Tommy Blade had it all—fame, stardom, talent, family, and every luxury life offered—and it was never more evident than right now as he stared into the open air at Wembley Stadium. His chest heaved with heavy breaths from the electrifying guitar solo that left his fingers numb, his heart pounding, and his head filled with glory. He listened to the screams of over 100,000 Immortal Angel fans, all punching their fists up to the sky. The audience was an array of brightly colored hair, fingerless gloves, Mohawks, and spiked collars. And they were all chanting his name.
With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Tommy slid to his knees at the end of the stage, causing the girls in the first few rows to rush toward the railing and wail louder. Fingering the fret board of his prized Les Paul, he leaned his head back to shake out his long blond hair and met a pair of smoldering ebony eyes looking down at him.
Angel Garcia dripped with raw sexual energy. Thick black lashes intensified his sultry gaze as he projected the raunchy lyrics of “Dirty Love” into a rhinestone-covered mic. His suggestive words were packed with innuendo while his hips undulated to the beat of the music.
A hot tingle ran through Tommy’s overheated body. Fueled by this man who revved his hormones into overdrive, he jumped to his feet and marched toward Angel, challenging him with the jut of his pelvis and the twang of the guitar. Angel retaliated with an extra snarl in his voice and allowed himself to be backed into the drum riser. The two of them shared insane chemistry that could be felt by everyone, and the crowd went nuts.
“Take it easy, you two,” Damien Diamond, the band’s bassist, warned. “Remember, we got eyes on us.”
Exercising restraint wasn’t easy when Angel strutted on stage wearing leather pants that hugged every inch of his delicious lower half, but Tommy conceded. Tonight’s show was being filmed as part of a documentary on Immortal Angel, showcasing how they rose from a Brooklyn garage band to become one of the biggest punk rock sensations in America.
Heeding Damien’s advice, Angel did a 360-degree turn and headed toward the apron, shaking his ass along the way.
Breathing out a heated sigh, Tommy channeled his desire into his Les Paul. The result was a crazy, exaggerated spin on the song’s riff that made heads turn. It was one thing to wow fans and spectators, but when his bandmates turned toward him with awe, it truly inflated Tommy’s ego and cemented his status as an icon in the industry and a pioneer in blending genres.
Angel stopped singing and kept turning his head from Tommy to the audience and back again, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing and wanted to make sure they were witnessing the same phenomenon. “Holy hellfire!” Angel exclaimed into the mic and pointed at Tommy. “That. Right there. Is why Tommy Blade is the Prince of Punk Rock!”
An hour later, the show closed bringing an end to a spectacular two-month-long tour. The number of days on the road used to triple what they were today, but hauling kids and nannies necessitated the shorter jaunts. Tommy had no idea how other rock stars traveled without their families, because he would never do it.
Marissa Torres, Immortal Angel’s longtime PR agent, entered the dressing room with her usual cheery smile. She wore a Carolina Herrera skirt suit and carried a sapphire blue Birkin bag. Tommy noticed Jessi’s eyes immediately gravitate toward it, and he inwardly smiled at the way his wife coveted the accessory, as if she didn’t have a closet filled with at least a half dozen herself.
Angel also noticed and slipped his hand around their wife’s slim waist. “I don’t think you have that color. We’ll go shopping and buy you one before we go home.”
Jessi displayed a wide grin and promptly kissed Angel’s cheek.
Tommy just rolled his eyes.
“I have amazing news,” Marissa announced. “A source has just revealed that Immortal Angel has been nominated for an award at the Rockstars’ Ball. It should be no surprise that your remake of “Sex & Greed,” featuring Brandon Bullet and Derek MacAlister of Bulletproof, is up for Collaboration of the Year. The ceremony will be held at the end of the year at the Royal Peachtree Hotel in Atlanta. Congratulations, gentlemen.”
Tommy was filled with a sense of gratification as he received a joint hug from his husband and his wife. The nomination was well deserved, and Tommy appreciated the industry’s recognition of the song.
