Rocking Hard: Volume 1

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

  "Remember when we first started this?" Tor began conversationally.

  Bailey pressed his lips together and nodded, unsure of where that was going. He pulled his legs up onto the bench and hugged them to his chest.

  "We were such cocky little shits, sure this was going to last forever," Tor said, gazing somewhere into the distance.

  "Tor," Bailey said, soft and surprised. It sounded like a preface to a break-up, an announcement that he was leaving. Tor's words made it sound like he was thinking of the end.

  Tor's head rolled around and he focused on Bailey. "In all those interviews, we said we'd make music for the rest of our lives."

  "You don't think we will?" Bailey replied, so quiet he was nearly inaudible. He couldn't stand it if the answer was no. If Tor was giving up on him, then he really had nothing left.

  "I've been thinking a lot," Tor said.

  Bailey peered at him more closely. Tor's pupils were huge. "Have you been smoking a lot, too?" he wondered aloud.

  Tor grinned and waved his hand through the air again. "Don't even need to, out in those gardens," he said. "The marijuana haze is so thick, you can get a second-hand high."

  Bailey sighed. "So you got all nostalgic and philosophical?"

  "Yeah, and you were out getting drunk," Tor said.

  Bailey scowled at him. "I wasn't drinking that much," he denied. "I apologized to Gunner."

  "Oh, did you?" Tor hung his cigarette from his lip and did a slow clap. "Good for you! Hey, Bailey. Bailey knows how to apologize! I didn't think it was possible."

  "And he apologized to me," Bailey said, smoothing out his scowl. There was no point when Tor was mellowed out too much to be sarcastic.

  "So things are good," Tor said, bobbing his head. He plucked his cigarette from his mouth, held it up and looked at it. "Want one?"

  Bailey licked his lips again and nodded. "Yeah," he said, neglecting to mention the fact that he had his own cigarettes and lighter.

  Tor put his cigarette to his lips again, dug in his pocket, and found a half-crumpled pack. He tapped out a cigarette and held the pack up to Bailey, allowing him to extract one.

  "Hold still," Tor said, leaning in as Bailey put the cigarette filter in his mouth.

  Bailey froze as Tor aligned the tips of their cigarettes, setting the glowing cherry of his cigarette to Bailey's. After the initial startlement, he inhaled, kindling the tip of his own cigarette to light.

  "There," Tor said, sounding satisfied as he lapsed into silence, settling back in his seat.

  Bailey slowly uncoiled his limbs and let his legs fall to the floor with small thuds. He puffed on his cigarette and looked at the ceiling. If he'd remembered how affectionate Tor got when he was smoking up, he might have tried suggesting that kind of break sooner.

  "Things aren't good," Bailey said, circling around to Tor's earlier statement. "Something is different. It's wrong."

  Tor made an inquisitive noise.

  "I had to find you," Bailey said, "because you weren't at my side."

  Tor put his head to one side, looking curious but also wary.

  Bailey knew that he'd put the wariness in Tor's eyes. He had done the wrong, and he had to make it right. "So, I've been an asshole," he said.

  "What else is new?" Tor replied, a little less guarded.

  Bailey put his head to one side and tried not to look hopelessly infatuated. Tor had been devoted to him this whole time, even during his worst. He wanted to prove it to him, but first …

  "I'm going to make it up to you," Bailey promised.

  Tor's answering smile was wry and knowing, seeming to imply we'll see.

  It was a new day, yet the same old story for Bailey as he tried to haul his pillow over his head to block out the simultaneous assault of someone banging on his door, and the unforgiving shrillness of his ringtone. At last, he grumbled and got up, stumbling into walls and tripping over nothing. He opened the front door with an ungracious "What?" and peered through sandy eyes at his uninvited guest.

  "I knew you'd forget," Tor said, lifting the phone away from his ear and hanging up. "So here I am."

  "Forget what?" Bailey grumbled, but he was more fully alert as he noticed Tor's hazel eyes traveling down his scantily-clad body.

  "Exactly," Tor said without missing a beat.

