Rick frowned. “What? What did I say?”
Pete shook his head. “That’s one of Max’s songs.”
“He can’t have listened to everything we’ve done,” Tony said, “or he’d never pick that one.”
“I’ve got both your albums: Afterthoughts and Anguish and Black Lipstick and Fallen Angels.”
“Ha, ha, see?” Max leaped from his seat to do a celebratory dance.
“Whatever. I’m gonna check on the instruments. You coming, Max?” Tony asked and finished his drink.
“I think I’m gonna stay here with Angelo and Rick, actually.”
“You sure? I could use a hand.”
“You don’t usually need me to help with that.”
“Yeah, but tonight’s a big night.”
“You managed okay last gig, and that was a big night too.”
“Come on,” Pete said and grabbed Tony’s arm. “I’ll give you a hand. We’ll be fine checking them with just the two of us.”
Tony huffed, and he and Pete wandered over to the stage.
“I didn’t know you wrote any of the songs,” Rick said.
“Yeah, some. Lee won’t let me use all of them, though. Says they’re not the right style for the image of our band.”
“I’d like to hear them sometime.”
“Well, maybe you can, now we’re friends, that is.”
“So, it’s official, then? The text sealed it.” Rick took a long drink. “I thought I’d scared you off.”
“You were never going to do that,” Max said quietly so Angelo couldn’t hear him. “I’d like it if we were friends.”
“Good to know. I’d like that too.”
Then Max frowned. “What are you doing here? If you thought you’d scared me off, I mean.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
“I was at Pete’s house and he was heading down here, so I came with him to keep him company. I can leave if—”
“No, stay,” Max said and smiled into his drink. “I’m glad you’re here.”
They sat at the bar while Vanquished Villains completed their sound check, and hung out until it was time.
Angelo shouted from the other end of the bar. “Max, we’re about to let the hordes in. You want to hide backstage first?”
“Yeah, suppose I should.” Max slid off his stool, brushing against Rick’s arm. “I’ll see you later.”
“Good luck.”
Max joined the others backstage and went through his final preparations. Having already warmed up his voice, he did a couple of exercises to ensure his vocals were spot-on. He didn’t want to let the guys down tonight when they were opening for such a popular band.
He took deep breaths to calm his nerves as the club filled to capacity. Vanquished Villains was nowhere to be seen. He guessed they weren’t interested in watching Purple Method and must have shut themselves away in the dressing room.
“Max, breathe,” Kyle said as he scuttled past with bottles of water, placing one at each of their spots onstage.
Crouching down with his head in his hands, Max wondered if his nerves would ever go away, and tried to convince himself that it would all be worth it once he started singing.
Tony had won the battle of first-song choice. They’d flipped a coin to decide it in the end, so they’d be opening with “No Jurisdiction.” It wasn’t the worst choice, he supposed. He just wished he’d been the one to write it. “Storm My Dreams” was up second, and Max smiled at the thought of Rick watching him perform his favorite song.
“Max, bucket.” Lee threw one in his general direction, and it clattered in front of him.
His bandmates looked at him as he picked it up from the floor and moved it out of the way. “Sorry, guys, don’t think it’s gonna happen today.”
“Max, not today, of all days.” Kyle groaned. “We can’t have bad luck, not when we’re opening for Vanquish.” He grabbed the bucket and held it in front of Max, shaking it as if that would help.
“Kyle, quit it. I’m fine. It will all be fine. Trust me.”
“You’d better be right,” he heard Lee murmur under his breath. “Everyone ready to go?”
Max grabbed his microphone and nodded.
The lights dimmed and they were off.
THE AUDIENCE was larger than it had been when they’d played there the other week. With the hall dark apart from lights dotted about from cell phones recording them, the entire club could’ve been filled to capacity as far as he was aware. Max raised his arms above his head as the energy of the intro to “No Jurisdiction” rumbled through his body and took hold. He felt so alive. Electric. Like he could take on the world and still have energy to spare.
