Chapter Two

Trent

I wasn’t sure what happened between me bursting into a random diner in panic and being invited to a concert, but I wasn’t complaining. I’d gone to a local gym to let off steam, but had felt uncomfortable every second I spent there. The men there and their derogatory jokes about women and talk of scoring some ass had my skin crawling. It had sounded way too close to the gym culture I’d been getting more and more sick of lately. After running out of there, I hadn’t stopped until I saw the colorful lights of a fifties-style diner. What a change of vibe that had been.

Now, with a guitar case in one hand and a round bag with the word Zildjian on it in the other, I followed Charlie, Trixie, and Sabrina into a club at the edge of the city. Posing as a part of the band was easier than I thought—I tried to look serious and nodded whenever someone asked one of the real band members a question. We arrived early; bright lights illuminated the interior, and the bar was unsettlingly empty. During a slalom through the club, I shook hands with several technicians and the couple organizing the event.

“We’ll dump our stuff backstage and leave Trixie to talk to the sound guy.” Charlie steered me by the elbow until we reached a tiny room with beige paint peeling off walls.

“You won’t hear well from the back so you can pick a spot in front of the stage. Or at the bar.” Charlie took the equipment from me and set it all aside. “Don’t feel you have to stay if you don’t like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it.” This time, I didn’t stop the smile from taking over my face. Even if I didn’t vibe with the music, complete strangers had shown me more kindness than any of my friends, and had invited me to an event that was important to them. I was excited about the concert no matter what. “I’ll be cheering you on from the front row.”

“Cool.” Trixie clapped me on the shoulder harder than my gym buddies would. “We’ll see you after the gig.”

I nodded and slipped back through the narrow corridor that smelled of burned rubber, and into the club proper. The place had the vibe of catering to all sorts of events. A disco ball hung high in the ceiling, as if tucked in so the rock crowd wouldn’t notice. Tables and chairs stood shoved to the side of the open adjacent room, while boxes and various sound equipment lay scattered around the smaller space.

I ordered a beer, leaned back against the barriers in front of the stage, and watched people come in. Within half an hour, the music from the speakers and dimmed lights set the party mood, while couples and groups of friends filled the place quickly.

They were dressed in blacks, whites, and reds, most of them wearing band t-shirts, making me realize how strikingly out of place I must look in my basketball jersey and shorts. I faced the stage and chose to ignore the negative thoughts my brain was coming up with. I’d attended the odd concert and a town festival with my parents and my older brother, but I’d never known anyone on stage in person.

The music quietened, and one of the organizers came on stage and introduced the band.

Anticipation built in me, even if the crowd was chatting away.

Then I saw Charlie.

It wasn’t the style that made a frontman, but the confidence, and Charlie swaggered onto the stage like he belonged there. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He effortlessly seduced the audience with his slim body and piercing gaze, as he rearranged his dark red guitar. Trixie sat behind drums, stretching her arms above her head, and Sabrina placed a sheet with a set list on the floor next to the foot switch for her bass.

Technically, I’d just met Charlie and the crew, but when they stepped on the stage, my heart jumped and the rest of the club ceased to exist. The uncanny magic of eyeliner was that it made everyone hotter, but holy shit, did it look fantastic on Charlie. The rockstar smudge accentuated his deep brown eyes that reflected the overhead lights, and his red-tipped black hair, messily styled, matched the black t-shirt and red suspenders hanging at the sides of his jeans.

Charlie nodded at his bandmates, at which Sabrina clicked her drumsticks together three times and they all started playing.

Maybe it was the casual kindness Charlie had shown me, but I was drawn to him in a way that was new to me. I couldn’t put a finger on it. His hands worked the guitar like magic I was unable to fathom. The sticker-covered instrument became an extension of Charlie.

He took a step towards the standing mic, looked straight at me, and sang.

Chills ran through me, and my body felt as if I’d drunk too much caffeine and ate a whole box of glazed donuts.

The pure sound of his tenor, mixed with the angry lyrics and a clear delivery, pulled me in and sent the people behind me into a frenzy. They sang along and jumped, pushing me against the barrier. I didn’t mind, as the sheer energy of the crowd and the performance from the band were worth a bruise or two.

They played some tunes I’d heard on the radio when I was a kid, or maybe it was something my brother used to listen to. The first song had to do with a bunch of kids that were not alright, and the next was welcoming us to paradise with an upbeat melody.

Charlie bit his bottom lip when playing the solo, his focus showing in the flawless dance of his fingers on the guitar.

I loved music, but I’d never been very particular about it. What fascinated me today was Charlie, Sabrina, and Trixie performing with a clear love for the music. They put their hearts in every move and note—I could feel it without knowing the songs. Sabrina hit the drums with rhythm and admirable strength, showing off a serious set of guns in the sleeveless top she’d changed into. Trixie stood with her left side to the audience as she slapped the bass, connecting with Charlie and Sabrina on some metaphysical level I could never understand.

In the span of several songs I only vaguely recognized, the trio showed me why people lost their shit and paid hundreds of dollars to see their favorite bands live. Why didn’t Charlie and the band play their original songs? With the charisma they had, they’d surely draw in crowds.

Someone from the crowd poked me in the arm. Then again. I turned to give them a piece of my mind but realized that poke was an invitation to join whatever the fuck kind of dance they were doing in front of the stage. I shook my head. Some people moved chaotically and bumped into each other, or jumped up and down. Others in the back stood with their beers and simply vibed.

Their energy was contagious and when I turned back to the band, I could tell they were feeding off the crowd as well. The grin that took over my face was involuntary, and I let my body move to the music as my organs jiggled to the beat of the drums.

