Damien directed an exaggerated scowl in his wife’s direction, but it morphed into a tiny smile before he picked up the drink and took a sip.
“No beer for you, Damien?” Brett asked, trying to make conversation with the surly bassist.
“I’m a recovering alcoholic and addict,” Damien sneered. “Everyone knows that.”
Brett didn’t, obviously, and he felt like he just stuck his foot in his mouth.
It was quiet as another round of bets took place. This time, Angel threw down his cards. “That’s it for me. I’m afraid your practicality is rubbing off on me,” he told Tommy.
Damien stared directly at Brett and threw a twenty on the table. “How do you know Kira?”
Brett stared right back at him. “We met at a coffee shop.”
Laughter bellowed from Jimmy’s mouth. “That was some cup of coffee.” He realized he shouldn’t have said anything and tucked his chin into his chest trying to hide his smile.
Great. Kira told Audra, and Audra told Jimmy. If Jimmy told his bandmates, Brett didn’t stand a chance at getting on Damien’s good side, assuming he had one. It shouldn’t matter to Brett what Damien thought, but it did. Because of Kira.
“She’s a good girl,” Damien stated. “She’s not like the chicks that hang around Bulletproof.”
“Dude. All of the guys in Bulletproof are gay.” Brett gave Damien a sarcastic smirk. “Everyone knows that.”
This time, Tommy was the one who burst out laughing. Only he didn’t try to tone it down. He slapped his knee and fell into Angel, which clearly pissed off Damien.
Brett pulled on his beard, regretting taunting Damien with the guy’s own words. He threw his money into the center of the table and tried to figure out how to relieve the tension between the two.
“Kira’s like a sister to us,” Damien said, still not taking his eyes off Brett. “I’ve known her since she was a teenager. I’d do anything for that girl.”
“Yes,” Angel agreed, but in a much softer tone. “We have very strong family values, and we’re all family here.”
“Not everyone,” Damien pointed out, his jaw set in stone.
Jimmy threw his cards down. “I’m out. You two can just measure dicks and get it over with, instead of showing your cards.”
Damien displayed an evil grin. “Either way, I’d win.”
Brett grunted then pressed his lips together, intent on not letting Damien provoke him, even though his blood pressure was rising. Instead, he turned his attention back to his hand. He still had the pair of threes and the ace, but he picked up another ace on the last card exchange. He had two pairs, aces high. He knew he’d beat the pair of queens Damien had showing, unless the guy had a third lady hidden. While Brett scratched at his beard, contemplating how much money he was willing to lose, Damien threw a fifty on the table.
“Whoa!” Jimmy exclaimed, playfully shaking Brett’s knee.
Everyone waited to see what Brett would do, Damien most of all. That guy knew how to deliver a searing dirty look, but the sinister grin he wore right now was enough to make someone’s blood run cold. Not Brett, though. He didn’t give a shit. Only, he did. Again, because of Kira. He matched Damien’s bet and waited.
After a few seconds, Damien said, “Call.” And turned over his down cards. In addition to the pair of queens, he had a pair of deuces. Brett had the higher pairs. He won. A gloating smile spread across his face as he met everyone’s eyes, then stopped on Damien.
Damien’s eyes narrowed slightly, challenging him, but already glowing with victory.
You are so fucking wrong. Brett picked up his cards and rearranged them so the aces and threes all sat next to one another. He was about to reveal his hand, but at the last second, he threw his cards face down on the table. “You got me. I only had the pair of threes.”
Damien sprung to his feet, fists raised in victory, almost hitting the ceiling, and let out a loud, “Woo hoo!”
The other guys cheered and patted Damien on the back as he scooped up the cash on the table, which had to be several hundred dollars. Damien glanced up at Brett as he gathered the bills and nodded, the rare smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. “You’re a good sport. But I’m still taking your money, roadie.”
“Go ahead,” Brett said, with a wave of his hand, even though the remark, and the way Damien said it, irked the hell out of him. “It was a fair game. You won.”
