Page 18 of Bassist With Benefits
Jeremy snorted a laugh. “You’re an asshole.” He wanted to add, “but I love you anyway” to the sentence, but he didn’t say that part out loud.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Two days in the surf and sun of Florida’s Cocoa Beach offered a nice break in the tour, but Alan was itching to hit the drums again. When he was home, between tours, he played every single day. He would wake up in the morning, have a cup of coffee, and pound on his drums for an hour or two. The exertion he expelled while free-flying over the drums with enough force to break a stick in half kept his arms a solid mass of muscle. Kicking the double bass with both feet like he was stomping out a fire had his hamstrings and quads tight and defined. These last two days without playing felt like a lifetime.
Sometimes, when they had time off between shows and he was forced to be separated from his beloved Pearl kit, he’d go into the equipment trailer, open his drum cases and just touch them. He would run his finger along the indents and marks embedded into the skin of his snare. Each one was a memory, another notch on his journey through fame. The metallic black paint was more beautiful than a summer sky filled with a galaxy of shining stars. He would pick up a cymbal and turn it over in his hands so it caught the light, hypnotized by the glare of the golden disc.
Now, as he waited in Brandon’s dressing room for the show to start, he was already filled with so much energy he thought he would combust. He couldn’t sit still and tapped out a beat on the surface of the bar station. The bartender thought it meant he wanted a drink and offered him champagne.
Alan laughed. “Do I look like I drink champagne? Get me a beer.” He smiled. “Please.” He turned to face the room filled with people, the ice cold brew at his lips.Take It Allby Pop Evil came through the sound system, and someone turned it up. Alan didn’t need to look to know that it was Derek. He crossed the room and shouted so Derek could hear him over the music. “Loud enough?”
“Never loud enough!” Derek rocked his head to the beat and almost whipped Alan in the face with his waist-length hair before he jumped onto the coffee table and played air guitar.
Alan laughed toward the ceiling. Derek was just as amped for the show as he was. They were all the same. They all felt the pent up energy of being away from the stage, and it escalated to a boiling point in the minutes before the show.
The door opened and a security guard stepped inside. A small group of three guys and a girl, fans obviously getting slipped into the pre-show festivities because they knew someone, stood behind him, gawking and whispering. They wore excited smiles and their bright, star-filled eyes darted around the room, widening when they spotted members of Bulletproof.
Felix was there in an instant, questioning the security guard about the strangers he brought into the room. Alan couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Felix didn’t look happy. The band’s uptight manager had his brows knitted together and was shaking his head, speaking quickly and waving his hand. The security guard was trying to plead on behalf of the fans, who now looked deflated and crushed at being so close to their favorite rock stars and unable to meet them.
Alan saw Brandon head toward the door, about to intervene on their behalf, but Felix finally gave in and held up his hand indicating that the fans had five minutes. The group was clearly elated and didn’t waste any time zeroing in on their favorite band members. The girl went straight to Brandon, smiling and sticking her boobs out. One guy cornered Jeremy for a selfie, another practically threw himself at Derek’s feet while he was still grooving on the coffee table. The third guy headed straight for Alan.
Alan laughed a little at the humongous smile on the guy’s face.
“Hi. I’m Eddie. I’m a huge fan. I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. My brother-in-law works security here, and he invited me to see one of your shows over two years ago. I’ve been a faithful follower of Bulletproof ever since. Most people have their eye on the singer or the guitar player, especially with all that hair flying around on stage. But I looked past both of them.” His smile could have lit up the entire room, and he was speaking quickly, as if he had so much to say and wanted to get it all out before he was whisked away. “All I saw was you. The way you hit those drums. Shirtless.” His eyes washed over Alan. “Your arms. Your shoulders. That chest. But it’s not just how good you look while you play; it’s how well you play. I’ve never seen anything like it.” His cheeks suddenly turned pink. “I’m sorry. I’m just really excited to meet you.”
