Purple Method

by Victoria Milne

  Rick steadied his voice. “You’ve spoken to Max?”

  “Yeah.” Pete held the door to the main hall open, and Rick walked past him into the huge, noisy room that was buzzing with excitement. People rushed about the stage, and Rick craned his neck to see if any of them were Max, but Pete grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the bar at the back. “Can you believe they only got home off tour this afternoon? He popped in earlier to say hi and didn’t leave my place till six thirty.”

  His stomach sank. What was going on with him? He should not be that disappointed. “I just missed him, huh?” If only he’d left his martial arts school a few minutes earlier….

  “You’ll meet them all soon enough. Beer?”

  “Yeah, thanks. I haven’t had one in ages.”

  “You’re kiddin’?” Pete looked horrified.

  “I’ve got that mixed martial arts competition over at Leatherton coming up. Been training hard for that with the MMA guys. We’ve got a good chance of placing high.”

  “I didn’t think you were competing at the moment.”

  “I had someone drop out of the heavyweight class. Figured it would be easier to compete than find someone else at this late stage.” He hadn’t been disappointed at the prospect. The lure of competition had always been hard to resist, and there was nothing quite like getting in the ring. Besides, he couldn’t risk missing out on an opportunity for his MMA team to be seen, not when some of the top clubs were going to be at the event—taking notes on up-and-coming trainers. His career was everything to him and always came first.

  “Pete.” A bartender with intense dark eyes and an easy smile leaned across and shook Pete’s hand, his sun-kissed hair falling across his face. “Thought I might see you here tonight. Your boys have got this place buzzin’.”

  “Sure have. If there’s one thing they’re good at, it’s getting the party going.”

  The bartender laughed. “Never a truer word spoken.” He gave Rick an appreciative smile. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Angelo, this is Rick. He’s new in town.”

  “I guessed as much. That’s not a face I’d forget. What can I get you guys?”

  “Couple of beers, thanks.”

  “You’ve been working here a while, then?” Rick said.

  Angelo scraped his hair behind his ear as he poured their drinks. “Yeah, I’ve been running the place for a few years now.”

  “Angelo, the pump’s stopped working again,” a bartender yelled.

  He placed their drinks on the bar. “I’ll catch you guys later,” he said, waving his hand when Pete tried to hand him a twenty-dollar bill. “On the house.”

  Rick sipped his cool beer and watched Angelo, who looked back and grinned when he caught him looking.

  Pete sighed and shook his head. “I love Angelo, but he’s the biggest flirt, sorry. Ignore him. He’s harmless enough.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t mind. To be honest, it’s kinda nice to get some attention. I didn’t expect it tonight.”

  “There aren’t many guys in here who are gay or bi, so you probably made his night.”

  Rick snorted a laugh. “Half the guys in here are wearing makeup and… is that a guy wearing a corset and skirt over there?” Wow, that wasn’t something you saw every day. He carried the look off better than any of the girls.

  “What, Dave? Yeah, his girlfriend loves it. She’s the one in the Bayonetta cosplay outfit.”

  Rick stared at Dave in amazement. “He’s straight?”

  Pete shrugged. “Yeah, like I said, not many in here like that. Angelo’s the exception rather than the norm. But he’s discreet, usually, believe it or not.”

  “So Angelo’s the only one here tonight?” Rick asked, pushing a little to see if Pete would divulge Max’s orientation.

  “Uh, let’s see.” Pete scanned the room. “You could try Joe.” Pete pointed to a petite guy with spiky black hair and the tightest PVC pants Rick had ever seen. “He’s been known to hang out with Angelo quite a bit. Then there’s Colin over there. He’s the only one who I could say for sure is gay.”

  Rick glanced at Colin. He had lank, waist-length black hair, a tall sturdy build, and looked to be in his midthirties. Several pairs of handcuffs dangled from his belt, and Rick shivered. Definitely not his type. “That’s everyone?”

  “’Fraid so. Sorry, bud. Not something you wanna broadcast around here, as a rule. Colin and a few others from here got beat up pretty bad some years back for being gay. Couple of them didn’t make it. They never did catch whoever did it. It hit the community hard, and we never really recovered.” Pete nodded toward the stage as the lights turned out and the crowd cheered and whistled. “Looks like they’ve finally got themselves organized.”

