Page 22 of The Roadie
Brett returned his gaze to the show just in time to see Tommy jump to his feet. He stalked Angel with the neck of his Les Paul, who backed up to the drum riser. With nowhere to escape, Angel grabbed a chunk of Tommy’s hair, yanked his head back and delivered a smoldering kiss. The crowd went nuts.
Brett had never seen anything like it. The eroticism that the two displayed on stage pushed the raunchy punk rock lyrics to a new level. He glanced at Kira, now standing arm in arm with Audra. Both girls were riveted as they watched Angel and Tommy. But it was Jessi who wore a lust-filled gaze, mouth partly open, eyes hooded, as she watched her two husbands.
Jimmy went off the rails with a gut-busting drum solo that snapped Brett’s head back toward the stage and left everyone’s mouth agape. Jimmy hit the drums so hard he broke a stick. He grabbed a new one, twirled it between his fingers, then tossed it high in the air before catching it and continuing with his attack on the skins.
“That’s my man,” Audra stated, proudly.
“He’s really an amazing drummer,” Brett agreed.
The next song wasPunk Rock Revolution, which was a powerhouse of angry lyrics and a hardcore punk rock anthem. The crowd was wild and riled up, and security was on high alert.
Damien stepped up to the mic and screamed, “Circle pit!” Which set off a near riot as the crowd rallied in a savage mosh pit that spanned half the width of the arena. Security glared at Damien, pissed that he incited the unruly behavior, but he just gave them twin middle fingers.
Alyssa clapped her hands together and laughed up to the ceiling. “That’smyguy!”
The rest of the show was filled with nonstop energy and heart-stopping music. It was Brett’s first gig with Immortal Angel and the first concert he shared with Kira. He slung his arm over her shoulder as the band took their closing bow. She was practically jumping out of her skin with excitement, and he was almost as worked up as she was.
“The show was great, wasn’t it?” she asked. “Did you have a good time?”
The entire day, starting with surprising Kira at the tour bus up until now, had been an escalating series of events, each better than the last. “I had an incredible time. Today has probably been one of the best days of my life. And I think it’s only the beginning of many more.”
The next morning, they were all back on the bus,this time from Pennsylvania to Ohio. Brett felt more comfortable and sat in the main living compartment on the first floor while Kira made some phone calls in their bedroom. Everyone was scattered among the different rooms, so he was by himself. He picked up the remote and was about to turn on the flat screen, when he found a drum magazine sitting on the seat next to him and thumbed through it. Pages were dog-eared, and the cover was wrinkled, obviously a well-read piece of material that most likely belonged to Jimmy Wilder.
“Is that my magazine?”
Brett looked up when he heard the young voice asking the question.
The boy plopped down on the seat next to him and leaned forward to get a look at the magazine’s cover. “Yup. That’s it.”
“You must be Mason.” This kid, with his infectious smile and dimples a mile wide, was, no doubt, Jimmy Wilder’s son.
The kid smiled even wider. “How’d you know my name?”
“You look just like your dad. Plus, I’ve seen you on a few morning talk shows playing the drums. You’re really talented.”
Mason’s cheeks flushed, and he glanced down at his lap momentarily, his smile never wavering. “Thanks. It’s no big deal. I was just having fun. Doing what I love.” The kid’s fingers tapped rhythmically on his knee. “Who are you?”
“I’m Brett. One of the roadies. I’m friends with your Aunt Kira.”
Mason’s face lit up with recognition. “Oh, yeah. I heard her talking to my Mom about you.”
Brett saw this as the perfect opportunity to find out a little information and offered the kid a friendly smile. “So, what did your aunt say about me? Something good, I hope.”
A jovial laugh floated out of Mason’s mouth as he shook his head. “You’re not gonna get me to blab. I’m no snitch.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Brett tried to give the magazine back to Mason, but the kid waved his hand.
“Nah. You can hang onto it. Are you a drummer too?”
“I can play a little of everything. It’s part of the job. Sometimes I tune the instruments”.
A little blond-haired boy came running into the room at top speed and slid to a stop, interrupting their conversation. “There you are, Mase. I want to show you how good I can playMaster of Puppets. I’ve been practicing.”
Mason leaned forward to address the younger boy. “You played great yesterday. Like a champ. You don’t need to push yourself so hard, Lucas.”
“I thought I could do better,” Lucas answered, with seriousness way beyond his years.
This kid was freaking adorable.
