Page 393 of Rock Me All Night
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The bouncer guardingthe door gapes.
"Holy shit. Tom Steele?" He asks. "What the fuck are you doing at this dump?"
Tom shrugs. "Matthew's a friend of mine."
"Shit. David's gonna flip. Aren't you playing tomorrow? Tickets sold out in ten minutes."
Tom smiles. "Nice to hear from a male fan for once."
"I'm sure most guys are intimidated by how often your vocalist sounds like he's about to come," the bouncer says.
Tom laughs. "Miles? Yeah. You should hear him going at it with his girlfriend. A man has never enjoyed fucking a woman as much as he does. And he used to get as much tail as I do." Tom shakes his head. "Hate to see a good man go down. Though his girlfriend seems to enjoy that part too."
The bouncer chuckles nervously. It's completely disarming seeing the six-foot-three, two-hundred-fifty-pound man star struck. He unlocks the door and motions for us to step inside.
"What's your name?" Tom asks.
"Jason Benes."
"You working tomorrow?"
"Night off."
"I'll leave you a ticket at will call." Tom leans in to stage whisper. "If you do me a favor."
"Keep the guys away from your girl? Don't think anybody is gonna mess with Tom Steele, even to talk to a girl that fine."
Tom makes eye contact with me and raises a brow. He turns back to Jason. "Willow here isn't my girl. She's a friend. And she needs to get laid. If you see any hot guys—and I'm talking grade A, six pack abs, buns of steel, piercing eyes—send them her way."
"Don't think I'm going to be able to pick out piercing eyes." The man chuckles. "But I'll do what I can."
"Any ringers for Brad Pitt—that's her type."
"Are his eyes piercing?" Jason asks.
"They're not," I jump in. "But I don't need any help finding hot guys. I've got it handled."
"Listen to the little minx. Already talking about fondling strangers." Tomtsk tsksin mock disgust. "Such a filthy mind." He shakes the bouncer's hand. "Jason Benes. I won't forget."
Jason laughs, still totally star struck.
The door swings closed behind us.
It's an intimate place. Room for a hundred people on a busy night. This is not a busy night. There are a few dozen people here, most of them talking instead of paying attention to the guys on stage. It's not that the band is bad. They're just not particularly remarkable.
The singer tries. He's not great, and his lyrics are inane, but he's trying. Not so much the guys on strings. They look at the ground or at each other or, worse yet, at the drummer. Said drummer is committed to his playing, thrashing around with his long hair swaying left and right. He's loud. It's all very loud.
"Shit. Thought Matthew was better than this." Tom motions to the stage. "Look at that."
"Which one is Matthew?" I ask.
"Guitarist." Tom points to the man with purple hair. "He's got his fucking back to the audience."
"How do you know him?"
"Played in a band together way back when." Tom chuckles. "I was that kid in high school who started a new band every year. Only nobody ever took it as seriously as I did. Matthew was in the fourth or fifth band. Only he thought he could sing. As you can see from the man's stage presence, that was a nightmare."
