Page 4 of Hard Rock Desires
“If you’re that hot, I can dump that bucket of ice water all over your head,” Finn suggested.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I replied.
But his blue eyes sparkled with evil glee, and I knew he was seriously considering it.
“I’m going to go check on Anya,” I said hastily.
Finn’s evil look eased into concern.
“Is she doing okay?” he asked.
“Same as always, last I checked.”
“So that’s a no.”
“She’ll be all right,” I said. “It’s getting better lately, I think.”
“Is it?” Finn asked doubtfully.
“Mr. Finnley?” the guitar tech asked fretfully. “The sound check?”
I left Finn to play tug-of-war with his bass, feeling sorry for the poor tech. The guy was just doing his job. It wasn’t his fault Finn was such a drama queen about his instrument.
There were dozens of people milling around backstage, mostly techs, assistants, and other venue staff.
“Hey, there,” I stopped one of the staff wearing a lanyard around her neck with a soft touch on her arm. “Is it true the A/C’s broken?”
She stopped, expression startled. She looked down at my fingers on her elbow, then twisted her head all around, like she thought I might have been talking to someone else.
“I heard it blew its fuse,” I continued.
She realized I was talking to her, and her cheeks went red. She bobbed her head regretfully. “We’ve called someone in to fix it, but it might take an hour or more.”
Shit. Once we got on stage, those spotlights were going to be brutal. Finn had been right about my clothes. Maybe I could peel my shirt off if I got too hot. The fans would love that. Shirtless rock star in leather pants? Fuck, they’d go wild.
Hm. Maybe this whole broken A/C situation was a blessing in disguise.
I kept the idea in the back of my mind as I searched out the dark corners and closed off rooms in the venue for my lead singer.
Since this wasn’t one of our huge stadium concerts, just a small fans-only live, I was pretty sure Anya would be all right. The excuse got me away from Finn, though, before he could go ahead with his ice bucket prank. I knew that dick would be tempted to go through with it now that the idea was in his head.
But before I could find Anya, I ran into someone else. Micah and the new guy, Chris.
Not new, I reminded myself. Chris had been with us for more than a year already.
“Hey Zain,” Micah, our keyboardist, called out. “Got a second?”
I gritted my teeth. I’d been hoping to avoid him, as much as I could considering we were in the same band.
“I wanted to talk about the encore,” he continued.
“Can it wait?” I asked.
“We go on in less than an hour,” he replied in that level-headed tone of his. His brown eyes were calm behind those thick hipster glasses.
I unclenched my jaw. “Sure. Fine.”
I ambled over, trying to keep my expression smooth. Chris, with his ever-present good-spirited smile, took a step back, leaving room for me to face Micah. I tried not to think of it as a face-off.
