The Prince of Punk Rock (18 page)

“We know
you’re too nice to tell her to leave you alone,” Kira said.

Damien
butted in again.
 
“I was going to tell
her to fuck off in two more seconds.”

The girls
laughed.
  
“That’s why we love you,
Damien.
 
You’re always blunt and to the
point.”

Interactions
with
Kendall
always made Angel
uncomfortable.
 
If she didn’t come on to
him every time she spoke to him, they might have been able to have an amicable
conversation.
 
As he retreated backstage,
he began to wonder if he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to
dodge
Kendall
.
 
Why wouldn’t she leave him alone?
 
Damien caught up to him as he walked down the corridor to the back room.

“Why
don’t you just tell
Kendall
to fuck off?”

Angel
could never be that rude to someone. “I don’t know.
 
I guess I feel bad.”

“You
shouldn’t.
 
She’s a conniving little
bitch.”

Damien
and Kendall were at odds with one another, although it was more one-sided on
Damien’s part.
 
“Why do you hate her so
much?”

Damien
hesitated.
 
“I didn’t want to tell you,
but she tried to blackmail me once.”

Angel
stopped short.
 
“Blackmail you?
 
What the hell for?”

Damien
struggled with his answer.

“She
threatened to tell Alyssa on me if I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Tell
Alyssa what?”

Damien
couldn’t look him in the eye.
 
He dug his
chin into his chest and his face grew taut.
 
“That I had a couple of drinks one night and snorted some coke.”

“Oh,
Damien.”
 
It wasn’t just disappointment
that sunk into Angel’s chest, it was fear.
 
Damien was a recovered alcoholic and drug addict and substance abuse
almost killed him.
 
Angel was devastated
for him.
 
He wasn’t just worried about
his friend’s recovery.
 
It was Damien’s
life that was in jeopardy.

“It was
just one night.”
 
Damien pointed to his
throat and the gruesome tattoos that resided there.
 
“These fuckin’ demons don’t go away.
 
They fight me every day.
 
I had a weak moment. I know I fucked up, and
I almost lost everything that mattered to me.”

“Did
Alyssa find out?”

Damien
nodded.
 
“I had to tell her.
 
I had no choice.
 
But I never told her that
Kendall
tried to blackmail me into sleeping with her.
 
You know Alyssa.
 
She would have
ripped
Kendall
’s head off and shoved it up her
ass.”

“What
happened?”

“Alyssa
moved out.
 
She threatened to divorce me
if I didn’t go to counseling.
 
You know
that’s not my thing, but I went.
 
For
Alyssa.
 
I’d do anything for her.
 
She came with me.
 
We straightened it out, but it put everything
back into perspective for me. It reminded me what I had to loose.
 
My girl.”

“When the
hell did this happen?
 
Why didn’t you
tell me?”

“A little
over a year ago.
 
I didn’t want you to
know.
 
I didn’t want to lose your
respect.”

“Damien,
I love you like a brother.
 
I stuck with
you through all the bullshit, remember?
 
You turned your life around. I’m very proud of you.”
 
Angel didn’t know if he was more shocked
about Damien’s relapse or about
Kendall
trying
to blackmail him into sleeping with her.
 
“And
Kendall
tried to blackmail you?”

“Yeah.”
 
They started walking again. “Don’t put
anything past her.
 
You don’t know how
low she’ll stoop to get what she wants.”

Angel fed
off the energy of the audience.
 
The
crazier the crowd, the wilder his performance.
 
There were no restrictions on how raunchy or perverse he could get on
stage when the crowd provoked him.
 
Tonight, it was pandemonium at The Quadrangle.
 
A hardcore band opened for Immortal Angel and
incited the crowd.
 
They were out of
control.
 
He hadn’t seen it this crazy in
a long time.
 
People were moshing and
throwing beer bottles.
 
Crowd surfers
were being carried on their back to the front of the stage.
 
A bra sailed threw the air and landed at his
feet.
 
