8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Hugo
S tanding amid a huge, rocking, headbanging crowd, I watched Grindstone own the stage. Until they changed the tone, and the fans quieted to listen.
Cause we've got nothing but time to our name
Oh, no money, glory, or fame
But I don’t need those to love you
All I want is to hold your hand
So, take me to our promise land
That's all I need to love you
My breath caught. I hadn’t heard this song before. As Axel softly, but surely, sang, each note resonated within me. This was…fucking brilliant. Did he write it? Did Ed? Did they cowrite? I’d heard they often did, although Ed was usually the driving force behind the songs. The way Axel sang this, though…
Moving fast
Though I want this night to last
So, I'm taking a deep breath
Let my worries go to rest
As I take your hands
"Do you think this night will end?
Or will the sun leave us alone?
And the night become our home"
As I share this thought with you
The sun rises, and damn, what a beautiful view
Renee gripped my hand, and I was certain she held Cope’s with her other. I was grateful—not just for the unspoken support—but for the knowledge she was as enthralled as I was. That she saw what I saw. Felt what I felt.
The final notes carried across the hushed crowd.
And then the place erupted with noise, whistles, and general pandemonium. This wasn’t a song I’d ever heard—and I’d heard everything commercially available and everything they’d played at the concerts I’d attended. But this one hadn’t ever been played before in front of an audience. At least that I knew. To perform something so intimate, for the first time, in front of such a huge crowd? On the biggest night of their careers? That took fucking guts.
Renee wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me in for an awkward side hug.
Cope still gripped her on the other side.
Once the crowd simmered down a bit, the band broke into a song I recognized.
“Oh, Hugo, I’m so glad we came.” Renee rested her head against my chest as I settled my newly liberated hand around her. “You have the best ideas.”
Kissing Axel flashed into my mind. That definitely had not been the best idea ever. Nor had running away instead of staying around to have an earnest conversation about what had happened.
I kissed Axel Fucking Townsend. The unreality of it sank in slowly as Grindstone finished off their set. The crowd roared their appreciation—and demanded more—but the other bands waited to appear, so the group took one final bow and disappeared as the roadies came onto the stage to clear out Grindstone’s equipment and to move in the next band’s.
Renee glanced up at me. “That was intense.”
“Yeah.”
“You ever heard that song? Was it “Sunrise”?”
“Yeah, “Sunrise”.” I repeated the word even as some of the lyrics floated back. There’d been both elements of melancholy and parts that were hope-filled. Again, I was dying to know who’d written the words. “We sticking around? I hear this next band is quite creative…”
And we stayed. I would’ve loved to track Axel down, but I suspected he’d be off with his bandmates celebrating. And so he should. That performance had been epic. One for the ages.
Or so it seemed to me. Maybe it’d just been another day for Axel and Ed. Or maybe the crowd hadn’t been as electrified as I was. Yet, as I had the thought, I caught several people discussing Grindstone even as this new band began. Even though, true to the rumor, their songs were unique. And a hit with the crowd, which relieved me. Nothing worse than being in an audience who didn’t appreciate the effort and hard work being put forth by the performers.
We stayed for three more bands before I was ready to call it a night.
Renee and Cope were, according to them just getting into it , and eager to hear the headliners.
Not wanting to rain on their parade, I slipped away. I took my turn in the john, then meandered between the food vendors. A soft ice cream cone appeared to be the perfect choice as far as I was concerned. The noise from the bands wasn’t as intense here—more like an echo.
In my mind, as I licked my cone, I kept replaying “Sunrise”.
Will they release that song on their next album? Will I ever get to hear it again? Obviously it wasn’t written about me…but those words sure spoke to me —
Someone bumped into me and muttered. “Behind the truck. Now.”
The one where Axel and I had met earlier.
I nearly dropped my ice cream. Fortunately, I had mad balance skills, and I managed to stay on my feet and not wind up with ice cream on my shirt. “Damn, Axel.”
Even in the dark secluded area where we’d landed, I caught his devilish grin.
He licked my cone.
I groaned.
“Even better than the one I just had.” He licked his lips.
“The one you just…”
“With the band. We always have ice cream after the show. Back in the tour bus.”
“Ah.”
“Of course that was after I caught Ed and Thornton fucking in the shower.”
My mind stuttered on that.
Axel licked again, grinned, then—very slowly—that grin dropped. “The fucker filmed us. The kiss.”
