Chapter 23 The Song Of Las Vegas
TWENTY-THREE
THE SONG OF LAS VEGAS
ALEX
Vegas and Seastone couldn’t have been more different: the vast desert versus the dense forest, the sweat-inducing heat versus the ever-present cool breeze, the tens of thousands of people from all over the world versus a handful of mountain folk.
Yet, once we were in Sebastian’s apartment, it felt exactly like home.
His room was almost the same size as mine in Seastone.
It even had a similar layout, with a window on the wall opposite the door and a twin bed underneath it.
Sure, the built-in closet was across from the bed instead of next to it, and he had a desk to the left of the door, but that was trivial.
If I hadn’t been on edge from my first time ever on a plane, hyper-focused on all the new impressions, I could have easily been fooled into thinking I was still in Seastone.
Because the moment the door clicked shut, Sebastian’s hands and mouth were all over me, and that was the main thing that made it feel like home.
He was with me again—his smell, his heartbeat, his breath, and those little hums when he kissed me. It was just like half a year ago.
His fingers slipped under my shirt and trailed across my skin. “Damn, we don’t have time for that.”
“Who cares?” I pulled him closer. “We’ve got a minute…”
“…or two.” His lips pressed back against mine and parted instantly, letting our tongues meet.
My hands went in search of his ass, squeezing him through the fabric of his jeans.
That wasn’t enough. I slid my fingers under his shirt, skimming over his lower back—first up, then down—until I reached his waistband and slipped underneath, settling my palms on his ass.
I squeezed again and, finally, was rewarded with the sweetest sound imaginable: his moan.
Encouraged, his hands moved down to my bulge, pressing against my hard dick. “I wish we had time for you to fuck me.”
Even if we went for it now and were quick about it, three minutes wouldn’t make up for all the time we had spent apart. But there was one thing I could do to make him wish the night would come faster.
I pulled my hand out of his pants and licked my index finger before sliding it back down his crack. I circled his pucker, teasing him for a second before pressing inside and feeling him tighten around me.
His mouth fell open. He arched his back slightly, elevating his ass to push himself against my fingers. With his right hand, he unbuckled my belt, shoved down my underwear, and freed my dick. His palm wrapped around me, stroking eagerly, desperate to make the most of the few seconds we had left.
Just as I pushed deeper, drawing another stifled moan from him, a knock on the door made us both freeze mid-motion.
“Hey guys, we have to leave soon,” said the reedy voice that could only belong to his roommate Nora, whom I had met in person for the first time half an hour earlier.
I pulled my hands off him and hurried to tuck my dick back into my pants.
“One second,” Sebastian called back as he adjusted himself, then lowered his voice so only I could hear him. “Sorry about the poor planning.” Once we both had everything back in place and zipped up, he reached for my chin and gave me another kiss. “I promise, I’m going to make up for it tonight.”
The biggest difference between Vegas and Seastone I had to get used to was that some people here treated me like a rock star the moment I got off the plane.
Nora acted as both our manager and our biggest fan.
Ever since they picked me up, she had been alternating between gushing about how much she loved the album and briefing us on everything she had organized: the venue where we would perform in two days, the rehearsal room she had managed to secure, and her plans for a photo shoot after the concert to get better promotional images.
If Sebastian hadn’t told me she was a hospitality major like him, I would have thought we had already signed a record deal.
Nora really did a great job. She had arranged a car to pick me up at the airport and, after a quick stop at their shared apartment to freshen up, take us to the rehearsal room. The driver was a tall guy with a goatee and a Spanish accent. He introduced himself as Raul but didn’t say much else.
“I’ll also be taking some pictures at the rehearsal,” Nora explained as we drove. “Once you’re ready for a full run-through, I’d like to record a video of one of the songs. We need something to drum up more interest with the venue’s account.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about people constantly watching and filming me while I practiced, but I figured it was better to get used to it before performing a whole concert in front of strangers.
Since our crowdfunding campaign had been successful, we had to follow through on our promises.
After we hit our goal, more people joined thanks to our decision to allow late pledges.
Now, over a thousand people were contributing, bringing our total funding to almost fifty thousand dollars.
