Rocking Hard: Volume 1

by Sol Crafter, Diana Sheridan, Talya Andor, Lacie J. Archer, Angel Propps

  "I'm saving that for later in my hotel room," Luis responded with a laugh. Then, to Dale, "You'll stay in my room tonight?"

  "What if Glam calls my room looking for me and I'm not there?"

  "Tell her you'll be in my room. It's no problem. Anyhow she's more likely to call your cell phone if she needs you." He kissed Dale, his lips firm yet soft, dry and insistent, his tongue probing into Dale's mouth between Dale's parted lips.

  "Get a room!" hooted Tom.

  "Don't mind him. We all kid around, but it's good-natured. They're a great group of guys."

  "Mostly straight?" Dale asked.

  "Mixed," Luis answered, "but everybody's cool with everyone else's life. No hassles here. You're gonna love touring with this group. You ever toured before?"

  "No, and I haven't traveled much at all, for that matter. I took a few business trips with my former employer, but Mr. B. didn't travel all that much himself. I've been to New York, Boston, L.A., and Cincinnati—what a disaster that trip was!"

  "Tell me about it," prompted Luis, and so Dale regaled him with the story of a nightmare business trip in which everything that could have gone wrong did, from missed flight connections to lost luggage, from bedbugs in the hotel to horrible restaurant food, from a flat tire in the limo on the way back to the airport to nasty, sleety weather.

  "And the business end of it was a total disaster for Mr. B. as well. Enduring all that agony and to no good end."

  "I thought you said he was a patron of the arts?" Luis queried. "Business?" He rested his hand familiarly on Dale's knee.

  "Well, if he was going to donate to various arts causes, he had to make his money somewhere. He didn't put all his money into the arts. He invested a lot of it, too, and for the most part, he was shrewd and saw great returns on his investments. But this one—in Cincinnati—had gone sour, and so he traveled—we traveled—to Cincinnati to see what he could do to rectify the situation. The trip was a total waste of time. All that agony and for nothing." Following Luis's lead, he rested a hand on Luis's knee. At that, Luis squeezed Dale's knee and leaned in for another kiss.

  Dale had not had even the most casual sex since losing Max. Nobody had appealed to him, and he was not the sort to go to a bar and pick up someone whose only merit was that he was available for the night. There had to be a genuine attraction, and he had not felt that with anyone since Max's death up till now. How much of his imperviousness to other men resulted from his grief and how much was the result of his fussiness he didn't know, but he was pleased to feel a stirring in his loins as well as a romantic longing deep within him. Dale didn't know if Luis would turn out to be the next great love of his life or merely the recipient of his longings for the next little while, but he was sure he would be more than just a one-night stand.

  As if Luis were tuned in to his thoughts, he asked, "So … you really loved this Max, huh?" There was no jealousy in his voice. All Dale heard was caring and concern.

  "Yes, I did," Dale admitted frankly. "We were together for two wonderful years, and my only regret is that it didn't last longer. But you know what they say about 'When God closes a door he opens a window.' I think a window just opened for me." He put a finger to Luis's forehead, then lightly trailed it down to his nose, then touched his lips and traced the oval of them as Luis parted them slightly.

  Opening his mouth wider, Luis leaned forward so that he now had the tip of Dale's forefinger in his mouth. Simultaneously closing his mouth and sucking lightly, he drew Dale's finger farther into his mouth and sucked harder. He ran his tongue around the visiting finger, and then he sucked and released, sucked and released, in clear insinuation of what he planned to do to a certain other part of Dale later on.

  Dale planted a kiss on Luis's nose, and Luis let go of his finger. "Now tell me more about your last lover," Dale prompted.

  "Roberto and I were the 'odd couple' for sure, but the funny thing was that it worked. He owns a small business and dresses conservatively. I was working in a salon in Denver when I first met him, and when I wasn't in my smock, I tended to dress outrageously. He's a health food freak, and I'm absolutely addicted to everything that's bad for me—double bacon cheeseburgers, pork rinds, triple-scoop ice cream sundaes, chicken fried in deep fat. You name it. He's a political conservative. I'm a knee-jerk liberal. He's anti-drug. I toke. There's more, but you get the picture. Oh, and I'm for Puerto Rican statehood and he's for independence."