He looked out into the audience
and a pair of naked breasts bounced in front of him.
 
It took over ten minutes before security was
able to break through the crowd and haul her away, resulting in a chorus of
disapproving howls from the rowdy fans.

Every
time Angel would get close the edge of the stage, a forest of arms and hands
would reach up and tug at his ankles and legs.
 
He got down on his knees and they almost pulled him off stage.
 
There was no barrier.
 
There was nothing between him and the audience.
 
The thrill of it always got him hard.
 
That’s why he was always grabbing his dick
when he performed.
 
Hell, he would jerk
off up there if he thought he could get away with it.

It was
the last song of the night and a fan sent a round of shots to the band.
 
Angel handed one to Tommy and Jimmy, then
gulped down his shot, and Damien’s shot.
 
He wished fans wouldn’t send Damien alcohol, but when they did, he was
happy to intercept it.

Angel was
down on his knees again at the front of the stage.
 
Hands were touching him everywhere.
 
If he was an inch closer, they would be
grabbing his crotch.
 
It was making him
especially horny tonight. A cutie right in front kept smiling at him.
 
The shoulder length blond hair and soft blue
eyes reminded him of Tommy.
 
That’s
probably why Angel kept gravitating back to him as he sang.

When the
show was over, the blond-haired maven found him as soon as he walked off the
stage.
 
They chatted for several minutes,
and it became very clear that this fan wanted Angel in his bed, or right there
in the vestibule.
 
A gentle swipe down
Angel’s arm, a soft touch on his cheek, the pouty lips and breathy laughs, were
all chock full of sexual overtones.
 
In seconds,
Angel’s nether region was rumbling against his tight leather jeans.
 
He wasn’t sure if it was because this
fair-haired imp could easily pass for Tommy in the dim light, or because he was
basically living a life of celibacy while he waited for Tommy’s love.
 
At least Tommy had Jessi to relieve him.
 
Angel was relegated to being married to his
right hand.

This
hottie wasn’t toying with him or mixing words.
 
He came right out and said, “I want to fuck you, Angel Garcia.”

The two
shots of Jack Daniels that Angel gulped down on stage kicked in.
 
His head was reeling and his hormones were
screaming.
 
His erection refused to be
quieted.
 
It strained against his too
tight leather jeans, demanding release.

When
fleshy lips met Angel’s mouth, he didn’t resist.
 
A delicious wet tongue fed a hunger that went
too long without nourishment.
 
Behind
Angel’s closed eyes, he saw Tommy’s hands circling his waist, reaching for his
belt buckle with one hand, while rubbing his cock with the other.
 
He didn’t care if the whole bar saw Tommy
give him a blow job . . . but . . . wait . . . it wasn’t Tommy.
 
It was a stranger.
 
He abruptly pulled away.

“Getting
shy, sweetie? We can duck into the men’s room if you want.”

“N’no.
 
It’s just . . . there’s someone else.
 
I’m sorry.”
 
Angel ran to the back room to compose himself.
 
After he jerked off in the private bathroom,
he washed his face and returned to the front of the bar, hoping not to run into
his admiring fan again.

Tommy bumped into him and pushed
roughly past him.
  
Angel thought it was
an accident, until Tommy turned and glared at him, harshly.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s
wrong with me?”
 
Tommy balled his hands
into fists and let them hang at his side. “You really want to know what’s wrong
with me?”

Angel
recoiled a little.
 
“Yeah, what are you
so mad about?”

“What am
I so mad about?”

“Stop repeating
my questions and tell me what’s wrong.”

Tommy
narrowed his eyes.
 
“Why don’t you stick
your tongue down that guy’s throat again and see if you can find the answer to
your question?”

Angel
froze.
 
He had no idea Tommy witnessed
his indiscretion.
 
His cheeks burned red
hot and he lowered his gaze to the litter strewn floor of The Quadrangle.
 
He wanted to kick himself for being impulsive
and disloyal, but then he realized that Tommy had no right to be mad.
 
