Between a Rock and a Hard Place (20 page)

Jessi looped her arm through Alyssa’s and pulled her toward the National Gallery.  “Come on.  It’ll do you good to look at something besides porn once in a while.”

Angel turned to Damien.  “Were you having second thoughts about going to the museum?”

“Not really.  It’s not my thing, but it won’t kill me.”

“It’s my fault we were late,” Jimmy admitted.  “I got a beat in my head and it wouldn’t go away.  I had to record it.”

Even though fame hit Jimmy the hardest, he never lost sight of his dedication to the music.  Angel often worried about Jimmy and his playboy lifestyle, bedding an assortment of woman and partying in clubs until dawn.

A sweet guy, with immense talent and zero responsibilities in life, Jimmy had the potential to succumb to the dark side of fame and fortune.  His overindulgence of women and alcohol could prove to be a lethal mix.  So far, Jimmy had managed to walk a slim line on the right side of the fence, but he could easily sway in the wrong direction.  Angel needed to remind himself to keep an eye on his drummer.

Chapter Eighteen

Iconic in its glory, the London’s 02 Arena sat at the edge of Peninsula Square on the River Thames.

Angel embraced Tommy’s hand.  “Do you remember when we talked about this day, in my apartment?  It was a dream, a fantasy, and here we are.”

Tommy’s eyes opened with child-like wonder as he took in the impressive venue through the window of the limousine.  “I remember, but I honestly never thought we would be at this point so soon.  I can’t believe we’re really going to play here tonight.”

The car stopped and Jimmy stuck his head out of the window to talk to a group of girls who were wearing Immortal Angel T-shirts.  Before the car slowly crept away, two of the girls stole a hug and a quick kiss.  When Jimmy stuck his head back in the window, his slicked up pompadour was disheveled.

Angel laughed.  “I didn’t think that thing moved.”

Jimmy combed it back into place.  “It’s all about hair product.”

Angel shook his head at the irony.  He was the only gay man in the group, yet he was the least preoccupied with his hair.

The limo pulled up to the back entrance of the 02 Arena, where fans gathered in hopes of getting an autograph, a photo or even a glimpse of Immortal Angel before the show.  The band stopped to momentarily sign some autographs, but Angus pushed them along.  “That’s enough, now.  We can’t talk to everyone, you know.  We got a show to do.”  Angel tried to protest, but Angus was relentless.  Even Jessi was corralled into the venue.

Angel peeked out from the side curtain at the enormous arena.  He never expected to fill a stadium the size of the 02 Arena.  Hell, he never expected to book the 02 arena.  Even though Immortal Angel boasted four number one hits off their debut platinum album in the United States, they were still a newcomer on the music scene and this was a venue that prided itself on booking the most sought after talent.

Damien joined him at the side of the stage.  His mohawk caught on the heavy velvet curtain and he flipped it away with annoyance.  He poked his head out to observe the audience and whistled for emphasis.  “That’s a helluva crowd.  I gotta say, this is one of the highlights of my life.  My crowning achievement.  Besides winning over my girl.”

The usual hard façade that Damien always wore quickly melted away and there was real emotion on his face.  It was a mixture of humbled disbelief and gratitude.

Angel put his hand on Damien’s shoulder.  “We may have had a rough start and the band suffered a few setbacks, but we’re not a garage band.  We’re all stars in our own right.  Together, there’s no holding us back.  We haven’t reached the top yet.  We’re still on the up rise.  There’s no telling how far we’ll go in this business, but I know there’s so much more ahead for us.  I knew we just needed to get our music in front of the right people.  You were there from the beginning.  You were the foundation of this band, Damien.  It was just me and you sitting on that scruffy old couch, in your rundown apartment, writing songs.”

Damien slowly nodded his head.  “I remember every bit of it.  I barely made enough money to pay my rent, and if your mom didn’t have me over for dinner a couple of times a week, I probably would’ve starved.”

Their past, their history, seemed to play out behind each other’s eyes as they focused on one another.

There was no hardness left in Damien’s eyes.  “We’ve been through a lot together, brother.  Alyssa and the music gave me a reason to live, but you saved me.”

Right now it was easy to see through Damien’s gruff exterior of menacing tattoos, imposing mohawk and studded clothing.  The innocent 18-year old teenager he met a decade ago was standing in front of him.  “I’m proud to share this moment with you and I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”  He never expected the bear hug that Damien offered.  They’d been through hell and back together, personally and professionally.  Damien wasn’t outwardly emotional.  He kept his emotions in check.  It was probably old habits from when he lived in a world of pain.  He held his feelings prisoner behind a steel wall and let very few people inside, so the sudden hug and display of affection was just as emotional for Angel as it was for Damien.

The tender moment he shared with Damien was broken by the roar of the crowd as the lights dimmed.

Tommy sailed past them with his Les Paul humming another improvised masterpiece.  “Outta my way, fellas. It’s show time!”

