Page 21 of The Roadie
Brett was used to backstage access and watching the show from the side of the stage, but he wasn’t used to the VIP treatment that he received the moment he stepped off the tour bus. He had always faded into the background while the talent was treated like royalty. Being with Kira and the band meant that he received the rock star treatment right along with them. A swarm of paparazzi and fans rushed at the vehicle as soon as it entered the parking lot to the hotel. Security was already in place to hold back the crowd and barricades were erected to form a direct line from the bus into the main entrance. They had to wait while Audra went inside and picked up card keys for everyone, which incited the crowd.
Fans screamed louder when they stepped off the bus, and camera phones were jutted in their direction at every angle in order to catch a photo. Paparazzi shouted questions, hoping for a brief interview. A flash went off in Brett’s face and a voice asked about his affiliation with Immortal Angel, obviously intrigued by the newcomer within this tight-knit group.
He knew better than to answer and kept walking, even though he wanted to pop the guy for being so fucking rude. Another barricade was waiting for them inside the hotel that led to the elevator bank, although most of the crowd was restrained outside.
When Brett and Kira checked into their room, there was a bottle of champagne on ice and a platter of expensive gourmet cheeses waiting for them. More astonishing than that, was the luxurious suite that they’d be sharing. He knew this couldn’t be courtesy of Falcon Records. Kira mentioned that this was a working vacation for her, but there was no reason for the label to go overboard with a room this extravagant, even if her father owned the company. And then there was the champagne and platter of cheeses. He quickly realized that this was Kira’s doing and the expense was on her dime. “Are you paying for all of this?” He felt like an idiot for asking and never wanted to bring up the subject of money, but he knew the grand suite was solely for his benefit.
Kira wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a smile with a tilt of her head, which made her silky dark blonde hair fall to the side. “It’s nothing, Brett.”
Not only was his ego wounded, but he didn’t want her flaunting her wealth in his face. “I can’t let you pay for something like this. It’s too extravagant. Why don’t we just get a normal room? We don’t need something this fancy. I’m just a regular guy. You don’t need to impress me.”
She looked insulted and stood a little taller. Or hurt that he thought she was trying to buy his affection. Then he realized that thiswasa normal room for Kira Abelman. Well, maybe a little fancier than normal, but obviously not as over the top as he viewed it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve never stayed in anything half as nice as this. That’s all.”
The smile returned to her lips, and she blinked slowly. “OK. I splurged a little. It’s our first night together in a long time. A night I never thought would materialize. And don’t think for one minute that I’m going to let you pay for accommodations on this tour. You’re my guest, even if you’re working. Whether or not you ride with me on the tour bus is up to you. I understand that you need to play nice with the fellow members of the road crew. I understand how that works. But when we stay at hotels, I want you to stay with me. Not bunk with Joey or Mike.”
Conceding came easily, only because he found it impossible to argue with her. “All right, as long as this is a one-time thing. I don’t want you to book a big suite like this every time we have a hotel stay.” He glanced around the room, nodding his approval. “It’s a gorgeous room. Perfect for our first night.”
They began to smile as they stared at one another, because they both knew they were finally alone. He moved a step closer to her and cupped her face in his hands before moving his lips to hers. A fire burned in his veins as their bodies touched, and he finally allowed himself to feed the desire that had been churning inside him all day. They made love in the beautiful canopied bed among silken sheets and fluffy pillows. Afterwards, he couldn’t stop touching her. His fingers dusted her arm from shoulder to wrist. His lips brushed hers while he traced the perimeter of her face. Her hair felt like luxurious satin under his hand.
She seemed just as preoccupied, running her fingertips through his beard and her hands over the curve of his shoulders. Tiny kisses peppered his chest and neck.
They stayed in each other’s arms, blissfully content, until they were forced to get ready for the night’s show.
Brett’s first setup with the crew went smoothly. They were a cool bunch of dudes who didn’t treat him like a newcomer. They respected his long career in the industry and accepted his input on a few technical suggestions without resentment. He was the only roadie who hung around backstage, though.
“I know this is very different from Bulletproof’s backstage madness,” Kira teased. “I’ve heard the stories.”
“And they’re all true.”
She laughed a little. “I’m sure they are.”
Unlike Bulletproof’s out-of-control pre-show parties, Immortal Angel chilled before the show. No one’s dressing room was the epicenter of a free-for-all good time. Angel did his vocal exercises. Audra ran around like a lunatic making sure everything was on schedule. Jessi sorted Angel’s stage attire and tended to last-minute adjustments. Tommy sat with his Les Paul on his knee as if it were one of his children. Damien and Alyssa sat together on a small couch talking quietly. And Jimmy relaxed in a lush chair, drumming a beat on his knees.
Everyone sat around, talking and killing time, until Audra burst through the door, clipboard in hand, and ushered everyone to the stage. The band did the normal pre-show huddle as the crowd chanted, “Imooortal! Aaaangel!” over and over.
Brett draped his arm over Kira’s shoulder and could feel the energy coursing through her. She bounced on the balls of her feet and patted her hands together in time to the collective chant of the crowd.
Tommy shouted, “It’s showtime!” He started wailing on his guitar, ran on stage and slid to his knees. An uproar of panty-melting screams from girls at the front of the railing made Brett place his hands over his ears. The girls loved Tommy Blade, that was for damn sure.
Jimmy ran behind his drum kit and raised his sticks toward the ceiling in one fist, causing another loud round of cheers.
Next, Damien leisurely sauntered on stage as if an arena full of people hadn’t been waiting for the headliner for the past three hours. He slipped the strap of his bass guitar over his head, which momentarily got caught on his sky-high Mohawk. He looked into the audience at the screaming fans and a wicked grin spread across his face, then he saluted them with a middle finger.
Brett waited for Angel to take the stage, but Angel wasn’t moving from the curtain. He just stood there with a smile on his face as he listened to 20,000 people calling his name. His opening outfit, a long black leather cape with a row of huge menacing spikes down the center, made him look like a mixture of Dracula and Godzilla. “That’s fucking wicked cool,” Brett commented.
“My wife is an incredible designer.” Angel glanced at Jessi with pride. She presented her cheek, and he dutifully kissed it.
At least a full minute passed before Angel walked onto the stage. As soon as he did, the lights went out and a single spotlight illuminated him in a triangle of white. By this time, half the crowd was standing on chairs and hollering with their fists in the air. The other half were stomping their feet so hard that the floor shook like a 5.0 earthquake.
Angel whipped the cape open and pointed to the ceiling at the exact moment the lights went up with a thunderclap. The band erupted into the radical sound ofCyanide Sensation, and Angel’s impeccable vocals filled the arena.
Halfway through the next song, Angel sauntered over to Tommy and assaulted the guitar player with the sexual lyrics ofDirty Love. Tommy dropped to his knees. He violated the guitar with an upwards thrust of his hips and leaned in a backwards arc while his long blond hair dusted the floor and his fingers danced across the neck of his Les Paul.
Tommy executed an intense solo that fused punk rock with hard rock undertones, proving that he was the master of blending genres.
“He’s got mad skills,” Brett told Kira, truly astonished at witnessing the phenomenon firsthand.
She inhaled a deep breath through her smile. “I know. I’ll always remember the first time I saw Tommy on stage. He blew everyone away, but most of all, he made Angel come alive out there. He brought the band to superstardom.”
