His outfit wasn’t even complicated: ripped black jeans, battered Docs, and a sleeveless leather vest crusted with studs and zips. But on him, it all came together like he’d stepped straight out of some rock-god fever dream.
Fans of all genders would be clawing at security for the chance to climb onstage and lick sweat off that man’s ridiculously tattooed skin. His chest, arms, ribs... covered. A butterfly in the middle of his chest, a dragon curling around his ribs, a compass on one arm, a dagger on the other, flowers woven between. Vines trailed over his collarbones and up his throat like they were trying to claim him. There was hardly an inch of him left untouched by black ink, and I caught myself wondering if his legs were the same under the jeans.
“They look good, huh?” Clara said, arms folded as she surveyed the guys’ final checks. Well, she was watching; I was straight up ogling.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “They do.”
“You did a great job, Iggy.” Her manicured hand settled on my shoulder. “Sasha was right to recommend you.”
I snapped my head towards her, and the smile of approvalshe gave me nearly inflated my entire rib cage. I wanted to preen like some ridiculous, fancy bird.
Considering I hadn’t worked professionally in a while, especially not solo and not at this scale, I could admit it: I’d done pretty damn well. I knew not every night would run this smoothly. Schedules would get tight, emergencies would pop up, someone would smudge eyeliner at the last second. But tonight? Tonight I was proud.
“Hey,” I called out, and all five heads turned towards me. I held up my phone. “Mind if I get a picture? To send to Sasha?”
“Fuck yeah,” Riff said immediately. “We can all flip her off for ditching us.”
“I wouldn’t put ‘having a baby’ in the same category as ditching,” Mick added dryly.
“At least we got a hot replacement,” Thump said, tossing me an over-the-top wink.
“Two minutes before we move,” Clara warned. “Strike your pose, idiots.”
I opened the camera app and lifted the phone, thumb hovering over the button, only for Bodhi to frown.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Uh, taking a photo?”
“Get over here,” he said. “You’re in it too.”
My mouth dropped open, and a squeak escaped. Like, an actual squeak.
“Yeah, come on, Iggs,” Riff said, beckoning me over.
“We look this good because of you,” Ghost added. “You gotta be in it.”
“I-I uh?—”
“One minute,” Clara cut in. She snatched my phone, smacked my ass, and pointed. “Move it, newbie.”
I walked over in a daze, and the group shifted automatically,making space for me in the centre like this was a VIP fan photo. My pulse tripped. This was the kind of thing people paid good money for, and here I was getting it for free.
“Ready?” Clara said.
Everyone called back their agreement.
Then Bodhi’s hand wrapped around my waist. He leaned in close enough that his breath brushed my ear, and a shiver raced down my spine so fast I felt it in my toes.
“Smile, Iggy Pop,” he murmured, voice low enough to vibrate through my skull. “You did good.”
“Everyone say ‘Noctis!’” Clara ordered like a tired school photographer.
“Noctis!”
She tapped the screen several times, and then the moment was over. The guys headed towards the side of the stage just as the support band wrapped their set. I hung back for a second, scrolling through the photos. I picked the best one—one where everyone’s eyes were actually open—and sent it to Sasha and Gloria.
Gloria replied with a single thumbs-up emoji, because she was completely useless with anything technology adjacent. Sasha followed seconds later.
