Looking At Forever (The Rock Gods Book 4) (29 page)

The girl briefly glanced at Wheland, then walked to the stairs and left the bus. Both men stared in her direction until they heard the door to the bus close, then Dante’s attention went back to Wheland.

“She’s coming back after the show if you want in on that action with me,” Dante said.

Wheland chuckled. “I’m good, thanks,” Wheland said.

“Does Rooster know how fucking faithful you are to him?” Dante teased.

“I’m not saying no to your offer to be faithful,” Wheland said. “I just don’t want anyone else.”

“Aren’t you at least tempted?” Dante asked.

Wheland shrugged. “I’d rather wait and have him.”

“Wow, if that doesn’t scream whipped, I don’t know what does,” Dante said.

“Call it whatever you want,” Wheland said. “But, I’m no longer settling for shit. I have the best and he’s waiting for me, same as I’m waiting for him. It’s all good.”

“Suit yourself,” Dante said. “Why did you want to leave me a note?”

“I was hoping you could work with me for a few minutes on the solo for
Devil’s Ladder
,” Wheland said.

“I’d be happy to,” Dante said. When do you wanna to do this?”

“Whenever you have the time,” Wheland said.

Dante looked at his watch. “How about now?” Dante asked.

Dante worked with Wheland inside the venue in a rehearsal room for a full hour. It wasn’t until Dagger poked his head into the room that Dante realized how late it had gotten.

“You two missed the meet ‘n greet,” Dagger said.

“That’s my fault, Dagger,” Wheland said. “Dante was nice enough to help me with some riffs and we lost track of time.”

“Which song?” Dagger asked, stepping fully into the small, square room.

“
Devil’s Ladder
,” Dante said.

“Dante wrote the lightning for that one, so he’d be best to help you,” Dagger said.

Wheland smiled and went back to working the frets of his guitar. Dagger turned back for the door and stopped before he stepped out into the hallway.

“Either of you seen Ashton?” Dagger asked them.

“Not in the last hour and a half,” Dante said.

“He’s not answering my texts,” Dagger said.

“I’ll give him a try,” Dante said.

Dagger nodded. “Okay, I’ll see you guys out front in a bit.”

Wheland glanced over at Dante. He already had his phone out of his pocket and was texting a message which Wheland assumed was to Ashton.

“See if he responds to that, the little prick,” Dante said.

Wheland had promised he wouldn’t go there, but before he could stop himself he heard the words spilling from his own mouth. “Something going on between you two?” Wheland asked.

“What’d you mean?” Dante asked.

“Never mind,” Wheland said. “It’s not my place to say anything.”

Dante gripped Wheland’s bicep. “What the fuck are you getting at?”

“It’s nothing,” Wheland said, and looked at his watch. “I need to pack up my stuff here and go change into my stage clothes. Thanks for helping me.”

Dante nodded at him. “We’ll finish this conversation later, then,” Dante said.

“If you can’t already see it, then there’s really nothing for us to discuss,” Wheland said. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and left Dante sitting alone in the room.

Wheland walked down the hall toward his dressing room. If his gut was right about this, then he felt bad for Ashton.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Both bands were in the holding room waiting for the show to start. Ryan was beside Dagger and while Chase and Danni stood with Alex. Tony and Jared were flirting with a black-haired woman that looked vaguely familiar and Cooper seemed to be arguing with Jayson in the corner away from everyone else. Wheland wondered what their fight was all about, then figured he probably didn’t want to know. He put his back to Cooper and Jayson and listened to Dante and Lincoln talk about the party after the show.

Wheland sipped from his bottle of water. Tonight he wasn’t even going to bother hitting the after party. He was going straight from the venue back to the hotel and calling Rooster. Maybe they could jerk off to the sound of the other’s voice tonight. He was in the middle of that thought when he noticed the door to the room swing open and Ashton walked in with a wispy blond hanging from his neck. She was dressed in a short leather skirt, “come-fuck-me boots,” and a tight tank top with the Black Ice band logo on it. Her mouth was feasting on Ashton’s neck like it was a steak. Her hands were grabbing at Ashton like she needed him to stand upright, and that was probably the case. Wheland was almost certain he heard a grunt of frustration leave Dante’s mouth at the sight of Ashton and the girl.

Wheland smiled at that. He was standing in between four, adult men, Tony, Jared, Dante, and Ashton. Each one of them seemed to be in complete denial over who they really wanted... and it wasn’t a female. Wheland looked at Ashton again. He was making a show of being with the girl; rubbing himself against her and Dante fell for the bait. Dante’s lips straightened into a tight line. His brows knitted together, eyes focused and intent, Dante looked like his head might explode at any second just like a cartoon character might do.

