DOUBLE TREBLE (A TWIN ROCKSTAR ROMANCE)

by Nikki Wild

  “With all these premium trappings attached… are these shows gonna come with after-parties?” Trevor asked, a growing smirk on his face.

  Jeremy paused, turning back around.

  “You have fallen into something huge here. Keep your head in the game. Don’t get in trouble, don’t fuck it up for each other, and play your souls out.”

  Then, a sly smile crossed his face.

  “But yeah. If you call that bullshit of yours the other night an after-party, then get ready for the real thing.

  “Work hard. Play hard."

  Jeremy strolled towards the front of the bus, pulling the door closed behind him. All of us were frozen, swapping incredulous looks with each other. Hell, even Trevor had stopped digging through the games, a case frozen in his hands.

  Aiden smiled mischievously.

  “I can work with that.”

  Phoenix

  So far, the boys had spent the first half of day one on the road practicing, which apparently involved a lot of cursing and loud complaining at each other.

  I watched them from time to time, but stopped after a while to lay in bed with my Kindle. This tour was going to give me a lot of time to catch up on my backlog of books, and I couldn’t be happier.

  The bus walls were surprisingly thick enough that I could mostly drown them out, so I lost myself in that screen for a good few hours.

  Well, until the knock at the door.

  “Come in,” I called out.

  I don’t know why I was surprised to see Dylan slip into the room, closing the door behind him. He took one longing look at me, sprawled out on my bed with the Kindle in one hand, and sucked in a small burst of air.

  “You look hot when you’re focused,” he smiled softly.

  “Dylan, you think I look hot all the time,” I shook my head. That was meant to be dismissive, but it came off as acknowledging and appreciative.

  Not that I had a problem with that.

  “Because you are,” he sat on the edge of my bed, his fierce gaze openly taking me in. “You’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever goddamn seen.”

  I laughed. “How many girls have fallen for that one?”

  “Two,” he answered slyly. “But I’ve never lied when I’ve said it. You put them both to shame.”

  “So what happens when you come across someone more beautiful than me?” I asked, pretending to still be reading.

  “Impossible,” he borderline hissed.

  “You sound like you believe that.”

  “I believe it with every ounce of my being. You’re a goddamn angel on the Earth.”

  That had way more effect on me than I cared to admit. Nervously, I quickly joked: “Are you calling me Satan? He’s the only angel below Heaven that comes to mind.”

  Dylan smiled deviously. “Being around you without so much as a single kiss is pretty hellish to me, so hey. It might be a good comparison. You’re the best thing to happen to this band in a long time.”

  He meant that sweetly, and I was flattered as all hell, but there was that goddamn elephant in the room…

  I turned away sadly.

  “Too much?” He asked, rising from the bed. “Sorry. I’ll just go back to our bandmates and watch them play–”

  “No, it’s not that,” I shook my head. Dylan lowered himself back down to the edge of the bed.

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s Alex,” I confessed.

  He raised an eyebrow sexily. “Alex?”

  I threw the Kindle down and sat up straight, holding my head in my hand. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t belong here, in this amazing bus with all of you. We barely know each other, and now I’m along for the ride? At the cost of a founding member?”

  “Aiden was right about him,” Dylan replied. “Alex fucked up. If we want to keep going forward, we needed something new, something better to hold us together…”

  “And you think that’s me?”

  “Absolutely. I knew that the very first second I saw you. Hell, Aiden did too.”

  “No, you knew you wanted me,” I reminded him with an impish grin. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what I heard you guys saying over that intercom when I was practicing…”

  “Why can’t it be both?” He grinned. “You’re talented. You know our songs. You’ve got spunk. So what if you’re new to this? So are we.”

  Well, that part was kind of true.

  “And besides,” he continued, “that doesn’t mean I can’t want to make sweet, toe-curling love to you every night…”

  The breath escaped my lungs.

