacunning.com/.

Sexy Santa would like to wish you happy holidays. He hopes you've been sufficiently naughty this year.


Do you enjoy variety in the endings of the books you read? Or do you always require a “happily ever after” ending?