Looking At Forever (The Rock Gods Book 4) (19 page)

“I was eating Mexican on the plane from L.A. and they’re not too happy with me,” Dagger laughed.

“Long as Ryan still loves you,” Alex teased. “That’s all that matters.”

Dagger smiled and waved them all into his suite. The embraces continued between the two bands and Ryan, then the tequila shots were lined up on the bar in the living room of the suite. Wheland tossed the tequila into the back of his mouth and grimaced at the burn of it sliding down his throat. A muscled arm hooked around his shoulders and tugged him against a solid body. Wheland tipped his head and saw Dante Dupont, Black Ice’s infamous lead guitarist, was the one with the firm grip on him. He watched Dante’s head loll back over his shoulders as he inhaled from the end of a newly sparked joint.

“Care for a hit?” Dante asked.

Wheland nodded and took the joint Dante offered. He drew the smoke deeply into his lungs, then held it before releasing it in a steady stream from his mouth. Wheland passed the rolled cigarette back to Dante and smiled.

“Thanks. I needed that,” Wheland said.

“I’m really looking forward to touring with you guys,” Dante said. His wide smile displayed a gorgeous set of straight, white teeth and his sapphire blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

Wheland wasn’t sure if there was a hidden agenda behind Dante’s steady gaze or if he was simply being friendly.

“Me too,” Wheland said.

The weight of another man slammed down onto Wheland and Dante’s backside. Laughter followed as the man jumped down off them. Wheland spun around expecting to see Cooper’s smartass grin, but instead he saw Ashton Lane, drummer for Black Ice.

Right instrument, wrong drummer, Wheland thought, and shook Ashton’s hand.

“Hey, Ash. Good to see you,” Wheland said.

Dante removed his arm from Wheland’s shoulders and pulled Ashton into a headlock. “What are you up to, pretty boy?” Dante asked Ashton.

That was a good nickname for the dude, Wheland thought, because he was gorgeous in a very boyish way without looking like a twink. He had a full head of thick, floppy blond curls, green eyes, and full lips. Shit. Why the fuck was he looking at Ashton’s mouth? Wheland shook that thought out of his head and looked at Dante.

“Add any more guitars to your collection?” Wheland asked Dante, doing his best to change the subject.

“Do you have to ask?” Dante smirked.

“Those prized babies are the only thing allowed in his bed,” Ashton said.

“You’d be surprised what ends up in my bed,” Dante said to Ashton.

“I’ve seen some of the skanks you’ve had in your bed,” Ashton said.

“And you’ve fucked most of them, too, my friend,” Dante said.

There was a moment that flashed between them, something intense and unsaid, and Wheland’s breath caught. His eyes switched back and forth between Dante and Ashton, wondering what the hell was going on and made a mental note to try and find out later. The moment was brief and soon enough Ashton was back to ribbing Dante about something else completely.

Wheland watched Ashton. In the right light, Ashton might be able to pass for Cooper’s younger brother. Ashton was fairly new to Dagger’s band of misfits. He replaced Black Ice’s previous drummer when he had to leave the band due to nerve damage in his fingers. This new kid had the right chops for the job and had already won over the hearts of the fans after only a few years.

“How long you been with Black Ice now, Ash?” Wheland asked.

“About three years,” Ashton said. “I joined the tour right before Dagger was outed in Music Spin.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember that now,” Wheland said. “That was a dark period for both our bands.”

“That’s right,” Ashton said. “Zander took a hit from that sleazy bastard, Sebastian, too.”

“What a difference a few years makes,” Dante said. “Cooper gets his photograph taken kissing his boyfriend at Zander’s wedding and it barely registered with the press. Three years ago Dagger and Zander were slaughtered in the press for basically the same thing.”

“Cooper is engaged now,” Wheland said matter of factly. “I think they’re getting married later this year.”

“Same dude?” Ashton asked.

“Yep, his name is Jayson,” Wheland said. “He’s arriving tomorrow with Alex’s partners, so you’ll get to meet him.”

“And what about you?” Dante asked. “You get yourself married or have someone
tied up
in your room?”

“Me? Fuck no,” Wheland scoffed. “Although, the tied up part is still relevant.”

“I thought I remembered you being a kinky bastard with the rope play,” Dante said. “A while back, I believe you were looking for volunteers to practice your knots.”

“That was me,” Wheland said with a grin.

“Did you ever find someone to agree to being restrained?” Ashton asked.

Wheland’s gaze hit Ashton’s. His heart started thundering a little louder beneath his ribs and he wondered if he should be completely honest and tell them about Rooster. He could feel the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.

“You okay?” Dante asked. “You’re looking a little pale.”