  Taking a sip of his beer, Rick fixed his gaze on the stage, and he and Pete took a few steps closer to it in the darkness. The enthusiasm of the crowd was intoxicating, and Rick felt a jittery excitement.

  Suddenly, the stage burst to life with pillars of billowing smoke and rainbows of distorted flashing lights. Purple Method exploded into the dynamic guitar riffs and heavy drums of what Rick recognized to be “Bind Me.” Max raced across the stage as the crowd’s cheering grew louder, and to his surprise, as Max raised his arms in the air, Rick found himself copying, along with most of Purple Method’s other fans. He was totally fangirling, but right now he didn’t care at all.

  Max brought his microphone to his lips and paused as the chanting of his name increased to a deafening level. Rick had known Max was popular, judging by what he’d seen on social media, but this was insane. As Max brought his cupped hand to the side of his head, a girl next to Rick let out a piercing shriek, and Rick laughed, rubbing his violated ear as Max began to growl the low notes of the first verse. The power of Max’s voice thudded through him, and Rick gasped as the vibrations settled in his thickening cock.

  “What do you think?” Pete shouted at him as Kyle, the guitarist, joined Max at center stage to sing, creating intricate harmonies that complemented the heavy guitars and potent bass lines.

  “They’re better live. They’re incredible.”

  Pete nodded. “That they are, but don’t tell them I said so.”

  Rick laughed again and turned his attention back to the stage.

  Purple Method’s songs got louder and louder, and more intense if the mosh pit was anything to go by. Max was egging them on, leaning over the edge of the stage and spinning his index fingers in circles. Whatever he was trying to do, it seemed to be working. Practically the whole room was joining in, and the mosh pit grew more violent every time Max did it. Rick was tempted to join in, but with an important fight coming up, the last thing he needed was to show up with a black eye—not that he couldn’t hold his own in a mosh pit, he was sure of that. He wasn’t used to them was all.

  “Here we go,” Pete shouted.

  “What’s that?”

  Pete pointed at Tony as the other musicians put down their instruments. Max even disappeared off the stage. Rick turned his attention to Pete, who said, “This song, ‘Zombie Zoo,’ has the longest drum solo I’ve heard in my life.”

  Tony launched into the spotlight, showcasing his effortless skill and flamboyant tricks. “He’s pretty good, though,” Rick said.

  “Yeah, he is. Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy. His heart’s in the right place, but he does have a tendency to go overboard. You want another drink?”

  “Sure. I’ll get them.”

  When he returned from the bar, the deep rhythmic thud of Tony’s bass drum slowed, and Rick took a sip of his beer, watching as Max sauntered across the stage and inched his way to the front as Tony stopped. Soft lighting highlighted the crowd, most still jumping around and cheering, and Max closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “Come on, Max,” Pete said under his breath but loud enough for Rick to hear.

  “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine. He told me he’s been practicing this speech all week.” Pete grimaced. �
��This isn’t his favorite part. He worries he’ll say something inappropriate, or that he’ll go blank. Lee helped him write this one so he wouldn’t say anything stupid.”

  “Oh.” Max didn’t come across as lacking in confidence; he hid it well. “Come on, you can do it,” Rick whispered.

  Max lifted the microphone, opened his eyes, and began to speak, telling the fans how awesome they were and how great it was to be back home in Elfinbrook. He was scanning the crowd, every so often grinning at people, who Rick guessed must be his friends. Max eventually looked in their direction, and Pete gave Max the thumbs-up. Willing Max to notice him, Rick kept his eyes fixed on him. He didn’t have to wait long. Their eyes locked, and his breath caught, and he gave Max a warm smile. Max held his gaze for a long moment until Rick swore Max’s cheeks colored, but then he looked away to the farthest point possible. That was weird.

  For the rest of the gig, Rick kept his eyes on Max, and Max didn’t look his way again. Damn it. Had he blown his chances already? Maybe he should have dressed head to toe in black like 90 percent of the people there. Maybe that would’ve given him a fighting chance with Max.