  "You were calling, but you're at the door, too?" Bailey said, bleary. He stepped back from the door and let it swing open, shuffling backwards to give Tor some room. "What kind of sadist are you?"

  "The kind who gets you places on time, and I'm not going anywhere," Tor said, staying planted on the threshold. "You're coming with me."

  "Ugh," Bailey said, but he turned to shamble toward his bedroom. "You didn't even bring me coffee."

  "We can stop on the way," Tor called after him. "Come on, we're on a schedule! Tick, tock!"

  Bailey slanted a baleful glance over his shoulder and caught Tor in the act of staring at his ass. At least, that was what Bailey inferred, based on the way Tor's chin lifted and his eyes snapped upward to meet Bailey's gaze. "That's going to cost you an extra ten minutes," Bailey informed him.

  "Come on, we're just going to the studio," Tor protested. "Bailey! We've got work to do, and you don't really need to put on makeup, do you?"

  Bailey smirked. He didn't, but sometimes he liked to make Tor wait, if only to prove that he could.

  Their relationship had settled into more or less the pace that it had been before, with the subtraction of innuendo on Bailey's part, and a new awareness of the way that Tor looked at him or treated him when he thought Bailey wasn't paying attention. The funny thing about that, or not so much, was that apparently Bailey hadn't been paying attention—not when it had really mattered.

  Not when he'd still stood a chance with Tor.

  Bailey went through a few racks of clothes, half-heartedly shoving several hangers' worth of shirts to one side, before settling on something that was positively dressed down, for him. He pulled on a pair of holey jeans and a shirt patterned with skulls, some jewelry to make him feel less naked, and a beanie to cover his unstyled hair.

  At last, he joined Tor at the front door again, and he'd only kept him waiting five minutes, which he duly informed him.

  "Yes, yes, I'm very proud," Tor said absently. "Get in the car, Bailey."

  "What do you say?" Bailey returned, turning to regard him with a severe expression.

  Tor pulled a face. "Get in the car, your highness?"

  "I am not the diva that everyone seems to think I am!" Bailey exclaimed, but he was feeling too groggy to fully combat that implication.

  "Do you want your coffee, or not?" Tor asked him.

  Bailey got in the car without another word.

  He still didn't know how to work his coffee maker, and he was too proud, or stubborn, to ask Tor to figure it out for him. Caffeine was not only essential to his wakefulness; by now Bailey considered it to be integral to the creative process as well. Basically, he sucked until he was three espresso shots' worth to the wind.

  "Where are we going?" Bailey demanded, when Tor's Camaro started off and the doors auto-locked. He was wearing a hat, so he rolled his window down in order to feel the breeze.

  "You're very trusting," Tor remarked. "Getting into cars with anyone who shows up on your doorstep."

  Bailey rolled his eyes. "Yes, because you're such a strange man," he said. "Come to lead me astray, I'm sure."

  "What's stranger to me is how you never check your calendar," Tor replied.

  "Admit it, you like it when I need you," Bailey said, intending to be playful, but a long silence was his response. He fidgeted with his bracelets and added, "All the benefits of being a rock star's personal assistant, and none of the pay, huh?"

  "It's a dirty job," Tor said, deadpan as Sasha.

  "But someone's got to do it?" Bailey filled in the other half of the old saying.

  "Nope, it's just dirty."

  "Hey!" Bailey protested. After a moment of consideration,
he said, "Well, you did catch me out in my underwear."

  "Don't be stupid, those were your sleeping boxers."

  "Yeah, yeah, you've seen them enough to know."

  Bailey leaned his cheek on his hand and kept quiet after that, attempting no more smart remarks, and left Tor to his driving. He was grateful that Tor had resumed the role of mainstay in Bailey's life, and he didn't want to pick at it, or question it. Yet the things he noticed now, the way Tor was kinder to him than anyone else, the way he looked at him, spoke loud and clear to Bailey now that he'd opened his ears.

  Problem was, Bailey had no idea what to do about it.