Jimmy was already behind his drum kit, ready to clack off a beat on his sticks, by the time Angel and Damien made it on stage.

One, two, three, four.
  Cymbals crashed, the deep bassline thumped in your ears and the sound of the electric guitar purred throughout the 02 Arena.  Angel screamed into the microphone, “Hello, London!”  Still choked up by the raw exchange of sentiment with Damien, his voice cracked a little.

The crowd answered with a lion’s roar that thundered back at him with the force of a gale wind.

Angel’s voice steadied after the first lyric, but his heart was still with his friend.  It wasn’t often that Damien showed emotion, so when he did, it hit Angel hard.  He looked over at Damien and they made subtle eye contact and shared a short nod of the head to acknowledge the moment.

Angel looked back into the crowd of raunchy, hardcore punk rockers.  They were fueled with energy and their heads bobbed up and down as they jumped in place.  This was the city that gave birth to the punk rock revolution, where anarchy reigned and freedom of expression ruled.  Safety pins doubled as jewelry and became body art.  Brightly-colored hair was the norm.  Ripped clothes, leather and spikes were their uniform.

Security lined the floor in front of the stage.  On either side of the room, two burly guards stood on small platforms inspecting the audience, ready to spring into action, if necessary.

This was Immortal Angel’s crowd.  Angel took a step closer to the end of the stage and leaned forward to sing to his fans. Dozens of hands stretched toward him, hoping for a chance to touch part of his body.  Angel extended his arm and shook as many hands as possible, but they all vied for physical contact and he often shook two hands at once.

He took a step to the left, but someone latched onto his wrist and threatened to pull him into the crowd.  He teetered on the edge of the stage and struggled to steady himself.  He wasn’t worried about tumbling into the arms of his fans.  He was afraid of falling head first onto the hard concrete floor below.  Security tried to break the hold on his arm, but instead pulled him further off balance.  His voice shook through the lyrics as he wobbled dangerously over the lip of the stage.  One foot slipped out from underneath him and he was on the brink of falling when Tommy grabbed him by the back of his waistband and pulled him safely on stage.

Angel’s heart was racing and he struggled to sing on key.

Tommy was shaking his head and laughing, clearly not traumatized by Angel’s near fall.  It was a teasing laugh, mocking him with adorable coy playfulness.

Angel turned to the audience and extended his arm toward Tommy with a grateful smile.  “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Tommy Blade, my hero!”

The crowd cheered and pumped their fists in the air.

Tommy gave a short bow and smiled back at Angel.  So much transpired in the subtle looks they exchanged on stage: respect, affection, admiration, passion.  It sent Angel’s hormones colliding in a mass of chaotic energy.  He circled Tommy, shimmied his hips and humped the air around him.  He ran his hand over the back of Tommy’s shoulder, sang with the mic at Tommy’s ear and tickled the back of his neck.  Angel watched Tommy’s fingers run up and down the fret board of his Les Paul with grace and speed. A scorching guitar riff soared through the air of the 02 Arena and fell on the crowd below.

Angel knelt at Tommy’s feet, paying homage to the guitar god extraordinaire.  Tommy leaned down toward Angel, while his fingers jumped across the guitar strings.  The small taunting smile that Tommy wore grew as he inched closer and stole a kiss.

The second Tommy’s delicious mouth hit his, Angel lost sight of where he was.  That little peck of a kiss was a tease.  It opened a hunger that needed to be satiated.  He grabbed Tommy’s face in his hands and gave him a long, passionate kiss.  It was intoxicating under the hot lights of the stage and the cheers from the crowd invigorated his arousal.  The bulge in Angel’s tight leather pants threatened to split them wide open.  With his tongue still bathing Tommy’s mouth, Angel humped the guitar that separated their bodies.

The next verse in the song forced Angel to relinquish Tommy’s delectable mouth.  Angel looked to the side of the stage to find Jessi.  The spark in her eye was visible halfway across the stage as she smiled back at him.

Her return to the stage was long awaited.  Angel pulled her out in front of the crowd.  He raised Jessi’s hand in the air and the audience welcomed her with a series of whistles and cat calls.  Angel thought she was about to burst from excitement as she enthusiastically waved back at them.

Tommy bounced across the stage and slid on his knees.  He landed at Jessi’s feet and smiled up at her.  “This is for you, hon.” His Les Paul unleashed a rumbling pitch-perfect squeal.  It was a frantic series of notes that marinated his emotions.

Jessi had both hands over her heart and appeared to stop breathing.  Her eyes shined with a reflective sheen of moisture and glistened in the spotlight that isolated them.

Fan girls screamed Tommy’s name.  It was a cry of female voices begging for the same attention, coveting the guitar solo he dedicated to Jessi.  Tommy’s burning guitar solo was hot enough to make hardcore punk rock chicks turn into gooey school girls.