Chapter 15
“That is a lot of people.”
Luka glanced over at Dmitri, who was peeking out of the wings toward the audience gathered in front of the main stage. Dmitri looked back over his shoulder at where the rest of the band was standing, waiting for their cue to go on, his eyes wide.
“I remember when we thought ten was lot of people,”
Kris replied, waving a hand at him with a grin. “Seriously, after a certain point, what does it matter? As long as they’re here to rock, it’s all good. The more the fucking merrier, right?”
“That’s great,”
Luka said, giving his fellow cellist a thumbs up.
He’d never known Dmitri to be overwhelmed by crowd size, but then they’d never played anything even half the size of Rocktoberfest.
“That’s the beauty of events like this, right? Fans come to hear the music of one or two bands they really like, then they leave as fans of a bunch more.
It’s one reason I really enjoy doing these things.
This could be the event that sends us to the top.”
Kit walked over and offered Dmitri a comforting pat on the shoulder.
“Focus on the music, and you’ll be fine.
The nice thing about a crowd this size is that most of it will look like faceless, moving blobs, so it’s easier to ignore the fact that every blob is a person.
Tune it out or pretend the people right up front are the only ones here, like when you were in the small venues.”
Dmitri nodded, then smiled at Kit.
“Thanks.
I guess I’d never really thought about what a huge crowd actually looked like.
Or not from the stage, at least!”
Luka watched Kit closely, his feelings about his friend still a complicated mess.
It was the reason why he’d had to flee the previous day, just after Jett had shown up.
Luka had been able to mostly ignore the imminence of Kit’s departure, but seeing Jett had reminded him of the fact that Kit would be leaving soon .
And made him confront the knowledge that he didn’t want Kit to go.
It was stupid, and Luka felt like an idiot.
How had he gone from never wanting to see Kit again to feeling like a part of him was being torn out, knowing that Kit had to inevitably leave? It didn’t make any sense, and Luka knew it, but it was what it was.
Now that Kit was back in his life, Luka wanted him to stay.
Of course, a lot of it was how lonely Luka had been in the last few years.
Despite having Dmitri, Kris, Jo, Andre, Jett, and Greg, no one had ever replaced Kit in his life.
No one else shared Luka’s memories or had been there during his worst moments growing up, helping him get through them and come out the other side still playing.
It was like Luka had been just going through the motions for the last four years, existing rather than living.
Despite having put the F-Holes together and making it to the charts, it had taken Kit coming back for Luka to really feel again.
Even if the feelings had started off as hate, they had gotten past that.
Luka still didn’t know what to do about the simmering attraction he felt to his friend, so he ignored it as much as he could.
Which was hard, especially when he saw Kit do things like comforting Dmitri.
Not only did it remind him of all the times Kit had reassured him as well, it showed how well Kit fit in with the F-Holes, and not just musically.
“We’ll be ready for you in five.”
Luka tore his attention away from Kit, noticing that the stage manager had come in to make sure they were set. Drawing in a deep breath, he picked up his electric cello. “Hey, Dmitri, better get your axe!”
he called out.
Before he could move, however, he felt the press of a warm hand on the back of his neck, and he glanced around to see Kit had closed the distance between them.
“I’m glad we’re doing this for the first time together.”
Kit’s voice was soft, meant for Luka’s ears alone.
The feeling of Kit’s hand on his neck sent an electric tingle shooting down Luka’s spine, making his face grow warm and his toes curl. He was glad that he could look away before Kit saw how the friendly touch affected him. “Yeah, me too,”
he murmured. And he meant it. Rocktoberfest would have just been another show without Kit here, instead of being special. He was glad Sultana had never played it before, and that it was something that he and Kit were able to share.
The rest of the band gathered round then, all touching hands in the middle of the group.
“We’ve got this,”
Luka told them.
“Damn right we do!”
Andre said, grinning widely.
“You know it,”
Kris added.
“I hope I don’t throw up,”
was Dmitri’s contribution, which made everyone laugh.
Then it was time, and they walked out onto the stage. Lights were glaring, but Luka could still make out the sea of people in front of the stage and hear the shouting as everyone took their places.