  "He's a Puerto Rican too?"

  "By descent, yes, although he was born in New York City." Luis's hand, the one that was on Dale's knee, slid halfway up to mid-thigh now.

  "But you say it worked out well between you despite the differences?"

  "Well, I guess there were enough similarities to help make it work. We're both college-educated and passionate about getting ahead in our respective fields. We're both devoted to our families, even though I don't get to see my parents very often anymore." A sigh escaped his mouth as a cloud crossed his face. "But the differences were greater than the similarities."

  "So is that what broke you up?"

  "No, our differences balanced out. We complemented each other. The thing is, we each respected the other's right to be who he was. Roberto never tried to change me, and I never tried to change him. Take the food thing, for instance. He would sometimes explain to me why he ate the way he did and what it was doing for him, but if I wanted to continue to eat the way I do, he would never proselytize or call my food choices 'garbage' or put me down for my eating style. There was a great deal of respect flowing in both directions."

  "Then what happened?"

  "He met someone else."

  "Someone more like him?"

  "No. Ironically, Damon is just as different from him as I am, only in different ways. I don't really know what happened. I thought we had a solid, unbreakable relationship, and then he started drifting away. He was captivated by Damon. I am as baffled today as I was when it happened. I guess we just didn't have as strong a relationship as I'd thought. I mean, for this other man to just be able to walk in and catch his attention and turn him around like that …

  "Apparently he cheated on me with Damon, and at first he meant it to be a one-night stand. That would have shocked me badly enough even if that had been all that happened, but then Damon started calling him, and he found himself wanting to be with Damon. And he broke up with me. He made a full confession, apologized, told me the whole sordid story. I appreciate his honesty, but I almost wish he had spared me. I didn't need to hear the whole story. They say confession is good for the soul, but whose soul? Not the person listening. Not the person who's been hurt. It didn't help me any!" Luis's voice rose, and he choked on his words.

  Removing his hand from Luis's knee, Dale put his arm around Luis's shoulder consolingly. It was an odd position to be in, he thought—attracted to a new man and yet comforting that man over his recent breakup with someone else.

  "He's still very much a presence in your head," Dale observed astutely. "You said 'He's this and I'm that,' not 'He was this and I was that.' Usually when people speak of a past relationship they speak in the past tense, but you didn't. You used the present tense. Are you still hoping he'll come back to you?"

  "No. I've given up. That was three months ago—around the same time your Max died. Roberto is dead for me too. It's time to move on." He turned to face Dale full-on, an awkward maneuver in the airplane seat. Then he planted a soft, closed-mouthed kiss briefly on Dale's lips. "And I want to move on with you."

  "Fasten your seatbelts, folks," came the pilot's voice over the intercom.

  "Bumpy weather ahead?" speculated Dale.

  "We're on the approach to Tuscaloosa," continued the pilot, clearing up Dale's misconception. "We should be landing in about twelve minutes. The weather is mostly clear with a few scattered clouds, and the temperature is a pleasant seventy-two but muggy. We hope you've had a good flight."

  The landing was smooth and the weather indeed muggy. Another stretch limo met
them and took them to their hotel. It fell to Dale to check them all in. Declining a room for himself, he carried his baggage to Luis's room after making sure the bellman got Glam's bags to her room properly and tipping him.

  It was now eleven-thirty, and there was a rehearsal called for two o'clock. Dale wondered whether Luis would want to fool around, but Luis seemed set on satisfying a different bodily craving—the one for food—although he definitely wanted Dale along for the ride. "We have all evening for sex," Luis said, once again seeming to read Dale's thoughts. "There's no performance tonight." The schedule called for a rehearsal that afternoon, a tech run-through the next afternoon, a performance that night, and departure from Tuscaloosa the following afternoon. Unlike this morning, they would not be leaving at an hour that, to hear Glam tell it, was still the middle of the night.

  Dale and Luis agreed to walk around the neighborhood of the hotel and see if they could find an interesting-looking place to eat. Although they found lots of interesting-looking people, however, they found no particularly tempting restaurants. Everything seemed rather ordinary in the food department. Nonetheless, Dale was delighted to learn that Luis shared his enjoyment of people-watching.

