Chapter 23
(Steel)
“Hey, I need to touch base with you before they come down off the stage,” Sully said, pulling me away from the rest of the band’s guards and roadies as we stood listening to the last few songs of Blissfully Immune’s set.
“What’s up?” I asked. “I thought I was off an hour ago.”
“You were,” Sully said, “and still are. So, if I give a command when we’re in the park, it implies to you too. I wanted to make sure that was clear.”
“Understood,” I replied. “I’m just looking forward to a fun evening on the rides.”
“Yeah, about those,” Sully began. “On the two-seaters, I want you next to me, directly behind Kit and Rebel. I want to keep a row of guards between the principals and the fans on as many rides as possible. I’m just glad the park has been shut down to other visitors for this event.”
“You’re not the only one. Twenty superfans will be far easier to deal with than a park full of random encounters every time one of them is recognized.”
“Exactly.”
“The nice thing about having you on the other side of the detail tonight is that maybe you’ll be able to rein Rebel in if he gets a wild hair and decides to do something that’s going to give me another gray hair.”
If I’d been on duty, I wouldn’t have dared poke the bear, so to speak, but like he’d said, I was relieved an hour ago, so I cocked my head and made a show of studying his hair.
“Hate to break it to you, but there’s no room for another one; the last black one finally gave up the ghost.”
“You’re not funny.”
“Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
"Smartass.”
“Sometimes,” I admitted, though it had been longer than I could remember since I’d let my snarky side shine through.
Mouthing off to cadre had made my road through basic training a difficult one, filled with punishing physical tasks that had taught me how to keep my attitude in check.
Heh, maybe I should start assigning Rebel pushups when he started mouthing off, though his suggestion that I put him over my knee had way more merit to it.
“Better than stalking around biting people’s heads off,” Sully declared. “Seriously though, you know my policies about dating a principal; just see that you don’t break any of them, and you and I will never have issues.”
“I wouldn’t say we’re dating,” I admitted. “More like feeling each other out to see if it’s going to be possible.”
“Should have done that in the first place.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said as he checked the time, then motioned us back over to where everyone else was gathered.
Two backstage monitors allowed us to watch the show as it was taking place.
If, for any reason, the guards posted in the wings were forced to rush onto the stage, we’d see that too and be able to back them up.
We were fortunate that thus far, security at each of the venues had kept fans from climbing up on the stage, but we all knew one would slip through eventually.
On the monitor, I watched Johnny lean against Rebel, whose fingers flew over his guitar strings as he launched into a guitar solo. They’d ended several sets with this one. When their voices mingled on the final chorus, it sent a shiver down my spine; it was that chilling.
We ache to dream in neon rainbow
Superimposing fantasy on reality
Until all your rules fade away
Rebel and Johnny bowed with their arms around one another, while Ozzy stood from his throne behind the drum kit to pitch his sticks into the crowd and bow before sitting back down.
He’d only played the final four songs tonight, the fewest since he’d rejoined the band on the road.
It was no secret that his hands were getting worse and that he was doing everything in his power to hold on until Rocktoberfest so he could go out on his own terms. Kit always remained in the wings, just in case Ozzy needed him to take back over.
Now, he emerged, leading the rest of the band down so they could change and join Damaged Saints and the superfans in the amusement park.
“You’re still joining us, right?” Rebel asked, almost hesitantly, when he spotted me standing beside Sully.
“Yup. Now go change so we can get to it.”
“And don’t make me regret it,” Sully grumbled as he took up his post beside Rebel, who didn’t take one step to do as he was told until he was certain Sully was beside him.
It was a welcome change, and I’d be certain to praise him for it when we were alone.
A short time later, both bands were ready to mingle with the superfans and check out all the rides.
Sully had issued a few simple instructions before we headed out the door to where they were gathered.
Stick together. Don’t encourage anyone to get handsy.
And for the love of everything he held dear, no one was to slip away to do anything without their guard by their side.
It might have looked odd to some that I walked between Kit and Rebel, but it was so their guards could remain on either side of them as a barrier between them and the fans that started firing questions at them the moment we stepped outside.