  Purple Method finished their final encore, “Glimmers of Insanity,” and trooped off the stage as the crowd cheered, whistled, and stamped their feet, demanding more. Rick joined in.

  “They’ve gotta be happy with that,” Pete said as the lights came back on and background music played—a song Rick didn’t recognize. Purple Method was the only heavy metal band he listened to, and that was only because of Max. “They could do with a hand packing up. If we help, they might even give us a lift back to their place for the party. You coming?”

  “Sure, sounds like fun.” Finally, his chance to speak to Max.

  They elbowed their way toward the entrance foyer, where a slim girl with a platinum blonde bob with nuclear-pink streaks was selling Purple Method T-shirts, CDs—for those who still played them—and vinyl.

  “I’m just gonna check she’s okay.” Pete headed toward the girl, and Rick followed. “Need a hand, Sian, or have you got this under control?”

  “Pete!” Sian rushed around the table and gave Pete a hug. “I didn’t think you’d made it.”

  “Yeah, we were at the back.”

  “By the bar, no doubt.” She laughed, giving Rick a sidelong glance. “I had to stay with the gear but managed to get to the mosh pit a couple of times.”

  “Sian is Kyle’s girlfriend,” Pete said. “Sian, this is Rick.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Sian said. “Are you coming to the party?”

  “If that’s okay?”

  “Sure. I think most people here are gonna try to make it. Should be a blast.”

  Hordes more people pushed through the doors and headed straight for the table. “Catch you later,” she said and returned to her post.

  They watched for a moment as she sold piles of merchandise.

  Pete snorted. “She’s fine. Come on; let’s give them a hand loading up.”

  After leading them around to the back of the building, Pete stopped by a black ambulance that was shuddering, and loud bangs and crashes came from inside. Rick shook his head and laughed. When he’d seen a picture of this on the internet, he’d thought it was a joke, but no, they really did haul their equipment in that thing.

  Pete lifted a guitar case off the ground that had “Max—hands off” painted on it in huge letters, and he approached the back of the ambulance.

  “Great job tonight. Do you believe me now?”

  “Maybe.” Max’s face peered out the back.

  Rick took a step closer, his heart thudding, and Max froze.

  “I brought some extra muscle to help out,” Pete said and patted Rick on the shoulder. Max eyed Rick and looked back at Pete. “Rick moved to Elfinbrook some months back while you were away.”

  “Hi,” Rick said awkwardly as Max snatched the guitar case from Pete and busied himself stowing it. “Pete’s right, you were awesome tonight. I particularly enjoyed your speech.”

  Rick lifted a large amplifier and handed it up to Max. “Thanks,” Max mumbled. Were his teeth gritted? Did the guy hate him already? So much for making a good first impression. He let go of the amplifier as Max took it and cursed as it crashed to the ambulance floor.

  “Oh here, let me give you a hand.” Rick jumped up into the ambulance. “Where do you want it?”

  Max pointed to a corner at the back and pressed his finger to his mouth.

  “Rick, why don’t you stay here and help Max out?” Pete said. “There’s loads more heavy stuff to come.”

  “Gee, thanks, Pete. I can handle it, you know,” Max said.

  “I know, but the quicker we get done here, the quicker we can all get to your party.” Pete patted the side of the ambulance and disappeared into the club.

  Again, Max eyed Rick. “I’m stronger than I look, you know.”

  What a strange thing to say. If Max hated him, then surely he wouldn’t care what Rick thought about his strength. Perhaps he’d read this all wrong.

  “You don’t have to explain. It’s okay. You’ve been leaping around the stage for hours. I’m surprised you’ve got any energy left at all.”

  “I’ve got plenty of energy.” Had Max’s cheeks flushed? It was hard to tell for certain as Max turned away from him.

  “I’m sure you have.” Rick raised an eyebrow and smiled. Maybe he had a chance after all. He reached out to touch Max’s arm, his skin hot and smooth beneath Rick’s fingers. Max glanced around at him, eyes wide. “You must get this a lot, so I understand if you say no, but would you like to—”

  “I’m straight.” Max avoided looking Rick in the eyes as he pulled his arm away.