  “Dylan,” I whispered, my breath catching in my lungs. “You can’t… we can’t…”

  “I’m glad Alex fucked up,” he went on. “Before, I wanted to punch his lights out the moment that I saw him again, but now? Now, I might want to buy him a stack of video games and a shiny new Xbox.”

  “He did so much for this band,” I sadly recalled. “And now he’s sitting in some rehab house somewhere while the rest of us soak up all the benefits of that hard work…”

  Dylan ran a sympathetic hand along my shoulder. “Remind yourself that he made his decisions,” he told me. “You didn’t force him to use. None of us did. That was all him.”

  “I knew it was coming,” I groaned.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh?”

  “You know I’m a big fan,” I tried to explain. “I keep up with the news, watch the live shows that are posted onto YouTube, the little scraps and rumors that circulate… I’m surprised that you guys didn’t catch on that he was using again.”

  Dylan went thoughtfully quiet.

  “He’s been more erratic lately. Playing sloppier, missing a few cues. I mean, did you guys pay attention to him at all?”

  “Alex is… complicated,” Dylan answered. “We knew he had his shit to deal with, but we didn’t think for a second that he was shooting up again, especially so close to a big break.”

  “You could have helped him.”

  “Aiden would say that he’s no babysitter, and I have to agree,” Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe we should have checked on him more, but Alex has always been private. He keeps to himself... But then he became a liability. Don’t you dare feel guilty about it. We needed to replace him, and you’re better than he ever was, sober or not.”

  “I can’t accept that I deserve this,” I broke down. “It’s so much at once. I thought I’d get to play a couple of shows and hang out with you guys – not join the band on some crazy tour. It should still be him here, not me.”

  “No, Phoenix,” he consoled me. “He chose that shit over the band. His choices jeopardized everything. If he’d just kept it together one more goddamn show, you wouldn’t be in this position.”

  “And I wouldn’t have met you,” I felt myself whispering aloud.

  Dylan smiled softly.

  “Which is why I’m not all that bothered,” he told me. “He’s safe where he is. No longer a danger to himself, or anyone else. I am perfectly happy where I am… being near you.”

  My traitorous heart fluttered.

  The door immediately popped open, and Dylan’s hand snapped off my shoulder. Aiden stood in the doorway, his eyes going back and forth between his brother and me.

  “Lunchtime in five,” he growled, closing the door behind himself.

  “He probably thinks we’ve been making out in here,” I groaned. “The door closed, just the two of us here, alone…”

  “We could be making out.”

  I laughed.

  “Yeah, not today, asshole,” I smiled.

  “Not today is fine by me,” he smirked. “Because that doesn’t mean never. There are plenty of days coming up that aren’t today…”

  When we climbed off the bus, Jeremy notified us that we were in Cincinnati– known for its impressive Oktoberfest, amazing food, and a whole lot of sports.

  He’d chosen a Skyline Chili restaurant in the heart of the gaslight district and, as we s
at over bowls of the most incredible ground beef stews I’ve ever encountered in my life, I figured there was strength to the claim.

  “By the way, I’m sure you guys are wondering about that promotional stuff from the other day,” Jeremy mentioned offhandedly as we were cleaning our plates. “It’s all going live right about now. By the time you’re back on the bus, that stuff should be online.”

  “Sweet,” Trevor grinned like a wild thing.

  Jeremy shared his enthusiasm. “Granted, I was hoping it would have been up faster, in all honesty… But there’s still time to move tickets for tomorrow night’s show. We’re not due onstage for about thirty hours?”

  Jeremy smiled before sipping another mouthful of his chili. He looked like he had died and gone to goddamn Stew Heaven. “You guys should probably spend some time practicing, yeah? Need me to give you a hand getting your gear back out from storage?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” Carter nodded.

  We wrapped up our meals and slapped it all on the tour’s expense account, then hopped back on the bus.

  Carter pulled out his laptop and got it set up at the booth in the den. The rest of us crowded around him as he synced it to the bus’ Wi-Fi signal and pulled up ShredHead, the industry-known website for alternative rock news and upcoming talent.