Once the band finished, I glued my gaze to Charlie. His lips looked so soft when he licked them, then took a sip of the bottled water at the edge of the stage.

“Thanks for coming to the party tonight!” Charlie yelled with excitement to the crowd that replied with a series of whoops. “We’re Y2k All the Way and we’ll be playing your favorite songs again next month. We’re off, but DJ Thomash will take over from here. Have a great evening!”

Then he squinted through the lights aimed at the stage and met my gaze. I grinned, and the smile he gave me in return warmed my chest. With a nod, he indicated backstage, then winked at me. Holy shit, that made my insides flutter.

After flashing the badge I received at the entrance, security let me through to the back. I should be wearing a t-shirt with the words “ I’m with the band” on it . I snickered to myself. Was I a groupie? For that to be true, I’d have to fuck someone from the crew. A vision of Charlie running a hand through his hair as he met my gaze invaded my mind. Yeah, no. Guys were not my thing. Some were hot, Charlie definitely was, but that didn’t mean anything.

I had awkward and confusing boners while changing at the gym lockers, but I’ve never been attracted to a man. I think… I’d convinced myself that every reaction I had was normal straight guy stuff. Some people were fit, and admiring their physique was what everyone did. Or, in Charlie’s case, adoring his sensual lips and eyes that looked into my soul.

I knocked on the door to the backstage room but the music from the club was so loud; I was sure no one heard me. Letting myself in, I saw the band members packing their instruments.

“That was awesome!” I yelled, and they all turned my way.

“Thanks, dude.” Sabrina clapped my shoulder and continued inspecting the cymbals she was sliding into a round bag.

So that was what I carried in.

“I had so much fun. Thanks for inviting me.”

“We’re going to my place next,” Charlie said. “And a few friends are meeting us there. Wanna come?”

I nodded. With no plans for the rest of the night, I was not ready to part with the cool people that, somehow, were willing to drag a sack of music illiterate muscle with them. “Yeah, sure.” I could be cool too. But my grin was probably giving my excitement away. Oh well.

“Let’s split then.” Trixie hauled her soft bass case onto her back.

“I can take that.” I reached out for the bag.

“Nah. You don’t need to carry our shit on the way out.”

But I wanted to help. I nodded anyway and followed them out.

The time spent on the bumpy ride at the back of the van with Charlie gave me the opportunity to tell him how much I enjoyed the concert, and in no time, we arrived at the apartment he shared with Trixie. The place had a lived-in vibe with a worn welcome mat, coats by the door and an open entrance to the kitchen. We stepped into the living room, which had walls covered in shelves with books and music memorabilia. Charlie directed me to sit on the corner sofa with pillows and a low table facing a TV on the wall.

“Beer anyone?” Trixie asked, setting her bags carefully against the wall. “People should start coming soon.”

“I’ll have one, but can I use the bathroom first?” I stood up and felt the lollipops in my pocket. They could wait. Looking like a kid carrying a bunch of candy would not be a good look in front of my new friends.

“Of course. It’s the door on the right. Our rooms are on the left.” Charlie disappeared back into the kitchen and dove into the fridge, pulling out beers.

I took a leak in the bathroom, feeling jealous when I saw the tub. The apartment I was renting was basically a closet with a shower. Here, even the hand soap smelled nice, so I took the time to wash my face and look at my reflection. My short blond hair was disheveled, and so was my jersey—all proof that the concert actually happened. And now I was in an apartment with a bunch of strangers who had no reason to accept me, much less like me.

What am I doing here?

The day had gotten off the rails so fast, I couldn’t keep track of it.

No way I could fit in this group, even if they’d made me feel welcome from the very start. “I should go,” I muttered. With a nod to my reflection, I left the bathroom. The bedroom doors were open, and it was obvious which one was Charlie’s. The two guitars on stands and one on a wall hook were dead giveaways. His passion was so clear and, even if I didn’t understand it, I could appreciate it. Several outfits lay spread on the bed in an otherwise tidy room, and the top of the dresser held rows of pictures in frames. A shot that looked familiar caught my eye, so I took a step into the room like a nosy ass and picked up the frame.

“What the fuck?” I whispered, looking closely at the picture. With shaking hands, I checked the tag on my jersey. My name wasn’t on it.

I marched towards the living room, heart in my throat.

The trio was sitting on the sofa with their backs to me, talking in hushed tones.

“Well, then maybe just talk to him.” Sabrina patted Charlie’s shoulder.

“I know. But it’s weird.” Charlie groaned and wiped a hand over his face. “What if he doesn’t understand?”

“Trent is a big boy and can make his own choices. But I agree with Sabrina that you should tell him.” Trixie’s serious tone didn’t help the dread that filled me all the way to my shoes. Who were these people?

My toes cracked as I stepped into the room, and they turned my way. “Tell me what?” My hand trembled when I lifted the frame. “Does it have anything to do with why you have a picture of me as a child in your bedroom?”

“Oop, look at the time!” Sabrina pointed at her watch-less wrist. “I’m so hungry. Let’s order pizza. Or make some sandwiches, yes.” She sprang to her feet. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“I’m not hungry.” Trixie crossed her arms and leaned back.

“Yes, you are. Remember that thing with the, you know—” Sabrina tugged on the sleeve of Trixie’s hoodie. “Come on.”

“Ah that, yes, that’s true.” Trixie sighed and nodded. “I’m coming with you.”

“Charlie, what’s going on?” My voice was barely steady.

“I can explain everything. Sit.” Charlie patted the couch, and I sank into the soft pillows. What the hell was happening?