Backstage Pass

Chapter 20

“Oh hell, no,” Sed growled. “I don’t get any love?” He spread his arms wide, inviting adulation.

Thousands of women professed their love for Sed at the top of their lungs. He grinned like a shark.

“That’s more like it,” he said. “As you know, we’re filming the concert tonight, so are you going to raise the roof?”

Yeah, they were. He sure knew how to get them pumped up. Myrna covered her ears to protect them from the roar of the crowd.

“Cuz our producer thought we should film this in fuckin’ Canada.”

Rounds of boos from the audience.

“That’s what I said. Now, don’t make me look bad. I stuck up for you guys. I said no one knows how to rock harder than L.A. What do you say, Master Sinclair?”

“I don’t know, Sed,” Brian said into his microphone, stage left. “Remember the last time we were up North? Those fans are pretty fuckin’ insane.” He paused for the crowd’s negative response. “But I think they were just trying to keep warm.” He rubbed his arms as if cold and hopped up and down like an overly excited fan. Eric drummed a buh-dum-bumb to accompany Brian’s attempt at comedy.

Myrna laughed along with everyone else. Except Malcolm. His jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together.

Myrna suppressed the urge to kick him in the throat.

What in the hell was Malcolm’s problem? He seemed to be making an effort to not enjoy himself. Claire had wandered off to chatter with a roadie and the lead singer of one of the opening bands, who obviously didn’t realize he was hitting on Brian Sinclair’s mother. Claire didn’t seem to care that her son easily kept ten thousand people entertained with his talent and charm. She paid him no mind.

No wonder Brian desperately needed love and Myrna’s constant approval. Stupid parents. Myrna had the strangest desire to just hug Brian. Hold him. Tell him how wonderful he was. How his father’s approval didn’t matter. He had the approval of hundreds of thousands of fans, but she knew that wouldn’t fill that hole in him she hadn’t recognized until this evening. Only one thing would fill that.

“You know what you should do,” Myrna said to Malcolm as nonchalantly as she could muster. “You should get up there and show these kids where their guitar heroes got their influence.”

He glanced at her, but quickly covered his look of interest with annoyance. “Why are you talking to me?”

Myrna suppressed the urge to kick him in the teeth.

She shrugged. “Well, if you can’t…”

He grunted, the arms crossed over his chest tightening until his biceps strained the sleeves of his T-shirt. “There’s a difference between can’t and won’t.”

“The outcome is the same.”

The band started the next song. Myrna watched with her usual enthusiasm, pretending to ignore Malcolm, who tapped his toe occasionally and shifted his hands into his pockets during Brian’s solo. This might be easier than she thought. He wanted to be up there with Brian. She knew he did. So why was he holding back? And why did he find it necessary to belittle not only Brian, but his entire band?

The majority of the crowd was a mosh pit—bodies ricocheting off each other in chaos. When the song ended, the audience surged toward the barrier as individuals tried to situate themselves closer to the stage.

“Wild crowd tonight,” Myrna commented. “Ever had a crowd like this one?”

Malcolm snorted. “Ever heard of Woodstock?”

“Oh yeah, you played there when Winged Faith was first starting out. That was what? Forty years ago?”

He scowled. “Yeah, I guess it has been that long. Best four days of my life.”

“I’m betting the days your children were born were right up there with them.”

“I was on tour in Cleveland when Brian was born. New Orleans with Kara.”

“That must’ve been hard. Being on the road and missing your children’s births.”

“Being on the road all the time is hard. I missed a lot. But not being on the road is harder.”

“You could get a little taste of that back tonight. I’m sure Brian would love to play a tribute to Winged Faith with you on stage. He said so himself.” Forgive me for lying, Brian.

Malcolm’s brow furrowed with what Myrna hoped was consideration. He glanced at his wife, who had found several more men to add to her entourage. Myrna counted two drummers, a bassist, and a guitarist, in addition to the lead singer and roadie. Malcolm rolled his eyes, removed his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms again.

She could tell he wanted to be on stage, but apparently he needed more pushing. “I need to apologize to you for calling you a—”

He lifted a hand to silence her. “Do you always talk this much?” he asked. “You must drive Brian insane.”

