Page 11 of Rock On

I tuned out everything while I thought of my woman. She was so different from her sister. While Marley was like sharp-edged ice, Sky was a warm ray of sunshine and full of bubbling joy. Earlier today, she’d kicked my ass at laser tag, hooting every time she lit me up, yet dodging before I could get her. She’d been a regular monkey, fearless and agile, on the ropes course we’d ended up doing afterward. Once again, I acknowledged she captivated me. It was so foreign how hard and fast it had hit—foreign but undeniable.

Arousal slid through me and sparked in my dick when I recalled pulling her to me on one of the rope course’s platforms. Pressingher close to me, I’d devoured her lips until her knees buckled and we’d nearly fallen. I never would have let anything happen to her, though. I just couldn’t get enough of her.

Tonight would be difficult and exhilarating. I wanted her under me; I wanted in her. But I was determined not to rush.

Something hit the side of my head, and I looked down to see a balled-up event program bouncing to the floor.

“Hey, space cadet,” Stone called. “You ready or are you going to fritz out some more?”

I glared at him. “I’m ready.”

“What’s up with you anyway?” Kyson asked. “You’ve been all…weird…since yesterday.”

“Yeah…since you asked me to cover for you,” my brother added, the two of them questioning me as if we didn’t have our whole crew, plus some, listening in on our business.

“Are you kids going to keep chatting it up, or are you going to get some work done?” Marley growled from where she stood on the lighting and sound scaffolding.

“Who pissed in her Cheerios?” Kyson muttered.

Stone shot him an amused look. “You tell us.”

Kyson held up his hands. “Wasn’t me this time. Blu, you punch someone?”

“Not yet,” she replied. “I’m open to the possibility. You volunteering?”

“Let’s just practice before Marley has a real conniption,” I said. “Stix, bring us in.” During the actual show, she’d slide in through an opening behind her drum kit while the stage was dark. The lights would slowly come up during her epic drum solo then the rest of us would run in toward the end, launching into our first song. We weren’t running in this time, as we were mostly testing for sound and lights and positioning.

We ran seamlessly through the first part of the set, up to where I’d speak, before I called a halt, with my hand in the air. I slowly closing my fingers, so we finished together.

“And then yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah, thank you for coming. We’re fucking glad you’re here. And how’s our sound and lights, guys?” I asked.

“Don’t say fucking,” Marley yelled through her own mic at the control stand.

“Only fucking for you, Mar,” I replied.

“Fuck yeah!” Stone yelled.

“I don’t get what’s the fucking problem with it,” Kyson added.

“Because you guys are fucking idiots,” Blu answered.

“Stone…” Stix called. “Since we’re at it. I’d like to take this opportunity to say, fuck off. And all of you who have the pool on Stone and me can fucking fuck the fuck off, too.”

“Okay, okay…” I held up my hands. “Huddle.”

Stone and I handed off our guitars to our backline guys in charge of our instruments while Blu handed off her bass to her tech. Crossing my arms, I waited in the center of the stagefor everyone to gather ‘round. Marley and the light and sound techs, George and Stan, came over from the control scaffolding, while the backline chiefs and our production manager, Devon, joined us on the stage to go over tech details and the abbreviated set we’d be playing, which was about half of what a regular concert would be. Tomorrow, the stage crew would do the smallest of sound checks, just to see that everything was connected, but that was all since the break between acts was only about fifteen minutes.

The heads of each team brought out their notes for us to address, but there wasn’t much. We’d been on the road together for a year and a half. In the thick of things, we had two road crews running, one working the set up for current show and one working the next, but this core group of professionals traveled with the band and worked every performance, each of their jobs as important—if not more important—as what we did onstage. They made it all possible.

A couple hours later, after one more practice and a final set of notes, we all headed in separate directions while Marley went to a dinner with the festival organizers and Devon remained to oversee the crew.

“Are you going with us to see the fireworks?” Stone asked. “We’re taking to the shuttle over to the lake.”

Pulling out my phone, I checked for a text from Sky. We were having a picnic tonight. As I flicked open my screen, her message proclaimed:HERE.

“Nah. I have plans. I’ll see you later.”

He crossed his arms, glaring at me. “Bro. Are you screwing some groupie? That’s not like you.”

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