These guys were hardcore. That was why it was a hard rock festival and not a pop one.
At that thought, Brandon grinned, but Mollie’s ice-cold glance at him made his lips shrivel. He stood aside then and watched as the last of Silverblade’s equipment came off the stage. His mind wandered back to Beth and the amazing kisses they’d shared just a few minutes earlier.
He knew they would kiss a little more before the evening was over…and maybe they could even take in one of the last shows of that day’s schedule together.
Brandon felt Jake’s arm drape over his shoulders long before he saw him. “Ah, my little drummer boy. So glad you could make it.”
“I’m not late.”
“Tell that to the manager.” Brandon got ready to respond, but Jake said, “Just yankin’ your chain, my boy. You’re fine.” He nodded, watching their roadies get to work, hauling pieces of his drum kit up the stairs onto the stage. “You excited to play your first festival?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s nothing like it.” The two of them watched the action a little more. Brandon often felt a little guilty watching these guys do all the heavy lifting, but more than once, Mollie had told him that was what those guys were paid for. And even the guys admitted that it was “better than a regular job.” They could display all their tattoos without fear of losing their job, grow their hair long, sleep late sometimes, and listen to great music everyday—and get paid for it. “You know we couldn’t do this shit without you, right?”
Wow. It was like Jake had known how Brandon had been feeling earlier since arriving here—feeling like they thought of him as a little kid, unimportant, insignificant. And all that was gone with one little sentence. “Thanks, Jake.”
“You’re a helluva drummer, man. We’re lucky you’re on board.”
Brandon grinned, spying Kyle across the way talking with Mollie. “Holy crap, dude. She’s wearing her leather pants? Is she crazy?”
“Look at the leather bra with it. She’s baring enough skin to keep her cool enough—but she wanted to give the fans an authentic experience.”
“But jeans—”
“I hear ya. She can handle the heat, though.”
Indeed, she could. Brandon, though…maybe now was a great time to ask for a little advice. He cleared his throat, glad that there was no music to shout over for a few moments. It was an awkward question, so Brandon was relieved that he didn’t have to look Jake in the eyes to ask it, because they were still watching the roadies load up the stage. “Weird question—have you ever…kissed a fan?”
He could hear the amusement in Jake’s voice as the bassist answered him. “Who hasn’t? Why? You considering it?”
He wasn’t grinning but he turned his head away, making it even harder for Jake to see his face. “I already did.”
“Oh, good for you, my boy.” But Jake wasn’t just going to let it lie. “Today?”
Brandon was glad it was scorching hot outside, because the heat on his cheeks wouldn’t be noticeable. But he wasn’t going to lie to his friend. “Yeah.”
“How old are you now, Brandon?”
No…please, not another damn lecture. “Nineteen.”
Jake cocked his head. “Don’t you say a single word to Kyle, got it?” He nodded and let Jake continue. “During her time in the Vagabonds, she was exposed to all kinds of shit she shouldn’t have been at her age—and she’s a little overprotective because of it.”
Brandon couldn’t help the sarcasm. “You think?”
“She cares about you…and wants to save you in her own strange way. But I think you should enjoy everything the road has to offer—including groupies.”
Was that what Beth was? A groupie? She certainly didn’t fit the stereotype. He saw the groupies that followed Last Five Seconds and Beth didn’t seem to be cut from that cloth. But what did he know? He hadn’t been in this business long at all. Maybe groupies came in all sizes. Maybe they weren’t just the pathetic but pretty girl who wanted to be loved—even if love meant blowing four or five band members a night…or the older lady who’d always wanted to be significant to the band but, sadly, also hung around to be nothing more than the primary dick sucker.
But as Brandon processed what he knew about Beth, he realized that she might fit the mold somewhat. She’d befriended him. Now, this was her first Kyle Summers show, so far as he knew, but that didn’t mean it was her last. What was most concerning was her stalker-like behavior (breaking into the bus and taking things that belonged to him—after rifling through who knew how much stuff) and then the fact that, even though he was welcoming it, she jumped on him.
Brandon grinned. He already had a groupie. Jake said, “I thought you’d like that idea. But one thing, man. Don’t be stupid. That means wear a condom and don’t let her spend the night with you.”
“Why not?”
“Well, you don’t want diseases.”
“No, why not spending the night?”
“You don’t want ‘em getting attached…do you?”
He hadn’t thought that far ahead, and he hadn’t had any experience, so how was he to know if getting attached could be a problem? “You mean like when a cute little kitten keeps coming to the backyard and you play with it—and your mom tells you to not get attached? And it’s a good idea, because your dad takes the kitten to the Humane Society the next day? That kind of not getting attached?”
Jake paused and looked from the work being done to Brandon. “Well…that’s not exactly what I was thinking of, but I guess it’s the same concept.” He turned his eyes back to the stage where one of the roadies—Garrett, the guy who seemed to have something to hide—was adjusting a microphone. “Shit. Who’d do that anyway?”
