Chapter 15 Jesse
FIFTEEN
JESSE
The power in the arena flickers, rain pelting the roof so hard it sounds like it might cave in.
Me, Naz, Ari, and Will are camped out on couches in the greenroom, waiting to find out if we’ll be doing sound check any time soon.
Blake is pacing one end of the room, playing middleman between his director and the venue manager, who is standing just inside the door looking stressed.
Gage, our equipment manager, is sitting with his feet kicked up on the small dining table, scrolling on his phone.
The energy on the couch is different. Strained, maybe, but I’m not sure why.
Ari and Will are sitting farther apart than they normally do, with Naz between them.
He’s holding his e-reader and trying to read, but he must feel the vibe, too, because he keeps looking up to cut eyes at each of the brothers.
I’m texting Luc. He just finished up with a positional meeting, whatever that is.
ME: If you wanted to learn new positions, you could have just said so.
Blushing Beefcake: Don’t even try it. I am NOT letting you give me a boner before I get on the plane again. The ride home from Miami last week was awful.
ME: Aw, I’m sorry.
Blushing Beefcake: No, you’re not.
ME: Not even a little bit. I jerked off three times to your whining about how hard you were.
Blushing Beefcake: I hate you.
ME: You already know the Milk and Water Embrace.
Blushing Beefcake: Do I even want to know? Is it safe to look this up?
Blushing Beefcake: Never mind, I saw the words Kama Sutra and bailed. Did I mention that I’m getting on a plane?
ME: The Rowing Boat is my personal favorite. We’ve done something similar, but you probably don’t remember it. I’ll have to refresh your memory.
ME: It requires some strength and flexibility, but you really get in there so deep...
Blushing Beefcake: I’m going to turn my phone off.
ME: No, you’re not.
ME: …
ME: You know, I’ve always wanted to try Congress of a Cow. Look that one up and tell me what you think. You’re an athlete. I think you could pull it off.
Blushing Beefcake: Can’t this wait until I’m in the hotel at least?
ME: You’re blushing right now, aren’t you?
ME: Have a nice flight!
“Alright, enough! What the fuck is going on with you two?”
I snap my gaze up to see Naz with his arms crossed, e-reader in his lap, glaring back and forth at Ari and Will. They’re both just as stunned as I am with Naz’s outburst.
“Nothing is going on–” Will starts.
Naz cuts him off. “Bullshit.”
While those two are bickering, I watch Ari. He seems to be avoiding Naz and Will’s gazes. He must feel me staring, because he flicks his eyes up to mine.
I give him a curious look and mouth the words, “Are you okay?”
He shrugs first, then nods. “It’ll be fine,” he mouths back.
“What are you all bickering about?” Blake asks, putting his phone down for the first time today.
“Nothing important,” Ari says quickly. “Will is just pissy about his costume.”
“Still?” Naz asks. “Come on, man.”
“The bald cap makes me sweaty.”
“Then you wear the wig cap like Myra suggested,” I say, then look back at Blake, redirecting the conversation. I’m about ninety-five percent sure Ari’s excuse is bullshit. Will has been in a mood lately, but that seems like a petty reason to be so on edge. “What’s the word?”
“The storm is supposed to get pretty bad tomorrow night. NOLA is battening down the hatches. There’s no other choice but to cancel the show.”
Everyone deflates in a series of groans, heavy sighs, and curses.
Our annual Halloween concert is not only our favorite because it’s so much fun, but it’s also one of our top charity events of the year.
The concert is live-streamed, and people make live donations throughout the set.
Large donations get on-screen shout-outs and song requests, plus we let the audience make one-dollar votes for what songs we play as we go, based on social media polls run by our PR team.
It’s something we started three years ago and has become a huge social media event.
Last year we raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for The Trevor Project. It’s a huge loss.
Everyone is silent for a few minutes, processing having to cancel our best event of the year, and trying to think of a miracle solution.
“Can we reschedule? It won’t be Halloween night, but this is our last full concert until after the holidays. All we have next month is a bunch of promo and a studio block. There’s got to me something we can move around,” Naz says.
Mr. Hebert, the venue manager, chimes in. “I have an idea, if it’s alright.”
Blake gestures for him to go ahead. “Let’s hear it, Vic.”
“We have a hold for next weekend, but I think I could persuade them to work with us if the band might be willing to let them co-sponsor the concert.”
“Who is it?” Blake asks.
