Page 12 of Secret Hudson

Holy mother of God. I'm in a limo. With Finding Nolan. Something I am now apparently going to be doing on the regular. The whole band is fucking nuts. And not in the crazy, all rockers are eccentric sort of way, hopped up on drugs and non-stop sex. These people are completely fucking sober and still out of their ever-loving minds.

It's insanely obvious that these five people know each other inside and out. They don't hold back. They know noboundaries, keep no secrets and are completely unaware of the concept of privacy. I should feel like a total outsider in their midst, catching a secret glimpse of the inside celebrity world belonging to one of the hottest bands around. But I don’t. Somehow, sitting here, completely and unapologetically exposed to their antics, I feel totally accepted. I'm one of them. For however brief a moment in time it will be, right here and now, I belong.

If all of that isn’t enough to blow your motherfucking mind, there's Royce Lemmi. The hottest man to walk the face of the earth. Ever. I can’t even count the number of nights I've spent at my computer, poring over hundreds of images, working and editing for hours on end while drowning myself in the sounds of Royce strumming that bass of his to the point that I could literally feel the vibration of his music surging through my body. Maybe it's because we're both artists in our own right, or maybe I was just so fucking lonely at the time, but I convinced myself that I could recognize every single emotion as it reached me through the deep melody of his instrument.

Royce gave me strength during times I needed it most and I hadn’t even met him yet. It's surreal. Seeing him in person now. Hearing his voice. Being at the receiving end of his smile. After our initial meeting I was worried that lines between reality and fantasy would blur. That I’ll never be sure if what I'm feeling is because of the man in front of me, or the one who’s been haunting my fantasies for so long. I realize now that it was stupid. There is no comparing who I imagined him to be to who he actually is. Not that I know him all that well after one day, but in just this brief time, I've already seen things in him I’d never have dreamed up on my own.

His friendship with Ava, for starters. It’s pretty damn clear that beneath the constant bickering and insults, they share a genuine love and connection. They have the sort of friendship that could make a man insecure about his place in Royce’s world, if one was ever lucky enough to find themselves there. At the same time, I know if I ever wound up standing beside him, I’d be happy to see her on the other end, keeping him safe and loved in the middle. Everyone deserves a friendship like theirs. Most of us just don’t ever find ourselves in one.

Then there's his sense of humor. Royce is funny. Not in a jokester kind of way that gets to be annoying after a while, but in a sarcastic and witty way that makes you think and keeps you on your toes. It's enough to make you want to stick around him and listen closely, just to see what he might say next.

But beyond that, more than any other quality and characteristic I’ve seen thus far, the one that's tugging at my heartstrings so early in the game, is a lingering hurt and insecurity. He hides it well, but in moments of quiet exchanges between us when no one else is around, I see it, flickering in his eyes. I knew the second I saw it, I wanted to find the source of his pain and squash it the same way he’s done for me in the past. Even if he didn't do it intentionally, or even knows he’s done it at all.

CHAPTER SIX

ROYCE

Gary, our stage manager, is pacing back and forth impatiently when we finally arrive at the venue.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Ava! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

I give him a pat on his protruding belly as I walk by. “Sure you’re directing that question at the right person, Gary? Might want to ask the next cashier who takes your order at Jack in the Box. See what they say.”

He makes a face and grumbles something, then he sees Hudson. “Whoa, hey now. Who’s this dude and where’s his pass?”

“Relax, Gary. He’s cool.”

“He still needs a goddamned pass,” he huffs, but it’s directed at Ava, so I just keep walking and gesture for Hudson to do the same.

“Keep your panties on. I’ve got some in the dressing room. Just haven’t made it back there yet.” Ava gives Gary a quick kiss on the cheek. “His name’s Hudson by the way. He’ll be with the band until further notice, so no giving him shit if you spot him without a pass again. Just pretend he’s wearing one, got it shoved in his back pocket or tattooed to his chest. He’s legit. Part of the team, got it?”

Gary nods. “You’re the boss. Now can we get this fucking soundcheck going before the arena fills up?”

“We’re on it.” Angel waves his drumsticks in the air, which is the equivalent to a thumbs up for him, and we all follow Gary down through the long hall leading out to the stage.

Even without turning around, I can feel Hudson walking right behind me. Well, smell him is more like it. His cologne has been slowly torturing me ever since I got close enough to him to pick up on it. A few times I thought I recognized the scent as being the same one Derek wears, and maybe it is, but it has other tantalizing traits to it that make me want to inhale him in ways I’ve never once considered doing to Derek.

The moment I step on stage, I know he’s no longer behind me. I turn around to look for him before I can stop myself and just catch a glimpse of him as he walks off with Ava, probably to get that pass Gary was bitching about.

“Relax, he’ll be back.” Angel again. He twirls his drumsticks in his fingers, thoroughly amused at my expense.

“Fuck you.” I pick up my bass and let my fingers strum the strings. Instantly, my whole body relaxes, and I realize how tense I’ve been. It’s crazy really, how stressed and anxious one man can make me while the prospect of standing on a stage in front of thousands of people can actually put me at ease, but it’s the truth. I’m at home up here. Playing my music. It’s the one thing in my life I know I’ve mastered. I’m not the best by a long shot, but I’m well on my way to being among them one day.

I close my eyes, listening for Angel’s beat and the chords from Derek’s guitar. We’re in our element and we fly through our soundcheck with just enough time to change and freshen up before the show starts.

Isn’t until Blaise goes to close the door to his dressing room that he realizes I’ve been walking right behind him the entire time.

“What the fuck? What are you doing, dude? You just walked right past your dressing room.”

“I know that, jackass. I can read my own fucking name.” I push the door open again. “I’m looking for Ava.”

I see her head poke up from behind her laptop. “What’s up? You know, I’m pretty sure Hudson’s in your dressing room waiting for you.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Why? Is that where you ordered him to go?” Her eyes go wide, and she looks genuinely hurt. Even Blaise comes around to face me, a definite disapproval in his expression. He isn’t one to fight Ava’s battles for her, mostly because she can hold her own, but I know damn well he’ll knock anyone the fuck out if they cause her pain. I am in no way an exception to this policy.

“Why would I order him to go anywhere?” Ava stands up and walks toward me.

“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re his fucking boss now and ordering people around comes with the title.” It’s a completely unfounded accusation and I have no idea why I’m throwing it out there. Maybe I’m angling to get punched by Blaise. Maybe I think a little physical pain will be a nice distraction and aid me in trying to forget the ache twitching at my soul.

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