As Kyle’s high-pitched guitar joined in, Max paced the stage, his hands above his head, clapping, encouraging the crowd to join him. He brought the microphone to his lips and sang at a comfortable level—like Pete had told him to—and sure enough, his voice was clear above the instruments. His vocals felt effortless for the first time at a gig. It was awesome. He looked toward the bar, where he knew Pete would be standing, and Pete gave him a thumbs-up. It felt amazing knowing he was making Pete proud. He couldn’t have done all this without Pete’s help. He was so grateful to him.
Max bounced across to the left of the stage for the chorus. He loved the chorus of this song in particular. It had a low growly section that was fun to drop to before climbing to the top of his range. He leaned forward to tap the outstretched hands of fans in the front row and laughed when he nearly slipped off the stage to land down there with them.
It was then that he spotted Rick. He was a couple of rows back in the middle. Right where the mosh pit was starting. A space had cleared as it fired up, and people who didn’t want to get caught up in it were shuffling backward out of the way. Six people began to circle the perimeter, and to Max’s surprise, Rick joined them. He was clearly copying them but soon got the hang of it and was pushing and shoving back, and looked like he belonged—especially as he was wearing some black this time. As Max sang the final section of the song, Rick caught his eye. Max shook his head with a grin and turned to look at Tony as the song drew to a close.
Tony took advantage of the brief pause to wipe his face on the small towel he kept by his spare drumsticks.
“This one’s called ‘Storm My Dreams,’” Max growled, and Tony winked at him and smiled as he struck his bass drum with incredible speed. The crowd was screaming, and when Max spun to face the front, he caught sight of Vanquished Villains at the side of the stage, watching them. That just fueled his energy to the extreme, and seeing that a couple of people were stage diving, Max pointed toward them and raised his eyebrow at Rick.
“You?” Rick mouthed up at him. At only two rows back, Max was confident Rick would catch him.
Max nodded and ran toward the front of the stage, twisting as he leaped from it, and closing his eyes as he prayed that Rick really would catch him.
He felt a firm grip under his shoulders, breaking his fall, and then supporting him. Max opened his eyes to see Rick looking down at him, a bewildered and amused look on his face.
“I can’t believe you actually went through with it,” Rick shouted in Max’s ear.
Max couldn’t reply, instead having to sing the next verse of the song. By the time he’d come to a pause, he’d been carried away—and groped—by numerous hands. It was an effort to sing like this, but Max didn’t care; it was worth it. The fans loved it, that was for sure, he thought as yet another pair of hands gripped him, seemingly reluctant to let go as he was pulled away from them. He winced as somebody’s fingernails dug into his arm. He was definitely grateful for his new boots right now. It would mean no scratches on his legs, at least. As best he could, Max pointed toward the stage. He needed to get back there before the end of the song. Luckily the fans got the message and deposited him at the front. As the final bars of the song blasted out, Max scrambled up.
In the center, Kyle and Lee stood back-to-back, their faces screwed up
with effort as they went straight into the heavy intro of “In These Chains.” Max ran behind them and up onto the steps in front of the drum kit and leaned back, opening his mouth wide to sing the fast, complex vocals of the first song he helped to compose.
WHEN PURPLE Method filed off at the end of the final song, “Under My Skin,” the entire crowd was screaming for an encore, and it took quite some time before they settled and were ready for Vanquished Villains to perform. Some of Purple Method’s most loyal fans even left before the headline act, muttering that the best band had already played, Sian told them, shouting to be heard above their fans.
“That was awesome,” Rick said as Max peeked out the door at the side of the stage, ready to join the party. “Even better than last time.” He pulled Max to one side before anyone else recognized him. “And you were incredible.”
“Thanks,” Max said. “Did you like my stage dive?”
“I think you’re crazy for going through with it.” Rick laughed and shook his head. “But I’m impressed you can crowd surf and sing like that at the same time.”
