Chapter 20 #2
Ray shakes his head, albeit, thankfully, with a smile on his face. “Don’t overdo it, now. I understand how it might be tempting. Hell, I’ve thought about trying it too.”
Gene’s whole body slumps, almost tripping as he sighs with relief. “You have?”
“Yeah, but I haven’t actually done it. Though, I’m looking out for you, okay?” He places his hand on Gene’s shoulder. Their proximity sends a hoard of butterflies through his stomach, his chest, all the way up through the top of his head.
“Alright. Thanks, Ray.” He looks behind Ray, into the hall. “Where’s Carol?”
“She’s just in the bathroom, but she’ll be back in time for the show.” Ray’s grin shines bright. “Speaking of that, let’s get ready, shall we?”
Being up on stage while high on coke is quite the experience.
Not just any stage—Madison Square Garden.
Thousands upon thousands of fans fill up the stands, cheering, shouting, screaming out nonsense.
Maurice is walking around the stage, snapping high-quality photos, and now there’s even a videographer joining him, recording the show.
Last Gene had heard, ‘Burn it Down’ had reached number two in the Billboard top 40 nationwide.
Number fucking two. What started off as a struggle with Ray and Carol ended up being their most successful song yet.
Very evidently, too, he can see it now. The sheer size of the crowd takes his breath away.
Stefan’s bass drives the beat, standing to Gene’s left, pumping the rhythm of their song ‘Wild Girls’.
Gene knows Ray had originally written this song about himself, though it’s funny how now the meaning has shifted more to one of the Brooms’ other members.
Gene hasn’t been paying much attention to Stefan’s social life—not like he shares much with them, anyway—but it seems like Stefan is with the Brooms to simply float along with life, reaping the joys and highs of being a rockstar.
Gene can appreciate that. Especially so, since Stefan’s bass skills are out of this world.
During the bridge, Gene keeps pace by turning away from the crowd, facing Pat.
He’s not used to this feeling—his senses being attacked on all sides—and focuses on the drums to not lose tempo.
Most of the song is in four-four, but there are a few moments where they switch to a five-four beat: the end of each chorus, and the end of the bridge.
He doesn’t want to trip up, not like this.
When the chorus comes back around, he rushes up front to stand next to Ray, singing into the microphone with him:
“I never stop, they never stop, everywhere I turn.
I want it all, baby, all the wild girls.
Wild girls!” Three, four, five. “Wild girls!” Three, four, five.
A horn solo blares from their touring trumpet player, standing next to Santiago who weaves the melody on his guitar with him. It’s an explosive end to the song. The crowd cheers, the immense cacophony shaking the entire stadium and the ground beneath them.
“Thank you!” Ray says into the mic. “Thank you all!”
The show is far from over, but they take a short breather between songs.
Gene’s feeling a little too buzzed—he knows if he tried to continue now, without something else to calm him down, he wouldn’t be able to hit the correct notes with how much his hands are shaking.
The intense roar of the crowd doesn’t help, either.
He appreciates there being so many fans, but the sheer number of them pecks at his nerves.
He needs something to balance—he needs a downer.
That’s what Nicky had suggested earlier.
Thankfully, he’d brought a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from backstage up with him, resting on the floor behind one of the amps near Pat’s drum kit.
As his guitar hangs from his body by its strap, he grabs the bottle, pops open the cap, and takes a few gulps. Ah, that’s better.
He sets the bottle back down and returns to his usual spot on stage. Ray grabs the microphone to speak to the crowd, “Alright, ladies and gentlemen. We’ve got another song here to pay tribute to one of the blues greats: the one that gave us our name. Here’s ‘Dust My Broom’.”
Gene plays the riff, Santiago follows. Pat keeps the beat smooth and slow. Stefan guides them from behind, while Nicky adds a sprinkling of piano on top. They all sound wonderful like this together, as Ray comes in with the verse, singing it with all his soul.
This isn’t a song where they harmonize, as Ray sings solo.
Some songs they play are like that. It gives Gene more time to focus on his guitar strumming, but also more leeway to look around.
And where else would his gaze land except on Ray himself.
Gene can’t get over how gorgeous Ray looks tonight—how his sandy blond hair shimmers in the stage lights, how his eye make-up sparkles like stars, matching the stars on his tight pants, how he sways his hips so sensually to the long and steady beat.
Even though Gene doesn’t have to stand close to Ray, he goes up and does anyway.