“I’m truly honored to have worked with Immortal Angel from its inception,” Marissa continued. “The accomplishments I’ve witnessed are nothing short of amazing.”
Audra Abelman-Wilder, the band’s tour manager and the drummer’s wife, looked as if she were about to explode. “I know. I feel the same way. Immortal Angel was just an underground punk rock band when I first saw them. My sister and I knew right away that they were destined for greatness. I’m so happy my father finally listened to me and went to see Immortal Angel play at the America Rocks Festival and signed them right away.”
“I remember the day I got the call,” Angel said, a faraway look in his eyes. “I couldn’t believe we were being offered a record deal by one of the largest labels in America.” He cradled Tommy in a hug that was equal parts love and admiration. “We couldn’t have done it without you, mi amor. Your incredible talent pushed Immortal Angel to another level. It still drives me every day to be a better performer.”
Tommy was humbled. Most people credited him with catapulting the band’s success, but, in truth, it was the collective talent of all the members of the band. Immortal Angel wouldn’t be a powerhouse without the incredible showmanship and diverse octave range of Angel Garcia, not to mention his flashy, well-renowned stage attire, courtesy of Jessi Blade Designs. Immortal Angel wouldn’t dominate the punk rock scene without Damien Diamond’s hardcore bass playing and rebellious attitude. And none of the songs would have the structure and intense rhythm that they possessed without the fast, hard beats of Jimmy Wilder’s dedicated drumming.
Immortal Angel had won too many awards to count, but Collaboration of the Year was a new one. They’d received the highest accolades and every accreditation imaginable. Teaming with members of Bulletproof had transformed one of Immortal Angel’s punk rock mega-hits into something no one expected, and it just about blew everyone’s mind. The band had literally done it all.
Immortal Angel occupied the entire first-class cabin of the Airbus 330 on the flight back to New York. Traveling with family required privacy—and room. Plus, they were loud. Jimmy and his pre-teen son were constantly drumming on every bit of available space. Damien and his wife were always engaged in playful bickering. Their current argument being over the armrest. Everyone else talked across the rows to one another, as if they were sitting in their living room instead of on a commercial airliner.
“We should get a private jet,” Tommy blurted out.
“We do create a scene when we travel,” Angel agreed. “It would be nice not to worry about bothering the other passengers.” He turned toward Audra, who was having a conversation with Jessi from over the back of her seat. “Perhaps you can convince Mr. Abelman that it would be a practical expense for the label.”
Audra contemplated the idea for a moment and then started texting. “I’ll send a message to my father right now.”
Jessi turned around in her seat to face forward, leaned into Tommy and whispered, “Do you remember when we joined the mile-high club on one of Immortal Angel’s first international tours?”
Angel overheard, and a flirtatious smile bloomed on his face. “It wassooomuch fun.”
The memory of being sandwiched between Angel and Jessi in the tiny bathroom stirred things inside of Tommy that made his body begin to vibrate. He glanced at the lavatory, naughty thoughts dancing in his head, before his eyes landed on his two kids, Jimmy’s son Mason, and Mason’s aunt, and he realized that it was never going to happen. Not with this audience. He still had an incredible sex life and had no problem keeping up with two spouses, but discretion was high on the list of priorities these days. “Too bad we can’t re-create the memory.”
Tommy’s life had certainly changed in the last few years. It was different, but it had only gotten better. He leaned back in the cushy seat and reflected on the list of accomplishments and achievements in his life. Not only was he blessed with talent, fame, and notoriety, but he had both a man and woman that he loved with all his heart, who loved him and loved each other just as much. He had a son that bore his genes and inherited his ability on the guitar, who was sure to surpass him in both talent and success. His daughter had a personality three times her size and was ready to take over the world at the tender age of five.
Tommy realized that he’d already achieved a lifetime of accomplishments, and he hadn’t even reached 40 yet. A long, contented sigh left his lungs. His life had exceeded all his expectations, and he began to wonder what lay ahead. He envisioned growing old with Angel and Jessi, and a smile spread across his lips.
