Page 31 of Crimson Desires

“I’ll consider it,” Dad said. “Now, I’ve got to get back to work. Have a good show.”

Dad disconnected the call before we could say goodbye.

Ava turned off the laptop, and we all let out a collective exhale.

“I don’t care how many times I do it. Meeting with your father is terrifying,” Ava said. She packed her laptop away into her case. “Thanks for sticking up for Wicked Crimson’s artistic integrity. If I had to share the mixing booth with a melody consultant, I’d probably end up killing them.”

“Of course, Aves.” I offered her a fist bump.

The best thing about Ava was that, as our producer, she was easily our biggest fan. Though the music she made on her own time was a mix of EDM and city pop, she loved helping us create Wicked Crimson’s rock and roll sound.

Fighting for creative freedom was just as much for her as it was for any of us.

“I’d never let Dad fuck up your flow. You’re Wicked Crimson’s sixth musketeer.”

Ava rolled her eyes, but it was all affection. “Yeah, well this sixth musketeer is telling you that you’ve got to get out there in fifteen minutes for sound check. If you need me, I’ll be getting our tour bus fixed so that your crew doesn’t die of heat stroke.”

***

Sweat drenched my body as I looked out into the crowd filling the seats of Richmond’s Classic Amphitheater.

We’d just played a killer set. The adrenaline coursing through every inch of my body was pure euphoria. This rush was how I knew that Wicked Crimson was meant to go big.

It couldn’t be a coincidence that every show made me feel more alive than the last. It couldn’t be a fluke that the sound of ten-thousand fans singing along to our songs was the most religious experience I’d ever had.

“Good night, DC! Drive home safe!” I shouted into the microphone.

“We have to say that legally!” Damien added.

The audience cheered. Then, the lights cut out.

I wanted to bask in the moment longer. But I forced myself to return to the wings. I passed my wireless microphone to the audio engineer waiting for me and headed to the green room.

***

After the show, we found ourselves at a bar not far from the venue. Ava had rented out the entire VIP area for us. If we wanted to, the five of us guys could’ve each picked our own table to sit at.

Instead, we crowded at the table farthest from the entrance.

Kane and Zephyr went shot-for-shot on Mind Erasers. Damien sipped on a rum and coke. Axel, who was shameless about his love of fruity cocktails, was on his second Sex on the Beach. And I was downing Vodka Red Bulls like a fraternity brother who had never even heard the words “Liver” and “Disease” used in the same sentence.

Usually, I played the field at clubs. Sometimes Zephyr and I made a game out of it. We’d see who could get more girls in one night.

But ever since meeting Aster, I’d had a stark lack of interest in random hookups.

Wicked Crimson’s crew showed up at the club halfway through my fourth Vodka Red Bull. I waved them over to the VIP area and instructed the bodyguard posted at the stanchion to let them in.

“Great show, guys! Thanks for all you do,” I called to them, my voice hardly peaking above the club’s music. “Drinks are on the house tonight! Get drunk, but not so drunk that you can’t show up to work tomorrow!”

This was probably a little hypocritical of me, considering I was slurring most of my words and swaying like a tree in a windstorm, but the crew was polite enough not to point that out.

Most of the crew headed to the VIP bar to get their drinks. Others spread out on the dance floor.

Aster stuck close to one of the crew guys—a lighting engineer whose name was Tom (or Tim? Something like that).

I made my way over to them.

“Hey, man,” I said, putting my hand on Tom/Tim’s shoulder. “Mind if I borrow her?”

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