Kira entered the living area as the rest of the guys all headed toward the kitchen. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“I just beat the pants off your guy,” Damien boasted. “I hope you don’t have to give him a loan.”
Kira displayed a bewildered smile as she looked from Damien to Brett, then sat on the couch next to him. “How much money did you lose?”
“It doesn’t matter. I have my ATM card.”
“Brett!”
“I’m kidding. It wasn’t that much. We had fun, and I got to know your friends. That’s all that counts.”
“Still . . . you shouldn’t have been playing for money.” She picked up his cards from the table and flipped them over. “You had a good hand. What did he beat you with?”
Brett tried to stop her from reaching across the table and fanning out Damien’s cards, but she already saw them, so he fell back in his seat and sighed.
She looked at both sets of cards, wrinkles furrowing her beautiful porcelain skin. “Wait. You had the winning hand.” Her shoulders fell. “You let him win. Why?”
“Because. He obviously has trust issues. I didn’t want to win a big pot of cash when it was just me and him. He’s important to you. And you’re really important to him. I thought it would keep the peace if he won.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but only a grunt came out, and her jaw remained agape.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Brett! Of course it is. I can’t believe you did that.”
“It’s just money, Kira. I—”
“It’s not the money. I can’t believe you lost on purpose because you wanted him to like you.” She curled into his lap and kissed him tenderly. “That was so sweet.”
Her touch gave him shivers, and if she was going to kiss him like that, he’d throw his whole damn wallet on the table next time.
Brett was used to backstage access and watching the show from the side of the stage, but he wasn’t used to the VIP treatment that he received the moment he stepped off the tour bus. He had always faded into the background while the talent was treated like royalty. Being with Kira and the band meant that he received the rock star treatment right along with them. A swarm of paparazzi and fans rushed at the vehicle as soon as it entered the parking lot to the hotel. Security was already in place to hold back the crowd and barricades were erected to form a direct line from the bus into the main entrance. They had to wait while Audra went inside and picked up card keys for everyone, which incited the crowd.
Fans screamed louder when they stepped off the bus, and camera phones were jutted in their direction at every angle in order to catch a photo. Paparazzi shouted questions, hoping for a brief interview. A flash went off in Brett’s face and a voice asked about his affiliation with Immortal Angel, obviously intrigued by the newcomer within this tight-knit group.
He knew better than to answer and kept walking, even though he wanted to pop the guy for being so fucking rude. Another barricade was waiting for them inside the hotel that led to the elevator bank, although most of the crowd was restrained outside.
When Brett and Kira checked into their room, there was a bottle of champagne on ice and a platter of expensive gourmet cheeses waiting for them. More astonishing than that, was the luxurious suite that they’d be sharing. He knew this couldn’t be courtesy of Falcon Records. Kira mentioned that this was a working vacation for her, but there was no reason for the label to go overboard with a room this extravagant, even if her father owned the company. And then there was the champagne and platter of cheeses. He quickly realiz
ed that this was Kira’s doing and the expense was on her dime. “Are you paying for all of this?” He felt like an idiot for asking and never wanted to bring up the subject of money, but he knew the grand suite was solely for his benefit.
Kira wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a smile with a tilt of her head, which made her silky dark blonde hair fall to the side. “It’s nothing, Brett.”
Not only was his ego wounded, but he didn’t want her flaunting her wealth in his face. “I can’t let you pay for something like this. It’s too extravagant. Why don’t we just get a normal room? We don’t need something this fancy. I’m just a regular guy. You don’t need to impress me.”
She looked insulted and stood a little taller. Or hurt that he thought she was trying to buy his affection. Then he realized that this was a normal room for Kira Abelman. Well, maybe a little fancier than normal, but obviously not as over the top as he viewed it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve never stayed in anything half as nice as this. That’s all.”