He took his seat, adjusting the cello between his legs, then glanced over at Kit, giving him a smile.
Kit’s answering smile was warm, and when their eyes met, all the noise and lights seemed to fade away as the world dwindled down to just the two of them. Then Kit winked and mouthed, “We got this.”
“Yeah, we do,”
Luka said, holding Kit’s gaze. Then Andre gave the beat, and the show began.
They’d opted for a few changes to the standard set list, in part because it wasn’t a two-hour show. They could rock it harder, and Luka had suggested they start with a song they rarely did in concert, called “Down and Dirty.”
It was sort of a revenge fantasy of Luka’s, directed at Jordan, and oddly enough, it was one of Kris’s favorites.
I held you up, I gave it all,
I answered every fucking call,
You slammed my back against the wall —
You held me down, down, down…
And did me dirty.
Can’t tell why I couldn’t see,
It’s always you, and never me,
Now all I want is to be free —
You brought me down, down, down,
And did me dirty.
You’re a liar, you’re a cheat,
I was the floor beneath your feet,
Soon you’ll be the one that’s beat —
You want me down, down, down,
To do me dirty.
You’ll fall down upon the ground,
Baby Karma’s comin’ round,
Cuz revenge is what I found —
I’ll hold you down, down, down,
And do you dirty.
I took you down, down, down,
And did you dirty.
The song ended with both cellos wailing like souls in pain, Andre pounding out the rhythm on the drums in sharp beats that rent the air, but they were all but drowned out by the screaming approval of the crowd.
Kris took a bow, and then a moment later, Andre launched into the next intro, this time their cover of "Du Hast.”
Song flowed into song, and Luka could feel that the band was in the zone, feeding off the crowd and giving it back doubled.
He glanced often at Kit, and Kit was always there, looking back at him.
Then it was time for the Duetto.
Dmitri and Kris moved to the side of the stage, and Kit took his double bass from a roadie before moving to stand right next to Luka.
Instead of facing the crowd, they turned toward one another, and in the same breath, they launched into the frantic pace of the music.
Even though they had performed it together many times by this point, there was something special, Luka knew, about the way they were playing this time.
Maybe it was the energy of the crowd, or perhaps even the deepening of their connection, which had grown stronger through every concert.
Luka didn’t look at the audience stretching out into the darkness — he looked at Kit, drinking in the sight of him, making music as though there were only the two of them in the world.
Kit’s gaze was locked on him in return, and while every swipe of his bow and every placement of his fingers on the neck were controlled and precise, an intensity Luka had never seen before burned like fire in Kit’s eyes.
Their music wrapped around and wove together until Luka could almost imagine each breath and each beat of their hearts were in perfect unison.
When the song ended, the sound of the last note was almost painful.
There were moments in music that were sublime and could never be recaptured.
This, Luka knew, had been one of them.
He was breathing hard, unable to look away from Kit, wishing that there was a way to keep that special connection they’d shared for far too brief of a time.
But it wasn’t to be; Kris and Dmitri came back on stage, and with a shout, Kris launched into their next song.
Luka kept going through the remaining songs, forcing himself to concentrate on the music.
Then, suddenly, it was over.
Kris introduced the band, each of them receiving overwhelming applause, before taking a bow before running off stage.
“That was amazing!”
Greg was grinning from ear to ear as they stepped into the wings, practically jumping up and down with excitement. “You guys were on fire tonight! Best show you’ve ever done!”
“Damn right,”
Kris said. She’d knelt down beside Jo and had her arms wrapped around her.
“It really was amazing,”
Jo said. She looked at Kit and Luka. “Especially the Duetto. Damn, you guys nailed it so hard, they’ll never get the boards up again.”
The compliment startled Luka, and he chuckled. “Thanks, Jo,”
he said, then glanced sidelong at Kit. “We really did nail it, huh?”
Kit looked dazed, as if he was still music-drunk, and when he looked at Luka, his entire face was alight with the kind of peace and joy that Luka hadn’t seen from him in far too long — perhaps ever.
“We did,”
Kit said with a watery smile. “That was….”
