Collision Course

  Collision Course

  by Anne-Marie Flemming

  Published by Off The Cuff Publishing at Amazon

  Copyright 2014 Anne-Marie Flemming

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters in this story are depicted as being over eighteen years old. Any ambiguous phrasing is unintentional and shall not for a basis for assumptions to the contrary. The author of this work does not intend or support the depiction of minors in a sexual way in any work of erotic fiction.

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  The smoke was biting in my eyes, and no amount of blinking lessened the discomfort, which stemmed from cigarette smoke in the air meeting contact lenses that had been in use since six that morning. I barely resisted the temptation to rub my eyes.

  “Motherfucker,” I swore, in an admittedly transparent attempt to sound tough. The tips of my slightly too long dark blond hair kept catching on my eyelashes, and I pushed the whole mess out of my face for the twentieth time tonight. Damn it, I needed a haircut.

  “What’s up, Blue?” Zach asked, putting aside his guitar in order to lean forward and scrutinize my face as he placed his hand on my thigh. “You’re not tired yet, are you?”

  There was a certain challenge in his words. I couldn’t quite blame him. He hadn’t gotten me into the concert and paid for my drinks just so I’d fall asleep on him during the first ten minutes of the after-party.

  “Fuck off,” I told him, giving him a half-assed smile just to prove I was doing fine. “I had to work today. I’ll be okay though.”

  “Get the boy a coffee,” someone advised. I turned and caught a glimpse of Simon, the bassist, flitting through the door and promptly vanishing behind one of the divider walls. “This night’s gonna be a long one.” He was shouting so we could hear him. The music, originating somewhere out in the hallway, was getting to be pretty loud. My ears were still ringing from the concert earlier though, so every sound had a dampened quality to it. I couldn’t even recognize what was playing.

  “Are we gonna be allowed to stay here the whole time?” I wanted to know. Simon, Zach and the rest of the guys had only been one of several small opening acts, after all, and I wasn’t sure for how long the venue would tolerate their partying after the show.

  “Man, they’d better let us. We fucking rocked it, man.”

  When Simon reappeared from behind the wall, I realized that he wasn’t walking entirely straight any more. He’d been downing beers before even playing the show, probably to combat his nervousness. Now, red curls a frizzy mess atop his head, he was holding a cup in each hand and appeared to have a bit of a hard time keeping them steady as he approached us.

  “That you did,” I agreed a bit belatedly, realizing just in time that holding out my hand for a high five probably wasn’t a good idea just now with Simon having his hands full. Drunk as he was, he’d probably make the attempt anyway and I’d end up with beer spilled all over me.

  “You like the show?” Simon asked as he got comfortable, propping his feet on the table and drinking from one of his cups.

  “Fuck yeah.” I gave him the thumbs up. “It was awesome. Pretty sure you made a bunch of new fans tonight.”

  “Good shit.” Zach reached for his own beer. “And I’m pretty sure we were better than every other band out here tonight. Well…” He made a hand motion, as though expecting me to figure out the rest of his sentence. I did so, without any trouble at all.

  “Except for the main act?” I suggested.

  “Man, fuck them, too.” Simon finished off one of his cups and tossed the empty container carelessly over one shoulder. “We rocked it.”

  “Dude, Blue likes Collision,” Zach warned his band mate. It was hardly necessary though. I knew Simon was too drunk to talk sense, and even if he’d been sober, I wouldn‘t have been too broken up about the way he talked about tonight’s headliner. I was secure enough in my taste of music, and too tired to start a friendly round of trash talking.

  “It’s all good,” I therefore simply waved it away.

  “You gonna start drinking already?” Zach pointed at my untouched beer.

  “Yeah,” I replied vaguely, and eyed the bottle without enthusiasm. I was a complete lightweight, and I had learned long ago that it wasn't a good idea to try and keep up with the amounts of alcohol that people twice my size were drinking. “I do have to work tomorrow.”

