When the need for air forced them apart, Mike rested his forehead against Killian’s. “Gus said…” Would he follow through on his threat to harm Mike’s family?
“Gus isn’t our problem anymore.” Killian cupped Mike’s face in warm hands, guitar-callused fingertips rough against his skin. “I fired him. I really wanted to discuss it with you first, but Val and Jake agreed.”
Really? “What will you do?”
Killian. Here. Now. All Mike needed.
Killy’s lips pulled up in a bashful grin. “Whateverwewant to. You want the music? So do I, but no one says we can’t compose around a campfire. There’re studios all over this country where we can record. Denver or Muscle Shoals or Charleston. Wherever the barbecue’s good. And we can play in some trashy bar if we want, and not play if we don’t want to.”
“What?”
“We’ve got a new manager, or rather, management company, and we have a new brand.” He paused and kissed Mike again. “Imagine going into a club with your friends, the lights come on and, with no warning at all, your favorite band is onstage.” He grinned. “We can even amp up the mystique by leaking possible areas we might be.”
“Like a scavenger hunt?” Wow, what Mike wouldn’t have given to be sitting in a bar one night, and lo and behold, Trickster showed up onstage. What a night that would have been. “But we won’t make near as much money as packing big venues.”
Killy pressed his head to Mike’s again. “We’ll still do larger shows, but it’s all up to us. Someday soon, you, me, Val, Jake, and Christy, from the management company, will sit down and make a plan.”
Us, notme.
“And you’re okay with this?” Could Mike dare to hope?
“Oh, yeah. I just need your signature on a few contracts, and we’ll be on our way.”
Everything he wanted and he still had to ask. “You’d do this for me?”
“I’d do it for us.”
“Val? Jake?”
“They’ll join us when we want them to, and definitely for studio sessions and larger shows.”
Mike stared at their joined hands. He’d never even felt Killy lace their fingers together. “People might not like that you’re gay.”
“Already told the world. So fuck ‘em.” A crease formed between Killy’s brows. “Or rather, don’t. Just me.”
He kissed Mike again. The opening band halted mid-sound check to applaud.
Mike’s thoughts exactly.
* * *
Hot lights, screaming fans, energy coursing through Killian’s veins. Behind him Val showed off her talent with a keyboard, giving the rest of the band a brief respite.
When she quieted, a spotlight fell on Killy. “What song you wanna hear?” he shouted into his microphone.
“Highway! Highway! Highway!” mixed in with “I love you guys!”
Killian chuckled and focused on the fan shouting in the front row. “I love you, too, darlin’, but don’t tell the guy on the bass over there.”
On cue Mike hit a sour note. Killy laughed. Mike laughed. Jake tapped out a “Ta-dum-dum” on his drums.
The fan squealed louder.
“She can’t have you, but I reckon we can give the rest of these folks what they want.” Mike’s grin warmed parts of Killy he’d never noticed had grown so cold over the years.
“I reckon we oughta.”
Killy fired off the riff, paused, and did it again just because it felt so good. Mike joined in, keeping up, grinning, having the time of his life. Killy wanted to kiss that grin so damned bad.