“Well, I guess we know why Ashton’s been MIA all afternoon,” Dante scoffed.

“What happened to your red-headed toy?” Wheland asked Dante.

“She’s not really my type,” Dante said, his eyes were glued to Ashton.

Maybe that’s because you prefer someone with a dick, like Ashton,
Wheland thought.

Wheland followed Dante’s gaze across the room to Ashton, then something else caught his attention to the side of Ashton. His eyes moved and landed on Jared’s hand as it pushed the long, dark hair off the groupie’s shoulder, then his fingers skimmed over Tony’s shoulder and down his back. The action didn’t take more than a second or two to complete, but the intimacy it expressed between Jared and Tony lingered and floated around them. Tony didn’t seem bothered or surprised by Jared’s touch and with the way Tony almost leaned in to Jared’s fingers Wheland guessed the touch was wanted.

Wheland looked back at Dante in time to see him stalking across the room to Ashton. His eyes bounced to Lincoln. “Are they always like this?” Wheland asked Lincoln, his eyes motioning to Dante and Ashton.

Lincoln smiled and shook his head. “I try to stay out of it,” he said. “They either love each other or hate each other and lately it’s been a whole lot more of the hate.”

“Did something happen?” Wheland asked.

“I’m not sure,” Lincoln said. “They seemed fine when we toured last year, so if something happened it was recent.”

The stage manager and several security guards came into the room and directed Dagger’s band to follow him down the hallway to the back of the stage. Wheland and a few others walked behind them to watch their performance. Ten minutes later another show kicked off with a loud explosion of stage pyrotechnics, as Dante, Dagger, and Lincoln’s guitars fired to life and shot the first song of their set directly into the excited faces of the audience.

The fine hairs on Wheland’s arms rose every night he heard the music pulse through the sound system in the venue. It was never less than magic every single time he experienced it. The shot of adrenaline pumping through his veins was better than any drug known to man. The only thing better would be performing on stage himself, instead of watching someone else.

And the one thing that trumped all of this was Rooster. He was the one perfect piece of Wheland’s life and he never wanted to take that for granted. Every day he needed to remind himself of how lucky he was to have Rooster in his life. As soon as possible, Wheland intended to go back to L.A. and show Rooster exactly how much he meant to him.

The show flew by and before Wheland knew it, Black Ice was joining them on stage to perform the four song encore set. Dante swaggered across the stage, guitar slung low on his hips, burning through the intro riffs to
Black Brew Magic
. He stood beside Wheland and bumped shoulders with him, never missing a note. They got in to a fluid rhythm together, swaying side to side, then Dante pressed his back to Wheland’s. They both leaned into the other, scorching through the chords, their faces heating from the lone beam of white light bouncing off of them. Dagger and Alex screamed the lyrics into the same microphone at center stage and the audience roared their appreciation.

~ Black Brew Magic ~

Drink that black brew.

Swallow the magic down.

I’ll be watching you.

Twitching like a bitch in heat.

Rinse and repeat.

You’re losing me.

I’ll no longer be ‘round.

Score another one for the black brew.

You’ll be six feet underground.

After a final wave to the adoring crowd, the guys exited the stage. Wheland was happy to see Jayson reach for a very sweaty Cooper right as he cleared the stage area. Wheland smiled at their tight embrace and the kiss that followed. Seemed whatever they were arguing about earlier had been forgotten. Wheland looked ahead and noticed Tony and Jared continued their game of cat and mouse with the black-haired girl and Ashton was still giving Dante the cold shoulder. Lincoln seemed happy to be in his own world; wiping off the sweat from his face while texting on his phone. The sexy grin on Lincoln’s face made Wheland wonder who the lucky girl or guy was on the receiving end of that text.

All this controlled chaos swirling around him, Wheland felt so alone, lost inside his own head with the memories of being with Rooster to keep him from going insane. He never imagined needing someone as much as he needed Rooster. Every day that passed without Rooster by his side heightened the loneliness. It felt the walls around him were pushing in against him; suffocating him.

Wheland grabbed Alex on his way into his dressing room.

“I’m going back to the hotel,” Wheland said.

“Seriously?” Alex asked.

“I’m tired and I wanna call Rooster,” Wheland said.

Alex smiled. “Tell him I said hi.”

“I will,” Wheland said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wheland continued walking down the hall to his dressing room. He saw Fizzbo and stopped to tell him he was going directly back to the hotel. Fizzbo nodded and pulled the walkie-talkie from his hip to let the other guards know he’d be escorting Wheland out of the venue.

“Give me ten minutes,” Wheland said, and went inside his dressing room to pack up his things.