  “Fuck it, go with the world’s biggest hangover, then.” Simon raised his cup towards me, toasting me, and downed it. “Man, I wanna go have a smoke. Where’s Adam?”

  “I don’t know. Hopefully getting laid big,” Zach shrugged. “Him and Drew went for liquor a while back, haven’t seen them since.”

  “Well, how about we go for a smoke and then have a look?” Simon suggested, waving his pack of cigarettes. C’mon guys.”

  I shrugged and grabbed my still-full beer from the table. I felt a little guilty about my lack of a partying mood despite the great concert. In truth, I had been pretty sure I would be feeling like this even before the concert, but I hadn’t had the heart to turn down Zach’s invitation to see the guys from Arcana live, especially with the added treat of getting to see Collision In Reverse as well. But I simply couldn't muster up a whole lot of enthusiasm to get hammered with my friends tonight, even if alcohol had a tendency to calm the ever-present flood of neurotic self-doubts in my head.

  Together, we made our way through the sparsely lit hallways. I wasn’t used to spending much time in backstage areas and therefore had no idea whether they were all this complicated and confusing in their layout. This place, I already had no idea where the fuck the exit was.

  Simon evidently did, however, even in his inebriated state. He confidently turned yet another corner and pushed open a door beneath a neon red exit sign.

  ‘Damn,” I said when I stepped through and into the windy night. “It’s chilly out.”

  “Shut up, ya pussy,” he replied.

  We descended several small concrete steps littered with discarded fliers. Looking down, I noticed that the ground was wet. I hadn’t realized that it had rained, but then again, I’d been busy playing rabid fan for the guys from Arcana and rocking my head off to the songs of Collision In Reverse.

  “Well, get lit up so we can go back inside.” I raised my eyebrows at my two friends and wrapped my arms around myself. I hadn't seen much sense in bringing a coat to a concert, so I hadn’t bothered, but of course that meant I was freezing my ass off now.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Simon, fumbling with his lighter, held out his pack to me. I shook my head.

  “Thanks dude, but I don’t smoke.”

  “You do when you’re wasted,” Zach pointed out like an asshole.

  “Only when I really feel like it though. It’s not really a habit I’m looking to pick up.”

  “Smart boy,” Simon nodded, and tucked the cigarettes into his back pocket while he let the door drop closed. A moment later, his expression reflected something resembling alarm.

  “Shit,” he said, and tried to pry the heavy door back open. He failed spectacularly.

  “Oh, goddamn it,” I swore, realizing I’d be out in the cold for even longer than I’d feared. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “Fuck,” Zach said, frowning, but otherwise not looking too terribly upset. Of course, he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and therefore probably didn
’t feel the cold anywhere near as acutely as I did.

  “We’ll have to get back in through the front. They’d better let us.” Zach’s forehead still displayed deep lines. “I’d better do that though, you’re a little too shitfaced to be able to stay out of trouble.”

  He was probably right, I reflected, taking a look at Simon. The broad redhead was still wobbly, holding himself up with one hand on the door frame.

  ‘Whatever, man,” Simon called and flung up his free hand.

  ‘Can you go soon?” I asked, trying not to sound whiny, but pretty sure I was failing. “I’m fucking cold as shit already.”

  “Yeah, no big deal.” Zach gave me a nod and stepped down. “Just wait here, I’ll be back in a sec to let you both in.”

  “Thanks!” I called after him, just before he rounded the corner and was gone.

  I spent the time looking around while Simon smoked his cigarette. We had exited through one of the many one-way exits from the venue, this one leading to a shifty-looking back alley, which in turn appeared to lead onto a dark, empty parking lot to one side and out onto the lit main street far along the other side, which was the way Zach had gone.

  After several minutes spent in silence, Simon tossed away his cigarette butt.

  “I’ve got to piss,” he announced then.

  “Well, wait until Zach gets back and you can go without freezing your dick off,” I told him, but he wouldn’t have it.

