Chapter 6

Another year, another city, another performance.

Me and the guys were finishing up our third year on the road, heading into our fourth, and while we’d had steady work, we were also dealing with frustration.

We had gigs lined up for the year ahead, two a week, almost every week, but always as the opening act, not the headliner. And we’d been invited to a few summer music festivals, but only as a backup if others cancelled.

The big break we were working for, well, it still hadn’t happened.

Don’t get me wrong, we were having a blast. No one to answer to but ourselves. The freedom and excitement of the road, new places, and people. Hanging out with other musicians, getting drunk, getting high, and having sex whenever and however we wanted. And never having to deal with a clingy hookup since we were usually out the door the same night and on to a different city.

And we were always working on improving our sound, and our performance. Brodie wrote all our songs, with input from the rest of us, and he had a talent for catchy lyrics. Most of them raunchy as hell.

But performing live every week was physically grueling and so was traveling. Not to mention, trying to get our demo in front of any contact at any record label was no easy feat. The few so-called talent scouts that did approach us after our recent shows turned out to be nothing more than predatory assholes. Sign here and give us all the rights to your songs and we’ll take most of your money. No fucking way.

Three years in and no record deal.

Personally, we were having the time of our lives, but professionally, frustrating was the least of it.

Plus, we lived together. Twenty-four seven. Either in our van, or in shitty motel rooms we had to share. And every month or two, there would be arguments. Not that we stayed mad for long. But still, living and breathing in the same tiny space was only possible when you loved what you did. And when you loved the people with you.

Holls, Brodie, and Ronin weren’t just friends, they were my band brothers.

Well, Ronin was more than that. I didn’t even have to speak to him half the time. He could just look at me and he knew exactly what I was thinking. Or feeling. The kinetic energy between us needed no explanation.

He was my ride or die. Platonically speaking.

Or so I kept telling myself. The older I got, the more complicated my feelings were for my best friend. Not that I would screw things up by making a move. All four of us made a pact not to fuck with group dynamics by, well, fucking each other. It was one rule we stuck to.

Curiosity was just that. Better left alone.

Besides, we were never short of male attention on the road.

And I wouldn’t trade this life for a nine to five, no matter what. But earning just enough money to keep going meant we were barely getting by. It wasn’t easy, but it was the life we’d chosen.

It’s gonna happen. We’re gonna make it. One day.

And it could be tonight. We were in Seattle, opening for Havenstone, one of the most popular local bands in the city. It was a sold out show so hopefully we would garner good press. At this point, any press at all was good.

Our dressing room wasn’t much bigger than a closet. At least it had a lock on the door, and it was clean. Not like some of the dives we’d played in. Fucking hell, they were grunge. Like, literally, they hadn’t been cleaned since the 90s.

When my phone buzzed, I glanced at the message. It was a notification from my socials. Most of our high school classmates were graduating from college and starting their first jobs. Or going to grad school. Including my brother. He was finishing his MBA and at twenty-four, he already had a job lined up at some fancy-ass marketing firm.

I glanced at the pictures, graduation photos with happy smiles and proud parents.

Not that I envied them. Well, maybe a bit.

My parents still thought I was going through a phase, refusing to grow up. I knew they loved me, but their approval was something I wanted. I believed in my dream, and I wanted them to believe in it too.

“Hey boo, we’ve gotta finish soundcheck. You coming?” Ronin called out from the other side of the door.

“I’ll be right there!” I yelled back.

My pre-show ritual was important. I started off with stretches to warm up my shoulders and legs. Then I relaxed with a hit of coke, my drug of choice. I’d tried a lot of different ones, but I always came back to it. It helped me loosen up, and by the time the show was done, I was on top of the world and ready to party. For an introvert like me, it was a game changer.

I snorted the white power, wiped my nose, and took a shot of tequila. Then I put my phone in our lockbox, finished fixing my black eyeliner, and did my final stretches before heading out to join my bandmates.