What was he supposed to do, commit to a life
of abstinence while he waited for Tommy?
 
It wasn’t fair. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?
 
You have no right to be mad at me, when—”

“I have
every right to be mad!” Tommy turned and abruptly stomped away.

For a
second Angel stood there, dumbfounded, but then he quickly chased after
Tommy.
 
“Stop running away and talk to
me!”

Tommy
spun around. “There’s nothing to talk about!
 
You’re right!
 
I have no reason to
be mad!
 
You can do
whatever
you
want, with
whoever
you want!”

If Tommy
wanted to be sarcastic, Angel could be sarcastic too. “So we’re
just friends
and you don’t care that I was making out with that guy?”

“No.
 
Why should I care?”

Now Angel
was getting angry.
 
How long was he
expected to wait?
 
“So then you won’t
have a problem if I take that guy home tonight?”

Tommy’s
mouth hung open in shock for a few brief seconds, and then he cinched his jaw
and narrowed his eyes.
 
“You can take
home whoever the fuck you want.”

Tommy was
calling his bluff, and Angel wasn’t about to back down.
 
“OK.
 
I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Angel’s
golden haired make-out buddy was conveniently standing nearby.
 
Angel walked straight up to him, grabbed his
face and gave him a hard, closed-mouth kiss.
 
He looked back at Tommy.
 
Tommy
was seething.
 
Angel could see his flared
nostrils and chest heaving from across the room.
 
It was exactly the reaction he was hoping
for.
 
Angel took the guy by the hand and
waved Tommy a sarcastic goodbye.

He could
be a real bitch when he wanted to.

Chapter Eighteen

Tommy
wouldn’t return Angel’s calls, and Angel was starting to get frantic.
 
It was their first fight, and he regretted
the way he handled it.
 
He behaved
badly.
 
He shouldn’t have let his feeling
escalate out of control.
 
He should have
just apologized for making out with that guy, instead of being vindictive.
 
Love makes you do really stupid things
sometimes.

He needed
to talk to Jessi.

“How do you get Tommy to open up
and talk to you?”

“Give him some time.”
 
Jessi was sympathetic, but he knew she was on
Tommy’s side.
 
“He’ll talk to you when
he’s ready.
 
That’s what Tommy does when
he’s upset.
 
He has to think through the
problem.”

“It’s been almost a week.”
 
Angel’s voice was low and sad.
 
He was in a total state of despair.
 
He needed to make things right with
Tommy.
 
“I’m miserable knowing he’s mad
at me.
 
There has to be something I can
do.”

“Don’t push him.
 
Be patient.”
 
She paused.
 
“He’s just really
hurt, Angel.”

She was judging him.
 
He could hear it in her voice.
 
He was the bad guy.
 
“I didn’t mean to hurt Tommy.
 
I . . . no offense Jessi, but I want to be
the one to explain it to him.”

She nodded.
 
“I agree.
 
You two need to talk things out.”

Angel was silent for several
seconds.
 
He didn’t know what else to
say, but he didn’t want Jessi to leave.
 
“Did Tommy say anything about me?”

“He said he still needed time to
sort some things out.
 
I told him to come
with me just now.
  
I told him you two
needed to straighten things out before the gig tomorrow, but he said that he
would see you at the show.
 
I think he’ll
be ready to talk.”
 
She put her hand on
his arm. “I’ve never seen him this upset before.”

Tommy was too upset to drive to the
show.
 
Plus, he had a million thoughts
running through his head.
 
He still
didn’t know what to do about Angel.
 
He
couldn’t decide if he should abandon his feelings for Angel and move forward
and keep their relationship strictly professional, or if he should leave the
band altogether.
 
Either way, it was a no
win situation for everyone.

As they pulled into the parking lot
of the bar, he caught a glimpse of Angel at the front window.
 
He looked like puppy dog, with his nosed
pressed against the glass, and it made Tommy’s heart ache.

When he walked thought the front
door, he couldn’t look at Angel.
 