He trailed off and shook his head, as if words weren’t coming to him. “ Damn .”
“Damn, indeed,”
Luka replied. He so much wanted to throw his arms around Kit and hold him close. He took a step closer, and as he reached out one hand toward Kit, there was a shriek behind them.
“OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS!”
Startled, Luka looked over to see Jett rushing toward them. His dark eyes were round, and he looked between Kit and Luka with something like awe.
“What in the hell is wrong with you, Jett?”
Kris asked, rising to her feet. “You just about gave me a heart attack!”
“Sorry! Sorry!”
Jett glanced at Kris with an apologetic smile, before looking back at Kit and Luka. “Have you guys been doing the Duetto this whole tour? I mean fuck , that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard!”
Kit appeared to have to tear away his attention from Luka to focus on Jett. “Not the whole tour, no,”
he said, sounding pleased by the compliment. “But playing with Luka is like riding a bicycle, it seems. All it takes is a little practice to shake off the rust.”
Luka felt warmed by Kit’s words. “Our playing has always meshed well.”
Jett laughed. “Meshed well? You two were born to play together!”
He looked at Kit. “I mean, I know I’m good, but… shit. I can’t handle a double bass the way you can.”
“Not yet, maybe, but you’ll get there, I’m sure.”
Kit gave Jett a reassuring smile. “You just need time and practice.”
He met and held Luka’s gaze as he spoke again, his voice intimate as if the words were for Luka alone. “It helps to have an amazing partner.”
The look in Kit’s eyes and the tone of his voice sent a shiver down Luka’s spine. Maybe he was just too wired in the aftermath of the show, but his mouth went dry, and he wondered again if somehow, maybe, Kit might ever see him as more than a friend.
“Hey, guys, can you please head off so we can get your equipment packed?”
The voice of the stage manager cut through Luka’s confused thoughts, and he nodded. “Yeah, come on, we should get back to the bus.”
He had wanted to see the band after theirs, but he was so wired there was no way he was going to be able to stay still.
They all left the wings, stepping out into the cooler air away from the stage area.
The mass of bodies and equipment around them had blocked the desert breeze that could be felt coming in off the playa to the west, but the caress of the air on his sweat-damp skin was a welcome relief.
Jett was still chattering away to Kit, praising his ability as they headed toward the bus.
Kris had rolled Jo out ahead of them, and Andre, Dmitri, and Greg were clustered together as they walked, rehashing the performance.
Luka felt energized, yet also oddly peaceful with it, like he’d jumped some hurdle and come out the other side still running.
“Oh my God, I’ve talked your ear off,”
Jett said suddenly, a flush stealing over his cheeks. “Sorry about that. I tend to get too fanboyish sometimes.”
“No, no! Tell me more about how great I am,”
Kit teased, giving Jett a playful nudge. “But maybe after the performance buzz has worn off a little.”
Jett nodded. “Sorry, I get it. Besides, I need to make sure the others know that they’re great, too. Like you, Luka. Amazing, but then you always are.”
“Thanks.”
Luka smiled, then waved Jett off.
If he was being perfectly honest, he just wanted to enjoy being with Kit.
They hadn’t been this in tune with one another since the last time Luka had played with Sultana. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the feeling, and he knew he’d better savor it while he could.
Jett nodded, then quickened his pace to catch up with Dmitri, Greg, and Andre. Luka chuckled and shook his head. “I know we’re only a few years older than him, but I don’t know that I was ever that young.”
“You weren’t,”
Kit said dryly. “Neither of us have ever been that enthusiastic either.”
“I guess we never had the opportunity to be,”
Luka replied. “Considering he went through some shit, it’s amazing it never dampened his spirit.”
He sighed, feeling the weight of memory creep in, dulling the almost post-coital high of the performance. Which sucked.
“He has different ways of coping, that’s all.”
Kit slid one arm around Luka’s shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze before releasing him. “Not better or worse, just different.”
“I guess.”
The sudden hug did help. Luka knew he shouldn’t wish it could be more, but he did anyway, as foolish as it was.