  “Nah, fuck that.” He stumbled more than stepped down the stairs. “I’ll just find myself a corner. Be right back.”

  I rolled my eyes as he left. My evening really could have gone better than standing all by myself in some dark, unsavory back street, freezing miserably.

  Evidently, some higher power took that as a challenge. Seconds later, I felt the raindrops hitting my skin.

  “Oh, fuck this shit,” I muttered, retreating towards the building and pressing myself against the wall. It didn’t help much.

  And then, just for good measure, two people who definitely weren’t Zach and Simon, or another member of Arcana, came walking down the alley.

  I froze. Simon had wandered off to fuck-knows-where, and with the door locked, this wasn’t exactly a safe place for me to be. Of course, I knew not everyone walking around near the Eagles Ballroom at this hour was necessarily a threat, but I also knew that there were generally a lot of very drunk, and consequently very stupid fucks out and about at this hour. And small, slender, distinctly gay-looking me was unfortunately no stranger to being a target. I had no desire to deal with people, or to be confronted in any way, shape or form, and so I retained the tension in my body and waited for the two figures to pass.

  They took their damn time. Both were quite obviously male, wearing hoodies and strolling through the near-darkness quite slowly. One was playing with a set of keys in his hands. I tried not to look too obviously towards them, tilting my head instead, because I knew from experience that some people took being looked at to be a provocation.

  Just when I started to think they would pass by without incident, one of them turned towards me.

  “You doing okay there? Did you get locked out?”

  …well then. That’d teach me to always assume the worst.

  “I’m waiting for my friend.” It wasn’t much of an explanation, but I was preoccupied, because the low voice I’d just heard sounded oddly familiar to me. It was too dark to clearly see the face beneath the hood, however, and so I was left trying to puzzle it out.

  “Shit friend,” the other man opined.

  “Yup,” I confirmed, and gave a short shrug. “He’s in one of the local bands that played tonight.”

  “Oh really?” That seemed to be of interest to them. “Which band?”

  “Arcana.” I was starting to feel scrutinized, like we were playing twenty questions. “They’re sort of alternative rock-ish… did a Metallica cover tonight though.” I wasn’t really sure how else to describe Arcana. “ Oh, and their bassist looks like Carrot Top.”

  “I don’t think we caught any of that,” the shorter man said, sounding actually a little regretful.

  “Metallica, huh? How’d that go over?” the guy with the deep voice demanded to know.

  I tilted my head. “Pretty well, I think. They did a good job with it, better than I expected, actually. Their style is generally a bit softer though. I keep telling them to do a Collision cover. Maybe after tonight, they’ll actually do it.”

  “One of our songs?” The question was posed so nonchalantly that it took me a moment to realize the implications of it. I froze.

  “Yeah,” I said casually, my inner fanboy monologue suddenly consisting only of ohshitohshitohshit.

  “If they do it, tell them to send us a demo. I’d love to hear it.”

  “Will do,” I confirmed, and tried not to choke on my sudden overwhelming nervousness.

  “Well, we gotta get to the bus,” the shorter man said, and nodded towards the parking lot, which I’d believed to be empty. “If you want to wait in there, you’re welcome to. Standing around in this shit weather sucks.”

  “Yeah,” confirmed the gravelly voice, which I was now pretty sure belonged to Collision’s lead guitarist, Angus. I’d heard him give interviews before.

  “Thank you.” The cold and rain were starting to get to me now, and I couldn’t help but shiver. “That would be really cool.”

  “Sure thing.” The shorter guy, whom I guessed to be the bassist, Oz, waved me to follow them. I abandoned reason, which kept telling me it wouldn’t be long until Zach came back and then he wouldn’t know where to look for me, and even before that Simon would come back and not have a clue as to where I’d gone. Reason was not a helpful companion when it came to having the chance to hang out with two band members from one of my favorite bands for a little while.