  In fact, Luis went him one better. "I like to make up stories about the different people," Luis informed him. "See that woman with the difficult child? The child is crying and refusing to move because they're on their way to the doctor's for the boy's pre-school physical, and the boy doesn't want to get a shot. And that man over there with the briefcase and the worried look? He's a real estate agent on his way to try to sell a house, and if he doesn't score a big commission soon, he's going to lose his own house to foreclosure. That older couple down the street there? They were lovers fifty years ago and got separated when he went off to the Army. They each married someone else, but both were widowed within the last year, and they found each other again through Facebook. After all these years they finally got married, and they're on their honeymoon."

  "Honeymooning in Tuscaloosa?" scoffed Dale. But for all the improbability he found in such a statement, he was delighted with Luis's facility with such scenarios. "Ever thought of becoming a writer?" he asked him. "You seem to have a knack for plots and characters."

  "Naah. I just like to do this for fun. You don't make up stories about the people you see?" He sounded genuinely surprised.

  "No. Not really. Sometimes I wonder what their stories are—their real stories—but I never invent stories."

  "Try it sometime."

  "I'll leave that to you." Dale squeezed Luis in a brief one-armed hug, to the consternation of a passerby with a child. The woman's wide-eyed frown made it plain she was not comfortable with public displays of affection between males—especially, Dale inferred, when her child was watching. He smiled at the little boy and watched as the woman reacted by making a wide berth around the two of them on the sidewalk.

  Meanwhile they still hadn't found anyplace interesting-looking to eat. "That place looks clean and bright and cheerful," said Luis, pointing to a sandwich shop they were passing. "Shall we settle for that?"

  "There's a menu posted in the window," Dale pointed out. They studied it. Thankfully, along with the inevitable meatloaf sandwich, tuna melt, and BLT, there were a few somewhat more intriguing items. One was a ham and bacon on rye spread with chive cheese. That tempted Dale's palate.

  As for Luis, he was intrigued to see the special of the day was a Yankee pot roast platter. "I always was a sucker for Yankee pot roast."

  That struck Dale as incongruous. "Don't tell me your Puerto Rican mother cooked Yankee pot roast!"

  "No, although we Ricans have our own version of pot roast."

  "You're not a typical Latino anyhow," Dale observed.

  "There you go—another gringo stereotyping us." He cuffed Dale playfully on the arm.

  Dale glowed. They had not even slept together yet but already were comfortable making ethnic jokes with each other. This budding relationship showed promise.

  Sitting in the restaurant, they observed the other patrons and saw a mix of types. Luis started right in again. "That woman is a recent widow. She volunteers at the library three mornings a week to get out of the house and get her mind off her loss. She's just finished her stint but doesn't want to go home to her empty house yet, so she's delaying her return by stopping here for lunch."

  Dale proposed a different game. "How about guessing what each person is eating, judging only by their faces? Pick only people whose plates you can't see."

  But they were interrupted by the waitress, a grandmotherly type with silvery hair pulled back in a bun and a comfortably rounded figure. "Y'all look like newcomers. Welcome. What can I get you?" She took their orders with a smile, asked, "And what to drink?" then bustled to the next table.

  The food was good and the portions large. The couple continued their verbal getting-to-know-you dance, with no further speculation about the lives or food orders of the people around them. Luis insisted on paying the bill, so Dale put down a generous tip for the friendly and energetic waitress.

  "Now, which way is it to get back to the hotel?" Dale mused.

  "This way," said Luis with assurance. "And we'd better hurry. We have to be at the theatre for the rehearsal at two. Glam's a stickler for promptness."

  "Good," said Dale. "So am I."

  Glam insisted her hair and makeup be as perfect for every rehearsal as if it were an actual performance. Luis went to work with all the skill of the artist that he was. Dale hung around in case he was needed, but apart from asking him to fix drinks for her, Glam didn't need anything more from him. At two o'clock sharp, Glam and her band assembled, ready to run through the performance. "You sit in the front row and be the audience," Glam directed Dale.