He realized they were almost back at the bus, and he slowed his steps, not ready to be in close quarters with everyone else just yet. He knew that beyond the secured area where the bands were parked was miles and miles of desert, and he suddenly needed it, needed to escape the weight of obligation and expectations that had been weighing him down for what felt like his entire life.
“I’m going to go for a walk in the desert,”
he said, turning to look at Kit. “If you want to come, you can, but don’t feel obligated.”
Secretly, he hoped Kit would want to, but he wasn’t about to push.
“Some space and quiet sounds really good,”
Kit said with a lightness in his voice and expression that suggested maybe he too needed some time to escape.
Luka grinned, glad that he and Kit were still so in tune. As they walked past the bus, he stuck his head into the open door. “Kit and I are going for a walk to decompress. We’ll be back in a bit.”
“Have fun,”
Kris called out. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
Luka snorted, shaking his head as he stepped back and let the door of the bus close. “Okay, Mama Kris has given her blessing, so we can go.”
Luka noticed the way Kit’s shoulders relaxed as they walked away from the bus, and he heard Kit release a long, slow breath.
“Did you have anywhere in mind, or are we wandering?”
Kit asked.
“I have no idea what’s out there other than sand,”
Luka admitted a trifle sheepishly. “I doubt we’d get lost, though, as long as Black Rock City is in sight, right? It’s pretty flat, probably not much to look at even in the daytime. But I just need some space, you know?”
“Oh, yeah, I get it.”
Kit was silent for a moment, and then he glanced sidelong at Luka with a shy smile. “I’m glad you didn’t need space from me, though.”
That smile did something to Luka, made him feel like maybe Kit was just as uncertain in navigating the rollercoaster of their friendship as he was himself.
Kit always seemed so certain that it had never occurred to Luka that maybe Kit wasn’t sure about where to go from this point, either.
He smiled back, and they walked on in a companionable silence.
Slowly, the raucous sounds of music and the crowds faded.
As they started past the security checkpoint for the bands, one guard stopped them to inquire how long they thought they’d be out and to give them flashlights, an emergency beacon, a couple of bottles of water, and a small first aid kit in a cloth bag.
“You aren’t the first performers who’ve needed to wander out, but be safe about it,”
the guard, an older man with a haircut that practically screamed ‘former military’ told them. “We have some ATVs if you get lost or injured and need us to come get you, but it’s better to keep it from happening.”
“Yes, sir,”
Luka replied. “We’ll be careful.”
With that, they were waved out.
Luka wasn’t positive, but he got the feeling that part of the conversation was to make sure they weren’t drunk, stoned, or otherwise impaired.
Which made sense; Rocktoberfest didn’t need the legal headaches that would come with any of the talent wandering out and getting lost in the desert.
The moon cast enough light that they didn’t really need the flashlights.
It was decidedly cooler out on the firmly packed sands, the heat of the day having radiated away this long after sunset.
The Nevada desert wasn’t much like the deserts in films; rather than shifting dunes, the ground was flat and almost smooth.
As they headed farther away from the noise and lights, there were areas of scattered rocks and some thick, mounded grasses, as well as the occasional spiky form of a Joshua tree.
The mountains in the distance were darker, looming shapes visible mostly in the way they blotted out the stars.
Luka drew in a deep breath of the fresh air, feeling himself finally starting to relax.
They were walking closely enough together that their arms brushed from time to time, and Luka could feel the warmth from Kit’s body.
“This is better,”
he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kit’s voice was also hushed when he replied, “Much better. I love performing, but touring is exhausting. It’s extra rough for us introverts.”
“It can be, that’s for sure,”
Luka agreed. He stopped walking, looking at Kit’s shadowed form, feeling suddenly awkward and unsure. “You must have really wanted our friendship back to go to all this trouble, touring with us and everything, especially after Sultana had only just gotten back home. I appreciate it. I missed you more than I ever realized. I guess I just got used to being alone, even in a crowd.”
Kit stopped as well and faced Luka, and in the moonlight, Luka could see his expression was somber.
“I missed you too,”
Kit said, a rough edge in his voice. He hesitated, and then he reached out and clasped Luka’s hand. “It wasn’t just our friendship I wanted back. It was you . I’ve had a Luka-shaped hole in my life all these years. It felt like part of myself was missing.”