The smile returned to her lips, and she blinked slowly. “OK. I splurged a little. It’s our first night together in a long time. A night I never thought would materialize. And don’t think for one minute that I’m going to let you pay for accommodations on this tour. You’re my guest, even if you’re working. Whether or not you ride with me on the tour bus is up to you. I understand that you need to play nice with the fellow members of the road crew. I understand how that works. But when we stay at hotels, I want you to stay with me. Not bunk with Joey or Mike.”
Conceding came easily, only because he found it impossible to argue with her. “All right, as long as this is a one-time thing. I don’t want you to book a big suite like this every time we have a hotel stay.” He glanced around the room, nodding his approval. “It’s a gorgeous room. Perfect for our first night.”
They began to smile as they stared at one another, because they both knew they were finally alone. He moved a step closer to her and cupped her face in his hands before moving his lips to hers. A fire burned in his veins as their bodies touched, and he finally allowed himself to feed the desire that had been churning inside him all day. They made love in the beautiful canopied bed among silken sheets and fluffy pillows. Afterwards, he couldn’t stop touching her. His fingers dusted her arm from shoulder to wrist. His lips brushed hers while he traced the perimeter of her face. Her hair felt like luxurious satin under his hand.
She seemed just as preoccupied, running her fingertips through his beard and her hands over the curve of his shoulders. Tiny kisses peppered his chest and neck.
They stayed in each other’s arms, blissfully content, until they were forced to get ready for the night’s show.
Brett’s first setup with the crew went smoothly. They were a cool bunch of dudes who didn’t treat him like a newcomer. They respected his long career in the industry and accepted his input on a few technical suggestions without resentment. He was the only roadie who hung around backstage, though.
“I know this is very different from Bulletproof’s backstage madness,” Kira teased. “I’ve heard the stories.”
“And they’re all true.”
She laughed a little. “I’m sure they are.”
Unlike Bulletproof’s out-of-control pre-show parties, Immortal Angel chilled before the show. No one’s dressing room was the epicenter of a free-for-all good time. Angel did his vocal exercises. Audra ran around like a lunatic making sure everything was on schedule. Jessi sorted Angel’s stage attire and tended to last-minute adjustments. Tommy sat with his Les Paul on his knee as if it were one of his children. Damien and Alyssa sat together on a small couch talking quietly. And Jimmy relaxed in a lush chair, drumming a beat on his knees.
Everyone sat around, talking and killing time, until Audra burst through the door, clipboard in hand, and ushered everyone to the stage. The band did the normal pre-show huddle as the crowd chanted, “Imooortal! Aaaangel!” over and over.
Brett draped his arm over Kira’s shoulder and could feel the energy coursing through her. She bounced on the balls of her feet and patted her hands together in time to the collective chant of the crowd.
Tommy shouted, “It’s showtime!” He started wailing on his guitar, ran on stage and slid to his knees. An uproar of panty-melting screams from girls at the front of the railing made Brett place his hands over his ears. The girls loved Tommy Blade, that was for damn sure.
Jimmy ran behind his drum kit and raised his sticks toward the ceiling in one fist, causing another loud round of cheers.
Next, Damien leisurely sauntered on stage as if an arena full of people hadn’t been waiting for the headliner for the past three hours. He slipped the strap of his bass guitar over his head, which momentarily got caught on his sky-high Mohawk. He looked into the audience at the screaming fans and a wicked grin spread across his face, then he saluted them with a middle finger.
Brett waited for Angel to take the stage, but Angel wasn’t moving from the curtain. He just stood there with a smile on his face as he listened to 20,000 people calling his name. His opening outfit, a long black leather cape with a row of huge menacing spikes down the center, made him look like a mixture of Dracula and Godzilla. “That’s fucking wicked cool,” Brett commented.
“My wife is an incredible designer.” Angel glanced at Jessi with pride. She presented her cheek, and he dutifully kissed it.
At least a full minute passed before Angel walked onto the stage. As soon as he did, the lights went out and a single spotlight illuminated him in a triangle of white. By this time, half the crowd was standing on chairs and hollering with their fists in the air. The other half were stomping their feet so hard that the floor shook like a 5.0 earthquake.