“It’s my specialty. Thanks for catching me. I’ve been dropped a couple of times in the past, and it fucking hurts.”
“Anytime.” Rick looked him in the eyes and took a swig of his drink.
Oh no. He’d been spotted. A couple of people were sidling toward him, their phones out ready for pictures.
“I’ll come find you in a bit. This could take a while,” Max said, sighing as he braced himself for being mobbed. A disorderly line was already forming. He just hoped his bandmates would join him soon. “Don’t suppose you’d mind grabbing me a beer, could you?”
“Sure. I’ll take care of it,” Rick said, squeezing his shoulder before being swallowed into the crowd.
Max smiled, warmth enveloping him. It was nice to have someone looking after him for a change. It was tearing him apart more than ever now, knowing it was impossible for them to be together, to be more than friends. He wished there was a way around it, but every scenario he’d run through in his head had ended in disaster.
“Max, can I get a picture?” A girl with particularly heavy makeup and a Pikachu T-shirt held up her phone and pouted as she pressed their faces together for the picture. He plastered on his best fake smile and fixed it in place for what would likely be the next hour at least.
“I’M PRETTY sure six across is dirty,” Kyle said.
Max picked up his whisk and bowl of waffle batter and stepped closer to the doorway so he could see into the lounge. Sian was sitting cross-legged on the floor, and Kyle was lazing next to her, peering over her shoulder at the newspaper.
“Can’t be, babe.” Sian rattled a pen between her teeth. “’Cause nine down is grebe. Doesn’t fit.”
It was the day after the Villains gig and Max was on a high. It could not have gone any better. And it had been awesome to spend most of the day with Rick, even if he’d barely got to see him after he’d finished with their fans.
“What’re you doing?” he asked.
Sian grinned and waved the newspaper in the air, barely missing Kyle’s head. “Finishing Lee’s crossword. Wanna help?”
“He’s going to kill you. Again.”
“I know.” She giggled and made herself comfortable, leaning back against Kyle.
“He’ll be back any minute. He said he’d be about an hour.”
“Quick,” she shrieked, “we’ve got two left. Max, ‘heavily polluted or thickly accumulated filth.’ Five letters beginning with g.”
“Um, I don’t know… grimy?”
“Ooh, yes, of course, and that makes four down limbo.”
Sian leaped up, tossing the paper to the ground and raising her arms in the air. She rushed over to Max and kissed him on the cheek, then snatched the batter bowl and gave it a stir with the whisk. “Did you use buttermilk?”
“Of course.”
Max followed her back into the kitchen and sat on the table, watching with a smile as she scrutinized his work. He was the one who’d taught her to cook, and now she worked in a bakery she seemed to think she was the expert.
“I found these freeze-dried raspberry pieces at the grocery store the other day. We could put them into the mix.” Sian reached up to the cupboard where she kept her grocery supplies. It was crammed full. How she ever found what she was looking for was a miracle. She pulled a small packet out and tossed it to him. Reaching out to grab it, Max missed, and it smacked to the floor. “You’re such a klutz.” Sian chuckled as she reached down to retrieve them, then placed them into the palm of Max’s hand.
“Can I try one?”
“Sure.”
The raspberry pieces were tiny. Max tipped a pile of the bright red specks into his hand and then into his mouth. The sharp yet oversweet taste ricocheted, and it was all he could do to stop himself from spitting them out. Swallowing as much as he could before taking a gulp of his drink, he turned to glare at her, his eyes watering.
“No way. Absolutely no way. What the hell were you thinking? They’re disgusting.”
“Wanted to try something new.” She shrugged. “You need to learn to be more adventurous.”
“I try stuff.”
“Sure you do.” Sian snickered and poured the batter into the waffle maker. “Kyle, you want jelly beans on yours?” she called out.
“Yeah, course.”
“Ugh, that is the worst waffle accompaniment ever. I can’t believe you make that for him.”
“See. Unadventurous.”