Luka felt his eye prickle. It was dumb. He never cried, but his throat was suddenly tight as Kit’s words echoed his own feelings. Then the words were almost torn from him. He couldn’t seem to stop them as he told Kit what had been eating him up inside.
“Me, too, even if I didn’t realize it until recently. I guess I filled it up with anger and self doubt for years. If I’m being honest, I started the F-Holes almost as revenge. To prove I didn’t need Sultana, didn’t need you or the other guys. Looking back, I think my self-esteem has been in the toilet for ages. But it was exhausting, living on anger and spite for years. I couldn’t even be a proper friend to Kris, Jett, and the others. I never let them get that close. I didn’t want anyone to hurt me, not ever again.”
“I feel like Jordan and I finished what your parents started.”
Kit pressed Luka’s hand against his cheek and closed his eyes as he breathed out a long sigh. “I’m so sorry for that. But you’re right. You don’t need Sultana or me.”
He opened his eyes and met Luka’s gaze. “You’ve proven that with the F-Holes. But I hope you might want me around again.”
Luka shivered, but he didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he dared to caress Kit’s cheek with his thumb. “You’re wrong, I do need you,”
he finally admitted.
Maybe it was crazy to be so open about it; Kit might very well figure decide Luka was too fucked up, and come to his senses.
But he needed to make sure Kit knew Luka wasn’t going to throw him away once the F-Holes didn’t need him anymore.
“You want to know why I was so wound up yesterday? Jett coming back reminded me you won’t be with the band much longer.
That I have you back in my life now, which is great, but we’re going to be separated again.
You have to go back to Sultana, and I owe Kris, Jo, Jett, Dmitri, and Andre for being there for me when I was in danger of self-destructing. I had told myself I created the band to save them, but really, I was saving myself.”
“I don’t want to go back to Sultana.”
Kit’s voice was low and ragged. “I don’t want to displace anyone in the F-Holes, but I don’t want to leave you either.”
At first, Luka couldn’t believe what he was hearing, thinking that maybe he’d just imagined Kit saying what Luka wanted to hear. Suddenly, his heart was pounding. “You want to stay? Really?”
Kit gazed at Luka and nodded. “I’d be your personal roadie if it meant I could stay.”
Luka’s breath caught. Was it possible? Could they make it work? “I could ask Jett to move to rhythm guitar. He started out there, anyway. He only moved to bass because it was a better fit for our sound.”
Hope flared in Kit’s eyes, and he tightened his fingers on Luka’s hand. “Do you think he’d be okay with that? I don’t want to stir up any problems or resentment with the others.”
“We can ask,”
Luka said. The thought of Kit staying with the band didn’t just make him almost giddy, but it felt right in a way nothing else had in far too long in his life. “But I think he and the others would be ecstatic to have you stay.”
He thought of something and grew more sober almost at once. “Don’t you have a contract with Sultana, though? Would Headcrash even let you move?”
“Contracts can be changed or broken,”
Kit said. “And Headcrash can go fuck themselves if they try to make me stay.”
He released Luka’s hand, but only so he could cradle Luka’s cheek in his palm. “I want to stay with you,”
he whispered.
Staring into Kit’s eyes, Luka wanted so badly to lean forward, close the gap between them, and kiss Kit.
He remembered all the times as a teen that he’d imagined doing the same thing, but he’d held back, certain that Kit couldn’t feel the same way.
And now Kit would be staying with the band… and Luka knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back his crazy, rekindled desire for more than just friendship when it happened.
Hell, it was hard to hold it back now, as they stood alone in the darkness, completely wrapped up in moonlight and the sound of the desert wind.
“Kit….”
he said, then licked his suddenly dry lips. The blood rushing in his ears was louder than the distant band, louder than the screaming fans.
“Can I kiss you?”
Kit asked, his gaze following the flick of Luka’s tongue.
Luka was startled, hearing his own thought spoken aloud in Kit’s voice. For a moment, he thought he was losing his mind, but then he realized it really had been Kit asking.
Kit wanted to kiss him .