From that point, we were all swept along by the excitement of the moment, as one of the fans pointed towards the Sky Sling and asked if any of the band members would be willing to ride it with him.
“Hell yeah!” Rebel replied, which immediately drew a groan from Sully because that meant that he was going to have to get on it too. “Kit and I will.”
“Not on your life!” Kit said, immediately shooting him down.
“I’ll go!” Johnny said.
“Me too,” Jagger said.
When several of the other superfans piped up to say that they wanted to ride it too, our procession headed in that direction, with Rebel nudging my arm.
“How about you?” Rebel asked. “Wanna ride the sky swing with me?”
I saw Sully fight to keep from grinning on the other side of him and knew I would never hear the end of it from either of them if I didn’t say yes.
“Only if you promise not to scream in my ear the entire time,” I shot back.
“Thought you liked it when I screamed in your ear?”
It was a good thing I wasn’t drinking anything; I’d have snorted it out of my nose at his smartass remark.
“Behave,” I warned.
“This is me behaving.”
Groaning, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Of course it is.”
Since it fit eight riders on each end, everyone who wanted to ride was able to load up and wave to the folks on the ground.
Several had their phones out and were videoing or taking pictures as the ride started, slowly lifting us into the air.
It was the last slow thing that happened as we were flipped, flung, and spun, hollering our fool heads off at the intensity of the ride.
“And you were getting on my case about screaming,” Rebel whispered in my ear as we waited for the safety bars to be released at the end of the ride. “That was the loudest holy shit I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m sure I can think of ways to make you cry out, holy shit, just as loud,” I replied.
“Promises, promises,” Rebel sang, flashing me that wicked smirk of his. “Try adding a menacing growl at the end next time, and I might believe it.”
“I’ll give you a menacing growl,” I grumbled as we climbed out.
“I certainly hope so.”
I was never going to win a war of comebacks with him, I decided right then and there. At least not any that drifted into naughty territory. With just a few lines, he had me wishing that we were alone somewhere so I could show him just how seriously I took my promises.
After a series of whiplash-inducing rides, we found ourselves on the carousel, one of the few rides that everyone was willing to get on.
“Giddyap!” Johnny hollered.
“You’ll never take me alive!” Rebel declared.
“Come back here, you varmint!” I yelled, and Rebel whipped his head around to grin at me, howling Never!
“We’ll catch him in the pass!” came Kit’s rallying cry, and a deafening cheer rose up from band members and superfans alike.
It was a good group of people too. Folks you could tell seriously cared about the band as people and performers and were enjoying the opportunity to hang out with them, laugh, and joke about who was going to be the first to start vomiting.
So far, we hadn’t had to pause so someone could blow chunks in a trashcan, but we hadn’t hit the concession stand yet.
It didn’t surprise me that the boardwalk and all the games caught everyone’s attention, with fans and bandmates lining up to shoot water in a clown's mouth to see who could send their clown to the top of the wall the fastest. A few, including Rebel, wound up pitching darts at a wall of balloons, trying to win one of the stuffed animals dangling all over the booth.
“Oops, shit!” one of the superfans yelped when their dart bounced off a balloon and ricocheted towards the guy operating the booth.
“All good, brutha,” the guy replied after nimbly sidestepping the sharp tip. “Happens all the time; it keeps me on my toes.”
Rebel’s tongue poked from between his lips as he lined up his next shot.
So far, he’d only missed one of the balloons he’d aimed at, and every one of them had popped.
Two small stuffed critters sat beside his hand.
He’d chosen them without care, barely giving them the once-over before selecting one.
I wondered if he intended to sign them and give them to fans.
If that was his plan, he’d need to win eighteen more to keep everyone happy.
A few more shots, and he won a third one and traded those three in for a medium-sized bulldog wearing a studded leather jacket, spiked leather collar, and matching boots.
Now that was seriously badass.
He took a few selfies with it and some of the superfans, as well as the guy manning the booth, grin stretching his face wide when he finally turned away from the darts and held the bulldog out to me.
Taking it was an automatic reflex, thinking he wanted me to hang on to it for him.
I didn’t expect the words that followed.
“He reminded me of you, so I thought you should have him.”
Shit.