Angel whipped the cape open and pointed to the ceiling at the exact moment the lights went up with a thunderclap. The band erupted into the radical sound of Cyanide Sensation, and Angel’s impeccable vocals filled the arena.
Halfway through the next song, Angel sauntered over to Tommy and assaulted the guitar player with the sexual lyrics of Dirty Love. Tommy dropped to his knees. He violated the guitar with an upwards thrust of his hips and leaned in a backwards arc while his long blond hair dusted the floor and his fingers danced across the neck of his Les Paul.
Tommy executed an intense solo that fused punk rock with hard rock undertones, proving that he was the master of blending genres.
“He’s got mad skills,” Brett told Kira, truly astonished at witnessing the phenomenon firsthand.
She inhaled a deep breath through her smile. “I know. I’ll always remember the first time I saw Tommy on stage. He blew everyone away, but most of all, he made Angel come alive out there. He brought the band to superstardom.”
Brett returned his gaze to the show just in time to see Tommy jump to his feet. He stalked Angel with the neck of his Les Paul, who backed up to the drum riser. With nowhere to escape, Angel grabbed a chunk of Tommy’s hair, yanked his head back and delivered a smoldering kiss. The crowd went nuts.
Brett had never seen anything like it. The eroticism that the two displayed on stage pushed the raunchy punk rock lyrics to a new level. He glanced at Kira, now standing arm in arm with Audra. Both girls were riveted as they watched Angel and Tommy. But it was Jessi who wore a lust-filled gaze, mouth partly open, eyes hooded, as she watched her two husbands.
Jimmy went off the rails with a gut-busting drum solo that snapped Brett’s head back toward the stage and left everyone’s mouth agape. Jimmy hit the drums so hard he broke a stick. He grabbed a new one, twirled it between his fingers, then tossed it high in the air before catching it and continuing with his attack on the skins.
“That’s my man,” Audra stated, proudly.
“He’s really an amazing drummer,” Brett agreed.
The next song was Punk Rock Revolution, which was a powerhouse of angry lyrics and a hardcore punk rock anthem. The crowd was wild and riled up, and security was on high alert.
Damien
stepped up to the mic and screamed, “Circle pit!” Which set off a near riot as the crowd rallied in a savage mosh pit that spanned half the width of the arena. Security glared at Damien, pissed that he incited the unruly behavior, but he just gave them twin middle fingers.
Alyssa clapped her hands together and laughed up to the ceiling. “That’s my guy!”
The rest of the show was filled with nonstop energy and heart-stopping music. It was Brett’s first gig with Immortal Angel and the first concert he shared with Kira. He slung his arm over her shoulder as the band took their closing bow. She was practically jumping out of her skin with excitement, and he was almost as worked up as she was.
“The show was great, wasn’t it?” she asked. “Did you have a good time?”
The entire day, starting with surprising Kira at the tour bus up until now, had been an escalating series of events, each better than the last. “I had an incredible time. Today has probably been one of the best days of my life. And I think it’s only the beginning of many more.”
The next morning, they were all back on the bus, this time from Pennsylvania to Ohio. Brett felt more comfortable and sat in the main living compartment on the first floor while Kira made some phone calls in their bedroom. Everyone was scattered among the different rooms, so he was by himself. He picked up the remote and was about to turn on the flat screen, when he found a drum magazine sitting on the seat next to him and thumbed through it. Pages were dog-eared, and the cover was wrinkled, obviously a well-read piece of material that most likely belonged to Jimmy Wilder.
“Is that my magazine?”
Brett looked up when he heard the young voice asking the question.
The boy plopped down on the seat next to him and leaned forward to get a look at the magazine’s cover. “Yup. That’s it.”
“You must be Mason.” This kid, with his infectious smile and dimples a mile wide, was, no doubt, Jimmy Wilder’s son.
The kid smiled even wider. “How’d you know my name?”
The Roadie: Radical Rock Stars Book 7 Page 7