  “You are?” His stomach sank, and he forced himself to smile as he shook his head. Man, had he read this wrong. “Sorry. Guess I should have checked first before blurting it out.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Pete’s been telling me my gaydar needs fixing—”

  “Pete knows? About you liking guys?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And he’s okay with it?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t he be?”

  “But… Pete’s not gay.”

  Rick studied Max. For someone who was straight, he sure was concerned about what Pete thought about it. He’d never understood straight-guy thinking and how much they seemed to panic if anyone suggested they might like guys.

  Tony and Kyle appeared with some more equipment, dumped it outside the ambulance, and disappeared back inside without so much as a word.

  “Have you always known you wanted to be a singer?” Rick asked as he hopped out and handed the equipment up to Max. Perhaps they could at least be friends.

  Max seemed relieved at the change of topic. “I guess. Tony’s always played drums, and Dad played guitar, so singing was the obvious choice.”

  “Like a family band or something. That’s awesome. Your dad must be proud of you.”

  “Why’d you move to Elfinbrook?”

  “My folks live here. They own the dance studio on Wardell Street, opposite Pete’s house. Do you know it?”

  “I’ve seen it.”

  “I finished up training as a chiropractor over in Leatherton a couple of months ago, and I’ve moved back with them for a bit while I figure out my next move. It’s weird being back. I’ve been in Leatherton for nine years—”

  “God, Lee’s a slave driver,” Tony grumbled as he hefted another drum case into the ambulance. “Why he couldn’t let us do this tomorrow, I don’t know.”

  “He saw the amount of beer we got for the party,” Kyle said as he joined them. “Don’t think any of us are going to be in a fit state to do anything tomorrow.” Kyle yawned.

  “Did Sian get back home okay to start letting everyone in?” Max asked.

  “She messaged me a couple of minutes back,” Kyle said. “She’s nearly sold all the gear, so Jade’s giving her a lift.”

  “You all live together?”
Rick asked.

  “Guys, this is Rick, friend of Pete’s.”

  Rick gave a little wave.

  “Hey,” Kyle said.

  “Yeah, we do,” Tony said. “Lee and Kyle moved in three years ago, and Sian, what, a year back maybe?”

  “Yeah, something like that.” Max nodded toward the club. “Is there much left in there?”

  “Na, a few odd bits,” Tony said. “If you want a shower, you’d better go do it now. Your bag’s in the dressing room.”

  “Thanks.” Max leaped out of the ambulance and turned to look at Rick. “Don’t let anyone mess up my system. They forget we all need a place to sit.”

  “Hey,” Tony said. “That shit was fun. What part of sitting on top of the amps as we drove back to the motel wasn’t fun?”

  “The part where I fell on my ass and nearly got crushed. That part,” Max said, clearly trying not to laugh. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Rick was careful to follow his instructions, and it wasn’t long before Max reappeared with dripping hair and dressed in fresh black cargo pants, a tight black T-shirt, and chunky, buckled boots. He was a walking wet dream—a straight wet dream. Rick sighed. Just his luck.

  “Come on, Max, we’ve got a party to get to,” Lee called out from the driver’s seat as they all took their spots.

  The ambulance choked to life. From where Rick was sitting, near the front behind Lee, he could only see Pete opposite him. Kyle was someplace toward the back, and Tony sat up front with Lee.

  “Fuck me, I have a seat,” Max said, and Rick craned his neck to watch him clamber into the back and sit in the one clear space. He gave Rick a small smile as he did so, but then curled up, rested his head on one of Tony’s drums, and closed his eyes.

  Rick ignored the excited banter going on around him, choosing instead to watch Max sleep. Max looked so vulnerable, so different from how he’d been onstage.

  It turned out that Purple Method didn’t live far from the Torrens Club. The ambulance soon braked hard, rattling, and came to an abrupt halt. Max unlocked the back doors and jumped out. The noise coming from outside almost matched what they’d left at the venue. By the time Rick had scrambled out, Max was nowhere to be seen. A multitude of cars and motorcycles surrounded what looked like a three-floor townhouse on a slight hill, with the open front door on the middle level and steps leading up to it. Hordes of people wearing Purple Method T-shirts headed right for them, and loud rock music blared from the house.