The guys were busy setting up our equipment and already working up a sweat. Hauling our gear in and out of venues, including amps that weighed a fuckton, was no mean feat. We didn’t need a gym because we worked out every fucking day. And often, we didn’t have anyone, save the venue manager, to help us.

I sat down behind my kit and adjusted my stool and my kickstand, while Brodie tested his mic, and Holls and Ro, their guitars.

A half hour later, the manager told us the doors were opening and we could hear the crowd on the other side of the curtain as they filled the room. The venue could pack in a thousand easy and the stage was the nicest one we’d ever played on.

My adrenaline spiked as the minutes counted down to showtime.

Until Brodie’s phone rang, and we all stopped talking so he could hear.

“Brodie James… yeah… uh huh… thanks,” he said and tapped his phone. “Thanks for nothing! Fuck!”

“Another label said no?” Holls asked as he swiped a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, that was Ethan from Strattos. Apparently, we don’t have the sound he’s looking for,” Brodie spat out as he paced.

“What does that mean?” Ronin asked.

“I don’t fucking know! That’s all he said!” Brodie snapped and stormed off to the wings.

I set my sticks aside and walked around my kit. “That’s the second rejection this month.”

“This is so goddamn frustrating!” Holls bit out. “And to think I fucked that guy.”

“You what?” I asked.

“Ethan said he loved our music, and our deal was a sure thing,” Holls explained with a shrug of his shoulders. “He was hot. We were celebrating.”

“He was using you, for fuck’s sake!” I snapped. “Think Holls, come on. No wonder he didn’t take us seriously. What the hell?”

“Hey! I’m not the only one who fucks around with guys in this business. Don’t make this my fault!”

Ronin stepped up and placed an arm around my shoulder. “Take it down a notch, Holls.”

“Of course, you’d come to his defense,” Holls bit out, pointing at me with his guitar pick.

“I’m not taking sides. Done is done. We just gotta stay cool and keep going,” Ronin assured us. “So, they said no. Fuck ‘em.”

“Too late,” Holls quipped, shaking his head.

“A bigger and better label will come along,” Ronin insisted. “But Holls, maybe don’t fuck someone at the label that’s scouting us until we have a signed deal, yeah?”

“Ronin’s right. About all of that,” Brodie’s voice piped up. “Fuck Strattos.”

Brodie walked back on stage, hands on his hips. “I’m good. We’re good. Fuck that asshole and his shitty label! He wouldn’t know good music if it bit him on the balls.”

“Small, hairy balls at that,” Holls teased.

Our confidence had wavered, but it came back around like always.

Holls shook his head. “I just don’t get it. Crowds love us, and so do other bands. I don’t know what else we can do. Like, why other bands and not us?”

“I have an idea to switch things up,” I offered. “I think we should change our scheduled plans for next year and go to Europe instead.”

Ronin turned to me. “Europe? Why?”

“We’ve been touring the states for three years. Enough already,” I tapped my sticks together. “Maybe a label over there will take notice? What do you guys think?”

Brodie nodded. “I like it. And a change of scene is what we need. I’ve got some savings that I can dip into to help fund our flights over there. Holls, Ro?”

“I call the window seat,” Holls quipped.

“So, are we all in agreement?” I asked. “Ro?”

Ronin pulled me in for a hug. “Like you ever need to ask.”

Nine Days Later

Ronin

Berlin was our cheapest flight option.

Germany was cool and kinda overwhelming, but in the best way. New people, different language. It was energizing.

Cancelling our US bookings however, made me nervous. At least back home, we knew we had gigs lined up. Here? Anything could happen.

And if we didn’t get any bookings, if the fans didn’t like us and we had to return home, we’d have lost out on money we desperately needed. Or that I desperately needed. Brodie and Holls didn’t like to ask their respective parent(s) for money, but if they needed to, they could. And did. Faise too.

Everyone but me. And I didn’t like the others funding my room or expenses. Brodie insisted that we were family, and it was no biggie, but I didn’t like feeling the odd one out.