“Ed?” I couldn’t fathom why he’d want to, but—
“Nah, the other fucker. Thornton Graves.”
“The documentary filmmaker.” I winced. “Oh shit.”
“Yeah.” He snagged the entire cone and, proceeded to demolish it.
“What does this mean?”
Axel wiped his hands on the napkin, then tossed it in a garbage can. “I honestly don’t know. The video quality wasn’t great but…”
“But clearly we were identifiable.”
“Yeah.”
“Ah. I see.” Except I didn’t.
“Look, he didn’t have a right to tape me. There’s, like, an expectation of privacy—”
“Except we were in public.”
He winced. “Yeah, I thought of that. I suppose if he wanted to out me—to out you—then he could release it. Or, like, for maximum impact, release it within the documentary.”
“Do you think he will?”
Axel scratched his stubble-laden jaw. “A couple of days ago, I would’ve been certain about the answer. Now, I’m not so sure. If Ed asks him not to, then maybe he won’t. Or if our manager asks the director not to, they might agree. I just…” He winced. “I don’t know.” He arched an eyebrow. “Okay, now I’ve told you. And consumed all your ice cream. We need to talk.”
Ah…the four words one never wanted to hear.
“Can we walk?”
“Of course.” Only as we headed out, though, did I realize his intention. We couldn’t see each other’s faces. I couldn’t read his expressions. See the depth of passion, or of pity, in his eyes. I was pathetic.
“What did you say?” Axel turned as I did and our gazes clashed.
I pressed a hand to my chest. “Me? I didn’t say anything.”
“Ah, but you were thinking something.”
“Uh, Axel?”
“Yep?”
“I think it’s safe to say that a person is thinking something at any given moment. Unless they’re asleep.”
“Huh.”
We resumed walking. “What?”
“I can think of a couple of times when I was on dates when my mind went completely blank.”
“I’d say…” Hmm. “That sounds definitively unchivalrous.”
He guffawed. “Only you would use that word. And only you would think that. I’m quite certain there’ve been women dating me who’d felt I wasn’t worthy of their attention.”
“Why would they say that?”
“Because I’m vacuous. Just a vessel to sing and without any true substance.”
Okay, this had to stop. Again, I halted.
After a step, he did as well. He turned back to face me. “What?”
“You’re not vacuous .” I almost asked him if he knew what the word meant, but that would’ve been just about the most condescending thing I could’ve said.
“I lack depth.”
I glared. “I heard you sing tonight. That performance didn’t come from someone who lacked depth.” Again, I placed a hand against my chest. “That came from someone who feels things deeply.”
““Sunrise”?”
“Yes.”
“That was mostly Ed.”
Mostly…but not all. “He had a reason to write the song.”
“Yeah.”
“And you had a reason to sing that song.”
“Well…” He scratched his scalp. “Yeah. To be truthful, I did.”
“Will you share?” Am I prepared for the consequences if he does?
“Nah. Not today, anyway.”
Which implied there might be a tomorrow. “Why are you here?”
He grinned. “Because I want a repeat.”
“Another gyro? I believe we need to head back—”
He snagged the hand I’d pointed back the way we’d come.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Ah.” Which was what I’d assumed, but better to be innocuous and right than wicked and wrong. “The kiss.”
“The kiss, yeah.” He slowly drew my hand to his lips. And, to my utter shock, he kissed my knuckles.
“Uh…there’s more?” I cleared my throat. “Because kissing, at least to me, seemed like a really bad idea.”
“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Kissing is never a bad idea. Not with the right person.”
The implication being, of course, that I was the right person. So what type of people were the wrong person? The women he’d dated? The kisses he’d never partaken in? “Why me, Axel? I’m your teacher—”
“Was.”
“Was.” I repeated his word. “But that’s not just semantics. There’s a major power imbalance here.”
He rolled his eyes. “Sure. I’m the rock’n’roll frontman. You’re just the teacher.”
You knew he’d turn this on you…which is why you’d walked away .
“Look—”
“I’m twenty-eight fucking years old. If I want to kiss my former teacher, I will. Former by ten fucking years . Jesus, have you listened to yourself? Or is that douchebag ex-husband of yours still occupying real estate in your magnificent brain?”
Was I supposed to take issue with the douchebag, real estate, or magnificent?
I didn’t know where to start. “Axel—”
“I’m a virgin.”
Okay, that I didn’t see coming.