It worked like a well-oiled machine, and one of the things I’d come to appreciate most as I learned this business. Harrison knew I needed to learn as much as possible, especially since Midnight Hunt was now one of my biggest clients. Or maybe not biggest, but to him, most important, and that’s what mattered. He was making me a partner, but he remained the senior, andit was his company. What he said was law. Which brought a whole other set of challenges. Working for your protective older brother wasn’t as easy as it might seem.
Kay’s pacing was making me crazy, though. “Kay. Hey, man. Come sit with me.”
“Can’t. Too much energy. I’m…” He shook his hands out at his sides. “Maybe I had too much rest today.” He bounced on the balls of his feet.
“Alright but sit here for a second and let me see if I can help. Huh?” I patted the spot next to me on the couch.
“Fine…” When he sat, I turned his shoulders, so he was sideways. He propped his leg over the arm of the couch. Then I rubbed his shoulders. His T-shirt was incredibly soft and thin. One he’d had a long time. It was black with an almost completely faded Maiden Voyage logo on the front.
When he started making little mewling sounds, I moved my hands along his spine, rubbing his traps and lower. Before long, he was bent forward a little, his sexy noises a little louder.
“Mother fucker, I’m next.” Dave, the bassist, growled.
“Nope.” I wasn’t touching anyone else. “I’m a one-man massager.”
“That’s hardly fair.” Dave sounded incredibly petulant, which made me and Kay giggle a little.
Kay flipped him off. “You can’t afford his services, dude.”
“Whatever, assholes.” He wasn’t serious; his words were teasing.
I was happy Kay had finally calmed down a little. Until the stage manager banged on the door. “Bramble Punk in five.”
Kay jumped off the couch and stomped to the door. “Come on. Let’s do this.” Hislet’s do thissounded suspiciously likelet’s get this over with. I’d begun noticing things like that. Performing seemed to be morphing into a chore, rather than something heloved. I didn’t represent Bramble Punk, but there were a number of reasons I wanted to help Kay with this.
First, I was falling for him hard, which was a scary thing, but I also cared about him. I thought he might have little tendencies buried inside him but might not realize it. If he embraced that, it might help him. But approaching him about it was scarier than how much I was falling for him. It might become the end for us. But in the quiet moments when we were alone, I swore he started regressing. He only needed more space and time.
The second reason—or was it the third?—was that Bramble Punk fell under Midnight Hunt’s interests. And they were most interested in keeping the band happy, healthy, and successful. They opened for Midnight Hunt, but it was more than that. Jinx and Miami, in particular, were invested in them. Jinx didn’t put this group together for nothing, and Miami had become a mentor of sorts for Kay. All very good reasons to sort this out.
But I was scared to approach him about it. Different scenarios played through my head, none of them good.
“You coming, Don?” he asked, nodding for me to follow him.
“Of course.”
The performance was solid. The band had the audience riled up, eating out of their hands. They weren’t only warming up the crowd; the crowd loved them. That change in dynamic had been something everyone had hoped for, and it was evident here. Kay’s vocals were strong, but it was his guitar work, playing alongside Joe, that really stood out. He was good before this tour, but he was shining now.
At the end of the song, he yelled into the mic. “Hello…” He paused as if he had forgotten where we were. That wasn’t uncommon. We were nearing the end of the tour, having played in many cities. He played it off, though. “Are you ready to rock out there?” The audience responded. “Well, well, well. You are.” He laughed into the mic. “Let me introduce these jokers…” He laughed again and thumbed over his shoulder.
In the background, a steady thump, thump, thump of the bass drum kept things hyped. Kay took the mic out of the stand and walked a few steps across the front of the stage. “This badass here on bass…this is Dave Beck.” Dave pounded out a bass line. Then tossed the baseball hat he’d been wearing out into the audience, and they scrambled for it.
“And this maestro here is Joe Young on lead guitar.” Joe jumped right into a long solo riff, leaning forward and showing off his licks. He was really good, but Kay’s skills were on par.
When Joe finished, Kay walked back across the stage to Matty. “Matty Allen, folks.” The crowd screamed and Matty strummed a weak chord. I’d seen this before. But every time they did it, the sound that was about to be played reverberated through my chest. I was prepared and knew it was coming, but it was still a physical event every time. Kay tilted his head back and forth. “Meh…that doesn’t do it justice. See this…” He held his hand out to indicate Matty. “This is where the power is. This is what blows you away. Show. Them. How. It’s done. Matty.” Then it happened. Laz had been in the back fucking with the amp and equipment. And when Matty strummed this time, it wasn’t simply a chord; it was pure power, the sound practically blowing through the venue. When he stopped, there was half a beat of silence before the audience erupted in the loudest screaming I’d heard that evening so far. I wondered if Midnight Hunt taking the stage would get them that quite loud.
“Let’s go.” Kay threw an arm in the air and jogged back to the center of the stage. But they weren’t finished.
The thump, thump, thump of the bass drum changed to a ting, ting, ting, with Randy hitting the rim of his tom.
Kay looked around like he wasn’t sure what he was hearing, then pretended to be surprised by the drums. He held his arm out from his side. “Did you think we forgot?” The audience loved these antics. “No fucking way, Reno!” He remembered where he was. Good. He was good.
“The Picasso of Percussion…the one and only, Randy…” he yelled louder. “Steele…”
Randy broke out into a drum solo. This was a bit longer than the other guys, giving them a chance to get a drink of water and wipe the sweat off their foreheads, which Randy had already done while they were doing their things. It was a totally practiced performance, and they had the timing perfected.
Eventually, the solo morphed into the opening of their next song. When the moment hit for the guitars to jump in, they did. Kay had already put the mic back on the stand, where he played and sang at the same time. I had no idea how he did that, but he was fantastic. He didn’t walk up to the mic; he strutted. “What’s a house. What’s a home? Where you are. I am gone.”
The song was one of their most powerful. Jinx and Wolf helped Kay write it, and it showed. The dual guitars screeched out the melody, while Matty pounded out the rhythm, filling the music with sound. Not to mention the drums and bass that kept it hammering. Kay made it through the first verse and then the guys joined him on the chorus.