No way was Brandon going to tell him that was a true story, and it had taught him exactly what his parents had wanted it to—to not get attached—but he wondered if he’d really learned that lesson, because he hadn’t had any chances to put it to the test. But, since he now had someone to ask questions of, he decided to take advantage of the last few minutes they had before going onstage. “So let’s say it was you. Let’s say you met a fan before the show and she planted an amazing kiss on you. What would you do after the show?”
“Do you have her contact info?”
No. What an idiot. Brandon hadn’t even thought to ask. But then he remembered the text message, the one with the drumsticks. Maybe he had her number…unless she had someone working in cahoots with her, always a possibility. “No, but we were planning to meet after the show.”
Jake’s grin grew wider. “Ha, my boy. That’s what I’m talking about. Laying the foundation. Okay, a meeting plan is just as good as having her number. So, if it was me and I had plans to meet a groupie later, I’d be thinking and doing several things. I’d first do a condom check—how many do I have and are they at the ready?”
“Like in your wallet?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Have any condoms on ya?”
“No.”
Jake’s expression was one of exasperation. But then he said, “Well, of course, you don’t. Kyle practically has a chastity belt wrapped around your monster.” Jake reached behind him, pulling a wallet out of his pocket, one that was attached to a chain hooked to a belt loop. Brandon remembered Jake saying one time that “chicks dug” them. “So, my second question would be what you plan to do.”
Brandon shrugged his shoulders, surprised at how high his voice sounded. “I don’t know.” He cleared his throat, adjusting his tone, and added, “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“I should give you three just to be sure, but I don’t have enough.” The bassist pulled two small shiny blue packages out of his wallet, turning so that Kyle couldn’t see what was happening, just in case she looked over at the right moment. “Keep these in your wallet—but no more than a week. These things aren’t effective if you keep them mashed up in there for too long—especially in a sauna like this place. And you
don’t want a shitload of baby Brandons running all over the United States, just ‘cause you kept your raincoat under wraps for too long.”
Brandon started laughing as he tucked the condoms into his front pocket. He appreciated the advice from his friend. He’d talked sex ed with his dad a little bit when he was younger, but the conversation tended toward abstinence rather than safe sex, and Brandon had done some digging online, but when you didn’t know what questions to ask, it was hard to find answers. Just a short conversation with a friend who cared was making all the difference. “Thanks.”
“You know how to use these bad boys?”
Brandon shrugged. “In theory.”
“Oh, hell, man. We need to buy you a damn box and have you practice next time we’re staying in a hotel. You need practice. But that’s not gonna help you tonight. So what you do is you grab the tip…” Jake was miming the actions but was interrupted by Mollie, who—like a nosy ghost—appeared next to them, nearly making Brandon jump out of his skin.
“Ready, guys?”
“Yeah.”
“Go ahead and get backstage.” Mollie pointed to the side of the stage. “The guys are going to do a quick sound check and the fans are filing in.” She nodded her head to the audience area, and Brandon turned his head, happy to see they were going to have as many listeners as Silverblade had before them. “Let’s rock this, guys.”
Brandon smiled, squeezing the condoms in his pocket one last time before pulling his hand out. It was time to focus—but that wouldn’t be a problem. If Brandon felt at home anywhere, it was behind his drums. And those huge fans just might be the relief from the oppressive heat he’d been needing. He and Jake walked over next to Kyle and the three of them made their way backstage together. Their front woman looked like she was glowing—no doubt from the temperature, but she looked as gorgeous as ever. Brandon couldn’t quite read her expression, but it appeared to be one of amusement. “Ready for your first festival?”
“Yeah.”
The grin on her face faded as she said, “Jake, please tell me you weren’t giving Brandon weed or some shit like that.”
Crap—Kyle had seen the exchange. Dammit. There went all his plans out the window.
“No. I was giving him protection, something we all need to avoid some of the hazards on the road.” Kyle arched an eyebrow but said nothing, and her eyes slid over to Brandon as Jake continued. “Our lad has a groupie, and I think he should take advantage.”
“Just be safe.”
“Thus the condoms, m’lady.”
Kyle laughed. “Let’s show Vegas this heat’s got nothin’ on us.” She tilted her head, inviting Brandon to make his way onstage and take his place behind the drums, the first band member the audience would see, as was custom for their shows.
The drummer felt almost dazed as he realized that he had the green light from everyone—everyone—and he was trying to figure out if that was a good thing as he took his spot on the stool behind the drum kit, absorbing the energy in the desert air ebbing off the people they were getting ready to play for.
Chapter Eight
This was the part of the show where Brandon’s upper arms started feeling a little tired. But that was okay, because they’d built into their act something to combat the fatigue. Kyle was getting ready to do her three-minute long solo (sometimes anywhere from five to fifteen minutes if she was inspired), and the rhythm there wasn’t quite so demanding. There were spots in the solo, in fact, where he and Jake simply stood back and let her do her thing.
But one thing he could say for sure—playing for a festival audience was amazing, and he didn’t know how his bandmates felt, but this seemed like one of their best shows ever. It just felt tight.