Wheland nodded. “Listen, you should probably know this, since we’ll be spending a lot of time on the road together,” Wheland said. “I
am
with someone.”

“Is she upstairs tied to a chair or the bed?” Dante teased, slapping Ashton in the chest with the back of his hand to empathize the joke.

Wheland attempted a laugh but the emotion never made it to his eyes. “He’s not here with me.”

“Who’s not here?” Ashton asked.

Wheland shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. He knew he could trust these guys, since they all belonged to the same “club” and they certainly knew how the game was played with the press. So, what was stopping him from shouting Rooster’s name out to everyone on the room? Wheland rubbed his face and took a deep breath.

“Do you remember Sonny Roostarelli?” Wheland asked. “He plays guitar with 100 Proof.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember Rooster,” Dante said. “What about him?”

Wheland looked across the room and saw Dagger and Ryan Pierce, Dagger’s husband, talking quietly to Alex by the bar. Lincoln Stallworth, the bassist for Black Ice, had Tony and Jared occupied by the living room couch with a new bass riff or something like that. It all looked so... normal. Ten men sharing the same passion for rock music and identical goals of selling out arena shows.

Wheland opened his mouth to speak. The words were dangling on the tip of his tongue, but before he could say anything, Dagger yelled to them from across the room.

“Okay, motherfuckers! Time for another shot! Let’s get the Maniacs In Motion Tour officially kicked off!”

Dante and Ashton turned away from Wheland and started walking to the bar. And, just like that, Wheland’s admission had been silenced. Wheland smiled, somewhat relieved to have this reprieve, but he knew all too soon he’d have to tell the guys about Rooster. He had no shame in his feelings for the man and he would not lie about it to anyone. He only hoped everyone showed their support.

Wheland tossed his shot and made his way to the door to the hallway. He grabbed Alex by the arm and leaned in closely to his ear. “I’m going back to my room,” Wheland said.

Alex slapped him on the back and smiled. “I won’t be far behind you,” Alex said. “I need all the rest I can get before Chase and Danni get here.”

Wheland gave a wave to everyone and left Dagger’s suite. As soon as he returned to his bedroom, he dialed Rooster’s cell phone.

“Hey, babe,” Rooster’s smooth voice greeted him.

“I almost outed myself tonight,” Wheland said.

“To who?” Rooster asked.

“Dante Dupont and Ashton Lane.”

Silence greeted Wheland’s ear and he wondered if Rooster was upset.

“Would you have been cool if I told them?” Wheland asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Rooster said. “I mean, it’s your life and ultimately your decision. It’s not for me to say what’s right or wrong.”

Wheland digested Rooster’s words for a breath then said, “How would you feel if I told them I was with you?”

More silence and Wheland’s heart began to pound erratically in his chest.

“Mick, if you want to come out and attach my name to it, I’m fine with it,” Rooster said. “Maybe it’s time we both do it?”

“Do you really mean that?” Wheland asked.

“Yeah, I do. I think it’s time,” Rooster said. “I’m living back in L.A. now and I’m not hiding who I am, or who I’m with.”

Wheland smiled broadly. God, he was falling so hard for this man. With Rooster by his side, he felt invincible. If that were only true. Wheland knew he’d likely need a suit of armor to survive when the shit stories and bogus rumors started circulating around about him, but having Rooster with him somehow made that seem less overwhelming.

Chapter Fifteen

Loud shrieks and doors banging woke Wheland early the next morning. He rolled out of bed and crossed the room to open his door to see what was going on. When he did, the sight of Jayson and Cooper embracing and kissing wildly greeted him. Beside them, Danni was straddled around Alex’s waist like a leather belt and Chase was hugging him from behind and grinding against Alex’s ass. The visuals all assaulted his brain at once. He turned away and slammed his door, then went back to bed. They’d be no more sleep for him though, because the shrieks had progressed into obscene sex noises, sounding much like the soundtrack to a bad porno film. Wheland wondered if they were all fucking in the living room or if they’d at least had the decency to go back to their respective bedrooms.

Wheland covered his head with a pillow and rolled on to his side to drown out the erotic sounds seeping through the door and tried to think of something other than the fact they were all getting laid today, and he was not. What he wouldn’t give to have Rooster’s bed-warm body pressed up against him right now.

Fuck! Now his head
and
his cock ached. Wonderful.

Wheland got back out of bed and walked in to the bathroom. He started the shower, gave the water a minute to heat, then stepped beneath the spray. The warmth felt good on his tired muscles, but did nothing to diminish the erection jutting from his body. He poured some body lotion into his palm and quickly wrapped his fingers around his thickness. One tight stroke led to another and within a few minutes Wheland was shooting his release into the shower drain. He braced himself with a hand pressed to the slick tiled wall trying to catch his breath.