“Have you heard of the Waves app?”
“No way,” Ari and Will say simultaneously.
“That’s actually kind of perfect,” I say.
“I thought so, too,” Mr. Hebert says. “Would you like me to put out a feeler?”
“Yes,” I say, echoed by Naz, Will, and Ari.
Blake says, “Hold on.”
“Call PR, and if they don’t tell you to jump on this opportunity immediately, I’ll never talk back to you again,” I say. “Waves a progressive social media company. They’re new but growing fast enough that they’re showing real promise of competing with the big companies.”
“They were just in the news for turning down a massive payout from Nark ‘My Skin Suit Is Itchy’ Fuckerbird,” Gage says. I flinch a little because I forgot he was here.
“They’re legit, and align with a lot of what we’re about,” Naz says. “They’d be a huge boost to the concert, and we’d actually be contributing to their success as well.”
“Which is why I feel very confident that they’ll want to collaborate,” Mr. Hebert says.
“Okay,” Blake says. “See what they say, and I’ll do a little research before pitching it to PR.”
Mr. Hebert nods excitedly and lifts his phone to his ear on his way out the door. Blake pulls out his laptop, and we all shuffle to make room for him on the small sectional. He does some basic internet searches to read about the company.
“The social platform where music and activism collide. Make waves, be heard,” he reads out loud.
Ari hands him his phone. “They’ve already got over ten million followers.” Blake thumbs around the app, looking mildly impressed. “All of us and the label have accounts with several million followers.”
Blake hands Ari’s phone back. “I hate social media, but I might download this one just based on their mission statement and activism.”
Mr. Hebert bursts into the room, looking flushed and excited.
“They’re in! Zero questions.” He hands a sticky note to Blake.
“That’s the number to call for their events management team.
They’re waiting to hear from you.” He looks at all of us.
“Kit Quinley, one of the co-founders, is a huge fan, and they are very much looking forward to meeting all of you.”
“Alright,” Blake says, standing. “Let me make a few calls and make sure the label is on board. Then we can start getting things in motion.”
Gage gets up to follow him out. “Cory just texted that they ordered pizza. Want me to grab a couple for y’all?”
“Hell. Yes,” Naz says. “See if they got any with–”
“Cory also said that Scott ordered one with extra peppers just for you.”
Naz pauses. “Oh. Tell him I said thank you?” His voice lilts up at the end, making it sound like more of a question than anything else.
Gage smirks like he knows something the rest of us don’t and nods. “Any other requests?”
“I’ll eat anything except onions,” I say.
Will says, “Veggie, please.” Just as Ari asks for, “Something with a lot of meat.”
“You would want that,” Will snaps, and it doesn’t sound like their usual friendly banter.
“Yeah, because it’s good.”
I point at Ari. “100% facts.” Will narrows his eyes at me, and Ari’s eyes swim with amusement. “You were talking about dick, right?”
“Will you shut up,” Will spits. “Let’s talk about how Scott clearly wants Naz’s dick.”
Gage snorts on his way out of the room.
“Wait, he’s the new bodyguard, right?” He confirms with a nod but doesn’t say anything else. In fact, he’s pointedly ignoring me. Which means it’s probably true. “How have I missed this?”
“You’ve been a bit distracted lately,” he says pointedly.
“You would be too.”
He rolls his eyes and is getting ready to say something else when Scott walks back in with a stack of pizzas. Everyone goes quiet, watching Naz act completely out of character. He sits stiffly, refusing to make eye contact with anything except the screensaver for his e-reader.
“Yours is on bottom, boss.”
“Thanks, Scott,” he murmurs. Ari snorts and says, “Yeah, I bet it is.”
Naz peeks up to watch Scott leave the room, raising an eyebrow when he notices me watching. Yeah, I saw that.
He gives me a look. Not now.
I narrow my eyes. Better be soon.
Letting him be–for now–I open the pizza boxes, taking a slice from both Naz and Ari’s requests and wrinkling my nose at Will’s onion-infested veggie pizza.
“Aww, poor thing. Do you need me to pick them off for you?” Will snarks.
“You think you’d be in a better mood now that you don’t have to wear your costume,” I snark back, my tone very clearly suggesting that I know that excuse was bullshit.
We dress up in coordinating costumes every year. Last year we wore variations of black suits and elaborate skeleton makeup on our faces and bodies. The year before, we dressed up as Batman villains. I was Poison Ivy.