He’d been trying to look out over the audience, trying to find Beth. Since it was still light outside, the stage lights didn’t interfere like at most nighttime concerts. He could actually see the crowd and that was even cooler. They were into their band, a small circle of moshers near the front and the regular headbangers right behind them. There were a few hardcore fans nearer to the stage—as close as all the security measures would let them get—and Brandon could honestly say there was no sensation on the planet like the one he got from performing for an engaged and appreciative audience. But individual faces—that was hard, especially the farther they got out. There were too many people and he couldn’t spend that much time scrutinizing each one of them, especially with Jake roaming around the stage while he played.
They got to the second-to-last song, one of his favorites. It was a hard and heavy song called “The Bitch is Back.” It had a driving rhythm, one that required Brandon to move quickly and efficiently—but it was easy, because the song demanded it and sounded so damn good. It started with a cool drum solo, one of the few opportunities Brandon really had to showcase his talent, and the best part was he got to play a little more with that part on the road. By the time the guitar and bass joined in, the audience was screaming and roaring—excited and ready to rock some more.
Brandon almost felt chills when they got to the guitar solo, one of his favorite parts of the song. Just the way Kyle had composed the notes touched him on an emotional level…but that was what he loved about hard rock music in the first place. It was a crazy notion, but the music spoke to him—to his soul—and he would never stop loving it. The best part, though, and that was for any song they played, was watching the audience sing the lines they knew, and a lot of times, that meant almost all of them were singing the chorus. That was when he could see that these weren’t just fans of the genre watching a band they were curious about. These were fans of the band. The people in the audience banging their heads and singing the lyrics had not only listened to Kyle’s words and music once or twice; they loved it. They embraced it.
And nothing could replace the way that touched his soul.
So by the time they were playing the last song of the set, Brandon was on a high that he knew no drug could give him and he felt connected with humanity on a level that nothing else would ever allow. The big fans were still blowing on him, keeping his body temperature regulated, and he could see the power of the sun waning as it was disappearing in the west, but it was still light out and still hotter than he was used to. In fact, his tank was damp with sweat and he wanted to shower before meeting up with Beth.
As they left the stage, the sound and energy of the crowd following them as they walked behind the security guys, the roadies got to work removing all their stuff so the next act could get ready to rock the crowd. He and Jake wrapped their arms around Kyle as they walked over to Mollie. “Great job, guys. This is a show to remember. What a crowd. You can be proud of yourselves!”
Brandon smiled as they all congratulated each other, hugging and giving high fives, but he didn’t know that he was worthy of that praise. After all, the only thing he really did was keep the beat. And even though he loved every minute of it, he wasn’t the guy revving up the crowd—he most definitely wasn’t the guy the audience came to see. And he finally said as much.
But Kyle wasn’t having it. “Are you kidding me? Brandon, there are drummers, and then there are masters of drums. Man, you are so damn young, but…” Kyle’s voice got low as she focused on him alone, grabbing his shoulders in her hands, her guitar slung over her back. “You are truly one of the most talented drummers I have ever heard. You keep the beat, yeah, but you try new things, you play around, you make it your own. You play with heart. Jake and I couldn’t do what we do if you weren’t in the background doing your thing. And if I have my say, you’ll be in my band till the day I die.”
Brandon didn’t play for the praise or the glory; he played for the fun…and so he never would have expected how much hearing those words from Kyle would have impacted him. There was never any doubt that Kyle was one of the most talented guitarists in metal, but he’d never thought about himself and Jake, the rest of her band. In fact, he’d always known that it was Kyle’s name that would sell the records and pack
in the crowds, so to have her tell him he was invaluable—to have that sentiment impact him as deeply as it did surprised him. The only words he had were “Thank you, Kyle. That means a lot.”
She gave him a big grin and pulled him into an embrace. Then she whispered in his ear, “Now go get laid—but use the damn rubber Jake gave you, okay?”
For that, he had no words.
* * *
Brandon didn’t have a chance for that shower he’d been wanting, because Beth first texted him and then found him backstage way before he could get to the bus. The sounds of heavy music wafted through the warm spaces as dusk settled upon them. “I’m gonna head back to my bus for a little bit.”
Beth grabbed his hand and started leading him the other way. “That’s what you think.” Brandon got ready to protest but felt a tiny surge of adrenaline rushing through his veins. He didn’t think Beth was dangerous, but this was unknown and exciting and, still feeling the high from connecting with the crowd, he was game for almost anything.
They took the long way through the festival, now crammed with people and music and darkness above them with Beth leading the way. She’d glance at him every so often, a smile on her soft peach face, before turning to navigate through the throngs of people.
The music got louder as they got close to the second stage, and Brandon recognized the voice and the sound of that particular guitar, but it was a new song, one he’d never heard before—and the crowd was eating it up. The energy was indescribable, just like it had been this entire time.
Soon they were wending their way back through the parking area, where they had to contend with more cars than people. It was dark out there with an occasional light at the end of the lots placed to help people find their way through. Brandon almost asked where they were going, but he was enjoying the journey far too much to spoil the moment.
Dirty Boys: Bad Boy Rock Star Romance Box Set Page 121