Wheland closed his eyes and let the water pelt his face. Rooster’s face danced behind his closed lids and the lyrics began to flow through his brain. There was something about the man. Rooster was pulling all sorts of new emotions from Wheland, some he’d never felt. This might be new to him but Wheland knew enough about relationships to know this one with Rooster had the potential to go the distance. If he could only figure out a way to hold on to it.

~ The Best Of Me ~

Leaving you was torture. The absence is so real.

I need peace from this ache you give me.

From the things you make me feel.

Finding you was a dream and I don’t want to wake.

You, me, us. It’s all so good.

I’ll do anything to make it last – Give you everything.

You don’t have to ask.

The best of me, the rest of me, it can all be yours.

Just be with me. That’s all I want.

All I need.

If Wheland kept on this love-sick path, he’d have an entire notebook filled with rock ballads before the end of the first month of this tour. Not exactly the stuff Ivory Tower was known for, nor were they in the habit of recording these pieces on their albums. Wheland exhaled loudly and grabbed a towel to dry himself. A quick glance at the clock beside the bed told Wheland it was far too early to call Rooster, but he could text him. He grabbed his phone and typed a concise message.

“Miss you.”

Wheland hit the send button before he could change his mind. What surprised him was the quick response to his message.

“Me too,”
Rooster responded.

“R U already up or did I wake U?”
Wheland typed back.

“Phone is always near me,”
Rooster typed.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you,”
Wheland answered.
“Go back to sleep.”

Wheland’s phone was ringing before he had time to set it back down on the table beside the bed.

“What’s going on? Why are you up so early?” Rooster’s velvety voice asked.

“The
spouses
arrived,” Wheland sighed. “Now Cooper and Alex are getting their brains fucked out and the noises they’re making are keeping me from going back to sleep.”

Rooster laughed. “Well, that does suck for you.”

“It does,” Wheland said. “I had to rub one out in the shower a little while ago to get rid of some of my morning wood.”

“Poor baby,” Rooster said in a strained voice.

“What the hell are you doing to cause the weird tone in
your
voice?” Wheland asked. There was a pause from Rooster’s end of the phone and Wheland smiled. “Are you jerking off?”

“No, I’m not self-pleasuring at the moment,” Rooster said.

But he didn’t answer the other more pointed question, so what the fuck
was
he doing? Wheland was being paranoid, he knew that, but even still the various scenarios bouncing around inside his head weren’t good. Then the sound of voices in the background filtered through the phone.

“You’re not alone,” Wheland said. His voice sounded absolutely defeated.

“What? You’re not seriously thinking I’m with someone, are you?” Rooster asked. “I was the one who called you. Would I make that call if I were with someone? More to the point, we made a promise when you left, Mick. Remember? We agreed there’d be no one else, and I intend to hold up my end of that.”

Wheland sighed. “I’m sorry, babe. I heard voices in the background.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Rooster said, slightly out of breath. “Trust me. That’s all I can say.”

“I know... and I do,” Wheland said.

“Good. Hold on to that,” Rooster said. “Listen, I’ve got to go... get some stuff done.”

“You’re joking. Right? It’s not even daylight out there yet,” Wheland said. “What the fuck could you possibly have to do at this time of the morning?”

“Babe, please. Trust me,” Rooster said. “That’s all I can say. I gotta go.”

It took a second for Wheland to realize Rooster had ended the call. He tossed the phone angrily at the bed and growled his frustration. He dug his earbuds out of his backpack and plugged them into his ears, then cranked up the music from his MP3 player and slumped down on the bed. Somehow he managed to fall back asleep and woke four hours later. It was a little after ten in the morning and the rumblings in his stomach announced it was time to eat something.

He rolled from bed and this time he got dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. He took a deep breath and opened up his bedroom door, unsure of what depraved visual might be waiting for him in the living room. He stepped in to the sunlit room and was relieved to see it was empty and both doors to the other two bedrooms were closed.

Thank God for that minor miracle!

Wheland smiled, happy to hear the silence and made his way to the kitchen. He opened up the refrigerator and pulled out a small bottle of orange juice. He twisted off the bottle cap and chugged half the bottle in one long gulp, then he grabbed a banana from the bowl on the table. He was peeling it to eat when he heard a knock on the door.

Spying through the peep hole, he saw it was room service with Carter and Fizzbo, their bodyguards, standing beside the waiters. Feeling it was safe to open the door, Wheland unlocked the door and let it swing wide.

“Good morning,” one waiter said, pushing in a long silver cart loaded with food. “We have you down for a ten-thirty breakfast delivery.”