“I’ll wait right here for you,” Fizzbo said, taking a position outside the dressing room door.

Wheland flopped down onto the couch and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and his face cradled in his hands. It felt like the weight of the world was sitting on his back. He hadn’t planned on all the drama of inter-band relationships playing out around him, or the Hep B issue still hanging over him. It was a lot to process and he didn’t like having to do it alone. A light knock sounded on the partially opened door, pulling him from his somber thoughts.

“Can I come in?” Jayson asked.

Wheland sat back surprised to see Jayson stepping into the room. This was the last thing he felt like dealing with now.

“What’s up?” Wheland asked.

Jayson took a chair across from the couch and straddled it backwards, draping his forearms over the back of it. “I need to apologize to you,” Jayson said.

“What the fuck for?” Wheland asked.

“I acted like a dick earlier about you sleeping with Cooper,” Jayson said. “Cooper’s been pissed off at me ever since and I want to make things right between you and me.”

Wheland pulled his fingers through the sweaty, tangles in his thick hair. “Honestly, Jay, I don’t know where that bullshit came from,” Wheland said. “I thought we were cool, but obviously we’re not.”

“We are cool,” Jayson said. “Hearing about us all possibly being exposed to the Hep B struck a nerve. It sort of brought Cooper’s past to the forefront and reminded me he had this whole other life before me.”

“We all have pasts, Jay, including you,” Wheland said. “I can’t change mine any more than I can change yours or Cooper’s. The only thing I can do is assure you I have no further interest in Cooper on that level, but he’ll always be my brother.”

Jayson swallowed hard and nodded. “I know what you’re saying and I appreciate it. The whole thing was a reality check for me. That’s all.”

“Cooper told you there was never any real emotion behind it, right?” Wheland asked.

“Yeah, he explained it that way,” Jayson said. “He said you were just trying to figure out who you really were and all that.”

“He’s right,” Wheland said. “When he met you, I thought I was losing what we’d been doing together, as if he was the only guy I could have that with. He helped me figure out a lot of things, mainly that I could find the real thing with another guy and that led me to Rooster.”

Jayson smiled. “Is Rooster cool with you and Cooper?” Jayson asked.

Wheland nodded. “I’m sure he’d rather it had never happened, but it did, and now it’s part of my history... ancient history as far as I’m concerned,” Wheland said with a laugh. “Rooster never fucked anyone in his band, but his past is still quite colorful. He has no right to throw stones at me, same as you with Cooper. It is what it is. We can’t change it. All we can do is move forward.”

“I agree,” Jayson said. “The past is the past, but it did shape us into who we are now. I love Cooper, skeletons and all.”

“Good to know,” Wheland said with a half grin.

Jayson stood up from the chair and extended his hand to Wheland. “I’m sorry for what I said,” Jayson stated. “And I’m hoping we can move forward with a clean slate.”

Wheland shook Jayson’s hand, then pulled him in for a hug. “Water under the bridge, man.”

“Thanks,” Jayson said. He stepped away from Wheland and started for the door. “Are you coming to the after party at Jenson’s?”

“No, not tonight,” Wheland said. “I wanna go call Rooster.”

Jayson smiled brightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Wheland waved to Jayson, then picked up his backpack and began loading his personal stuff into the bag. A few minutes later, he left the room. Fizzbo was leaning against the wall. If he’d heard what Wheland and Jayson had been talking about, he didn’t let on and Wheland was happy about that.

Fizzbo walked with Wheland out the back door and into a waiting black SUV. Wheland got into the vehicle first and Fizzbo slid in the backseat next to him. Wheland began to replay the events of the day. He was mentally exhausted from all of it and couldn’t wait to shower and call Rooster.

“You’re not much of a partier, are you?” Fizzbo asked Wheland when they settled in the backseat of the vehicle.

“I am when the mood strikes,” Wheland said.

“Or the right company?” Fizzbo asked.

Wheland laughed. “Or that.”

“Will Roostarelli be back with the tour?” Fizzbo asked.

“I’m hoping so,” Wheland said.

“I’m guessing he’d be considered the right company to get you inside a club,” Fizzbo said.

“Only if that’s what he wanted to do,” Wheland said.

Fizzbo shifted against the leather seat. “I’m sort of with someone... a guy. I don’t get to see him much when I’m working, but it sure is nice to go home to him.”

Wheland looked at Fizzbo in the darkened space. He wasn’t sure why Fizzbo was telling him this stuff and wasn’t sure if he was expected to respond or not. The bodyguards assigned to them did eventually become friends, sometimes they were employed so long they began to feel like family. Fizzbo was new to Wheland and the band, so having Fizzbo reveal such personal information about himself seemed off.