Someday, I was going to have enough money so that me, my mom, and my sister would never have to worry again.

For now, I put aside my fears and trusted in Faise’s idea. It might be the change we needed.

It had already inspired Brodie to write a new song on the way over here. Nine Gone Wrong was going to be our debut when we hit the Berlin stage.

Our first night, we made fast friends with a bouncer at a downtown club. Which led us to an invite to an underground party, queer friendly, and full of twentysomethings like us. We popped pills, snorted coke, and danced until we sweated it all away.

Most of the crowd spoke English as well as German, so we were gold. And we met a group of guys that were also struggling musicians. Bruno, Anton, and twins Elias and Carl were members of a rock group called Die Tier. Translation: The Beast. And fuck, they were all that and more. Talented, fierce, and sexy as hell.

After out-dancing and out-drinking us, they invited us to another after, after party. Instead, we invited them back to our hotel. I don’t remember much except landing on one of the beds in the room, then it was lights out. I woke up the next day to a room that smelled like stale beer, cigs, and cum.

At least someone got lucky last night.

When I looked around, Holls was asleep beside me, and Anton beside him. Brodie was passed out on the sofa, with Bruno on the floor by his feet.

But where was my…

A loud groan had me rolling over to look for Faise.

He was lying on the second bed, his back against the headboard. But he wasn’t asleep.

Carl and Elias, the blond twins, were keeping him company. Or rather, one of them (don’t ask me which one) knelt between Faise’s legs, sucking him off.

Without hesitation my hand reached for my cock, my morning semi turning to a raging hard on despite my hangover.

“Yeah, fuck, just like that,” Faise moaned loudly. “Take it all. Suck harder.”

For the quietest guy in the band, Faise sure was loud when it came to sex. I licked my lips as I watched him gripped Carl/Elias’s spiky hair, taking control of his movements.

That was another thing I’d learned lately about my best friend. He wasn’t the biggest or loudest guy around, but he could be a total power top.

God, they’re so hot together.

The other twin sat up and leaned over, licking, and playing with Faise’s pierced nipples. Goddamn it, the filthy echo of their grunts and moans had me working my dick faster. Spitting in my hand, I jacked off, needing to come so fucking bad.

“Yeah, just like that,” Faise panted. “Are you gonna swallow my cum?”

The twin moaned; the sound muffled by the cock in his throat. But judging by the flush on the guy’s body, and the way his hand frantically worked in tandem with his mouth, he looked eager as hell for Faise’s cum.

Jesus.

Faise punched his hips forward and the twin gagged. Christ, my balls were drawing up so tight it was near painful. My climax was almost there.

“That’s it, take my cock like the needy slut you are,” Faise growled.

The bed creaked and groaned as Faise pumped his hips frantically. When his body tensed, the look of pure pleasure on his face was unmistakable.

“Yes!”

I didn’t bother to contain my own shout as I came all over my hand and stomach, flooding the sheets with ropes of cum.

Welcome to Berlin, baby.

Faise’s confidence—on stage and off—kept growing and it was something else. My dick was still half hard as I watched the twins masturbate, covering Faise’s chest and abs in their cum.

Fucking hell, that was the hottest thing I’d witnessed in a while. Watching each other was always sexy. We didn’t have hang ups about our bodies or sex. We were young and always primed to fuck. And to watch other people fuck. It was all good.

Until one of the twins crawled up Faise’s body and leaned in to kiss him. My stomach flipped over and not in a good way.

It’s just the hangover.

I looked away, rolling over. Holls and Anton were awake now and watching Faise and the twins too. Anton was sucking on Holls’s neck and whispering that he wanted to fuck him.

My dick twitched but I was too exhausted after that monster orgasm to do anything about it.

The last thing I heard before I passed out was Faise’s husky laughter. Which surprised me. But more than that, I was annoyed. Because I was the one who made him laugh. Me.

I didn’t like this feeling at all.