“Damn, I think it’s bigger than last year!” Kris said. Everyone had moved to the windows as they approached, because the sheer audacity of the massive, if temporary, mass rising out of the bleak, barren desert was definitely impressive.
“I think you’re right,” Dmitri replied. He pointed at a particular bus that was already parked as they waited for their turn at the security checkpoint. “Hey, Queen Anne’s Revenge beat us here! I thought they were coming in from that festival in Edmonton tomorrow!”
Luka shrugged. “Perks of being a megaband. Jett told me that QAR and Sultana both sent their buses ahead, then flew down to Sacramento last night. Maybe by this time next year, if the third album does as well as I think it will, the F-Holes will be in the position to do something like that.”
“I think I’d rather take the bus,” Jo chimed in. “I hate flying.”
Dmitri looked over his shoulder to smile at her. “I don’t blame you. We’ll let the jetsetters deal with the TSA and crowds and kids kicking the back of their seats, and I’ll happily ride along with you.”
“Hey, stop trying to flirt with my woman,” Kris scolded him. “I don’t want to hear you talk about riding and Jo in the same sentence!” Dmitri just batted his lashes at her playfully.
The line of buses moved swiftly, and soon they reached the checkpoint. They received their lanyards and were parked in a space near Midnight Hunt and right next to Queen Anne’s Revenge, which had Dmitri ready to turn into a screaming fanboy on the spot. He’d been a fan of the band for over a decade, and while he’d been to many of their concerts, he’d never gotten to meet them in person.
The moment the bus parked, Dmitri was ready to jump out. He grabbed Andre by the hand. “Come on! I have to see if Devon Bailey is out and about.”
Andre laughed, but he accepted Dmitri’s hand and let himself be pulled along out into the glare of the Nevada sun. “Geez, I’d forgotten how bright it is out here! Maybe we should go back and grab our sunglasses.”
“You’ll adjust,” Dmitri told him. He noticed that Andre didn’t release his hand once they were off the bus, which pleased him more than it probably should have.
As they skirted around the front of the bus, Dmitri almost ran full tilt into the very person he’d been hoping to spot as Devonrounded the other side. Startled, Dmitri stumbled back. “Uh, hi! Um… you’re Devon Bailey!”
Dmitri’s embarrassment at his ridiculous observation was suddenly cut short as he was dazzled by the patented Devon Bailey Smile. There were people who had charisma that could be turned up to eleven, and Devon was one of them. With his Black Irish looks, a killer smile, and natural charm, QAR’s frontman was even more devastating in person.
“That’s me!” Devon replied in a friendly tone.
There was another man behind him, tall and dark-haired, who subjected Dmitri to the most penetrating look he’d ever encountered. The man’s sharp green gaze seemed to assess him as instantly and thoroughly as a targeting laser, before moving on to Andre.
“Um… I’m Dmitri….”
Before Dmitri could finish his rather clumsy introduction, Devon chimed in. “Dmitri Martin, right? And Andre Lucena. Kit described you both perfectly. Oh, don’t mind Michael. My husband has never recovered from years of bodyguard paranoia.”
Dmitri looked back at Michael, offering a rather weak smile and hoping he’d passed muster. “Yeah, that’s us. I’m a big fan of QAR.” He didn’t mention that he still had the big poster of Devon that he’d bought as a teenager to hang in his dorm room on campus. That just seemed a little too much information.
“So am I.” Andre didn’t seem nearly as gobsmacked to meet the superstar as Dmitri was.
He told himself it was just running into Devon so unexpectedly, and he drew in a deep breath, hoping he didn’t sound completely ridiculous. Then again, Devon was probably used to it, if his easygoing manner was any indication.
“Well, I’m happy to meet you both,” Devon told them. “I was actually just on my way to say hi to Kit. Sultana was our openingact on one leg of our tour several years ago, so we keep in touch. I’m a big fan of the F-Holes, by the way. Your music is brilliant.”
“Wow, thanks!” Dmitri was still a bit dazzled, and he heard Andre chuckle.
“Don’t mind our fanboy here,” he told Devon. “You should have seen him when Kit joined the band. The heart-eyes go away after a while, and then he can speak in complete sentences.”
Turning to glare at Andre, Dmitri felt a flush rising on his cheeks and damned his fair complexion, certain he was glowing like a stoplight. “Gee, thanks for that, Dre.” It was a good thing he loved Andre, because at the moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d rather kill him or just die of embarrassment himself.
Devon gave a huff of amusement. “Don’t worry about it. You should have seen me the first time I met Mick Jagger years ago, when QAR was on our second tour. I was so star-struck that I introduced myself as Bevon Dailey, and Keith Richards still calls me that, the bastard.”
Dmitri couldn’t help but laugh, which eased his embarrassment, though he promised himself he was going to pay Andre back somehow. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Devon. And Michael,” he added. “We won’t keep you. I’m sure Kit will be happy to see you.”
After appropriate farewells, Dmitri, whose hand was still being held by Andre, pulled his bandmate along. “Dammit, Dre!” he said, giving him a reproachful look.
“Hey, I think it’s cute,” Andre teased him, his dark eyes dancing with amusement. “No shame in being a fanboy, you know. If we ever meet Carl Palmer or Dave Grohl, I’ll probably be the same way.”
“Hmph. If we do, I’m going to embarrass youso much,” Dmitri promised him. “I’ll make you blush so hard, they’ll see it from the ISS.”
Andre grinned wickedly. “You better watch out, Mr. Martin, or I’ll run back and ask Devon if he’ll autograph that special limited edition poster of him in black leather that I’m absolutely positive you have hiding away back in Los Angeles. Am I right?”
“You know me too well,” Dmitri muttered, half-hoping that Andrewouldask, since he’d never have the nerve to do it himself. “Come on, the catering tent is over there, and I’m starving for something that isn’t frozen pizza.”