There was no greater ego boost than the praise of a fan. “Thanks for the kind words. I love what I do. Can I sign something for you? Do you want to take a photo together?”
Eddie chewed on his bottom lip. He moved closer, hesitated for a second, and then put his mouth to Alan’s ear. “I want to suck your cock.”
Before Alan had a chance to accept the offer, Felix cut the music to get everyone’s attention.
“Thank you for wishing Bulletproof luck tonight. They need to get ready. The party’s over. Enjoy the show.”
Alan gave Eddie a crooked smile and shrugged. “Sorry. Another time.” One thing about Felix, he was all for a good time, but when he said the party was over – it was over. Nothing interfered with the show. He already had security emptying the room.
Alan scribbled his signature on a napkin from the bar. He added the words “Next time!” so the guy would have some memory of their conversation and handed it to him. “If you want a photo, you’d better take it now.”
“I’d rather do this.” Eddie kissed Alan with hungry lips, shoving his tongue inside and pressing his body up against Alan’s. When their lips parted, the guy’s cell phone was there to capture the moment.
Alan’s erect cock made him reconsider the guy’s offer for a pre-show blowjob, Felix be damned, but Eddie bolted out the door.
Ninety minutes on stage pounding on his Pearl kit left Alan soaked in perspiration. His arms were heavy and defined and his legs were fatigued from kicking the hell out of his twin bass drums, but he was energized. He jumped into the shower, dressed, and headed to Brandon’s dressing room. He paused outside the door and listened to the voices and loud music coming from inside. A cackle of laughter erupted, followed by a short sing-along to the chorus ofWhiskey Hangoverby Godsmack, and he imagined everyone holding up a shot of whiskey as they sang it. He didn’t need to open the door to know that the room was filled with more than two dozen people. He could probably pick out half of them: the guys from the opening band, the road crew, select groupies – probably the same ones from before the show – hangers-on, his bandmates, and Felix watching over everyone like the fairy godfather. The bus was leaving in an hour, so everyone was making the most of the short time they had to celebrate.
He reached for the doorknob and paused. The idea of being surrounded by so many people, all trying to talk to him, made his throat close up. He could use a drink, but he could have one on the bus. He wasn’t sure why all of a sudden he didn’t want to be around a crowd right now. He was horny as fuck, especially since he never got that blowjob from Eddie before the show. He should just go inside, find Eddie, bust a nut, and then split. It was never that easy though. There were some groupies who were happy to suck you off as fast as they could in hopes of moving on to the next rock star, but he knew right away that Eddie was one of the clingy ones, the kind of groupie who thought they were different, and more than just a one-night stand. It wasn’t uncommon for Felix to have to intervene and call security in order to remove a fan. And Alan really didn’t feel like dealing with that shit when they were heading out so quickly.
Deciding to blow off the party, Alan returned to his dressing room. The bottle of bourbon on the bar called to him, and he took a shot before he grabbed his duffle bag and headed to the bus. Jeremy’s dressing room was a few feet away, and the door opened as Alan passed on his way down the hallway.
Jeremy’s hair was still wet. The soft brown waves framed his face and cascaded down his chest, leaving tiny water spots on his black T-shirt. “Are you heading to Bran’s dressing room?” Jeremy asked.
Alan shook his head. “I’m just going back to the bus. We’re leaving soon. Those parties are like the black hole. Once you go in—”
“You never come out.” They both laughed when Jeremy finished the sentence. “You’re right.” Jeremy ducked back into his dressing room and retrieved his duffle. “Let’s get outta here while we still can.”
The noise coming from Brandon’s dressing room seemed louder than before. Now that Alan was with Jeremy, a small part of him wanted to go inside, join the festivities, and have one last brew with his friend before leaving Orlando, but he just kept walking.
Security was waiting at the exit to accompany them to the bus, even though the fans outside were safely behind a barricade. Alan gave one last wave to the screaming crowd before he jumped onto the bus and closed the doors behind him.
Brandy came running toward him and Jeremy.