  We crossed wet asphalt. I obediently followed the two men, failing to spot the bus they had been talking about until we had nearly reached it, tucked away in the darkest corner of the lot, looking all but abandoned. Angus fumbled with the keys, and a moment later held the door open for me and Oz. A light switch was flipped, and I found myself standing in the Collision In Reverse band bus.

  “Nice place,” I complimented, trying to sound casual while wiping the water from my face.

  “Yeah, it’s not bad, as far as buses go.” Angus had taken off his hood, allowing me to catch a glimpse of his face for the first time. It was definitely Angus, just as scruffy as I’d seen him on stage a little over an hour ago. He nodded at me and went to close the doors after Oz.

  “Have a seat,” the bassist invited me, taking off his hood as well and presenting his ice blond buzz cut. ‘There’s beer in the fridge, if you want one.”

  “Thanks.” I held up the bottle still in my hand, the presence of which I’d nearly forgotten.

  “Cool,” Angus said simply, went to grab a beer from the fridge himself, and raised it in my general direction before drinking. I found a spot on the bench Oz had indicated and mirrored Angus’s movement.

  “Thanks again,” I said after drinking. “You probably saved me from bronchitis or something.”

  “No problem,” Angus waved it away and took a seat opposite me. “You from Milwaukee, then?”

  “I live in a suburb, yeah,” I specified. “Moved here only a couple of years back.”

  “What’s your name? Sorry, I never asked.”

  “Blue. Like the color. Dumb, I know.” I didn’t shut up in time to stop the self-deprecating comment, and felt heat rising into my cheeks. They hadn’t even said anything about it yet.

  He frowned. “No, that’s cool. Like the color. At least I can remember that.” He took another sip of beer. “Well I’m Angus, and that’s Oz, and this is our bus.” He spread out his arms in a grand gesture, forcing a smile onto my face.

  “And that’s Midwest weather.” I pointed towards the doors, outside of which the rain had just picked up massively. “So, er, welcome to Wisconsin.”

&nbs
p; Angus just chuckled and drank again. Oz joined us a moment later, holding a bottle as well.

  We chatted like this for a while. They didn’t appear to be terribly keen on giving autographs or answering typical fan questions just now, so I bit my tongue and instead answered their questions about the area. We compared Wisconsin to their home state of California, then brought other states into the mix, the two of them drawing from their experiences touring everywhere, me mentioning where else I’d lived and visited.

  “What sucks,” Angus said at one point, “is that you’d think with concerts every two or three or even four days sometimes, you’d have enough time to do a lot of the things you’d like to do in a city, but when it comes down to it, you never get to do shit. Not shit. There’s always so much to be done, even if it’s just waiting around, and even I need a little sleep, and at some point the tour’s over and you look back and you’re all like… ‘What the fuck happened, man? I was looking forward to doing all this awesome stuff and it totally passed me by!’ Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing all the cities and everything we go play in, but you never really end up connecting anywhere, you know?”

  I nodded. I was on my second beer by this time, wearing a towel around my shoulders, my sneakers drying by the heater. I’d started sneezing, and Oz and Angus had looked at me with some concern. Their administrations had included a shot of hard liquor, which I’d obediently downed.

  “Well,” I said in reply to Angus’s statement, “in interviews and stuff, I mean, every touring musician pretty much says that touring sucks, so I figure there’s got to be something to it. It’s just hard for anyone else to imagine what exactly sucks so much about it, if you haven’t been there and done that, you know.”

  “Yeah, it makes us sound like a bunch of whiny little bitches, doesn’t it?” Angus chuckled.

  I couldn’t really agree with that, so I tilted my head and laughed along with him. “Maybe not whiny, but I think it reinforces that disconnect between musicians and fans, in a way.”

  “And that’s sad, I think. That disconnect.” Oz had gotten up again for a drink, and just as he peered into the mini fridge, the bus door was thrown open.