Chapter 4
FOUR
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CALUM
The band gives a lacklustre performance.
The drummer’s high, the vocalist is overdosing on vibrato in an attempt to cover a severe case of vocal fatigue, and the loose-limbed gait of the lead guitarist has me wondering about the blood-to-alcohol ratio of his veins.
Only the bass guitarist is in good shape, and she’s glaring at the others as though she’s ready to walk off stage if they do one more thing to piss her off.
If the demo file they sent to Rush was their best, I’m now seeing them at their worst.
Disappointed, I allow my focus to drift to the man at my side.
The crush of the crowd has ensured our closeness, his arm brushing against mine as the music evokes subtle movements from us both.
Every now and then, Johnny sneaks a glance in my direction, but each time I try to meet his gaze, his skitters away.
I’m not sure what that’s about. He’s far too good looking to be this shy.
Leaning closer, I speak into his ear. “What do you think of the band?”
He hesitates before shrugging. “Not bad.” At my dubious look, he rolls his eyes.
“You want the truth?” I nod. Johnny lifts his chin towards the stage, where the lead guitarist is fumbling his chord transitions.
“I don’t show up to my job drunk, why should he get to?
It’s disrespectful to the audience. They paid good money to listen to him play like shit. ”
I can’t help but chuckle at his pursed lips and furrowed brow. “You’re cute when you’re all offended on other people’s behalf.”
He grins, turning his head in my direction.
Then he realises how close his face is to mine, and his eyes widen.
A moment passes. Johnny’s teeth sink into his lower lip, abusing it in a way I’d love to emulate, before allowing it to pop free.
His gaze darts between my eyes and my lips, not quite landing on either.
“I didn’t insult your favourite band, did I? ”
Smiling, I shake my head. “Not even close.” I move to stand partially behind him, so we can speak a little easier, so we can stand a little closer.
My right hand comes to rest on his hip. He jerks in surprise but then relaxes beneath my touch.
“I’ve been working under another manager until now,” I tell him, “learning the ropes and all that. The big boss has finally agreed I’m ready to work with a client of my own, but I have to be the one to land the client. ”
Johnny turns his head to speak to me over his shoulder. “It’s a test, yeah? You can’t get promoted until you prove you’re good enough to lure the talent yourself?”
“Exactly,” I say with a nod. To even have such an opportunity at twenty-three, especially without the benefit of a university degree, is a big deal.
“That’s the upside of working here this weekend.
There’s a bunch of bands playing for the first time, including some who don’t have management.
” I gesture to the stage, where the total lack of professionalism continues to astound.
“These guys sent their demo to us. It was decent, so I figured I’d give them a shot.
Unfortunately, they’re blowing it.” If they can’t keep their shit together for something as important as their music festival debut, it’s unlikely they’ll be able to handle the kind of career I’m looking to provide.
Johnny turns abruptly, all signs of shyness gone as we come face to face.
My low-key arousal kicks into a higher gear.
Getting my grind on with a stranger at the festival I’m working is a terrible idea.
But if Johnny presses that hard body of his against me, even a little, I’m pretty sure my libido will happily tap dance me all the way to career ruin.
Instead, he just stands there, his eyes staring directly into mine.
“You’re here looking for a debut band who doesn’t have a manager, so you can offer them a contract? ”
“That’s the plan. Why? Do you have someone in mind?” My eyes narrow. “Perhaps whoever got you through the entrance of the VIP tent tonight?” Johnny must know someone in the business to have made it past security. “I’d be happy to check them out. Have they played yet?”
His mouth opens, but it takes a while for the words to emerge. “I do know one band. They’re playing tomorrow and they’re good. They’re really good.” His gaze drops away, and his hands get all fidgety. “The thing is…”
When he fails to finish the sentence, I do it for him.
“Don’t tell me, they’re after someone with more experience.
” It’s a guess, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone assumed my newbie status meant I couldn’t get the job done.
It’s unfair, and patently untrue, but I get it.
Lifting my hands in a show of acceptance, I back up a step. “It’s cool. No harm, no foul.”
“That’s not it.” Johnny shakes his head, stepping forwards to recapture our closeness. “The band I know, they aren’t looking to sign with anyone. No managers, no labels.” His lips twist in an exasperated grimace. “Honestly, I’m not even sure why I brought them up.”
It’s not so uncommon these days for bands to not want to sign with a label, but not even wanting a manager? Granted I’m biased, but I don’t get why any band would want to face the complexity of trying to grow their brand without help. “Maybe if I met them, I could change their minds.”
“I doubt it.” Johnny huffs out a laugh. “See they made this pact when they got together. To stay small, be content as a pub band. They love to perform but,” he shrugs, “they’re not looking to make it big.”
“Then what are they doing here?” I throw my arms out to indicate the crowd surrounding us and the music saturating the night air. “Small pub bands don’t tend to end up on festival stages. Not unless they want something more.”
Johnny’s smile is resigned, bitter even.
“We all want something more, don’t we? Doesn’t mean we should get it.
” There’s a brief hesitation, a tightening of his jaw, and then he closes what’s left of the gap between us.
His hands grab hold of my waist and he pulls me close.
“Then again, sometimes we find exactly what we want, and we realise we can have it.” The way he looks at me then, fucking me with his eyes, the way he brushes his hips against mine in a perfect blend of uncertainty and longing, all of it sends my pulse kicking into overdrive.
Hell yes, he can have me.
Deep in the recesses of my brain, there’s a howl of frustration.
The survivor in me needs the name of the band Johnny’s talking about so I can escape Arthur long enough to catch their set tomorrow.
If they’re as good as Johnny says, winning them over could get me my promotion, ensuring mine and Hannah’s security for years to come.
But the man in me has other ideas. He reaches out with his hands but keeps his mouth firmly shut.
Johnny’s desire to change the subject is as obvious as the pulsing in my cock.
To backtrack now would be pushing too hard in the wrong direction, and I don’t want to ruin whatever is happening between us.
Besides, the band he thinks so highly of could be shit.
What the hell does a pharmacist know about good music?
The whole thing is probably a dead end, anyway.
“Calum.” Johnny’s voice is a low rumble in my ear.
The battle I’m waging inside my head breaks up as every argument, both for and against getting that name, rolls over in slutty submission. “Yes?”
The current song finishes, to a half-hearted smattering of applause, and I expect Johnny to speak now he has the chance.
Instead, he waits patiently for the next song to begin.
That’s when he leans in, bringing his lips right up close to my ear so I can hear him over the fresh onslaught of noise.
“I can’t think of anything interesting to say, but I like being this close to you.
So, I’m willing to say anything that comes to mind. ”
Laughing out loud, I drop my forehead to his shoulder.
How he manages to be so artless and charming at the same time is beyond me.
He has to be either a master flirt, or utterly hopeless.
I turn my head, angling my mouth closer to his, desperate for a taste.
But I don’t want to get it here, where we have an audience and any random homophobic arsehole could ruin our delight with a single harsh word.
I straighten, looking into those endless, brown eyes as I hold out my hand. “Walk with me.”
His face breaks into a grin as he threads his fingers through mine. “Lead the way.”