Waiting until she turned to look at him, Max gave her a pointed glare. “Whatever. I’m still in charge of our competition barbecue.”
“Are you kidding? With you in charge, we came sixth last year. If I was in charge, we’d win the whole competition.”
“It was my idea to enter in the first place.”
“I know. Only a few weeks to go. I can’t wait. Did Tony tell you he managed to organize for you to play there as well? It’s gonna be a busy weekend.”
“What’s that?” Kyle asked as he wandered into the kitchen.
“The jamboree whole-hog contest,” Max said.
“Oh, that.” He slid onto the table next to Max and yawned. “I don’t get why you’re making it out to be such a big deal. It’s not like many people enter—”
“Aren’t you and Tony supposed to be playing hockey this afternoon?”
“Yeah. Supposed to be.” Kyle sighed. “I think he’s lost motivation now there’s little chance of us making the team this year, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“’Cause we’ve been away for so long. If we turn up at the rink, we’ve been told we can take part in the practice at least. If he can drag his lazy ass out of bed, that is.”
“He’s not up yet?”
“He’s got some girl in there with him. You wanna wake him? ’Cause I sure as hell don’t.”
“Not a chance.”
The smell of warm, sweet batter drifted toward them, and Max began to salivate. It wouldn’t be long until they were ready. After jumping down from the table, Max pulled out a large jar of maple syrup from his cupboard. There was enough time to warm it through before the waffles were ready.
While Sian served them up, Max couldn’t resist checking his cell for the thousandth time that day. There were more pictures of Vegas from Zoe and Lisa, but still no message from Rick.
Max poured warm maple syrup into each of his waffle grooves as Kyle picked out all the black, orange, and white jelly beans and created an intricate pattern with them by stuffing them into the gaps before pouring maple syrup over the top.
“That looks disgusting,” Max said, looking up from his cell. He’d made several attempts to start a message to Rick, but everything he’d typed felt contrived and stupid, so he shoved his cell back into his pocket.
“That’s ’cause you have zero taste.”
The front door slammed.
“Must be Lee,” Max said when they heard no further movement. Lee’s bed
room was right by the front door, so he must have gone straight in there. “Where did you leave his crossword?”
Sian giggled and pushed her chair back with a screech. She sprinted into the lounge and brought the paper back with her, placed it on her chair, and sat on it.
“Coward,” Kyle said through a mouthful of multicolored waffle.
Heavy footsteps climbed the stairs to the top floor, there were muffled voices, and then three pairs of heavier footsteps descended, the front door banged again, and then two pairs of footsteps headed their way.
“Looks like Lee deserves the bravery award for today.” Sian took a sip of her juice as both Lee and Tony came into the kitchen. “We made waffles for breakfast if either of you wants any.”
“No. Thanks. Can you all come into the lounge? I’ve got something important I need to tell you,” Lee said.
“Why can’t you tell us in here?” Max asked, eating another mouthful.
“Does it have to be now, Lee?” Sian asked. “I’m doing the late shift at the bakery and have to leave in a minute.”
“It’s a Purple Method thing.”
“Okay, I guess I’ll see you all later, then.” Sian cleared her plate and put it in the dishwasher before heading upstairs.
“Lounge?” Lee walked through, clearly expecting them to follow, so Max shoved the last of his waffle into his mouth and got up.
Tony slumped on the sofa next to Kyle. “What the hell is all this about, Lee?”
“Chill out, Tony, it’ll only take a minute.” Lee scanned the room, clenching and relaxing his hands.
After sitting on the sofa next to Tony, Max rested his head on his brother’s shoulder. “So, what’s up?”
Tony flinched, and Max lifted his head. His brother was looking at Lee with a serious expression. “It’s okay, we’ve already guessed—”
Lee looked puzzled. “How could you know? I just got off the phone.”
“You’re looking a bit puffy. I’m not surprised you’re telling us now. It’s not like you could hide it for much longer. You know you have our support, right?”
Purple Method Page 9