Wheland waved them inside and nodded to the bodyguards. The delicious scents that assaulted his nose were unreal. His mouth began watering at the sight of the piles of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, slices of baked ham, toast, and three carafes of coffee.

“Everyone’s still sleeping, but I’ll help myself,” Wheland said. The first thing he went for was the coffee. He filled a mug and began sipping the hot, black liquid. This shit was a lifeline on days like this. Next he reached for a plate and began filling it with a small pile of everything on the cart. He offered some to the bodyguards, too, but they waved him off to follow the waiters back down the hall to the elevators.

Thirty minutes later, one by one, the occupants of the other two bedrooms began trickling into the kitchen slash dining room area. Wheland set his empty plate onto the counter by the sink and started shaking hands with Chase and Jayson, then pulled Danni into a hug. He didn’t bother with Cooper or Alex. The glazed looks on their faces spoke volumes. As annoyed as he was they were all sated this morning, he was also at peace seeing the happiness on Cooper and Alex’s faces.

“Good to see you all made it safely,” Wheland said with a genuine smile.

“I forgot what a long fucking flight that is,” Jayson said.

Wheland watched Cooper’s arms slide around Jayson’s waist from behind for a hug and a knot formed in his chest. It wasn’t jealousy in the least. All it did was accentuate the person missing from this gathering. Christ, he missed Rooster.

Danni filled a bowl with fresh cut fruit and smiled at Alex. “Eat up husband,” she said to Alex. “As soon as you’re done, we’re getting on the floor for some stretching.”

“Hmmm, I love the way you think,” Alex said.

“Not
that
kind of stretching,” she admonished. “We’ll be doing the Pilates variety of stretching.”

Alex groaned his disapproval and she slapped his shoulder.

“Suck it up, candy pants,” Chase said to Alex.

“Candy pants?” Alex asked. “Let’s see how many reps you can handle of her sadistic maneuvers before you collapse.”

“Oh, I won’t be able to join you for that,” Chase said. He shoveled a fork full of eggs into his mouth and grinned. “I’ll be busy shaving and showering.”

Wheland watched the interactions between them. He suddenly felt very alone and left out, without his partner with him. He swallowed hard; Rooster’s absence was having a profound effect on him. If he didn’t see him soon, he’d fake an illness and fly home to spend whatever time he could manage in bed with him, rolling beneath the sheets until exhaustion forced them to stop.

“I’m gonna go get my shit ready for rehearsal,” Wheland said quietly.

He started walking to his room and heard Cooper’s voice behind him talking to the others.

“I’ve never seen him this fucking subdued,” Cooper said.

“I think he’s missing his man,” Alex said.

“No shit, Sherlock
,” Wheland thought, and closed his bedroom door.

Two o’clock in the afternoon both bands were still on the stage at the Music Hall trying to work out the bugs of their combined set. The techs were having trouble getting everyone’s wireless systems online and synced together and that left the guys standing around treading water.

Wheland was to the left of the stage jamming softly with Dante. When they finished their unplugged version of Black Ice’s classic song, Freak Show, Dante tossed an arm around Wheland’s shoulders and pulled him close to his body; tucking Wheland’s shoulder into his arm pit.

“Bend the last note,” Dante said. “Then let it hang out there for a beat or two.”

Wheland tried a looser fingering on the frets of his Gibson Les Paul. Behind him he heard the commotion on the opposite side of the stage. He chose to ignore it because he was busy mastering the last few measures of the song with Dante to pay much attention. It was the name he suddenly heard being tossed around amongst the crew and band members that finally pulled him away from the task at hand and had him turning around. The sight that greeted his eyes nearly brought him to his knees.

Dante spun with him. “Fucking Roostarelli!” Dante shouted.

Wheland stood frozen in place, his ability to articulate a single word was lost. From a distance that felt as wide as the ocean, he watched every last person in the crew and both bands say hello to Rooster and still he was unable to get his feet to work.

Dressed in a pair of faded, ripped jeans, Rooster wore his pants like a second skin, every muscle and bulge acutely emphasized beneath the denim and Wheland’s mouth watered. Dark, windblown hair framed his tanned face and a white dress shirt with three buttons undone beneath a black biker jacket revealed a solid chest. The peek Wheland got of dark swirls of chest hair in the open “V” of the shirt could be seen from across the stage and was a total tease for the thin trail Wheland knew led below his belt buckle.

Wheland swallowed hard at the thought of what was concealed below that belt and watched the interaction with the guys. The back slapping, hugs, and handshakes continued with Rooster and seemed endless. Was there anyone Rooster didn’t know in this business? Wheland smiled. The way the man –
his
man, lit up a room was incredible. Rooster commanded the room without even trying.