She laughed. “No, I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

He looked at her. Really looked at her for the first time. “Why are you nervous?”

“I’m in the presence of one of the original guitar greats. I don’t think anyone could make me more nervous. Unless Jimi Hendrix rose from the grave and stood beside me.”

“A Jimi Hendrix zombie would make everyone nervous.” They laughed, continuing to talk loudly because the next song had started on stage.

“Did you meet Hendrix at Woodstock?”

Malcolm shook his head. “I watched him, though. That man could play.”

“Brian’s one of a kind, but I hear Hendrix’s influence in his sound. And yours.”

“Mine? He doesn’t play anything like me.”

“Sure he does. Listen to him. It’s your style with embellishments.”

“Lots of embellishments,” he said, but he listened. Myrna suspected this was the first time Malcolm had actually heard Brian play. She watched Malcolm’s expression change from indifference, to disbelief, to interest, and finally pride. “He does sound a lot like me,” he murmured. He glanced at Myrna. “With embellishments.”

“The fans love his soloing style, but without the sensual undercurrents that he borrowed from you, he’d sound flat.”

“Look at him go. I could never keep up with him. He has crazy fast fingers.”

Myrna flushed and averted her gaze. “Yeah.”

When the song ended after a particularly embellished guitar outro, Malcolm clapped and thrust a fist in the air. “That’s the way to play it, son,” he shouted.

Myrna wished she’d gotten that on tape. She almost had him. Just a little more pushing and she knew she could talk Malcolm into joining Brian on stage. She’d better hurry though, because she only had the span of two songs to convince him.

Brian chugged half a bottle of water and returned to the stage. The rest of the band got a ten-minute break in the middle of the show. He was not so lucky. Or perhaps he was the lucky one who got the entire stage and thirty thousand fans all to himself. He approached the microphone on the ego riser at the center of the stage.

“It appears I’ve been deserted again,” he said. He glanced at the side of the stage. The audience that mattered to him had disappeared, too. No Myrna. No Dad. At least his mom was there. She waved at him from the crew of men surrounding her. Nothing new there.

Myrna’s absence unsettled him the most. Had he been too hard on her? He should have talked to her before the show. Let her know he wasn’t too upset about her calling his father a has-been.

“I was going to play the first riff I ever learned for you tonight, but—”

“He never could play it right,” his dad’s voice interrupted from backstage.

The unmistakable riff of Winged Faith’s hit song “Mystic” blared through the speakers as Malcolm O’Neil headed across the stage in Brian’s direction. Dad was playing on Sinners’ stage. Too stunned to find his guitar, much less play it, Brian stared at him in disbelief.

“Close your mouth, son. You’ll swallow a fly.”

Brian snapped his jaws together, a smile spreading across his face until his cheeks hurt.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our surprise special guest, Malcolm O’Neil of Winged Faith,” Sed’s voice announced from behind the scenes.

The crowd cheered and Malcolm grinned. “Well, are we going to play them a song, or are we going to stand up here looking stupid all night?”

Brian’s answer was to play the intro to “Mystic” with a few dozen extra notes per measure.

“I told you he never played it right,” Malcolm said into the mic, but he grinned instead of scowling.

“Just spicing it up a little, old man.”

Malcolm laughed.

They played the intro together, Malcolm in the traditional style and Brian with his additions. The crowd ate up every moment. When Eric and Jace joined them after the intro, Brian spun around, startled. Sed sang the opening verse so perfectly, Brian doubted even his father could tell the difference from the original. And then Brian spotted Trey and Myrna standing backstage by the amplifiers. Both of them looked entirely too pleased with themselves, laughing and hugging each other excitedly. So Myrna hadn’t deserted him and he suspected she had something to do with his father’s change of heart. He turned back to the crowd, playing beside his father, his heart full to bursting. He wondered if Myrna knew how much this meant to him. Probably, but he’d tell her anyway.

The song ended much too soon. His dad handed his borrowed guitar over to Trey. Before he left the stage, Dad grabbed Brian by both ears and touched his forehead to his. “I’m proud of you, son. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

“I’m proud to be your son, Dad.”

Dad grinned and released him. “That woman of yours is relentless.”

Brian grinned. “Pretty terrific, isn’t she?”

“Don’t let her get away.”

“Not a chance.”