  Tor had rejected him outright, but Bailey knew that had been because he hadn't taken his advances seriously. He'd thought Bailey wanted him for sex, or was trying Tor after his advances on Gunner failed, or something stupid like that. It was up to Bailey, now, to figure out what he could do to get through to him, convince Tor that he was serious, especially after the string of failed relationships he'd left behind him. Bailey had never played the field like Gunner, but it probably had looked like he'd been using a lot of people for one thing and dumping them shortly after.

  He knew Tor better than that. Though Tor projected the image of a randy guitar player, he was a private sort of guy, and he didn't date around or do groupies or one-night stands. He would deny being romantic, but he was definitely monogamous.

  They pulled up outside the coffee shop down the street from their studio. Bailey was still bare of ideas, but resolved to come up with something that would adequately convey the depth and sincerity of his feelings, and do so before he missed his window again. If Tor started up with some girl, or worse, a guy, Bailey was pretty sure it would wreck him forever.

  He'd figured out what he wanted, at last. Now, if Tor could let himself realize Bailey truly felt the same way … but showing him hadn't worked, and telling him hadn't, either.

  "Hey," Tor said, and when Bailey looked up with a "huh," he realized Tor was out of the car and on the sidewalk already. "You with me, or still asleep?"

  "Still asleep," Bailey said, wrinkling his nose. "Obviously." At least he had a ready excuse for being so distracted. Otherwise, Tor would ask him what was wrong, and being Tor, he always knew, being too damn observant.

  Bailey's eyes widened as he climbed out of the car. It meant that Tor knew him really well, not necessarily that he was some modern-day Sherlock. He stumbled as he stepped onto the curb. Tor paid attention to him that much, and Bailey had been oblivious all that time.

  Tor caught his arm and steadied him. "Not really with it, huh," he said with a short laugh.

  "Yeah … no … Let's just get coffee," Bailey blustered. "What can I get you?"

  "I've got it," Tor said, suiting action to words and stepping ahead of him to get the door. "I woke you up at the crack of dawn, after all."

  Bailey glanced at his wrist and checked the time. "Yeah, and you didn't even bring coffee," he said, biting his tongue over an observation that Tor was treating him more like a boyfriend than his last date had. "But, you're the one who brought me to the coffee, so I can get it. If you hadn't shown up, I'd still be sleeping."

  "I love how you make that sound like an accusation."

  One of the reasons the coffee shop down the street was their favorite was that none of the staff knew they were members of Courage Wolf; or if they did, they acted clueless. The two of them always got their coffee and managed to leave with minimal conversation or autographs, and the clientele was preppy and self-obsessed enough that most of them were too absorbed in their tablets to notice Bailey and Tor on any given day.

  Bailey took advantage of Tor's polite nature to cut in line ahead of him, then announced to the cashier, "And I'll pay for whatever he's having."

  "Unfair," Tor accused, but gave in with a faint grin.

  Bailey grinned back, not caring if it looked a little besotted, and looked down to dig his card out of his wallet. He paid after Tor placed his order and slipped his wallet back into his bag.

  "Careful, if you keep this up, I'll be expecting breakfast, next," Tor said, stiffening as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

  Bailey blinked over at him disingenuously. For a moment, he had no idea why that remark had made Tor uncomfortable. As he walked around the espresso bar to get his drink, it hit him. Bailey had made a pretty unfortunate remark about having breakfast, after, the night he'd ambushed Tor in his bed.

  "Well, it wouldn't be the least I'd owe you, after you've put up with my idiocy for years," Bailey said over his shoulder, deliberately trying to defuse the tension in the moment.

  "Oh, did I say breakfast?" Tor said, his mouth quirking. "I meant a Ferrari and a culinary tour of Napa Valley."

  Bailey arched his brows. He didn't want to say it aloud, but it could be arranged. He just hoped there would be a change in their relationship status, first. He was a rock star—it wasn't over the top to get a car for his boyfriend as a "thank you for dating me" present, he was sure.

  "I didn't think I'd been that bad," Bailey said instead. "Ah, well. Now I know what our friendship is worth to you."

  They shared another little grin. Bailey's heart sang. Not only had he successfully averted tension, but their friendship was on an even keel once more. They were at ease with each other in the way they had been before Bailey had noticed Tor, really noticed him, and decided to do something about it.