As the notes ring from his guitar, he sways as well, matching Ray’s movements, dancing so close their hips bump against each other.
Ray smiles at that. He makes eye contact with Gene as he sings the chorus.
Oh my fucking god. Gene’s heart feels ready to explode, with it shuddering so hard inside his chest. Ray is ignoring the audience and singing directly to him.
With Ray so near, so happy, so goddamn beautiful…
It’s such a wonderful fluttery feeling he can’t get enough of.
He can’t get enough of Ray.
He’s putting his guitar away in its case back in the greenroom as he laughs along with Ray, giddy as can be. “You were phenomenal out there, man,” Gene says.
“So were you,” Ray replies. “I can’t believe you could still play so well even with doing coke beforehand.”
“Hey, it wasn’t just coke. I had some Jack, too. Which… oh my god, I left it on the stage.” He shakes his head as he snaps the case shut.
“Oh man, how much was left in there?”
“Uh… probably about half the bottle.” Gene shrugs. “Well, someone’s gonna be surprised when they clean up. I don’t think I wanna go back up there just to get it.”
Ray laughs. “The crew here probably see shit like that all the time. Remember, this ain’t some small arena in the U.P.—this is New York City, baby.”
Gene’s cheeks heat up at Ray’s last word. He knows he didn’t mean it like that, but such an endearment directed to Gene at all makes his heart race. “Yeah. It’ll be fine.”
“Wait a second.” Ray looks around the room, eyeing around all the people surrounding them. “I left my harmonica case in the dressing room. I think my wallet’s in there too. Shit. I hope it’s still open; I need to grab that. I hope no one’s stolen it…”
“It should still be open. I mean, we’re the band who’s booked here so we should be able to use it.” Gene gives him a reassuring smile. “C’mon, let’s go look. I’ll go with you.”
“Alright.” Ray frowns. Gene’s worried too, but things should be fine. It would be quite the scandal for anyone to steal Ray’s wallet—the wallet of the lead singer of one of the biggest rising bands in the country—so hopefully whoever would think to do so would steer clear.
“Hey Ray, where’re you going?” Carol pops up in front of them as they’re heading toward the door to the hall.
“Oh, I think I left some stuff in the dressing room. So we’re gonna head there,” Ray says.
“Ah, okay. Did you want me to come with you?” she asks.
“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve got Gene here with me.” Ray pats Gene on the shoulder, and Gene’s heart soars.
He’s picking me over Carol.
“Alright, alright.” Carol shrugs, and then she walks away, congregating with the rest of the band.
“Okay then, let’s go,” Gene says with a smile. “Lead the way. I don’t know where the dressing room is.”
“It’s through here…” Ray opens the door to the hallway, stepping through, and Gene closes it behind himself as they pass through the threshold.
It’s only a short distance through the hall before they happen upon a closed door to their left. Ray turns the knob, and thankfully, it opens. Gene steps into the dressing room after Ray and flicks on the light, shutting the door for some privacy as they look around for the singer’s lost items.
“Ah, here it is! Just where I left it,” Ray says, walking over to the built-in counter in front of a large mirror surrounded by lightbulbs.
“Thank god, no one must’ve come in here after me.
” He picks up his harmonica case, unzips it, and pulls the instrument out of his scarf-belt, securing it back into its proper place.
“That’s great.” A dizzy rush smacks Gene’s head, the whiskey he drank during the show catching up to him. It hits him so hard that it makes him sway where he stands. He rests his hand against the back of a folding chair.
He watches as Ray sets the harmonica case down and picks up his wallet, filing through the contents to make sure everything is still in proper order and that nothing was stolen.
Ray nods as he does so, and it calms Gene’s mind.
Yet as he continues to stare, he looks deeply, longingly at his best friend.
Just like during the show, he admires Ray’s immense beauty.
Now Gene can get a better look at him with the bright overhead lights.
His lean, sexy figure in that sheer tank top, skin glistening with sweat, his make-up a bit smudged now—but it still looks amazing.
Gene focuses as Ray licks his lips, the gloss basically all gone now, yet still shimmering from the swipe of his tongue.
A tongue he yearns to taste. Lips he desperately wants to know how soft they would feel…
“Ray.”
He sets his wallet down onto the counter. “Hmm?”
No one else is here. We’re alone.
“Ray, um…” He takes a deep breath. “Ray, you’re beautiful.”