Malcolm took a bow and trotted off the stage. Brian saw his mother launch herself into his dad’s arms and kiss him passionately, her entourage of attentive males entirely forgotten.

Brian decided they’d skip those dinner plans he’d made earlier. Mom and Dad looked like they needed some alone time, and God knew he wanted to express his gratitude to Myrna.

Myrna waited for Brian to unlock the front door of his apartment. She didn’t know what to expect when he pushed the door open, but a large, tastefully decorated foyer and expansive, clean, and comfortable living area would not have been her first guess.

“What do you think?” he asked, looking at her with that approval-please expression she’d come to recognize.

“It’s great, Brian.” She kissed his jaw and crossed the threshold. “I love it. Did you decorate it yourself?”

He laughed. “No. Sed had a thing with an interior decorator for a while. She maxed out his credit card, but we got great digs at his expense. If you think this is nice, you should see his place. It’s amazing.”

Myrna set her purse on a marble-topped, cherry table next to the front door and ventured further inside. Brian dropped their suitcases inside the door and locked it behind him. The furniture was heavy and inviting. Neat and masculine. Dark woods contrasted with sage green, taupe, and ivory upholstery. Matching pillows, rugs, and abstract artwork tied everything together. She could picture Brian enjoying the soothing colors, but the décor didn’t seem to fit his roommate’s style at all. And the place was spotless.

“How do you keep it so clean? Doesn’t Trey live here with you?” She was constantly on top of Trey to pick up after himself on the bus. She couldn’t imagine his behavior being much different at home.

“Maid service, baby.”

“Ah, that explains everything.”

She turned to find him standing directly behind her. “Thank you,” he murmured, taking both her hands in his and staring into her eyes with sincerity.

“You’re welcome,” she said, “but what are you thanking me for?”

“For what you did with my dad.”

She smiled and squeezed his hands. “I was just trying to make up for insulting him and for hurting you. I don’t know why I got so mad when he criticized you and the band.”

“I think I know why.” He kissed her tenderly.

“I guess I’m just a fan girl, after all.”

The front door opened. “Honey, I’m home,” Trey called and tossed his keys on the table beside the door.

A tall brunette with big boobs, bigger hair and an almost nonexistent skirt followed Trey into the apartment. She scowled when her eyes landed on Myrna.

“When you said Brian would be here, you didn’t say anything about him having a woman with him,” she said to Trey.

“Hey, Carly,” Brian murmured. Myrna’s head snapped up to look at him. He knew this…this woman? Was she an old girlfriend of his? Brian toyed with the button at the top of Myrna’s suit jacket, his face red and body tense as he stared at his fiddling fingers.

“I didn’t say he wouldn’t have a woman with him,” Trey pointed out.

“I was hoping to be involved in one of your famous threesomes tonight,” Carly said, “but everyone knows Brian doesn’t cheat.”

Famous threesomes? Myrna’s eyes widened and her breath caught.

Brian’s hands moved to cover Myrna’s ears. “Will you get her out of here? We were having a moment,” Brian’s muffled voice carried through his hands.

Trey said something Myrna couldn’t make out. Carly grinned brazenly, grabbed Trey’s belt buckle and led him down the hallway. As soon as the bedroom door closed, Brian dropped his hands.

“Sorry you had to see that.”

“Famous threesomes?” she sputtered.

“Really sorry you heard that.” He turned and headed toward the kitchen off to the side of the main living room. “Are you hungry?”

She trailed after him, stumbling over the edge of an area rug because she wasn’t watching where she was going. “Don’t change the subject, Brian.”

“I’m starved. There should be something in here to eat. Wanda knew we’d be home tonight and she’s always good about stocking up for our return.”

He opened the refrigerator and leaned inside.

“Did Carly mean… that you and Trey and… and a…” She swallowed. “…a woman have…” She touched her cheeks with cool fingertips. Why was her face so hot? “H-have…?”

“f****d like maniacs?” He tossed a*****e-bought package of refrigerated tortellini onto the counter. “Yep, that’s what she meant. Red sauce or white?”

Myrna leaned heavily against the breakfast bar. “A threesome?”

“Myrna, calm down. It was just s*x. All in the past. No big deal.” He tossed a plastic tub on the counter next to the pasta. “I think red sauce sounds better.”