  "Apparently, the price of a latte," Tor said, making as though to clink his paper cup against Bailey's.

  Bailey buttoned his lip over an exhilarated grin and trooped after Tor out of the coffee shop like a lovesick puppy. He had to gaze out the window on the rest of the way to the studio, or Tor would call him out for sure.

  He went through most of his drink on the way to the studio and wished he'd gotten a second, or at least a double. With as much caffeine as he went through, it was a shame they didn't have an espresso maker in the studio—but then, someone would have to be responsible for operating it.

  With caffeine in his system, Bailey was able to turn his attention to the task for the day. They were still in the process of remixing and tweaking a few songs, and Jonn had come up with the brilliant idea that they should make a brand-new song, one that wasn't on their album, to put on the B-side for their next single. He'd gotten so glowing over the prospect, pitching it as a draw for an exclusive concert to sell tickets to hardcore fans, that somehow Bailey had found himself agreeing—mostly because Tor had said yes to it, first.

  They reached the studio, and Bailey trailed after Tor, sipping the dregs of coffee as Tor flipped on the lights and moved around turning on equipment.

  "Just the two of us today?" Bailey inquired, keeping his tone light and casual.

  Tor nodded without looking around. "Had any great insights lately?" he asked. "We've still got nothing for the lyrics."

  Bailey stared at him, open-mouthed. He was gobsmacked. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before.

  He needed to write Tor a song. The two of them made music; it was the thread that bound them together. They were never closer than when they were creating an album together. Unknowingly, Jonn had dropped a golden opportunity in Bailey's lap.

  Tor had to realize that Bailey was serious about his intentions if they wrote a song together and Bailey worked a confession into it that expressed the depth of his emotion.

  "Uh, maybe," he croaked, trying to cover his epiphany into a manageable sort of creative outburst. "What've we seen lately on the boards?"

  "Hmm, let's find out," Tor said, walking over to their side by side workstations. They had a pair of laptops that they left in their personal studio when they were immersed in the creative process. "Have you got an angle?"

  Bailey busied himself with the acts of finishing his coffee and seating himself at his laptop, across the bench from Tor so that they were beside one another and could speak easily while they worked. "I'll know it when I see it," he said, speaking with more confidence.


  Tor opened the lid of his laptop and raised his brows at Bailey. "That's a yes, but you're not willing to share yet," he observed.

  "We'll see what I turn up!" Bailey said, but he couldn't suppress a grin of triumph.

  It felt good, slipping back into the proper groove of music-making together. He cherished the little spark of inspiration that was lighting him up from the inside. It meant even more to him this time because when he shared it with Tor, he'd be laying everything on the table.

  That sent Bailey on a tangent of exploration and he pulled up his favorite meme-based site, ready to rifle through it for exactly what he needed. Something poker-related would be good, but if that wasn't current, he had a few other avenues he could explore …

  Now that Bailey had a course, he was humming with purpose once more.

  *~*~*

  Over the next few weeks, he and Tor worked on the dual components of their new B-side single. The working title was Twitterpated, and Tor hated it. That didn't bother Bailey, because they had creative differences so often during the song-writing process, Gunner and Sasha had developed a special code for it that boiled down to 'keep out, music making in progress.' Bailey was especially optimistic that Tor would change his perspective this time, because he was developing two versions of the same song.

  Typically when they worked on new music, Bailey wrote the lyrics first, and Tor built the song around it, creating the instrumental and melodic arrangements. That wasn't going to work for them this time. At least, this time Bailey needed a different process, because the lyrics for this particular song were a secret.

  Bailey wrote two songs—one for Tor to set his melody to, and the other more personal version for the reveal.

  'Twitterpated' wasn't going to cover it. Courage Wolf dealt with a lot of pop culture themes, by the very nature of their band, but this time Bailey needed something more personally resonant, something that spoke to him of endurance and sincerity. He rifled through historical figures and love stories penned or sung over the past century. He wanted, like any man in love, to express the fact that he found their love unique and better than anything that had come before.