  And there we were.

  The front page of ShredHead was totally dominated by one of the promotional band photos from our shoot. It was put in a slider that would rotate the pictures and accompanying text every five seconds, so Carter paused the sliding effect – letting us just stupidly gawk at the photo of ourselves.

  “Good goddamn,” I heard Aiden gasp.

  All five of us had been positioned at a safety railing on the edge of a lifted concrete curb. The picture had been taken from straight on, although we had been a level up from the camera crew at the time.

  I was sitting on the concrete, one leg kicked out beneath the railing with the other dangling down.

  To my left was Dylan, leaning against the railing with a sweet, serene look on his face, his hands clasped together with forearms on the rail. Carter was standing to the left of him, aloofly staring off-screen with a hand casually threaded into his dreads.

  Aiden was sitting atop the rail beside me, one foot hooked lazily around a bar, and a powerfully seductive smirk plastered across his face. Trevor was to my far right, clutching the top rail in his fists, bent over, and grinning wildly.

  With the exception of Carter, all of us were facing the camera. My face was stern; Trevor looked deranged; Dylan was the image of adoration; Aiden gazed sexily. Altogether, it made for an incredibly striking picture of our band.

  The headline next to the image read:

  Decadent Desires on Tour: Meet the Freshest Faces in Alternative Rock!

  “Go on, then!” I briefly squeezed Carter’s shoulder. He glanced up at us prouder than ever, and then clicked the headline.

  The accompanying article captured us perfectly. After a few paragraphs outlining our history as a band, it dove straight into a lengthy spread of Q’s and A’s intermingled with portraits. My heart skipped a beat as we scrolled past the picture of Aiden and Dylan holding me, but thankfully it was off the screen quickly.

  The answers chosen, verbatim to pretty much anything that any of us told Jack, highlighted our best sides. Although we’d all answered the same questions, he picked the ones that shone the brightest and cast us in the best light.

  “We sound hardcore!” Trevor laughed.

  It was totally true.

  There was no denying it.

  We came off as absolutely knowing what we were doing, despite being a band of confused rockers who stumbled into the kind of opportunity that made careers.

  “Hell, even you sound interesting,” Aiden chuckled, glancing down at Carter.

  “Alright, wise guy,” our cool, brooding drummer shook his head, breaking character with a telling grin. “I’m interesting as hell. Are you even reading this? The way this guy’s written me, I come off as a goddamn philosopher.”

  “Is that a complaint?” I asked slyly.

  “Are you shitting me? After all of this, I’m gonna be drowning in women at these parties,” he laughed.

  A glimmer of jealousy struck me. I couldn’t help my eyes shifting to the guitarists beside me.

  Does that mean the twins are going to be up to their throats in groupies, too?

  After all, they had their reputation…

  Dylan instantly met my gaze.

  I groaned inwardly. Goddammit.

  “I’m not this crazy, am I?” Trevor asked, graciously defusing the moment. “I sound like I’m one cigarette shy of torching a park!”

  “You’re a deranged pyromaniac that once tried to juggle knives drunk out of his goddamn mind,” I affectionately told him. “That’s great sex appeal to the crazy chicks.”

  “You knew about that?” He asked.

  “I was a fan, remember? I read the interviews and followed the news on you guys. I know all about the wacky shit you people have been doing… well, all the stuff that got into the articles.”

  “All the articles?” Aiden asked, glancing over curiously.

  “Yeah. Including your reputations at the after-parties. I know all that stuff.”

  The twins shared a weakened glance. They apparently did not like hearing that little tidbit of information.

  “I do like the crazy ones…” Trevor nodded, lost in thought about what I’d said. “They’re a riot in bed.”

  “I’ll bet they are,” Carter smirked, his eyes still glued to the screen. Our aloof, brooding drummer was just as entranced in this fine piece of internet literature as the rest of us.

