Chapter 9
NINE
The next two weeks flew by in a daze of band rehearsals, work, and as many chats and texts as Trey could manage with Dominic.
Somehow they’d kept their friendship—and despite various instances of jerking off together and phone sex, they still hadn’t defined what they were doing as a relationship—a secret from everyone except Danielle and Dominic’s parents.
Dominic had reported back that his folks were thrilled he’d found “someone special” complete with air quotes.
What they had was pretty special, and Trey couldn’t help wondering when it would blow up in their faces—especially now that Trey, Bobby, Danielle, and Andy were at the Midatlantic Regional Unbound Music Festival.
They’d arrived at the Delaware State Fairgrounds earlier that morning with a hybrid travel trailer that they’d borrowed from a friend of Andy’s family, hitched behind the van full of their equipment and extra supplies.
The trailer was a nice step up from the tents they’d originally planned on sleeping in during the three-day competition/festival.
Competitors were filtered into a different area of the fairgrounds than regular attendees, with the competition stage set up in the grandstand between the two zones.
All four of them had been given talent badges on lanyards so they could freely pass between the zones.
The badge made Trey feel kind of like a celebrity, and it helped settle the madness in his brain installed there by the hour-long drive. A Xanax had taken the edge off without making him too floaty.
After Bobby parked the van in their designated spot, they got to work setting up the trailer—which was pretty damned awesome.
It had an extendable king bed in the rear that Trey and Danielle were sharing, and bunk beds in front for Bobby and Andy, plus a full-size sofa, a dinette, and an okay-size bathroom with an actual tub and a real door instead of a shutter.
Plus air-conditioning, which would be a blessing in the late-June high-eighties heat and humidity. The forecast wasn’t calling for rain, but tomorrow had a heat index of ninety-nine. Naturally the day Fading Daze was scheduled to perform. Trey didn’t mind sweating a little, but damn.
Andy set up the exterior awning while Bobby hauled folding chairs out and set them up. He’d even stashed a small charcoal grill in the van so they could make burgers and s’mores. The whole thing was as close to camping as Trey had ever gotten, and he wanted to get the most out of the experience.
More and more RVs, pickups, and SUVs arrived. Tents were pitched.
Trey grabbed a bottle of water and started wandering, introducing himself to anyone who looked friendly.
Sure, everyone in his category was the enemy, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t hang out offstage.
He even helped two girls in the folk music category pitch their tent, and they thanked him with a marijuana brownie.
That went down easily and, combined with the Xanax, left him with a gentle buzz that carried him farther into the lot.
More people, more names he’d probably forget, but that was okay. It wasn’t as if he was using the meet and greet as an excuse to hunt for Dominic.
Not at all.
He didn’t find Dominic, but he did turn around and walk right into Tyson. “Hey, sorry,” Trey said.
“My fault.” Tyson’s arms were loaded down with frosty bottles of water. “We geniuses got here and realized we didn’t bring any water, so I was sent to buy some from one of the vendors.”
As much as Tyson’s betrayal still stung, Fading Daze was just as strong with Andy on the drums, and Tyson had been his friend. “Need a hand? Those look cold.”
“They’re freezing. My arms are fucking numb.”
Trey took about half of them, and yeah, freezing cold.
Fortunately, Tyson’s crew wasn’t far away.
Lincoln, Benji, and Dominic were in the process of setting up a big square tent with three windows, and what looked like a screened-in front porch.
Next to them was a yellow work van with the XYZ logo on it—nicer than their old van, but whatever.
Lincoln spotted Trey first and frowned. “Hey, Ty, why’d you drag that back with you?”
Dominic’s head popped up, and his eyes went adorably wide. Trey’s skin prickled with awareness, desperate to be rubbing all over Dominic. Stake his claim so Tyson wouldn’t get any ideas.
“I carried a watermelon,” Trey quipped.
Lincoln looked at him like he was crazy; Dominic started laughing. Trey and Dominic had already discussed their mutual love of Dirty Dancing and the sexy god that was Patrick Swayze. RIP.
“He helped me haul water,” Tyson replied. “Since you jokers forgot to bring it.”
“Hey, there’s four jokers in this crew, dude,” Dominic said. “Plus Joshua.”
“Whatever. C’mon, Trey.”