  He was only too happy to oblige. He still could not quite believe he was being paid to watch and listen as one of his all-time fave rockers performed. Luis sat with him, and they drank down Glam's performance together. "I never get tired of watching her," Luis said with more than a touch of admiration in his voice.

  Glam did a set, took a brief intermission, and came out to do another, closing the show with two of her biggest hits, "Raining Tears in Torrents" and "Gems Aren't All That Sparkle." Dale, sitting in the front row, whistled and cheered and stamped with one hundred percent genuine enthusiasm.

  "How was I?" asked Glam.

  "Fabulous as always!" There wasn't an ounce of sycophancy in his response. Dale was no ass-kisser, and with Glam Gran he hardly needed to be.

  It was five-thirty, and Glam corralled Dale and Luis. "You two are having dinner with me," she said. It wasn't a request but a command. "Drinks first, though. We can do that in my room. Let me just change clothes and we can cab it over to the hotel."

  Over drinks, Glam asked Dale, "How do you like working for me so far?"

  "Love it!" he enthused, hoping he wasn't gushing too much, but the grin on Glam's face showed she had received his response well.

  "What's the best part of the gig?" she asked.

  "Getting to watch and listen to you up close, in person, for free … and knowing it's going to be night after night."

  "What's the next-best part?" she persevered.

  "The fringe benefits," Dale answered with a grin, putting one arm around Luis's shoulder and squeezing. Glam laughed heartily.

  "I've played this town before," she said, "and I know a good restaurant. Call downstairs and have the front desk call a taxi for us to pick us up at … oh … seven o'clock." Dale walked over to the hotel phone and called downstairs while Glam poured herself another drink and knocked it back in short order. Dale drank much more conservatively but still was feeling a pleasant buzz by the time it was time to go downstairs.

  Considering how flashy and audacious Glam was, Dale was surprised to see that the restaurant she had chosen was one with a subdued, conservative décor and an elegant menu. He cringed, walking in with Glam, who was dressed in one of her many gem-studded jumpsuits. Making matters worse, she
had the front unzipped daringly low, displaying quite a bit of cleavage. Thankfully, the maître d' recognized her and, instead of suggesting that she wasn't properly attired, boomed, "Welcome!" and actually gave a half-bow. "Would you like a quiet table in the corner?" he inquired.

  "Hell, no!" Glam screeched. "I want to be where the action is."

  Wherever Glam was, that was where the action was. They hadn't been seated three minutes when a thirty-something-looking fellow approached the table respectfully. "Could I trouble you for your autograph?" he asked. "I won't even pretend it's for my son. I've been one of your biggest fans since your debut. Could you sign it 'to Matt'?" He was the first but hardly the last. While many of the patrons of the restaurant appeared older and/or more conservative than the typical Glam Gran fan, it was amazing how many of them came over and begged for autographs, and Glam graciously obliged every one.

  In between the autograph requests, they managed to peruse the menu, order dinner, and eventually start eating. Both Glam and Luis ordered lobster, though she ordered the lobster fra diavolo and he the lobster thermidor. As for Dale, he requested the lamb Florentine and wasn't disappointed. Although spinach was in the lamb dish, it still came with a small Caesar salad on the side as well as roasted new potatoes with rosemary. "Good thing there's a mini-fridge in our room," he commented. "I'll never finish all this now."

  And yet, when Glam insisted he just had to sample the restaurant's signature rum raisin cake, he found room for half a piece, the rest of it going into the same doggie bag as the other leftovers. She induced Luis, too, into trying the cake, and not only did he finish it, he ordered it à la mode, with coffee ice cream! Glam herself opted to drink her dessert and ordered a brandy Alexander from the restaurant's bar. "You don't want to go too long without alcohol," Luis tweaked her. "You might get sober!"

  "Quelle horreur!" exclaimed Glam in mock horror. Dale noted that his new boyfriend seemed able to tease their boss about her drinking without her taking offense.

  But she had the last laugh. When they returned to the hotel, with Luis and Dale intent on getting into their room as quickly as possible, Glam said, "Come into my room. This hotel supplies a DVD player in every room, and I brought a three-hour movie with me that you absolutely must watch with me. It's marvelous."