She’d never been involved in anything even remotely as exciting as a threesome. “Have you done that often?” she asked, her voice at least two pitches higher than usual.

Brian shrugged. “Not recently. Trey and I used to share everything. And I do mean everything. We’ve grown up a lot in the past couple of years.”

“Damn,” she muttered under her breath.

Brian dropped a pan. It clattered across the floor, but he didn’t retrieve it. He gaped at her instead. “Did you just say ‘damn’?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head vigorously. “No.” She smoothed her skirt, licked her lips, and lowered her gaze to the floor. “I said pan. You dropped your pan.”

“I dropped it after you said damn.”

Her flushed face flamed several degrees hotter. “Oh.”

His boots entered her line of sight. “Would you be open to something like that?”

Her eyes darted to his face and then back to his boots. “I don’t know.”

“I’m sure Trey would go for it.”

She could scarcely hear him over the blood rushing through her ears.

He touched her chin and when she found her courage, she looked up at him. “We’d make you feel real good,” he murmured. His hands slid over the curve of her ass and he tugged her closer. “Real good.”

He seemed as turned on by the idea as she was. And she was at full throttle.

“Wouldn’t it make things weird between us?” she asked.

“Between us?”

“Me. You. Trey. All of us?”

“It doesn’t have to. Trey never equates s*x with emotion or conquest. He’d think of it as nothing but a good time. Otherwise, I wouldn’t let him touch you.” He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll let you think about it. No pressure.”

She nodded. She already knew she wanted to do it, but she was afraid that Brian would think poorly of her. My God, this would make her the biggest w***e on the planet. I love to f**k you, baby, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to f**k your best friend at the same time.

“I prefer red sauce, too,” she said absently.

He burst out laughing, and then bent to pick up the pan he’d dropped. He went to the sink and filled it with water before setting it on the stove. “Talk about subject change. Red sauce it is.”

Myrna continued to lean against the counter. She watched Brian burn his fingers several times before she took over the cooking. Seriously, the man couldn’t even boil water without causing himself harm. He sat on a stool on the other side of the breakfast bar and watched her cook with a giddy expression.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked him finally.

“You’re in my home. Cooking on my stove.”

“If you ask me to get barefoot and pregnant and put on a frilly apron, I’m going to clobber you.”

“You can wear shoes.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Why, thank you. How generous.”

“Vegas is only a four hour drive from here, you know.”

She brandished a slotted spoon at him. “Don’t go there, Brian.”

“Or you could just move in with me.”

“I have this job I’m rather attached to and I’ve heard the commute from Los Angeles to Kansas City is a killer.”

“You could retire.”

“Retire?” She gaped at him. “I’m thirty-five years old. How do you expect me to support myself?”

“I’ll support you.”

“I told you not to go there, Brian. You’re going there.”

“Then I’ll move in with you. When I’m not on tour or in the recording studio, I’ll call Kansas City my home.”

“Okay, you totally went there.”

“Is it so wrong that I want to be with you?”

No, it was wrong that she was starting to agree with him, which she knew was a huge mistake. “This week apart will do us both good.”

He dropped his head to the counter and rubbed his face over its surface. “Don’t say that. I already miss you and you aren’t even gone yet.”

She sighed and turned off the pan of pasta. Why did he always have to be so sweet to her? He was making it awfully f*****g hard for her to keep him at arm’s length.

“Do you have a colander?” she asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“A strainer. To drain the pasta.”

“There you go, changing the subject again.”

“Would you prefer I leave? I’m feeling very crowded by you at the moment.”

He sighed heavily. “In the second drawer, next to the refrigerator.”

Silence hung between them as she finished fixing the meal. He eventually climbed from his stool and set two plates and sets of silverware on the breakfast bar.

“Will Trey and Carly join us?” She glanced at him. He was pouting again.

“Doubtful.”

When they sat down to eat, she took his hand. “You know my job is important to me, don’t you?”

“I just wish I was important to you.”

Her heart twanged. “I never said you weren’t important to me. That’s not why I need this week away from you. I have to do well with this research project, Brian. If I don’t publish some compelling results by the end of the summer, I’m not going to have a job for much longer.”