He followed Tyson to the back of the van and they deposited the waters in a heap. “You got ice for those coolers?” Trey asked.
Tyson’s face fell. “Fuck me.”
Trey laughed so hard his stomach hurt.
“I’ll go get the ice,” Dominic said. He’d come up behind them, and his intent stare clued Trey in fast.
“Need a hand?” Trey asked before Tyson could.
“Sure. You’re not gonna trip me so I fall and break a wrist before the competition, right?”
Trey rebelled against the idea of hurting Dominic on purpose, but he understood the need to joke about it. “Nah, we’re going to win because we’re better, not because of cheap tricks.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Lincoln said. He hadn’t lost his annoyed expression—or maybe that was the only face he knew how to make offstage.
Dominic handed Trey one of the two coolers out of the van. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
Trey had a good idea of the lot layout by now, so he chose a route that kept them away from the camper. “Nice tent,” he said.
“It’s Benji’s. Or his parents’, I guess. They did a lot of camping when he was a kid.” Dominic walked so fucking close that their elbows could have easily brushed. “I’m glad my parents had an air mattress I could borrow, because I hate sleeping on the ground.”
“But fucking on the ground is good, right?” Trey flashed to his bedroom three weeks prior, on his hands and knees for Dominic.
Dominic flashed him a knowing grin. “Definitely. It is so hard to keep my hands off you right now.”
“Ditto.” Dominic looked amazing in khaki shorts and a white sleeveless tee with a rainbow heart on it.
The white showed off his lickable copper skin, which was shining with perspiration from the midday heat.
Trey kept his voice low. “We have got to find a way to spend time together while we’re here.
Not even sex, if we can’t, but, you know, talking. ”
Dominic’s warm smile gave Trey funny belly wobbles. “Absolutely. Maybe if Lincoln and Bobby call a truce, we can at least openly be friends while we’re here.”
“I don’t know. Bobby holds grudges like no one I’ve ever met.”
“Well, I get being mad at Tyson for dropping you guys like he did. I mean, that wasn’t cool at all. But Linc made a business decision when he asked Tyson to join us. It wasn’t personal. We weren’t trying to sabotage you on purpose.”
Trey shifted his cooler to his other hand. “I believe you weren’t.”
“You think Linc was?”
“I don’t know him at all but the guy’s intense.”
“He always has been. It’s how he’s survived the last six years on his own.”
Trey got that. He knew about survival. But there was protecting yourself, and then there was being an asshole. He wasn’t entirely sure which one Lincoln fell under. Probably a combination of the two, heavy on the asshole.
They passed through the talent gate and into the main lot.
Trey stared at the colorful lines of tents and food trucks nearby, advertising all kinds of food, beverage, and alcohol companies.
A few restaurants, both chain and small business.
Even farther back were tents of people selling wares—Unbound goodies, locally made shit, crafts, posters, artwork.
It was like a flea market had landed next to the grandstand building stage.
Even though the festival didn’t officially start until five o’clock, the field was thick with wandering patrons.
Dominic led him to tent hawking Gatorade products and charmed a pretty girl into filling their coolers with ice. Then he got permission for them to leave the coolers for a while so they could look around.
Trey really wanted to hold Dominic’s hand, but even if he was out to the general public, he wasn’t sure if he’d be brave enough to do that in a setting featuring every color of the rainbow—skin, orientation, and political. Dudes in camo milled around with hipsters and goths.
“Want something to drink?” Dominic asked.
He glanced around the various tents. According to the festival rules, anyone under twenty-one had to wear a yellow bracelet put on by staff at the main gate.
The rule hadn’t been applied to the talent so far, and Trey’s birthday wasn’t until next week.
Maybe his talent badge would get him special service.
One tent was advertising something called an Unbound Bomb that looked slushy and blended, so Trey ordered one of those.
Dominic did the same and paid for both. The red drink came in a plastic cup shaped like a round, cartoonish bomb, complete with a black straw as the fuse.
It tasted like watermelon, lime, and rum.
They shopped around the tents while they drank their bombs, and after a while Trey noticed they were getting frequent looks, mostly from women. Probably more for Dominic than him, but yeah, they were pretty hot together. Dominic was that guy everyone ogled, because he was fucking gorgeous.
And he wanted Trey.