  Throughout the article were individual shots of us, showing our badass selves. I was surprised at how sexy mine looked. I was seductively pushing an index finger against my open lips while gazing the other way with innocent doe eyes.

  “Jesus, Phoenix…” Carter chuckled. “You look like a goddamn rock goddess!”

  I felt Aiden brush against me, looking over my shoulder. Within that brief window, I heard a low, quiet growl in my ear.

  My panties were instantly wet.

  His picture was next, later down in the interview. Shot from a side angle, sitting on a metal crate with his back to a brick wall, Aiden was cuffing his raised kneecap with his finger-locked hands. His haunted gaze was distant, almost pained, and averted from the camera.

  “That’s one killer modeling shot,” Carter spoke up. “Pulling that kind of emotion out of nowhere is genius, dude.”

  “Yeah,” Aiden quietly acknowledged.

  The others were too caught up in the website to notice the underlying sadness in that one syllable, but it rang as loud as Sunday church bells to me.

  I glanced at him.

  His eyes met mine.

  But the inferno that was usually in that burning gaze was gone. The fire had been smoldered, and only dust and smoke seemed to remain.

  I don’t know what convinced me to do it.

  The others, eyes glued to the screen, didn’t notice me put a hand on his shoulder. Nor did they see how his eyes slowly lit up, a warm smile crossing his lips.

  As I pulled back, I realized that Dylan had noticed after all. He was cutting his brother an angry look.

  Great.

  His picture was next. Dylan was positioned in front of a wall grate in a dusty, chaotic corner of the environment. He had his arms crossed and his back to the wall, face forlornly caught gazing off-screen.

  I had never seen either of the brothers this morose, not since meeting them nor in the fan photos posted to Facebook.

  My hand reactively moved to comfort him as well. This didn’t look like a manufactured pain; both brothers seemed to have darkness inside them, and it wrenched at my heartstrings.

  Dylan smiled sadly in appreciation while Aiden gruffly turned away, pretending to be caught up in something interesting outside.

  Carter’s photo portrayed
him as diabolical, both of his hands in his dreads as his face contorted into a laughing, sinister snarl.

  Trevor, on the other hand, was shown dangling upside down from a rail, his knees locked into the bars with one hand holding his shirt up. The guitarist’s rocker jacket dangled upside down around and past his head. His other, outstretched palm reached towards the camera, and a wild laugh consumed his face.

  After the ending remarks, we scrolled back up to the top. We’d seen that there was a spot for tour dates, and some of the latter ones were still missing, but we could at least check out the next month.

  First was Houston, tomorrow.

  San Antonio was next.

  Following that came El Paso.

  Fourth? Albuquerque.

  We were going to continue west, heading through both Flagstaff and Phoenix in hot, arid Arizona before a lengthy stay in California. We’d roll up the coast through oceanfront San Diego, Anaheim, Los Angeles, Bakersfield, San Francisco, and Sacramento.

  After that, we headed north again.

  We stopped in Oregon a few times, did the same in Washington, then worked our way southeast back to Denver, Colorado and Oklahoma City. From then, it was St. Louis, and then onward towards the Northeast.

  “Holy shit,” I gasped.

  Carter sat back in the booth, his fingers locked behind his head. I felt Aiden smiling beside me, his warmth practically radiating.

  “Looks like we’re going to be a little busy for a while,” he chuckled happily. “Anyone else feel like practicing their fucking hearts out for the next few hours?”

  “Hell yeah,” Dylan grinned at me, letting a little seduction slip into his expression. “We’ve got a fucking fanbase to build.”

  Dylan

  It seriously felt as if the five of us were building something incredible together.

  Houston was home to our very first night up on stage on the Decadent Desires national tour. The first spotlight under our new management was playing a theater-style venue called Fitzgerald’s. The five of us were blown away with the place. It was a stylish auditorium filled with a hemisphere of fancy red-and-black seating, but the place kept an authentic, hometown vibe. It sounded a mainstay on any serious tour.