We had already booked a small studio in L.A.
for the mastering and to re-record the vocals and Sebastian’s guitar with proper equipment, but we still decided to play the concert first, so we would have some practice before spending all the money we had raised.
It was also going to be livestreamed, so anyone pledging who couldn’t just fly to Las Vegas could watch it.
We pulled into a small parking lot in front of a dry cleaner. A gigantic sign above the entrance proclaimed it the best in town.
“Sorry, it’s not as fancy as I made it sound,” Nora said. “But it’ll do.”
“Nora, stop it.” Sebastian’s seat belt stretched as he leaned forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve done so much for us. This is great. Without you, we’d be practicing in my room or the backyard. Seriously. We appreciate everything you’ve done.”
“He’s right,” I added. “Thank you.”
A smile spread across her face. Her eyes welled up a little. “I want fifty percent of merch sales, and I want to hear my name in your Grammy acceptance speech.”
Her words made Seb and Raul laugh, while I wasn’t entirely sure if she was joking.
“Well, let’s get going,” Sebastian said as he opened his door.
After we unloaded the little equipment we had—just my keyboard, which had been a hassle to fly with; Sebastian’s guitar and amp; and some other small stuff like my laptop and audio interface—Raul said goodbye for now and drove off.
The three of us made our way through the dry cleaner to the backyard and up an outdoor staircase to the second floor.
Through the windows facing the walkway, I spotted guitars, amps, and drums in every room we passed.
Nora knocked on the last door at the end of the hall, and a woman who looked almost exactly like her opened it.
They had the same ash-blonde hair pulled back with a headband, the same blue jeans, and similar band T-shirts, just from different bands.
Only the woman’s pierced ear, darker makeup, and, of course, her face set her apart from Nora.
“You’re on time,” she said, stepping aside to let us in. “I like that.”
Right behind the door was a small communal area with two benches and two empty glass-door fridges.
The walls were plastered with posters of both famous and unknown bands, covering nearly every inch and making the room feel dark despite the light coming through the windows.
To the left was a hallway with six doors on either side.
Each door was covered with a handwritten number and hundreds of stickers that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be the band logos from groups that had practiced there.
In one of the back rooms, an acoustic guitar played a soft ballad.
“You’ll be in room four,” the woman said as she led the way. “The band that usually practices there is in L.A. until Tuesday. They left their stuff and said you could use the drums if you need them, but don’t touch anything else.”
“We won’t,” Sebastian replied.
“Good. Because I’ll hold you responsible if anything’s broken or missing.”
“Are there any noise restrictions?” I asked.
“Not really. The rooms are as soundproof as possible. You can make as much noise as you want, any time of day. Just don’t play anything you don’t want the people at the dry cleaner to hear.”
She unlocked the door covered with the most stickers and pushed it open. A musty smell greeted us. The window was covered with a red curtain, letting in just enough light to make out the outline of a couch on the left, a drum kit in the back, and a PA system mounted on the wall.
“Well, it’s all yours.” The keys jingled as the woman dropped them into Nora’s hands.
“Thanks a bunch,” Nora said.
“Don’t mention it,” she replied, shuffling away as we inspected the room.
Sebastian went straight to the window and pulled open the curtain, revealing the nicest view of another beige wall only three feet away. At least it was reflecting enough sunlight that we didn’t need to turn on the ceiling lights.
“I’m heading out to get some water and snacks for you guys,” Nora said, then darted out the door, taking the key with her.
As soon as we were alone, Sebastian smirked at me, probably thinking about our unfinished business, just like I was.
I laughed and tucked my chin into my shoulder. “You want to pick up where we left off already?”
“I do, of course…” His hands shot toward my face. He ran his thumb over my cheek, hovering his lips before mine for a second, but then pulled away with a smirk. “But I also want to get this right.”
That was one of the things I loved about him. As much as he liked to slack off or sneak away, he never hesitated to prioritize work when it mattered.
“Me too.”
“Sorry to put this on you, especially after the flight and everything.”
“No, let’s practice. This way, it’ll be even more of a reward tonight.”