“What? Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m not proud of the position I’m in. I don’t really like doing research in the first place, but I love to teach. I wouldn’t trade that part of my job for anything.” She sighed. “The University requires I bring in a certain amount of outside funding to keep my job and I lost my big grant a couple of months ago. I don’t have tenure yet. That means I have to make myself financially valuable to the University or they’ll let me go. This summer side project is enough to keep me there for another year, hopefully, but I don’t know what I’m going to do after that. I don’t want to give this job up. I worked too hard to get where I am to throw in the towel now. That’s why as much as I love having fun with you and spending time with you, I’ve got to get my work done. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I think I get it. By pressuring you, I’m pushing you away.”

“Exactly.”

He squeezed her hand and smiled. “I’m glad you told me, Myrna. I feel a little better about you being gone for a whole week.”

She released his hand and picked up her fork. It felt good to confide in him. She didn’t have anyone in her life to share her worries with. It was nice in an unexpected way. “Maybe I’ll get caught up with my work faster than I ever thought possible and come back early.”

He grinned hopefully. “Yeah?”

She shrugged and took a bite of her tortellini. “We’ll see.”

“So do you want to arrange that threesome with Trey before you go or when you return?” He winked at her.

She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. She wasn’t sure how she could be calm when she said, “Surprise me.”

With a sleepy grin, Myrna stretched her arms over her head and rolled over to spoon against Brian’s back. She had to be on a plane in twelve hours, but the last thing she wanted to do this morning was climb out of bed.

She rubbed her hands over his belly, her lips caressing his shoulder. They had a couple of hours to say a proper good-bye and she was planning to fill every minute with pleasure. He shuddered as her hands trailed up his chest, her fingers bumping over the hoop in his left n****e.

Her eyes flipped open. n****e ring?

“Don’t stop now,” Trey murmured drowsily. “Feels nice.”

Instantly wide awake, Myrna sat up. She jerked up the sheet to cover her bare breasts. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited him,” Brian said from the opposite side of the bed.

“Slumber party.” Trey’s eyes drifted closed.

Myrna scooted closer to Brian, her heart hammering. Brian had her flat on her back beneath him in seconds. “Trey’s tired. We’ll start without him.”

He linked their hands together on either side of her head and kissed her until her rigid body began to relax.

“I’m not that tired.” Trey’s hand slid across Myrna’s belly and she tensed again. “Save some of that for me,” he murmured.

Soft lips brushed her shoulder.

She tore her mouth from Brian’s and looked at Trey. His emerald green eyes met hers unflinchingly.

“You okay?” Brian asked her. “If you’ve changed your mind, we can stop.”

Trey’s hand slid up her side, drawing a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. He cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her pebbled n****e. Her eyes drifted closed with pleasure.

“I don’t think it’s her who will have a problem with this,” Trey said to Brian. “I’m more worried about you. You are not allowed to hate me for this.”

“We’ve done this before, Trey. Did I ever have a problem then?”

“But you really lo—” Trey took a deep breath. “You really care about Myrna.”

“And I trust her. I know she won’t cheat on me behind my back.”

She smiled and reached up to trace his brow with her fingertips. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

“But cheating to your face is fine?” Trey asked.

“This isn’t cheating,” Myrna said. “It’s a mutually agreed upon s****l experience. But if you don’t want to join us, you can leave.”

“Oh, I want to join you. I’m more than willing to f**k your brains out. I just don’t want something as meaningless as hot, dirty s*x to damage my friendship with Brian.”

Brian chuckled. “Told you he was perfect for this kind of thing.”

Funny how Trey was the one most concerned about the possible repercussions of their encounter. Myrna would just have to convince him that she wanted this, and Brian wanted this, so it was okay for him to want it, too. She wriggled out from under Brian and tackled Trey to the mattress on his back. She was surprised to find he was wearing his jeans under the covers. He really was reluctant.

She slid her hands up his chest. The glint of metal caught her eye. She lowered her head and sucked his silver n****e ring into her mouth. A sound of tormented protest escaped the back of his throat.

“Myr, what are you doing?” Trey whispered.

She sucked harder, her tongue flicking the ring in her mouth. He drew a breath through his teeth and covered his eyes with his hands. “Please, don’t.”