He
walked past him and went straight to the stage to set up his amp and his
guitar.
 
He methodically attached cables
and power cords.
 
He tuned his guitar
with exaggerated precision, tunneled his peripheral vision and blocked out everyone
and everything outside its path.
 
He
couldn’t see or hear anything around him. The sight of Angel with that other
guy stifled his senses.

Someone was rocking his shoulder,
tugging on his arm.
 
He thought it might
be Jessi and prayed it wasn’t Angel.
 
It
was Damien.

“What the fuck’s going on?
 
You missed two band practices. You didn’t
return my calls.
 
What’s going on with
you?”

“I sent you a text and told you I
wasn’t going to make it.”

“You don’t miss practice.
 
None of us do.
 
And Angel’s all fucked up.
 
Are you two arguing?”

“Ask
him
.”

Tommy refused to look in Angel’s
direction, but his eyes betrayed him.
 
Luckily Jessi occupied Angel’s attention and they didn’t make eye
contact.
 
Angel’s broad shoulders were
slumped and there was no light in his sad, soulful eyes.
 
Tommy began to soften, but then hardened his
heart.
 
If Angel was having any regrets,
it was his own damn fault.

Tommy arrived late on purpose.
 
He didn’t want to have personal conversations
with anyone before the gig.
 
There was
just enough time for him to set up his gear, and by the time Angel was done
talking to Jessi, the show was about to start.

Tommy played with his head down and
never looked up from his strings.
 
He
watched his fingers furiously glide across the fretboard.
 
He blocked out everything – Jimmy’s explosive
drum beats, Damien’s deep bass line and the howls of the crowd.
 
He only saw his guitar.
 
There was only one thing that broke through
all the barriers he built – Angel’s voice.
 
The harder he tried to block out Angel’s godlike vocals, the more power
and passion flew out of his fingertips.
 
Tommy’s hand moved with the speed of light as he played his guitar
solo.
 
It became a game.
 
He played faster and harder, testing his
ability, waiting for his fingers to miss a chord, but they never did.
 
He played like a veteran superstar.

Angel wasn’t channeling his
frustration as well.
 
He was off.
 
His voice cracked on several occasions and he
flubbed a lyric.
 
If the audience
noticed, they didn’t react with anything except the raw vivacious energy they
always exhibited.

When their set was over, Tommy
immediately started packing up his equipment.
 
He ignored Angel’s pathetic voice calling his name.
 
He wanted to answer by running into Angel’s
arms, wrapping his arms around Angel’s waist and burying his face in the center
of Angel’s carved chest.
 
He wanted to
shake Angel by the shoulders and ask, how could you sleep with that guy, when
I’m right here?
 
But he had no
right.
 
He was the one who resisted all
of Angel’s attempts at furthering their relationship.
 
But it didn’t ease the burning hole in his
heart.

Tired of being ignored, Angel
hooked Tommy by the arm and forced him to turn around.
 
“Please talk to me.
 
I’m sorry.
 
I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t have anything to
say.”
 
Without thinking, Tommy threw his
guitar down. He didn’t know if Jessi was standing next to him or not, but she
dove and caught it before it crashed to the floor.
 
It was his precious Les Paul and he loved it
like his first born child.
 
If anything
happened to that guitar, he would have been devastated.
 
His stupidity made him angry and he lashed
back at Angel.
 
“We’re band mates. That’s
it.
 
If you need to talk to me about
music or a gig, fine. Otherwise I’d rather not engage in conversation.”

Angel recoiled at Tommy’s harsh
words.

Serves him right.

“How can you say that?
 
We’re friends, Tommy.
 
We’re
more
than friends.”

He needed to get out of the bar and
away from Angel.
 
Pain was stabbing him
in the gut and he was bleeding out.
 
He
grabbed Jessi by the hand and pulled her toward the front door.
 
She protested and tried to squirm free.

“Your guitars!
 
Tommy, wait!”

“I don’t care.
 
I’ll get them tomorrow.
 
We need to go!”