The Prince of Punk Rock (3 page)

Angel
researched local bands on the internet for hours, but no one stood out. He
scrolled through dozens of internet videos.
 
Some guitar players had the look, some had the sound, but no one had
both.
 
He decided to take a different
approach and just listen first, without looking at the guitar player.
 
He was a perfectionist and maybe it was
making him too critical.

He
clicked on a few videos and closed his eyes.
 
He let the music flow through his ears.
 
If he felt it, he opened his eyes so he could see the person behind the
guitar.
 
It was like he was a judge on a
bad episode of The Voice.

Finally,
a catchy guitar riff caught his attention. He didn’t recognize the song.
 
It was an original.
 
The music was heavy, not his genre, but he
put that aside and concentrated on the guitar.
 
It was good, but he wanted to hear more.
 
The guitarist broke out into a talented, thought-out solo. It ended too
soon and he was disappointed.
 
It should
have been longer.
 
A truly talented
guitar player would have known that.

He pursed
his lips with frustration and was about to open his eyes, but the twang of the
guitar strings thundered through the computer again and filled the room with
contagious energy.
 
He felt the beat of
the music.
 
It seeped into his
bloodstream.
 
He tapped his foot and
grooved in his chair.
 
He thought the
solo was about to end, but it continued.
 
Angel couldn’t keep his eyes closed any longer.
 
He needed to see the face behind the music
that awakened his soul, and he opened his eyes.

The video
wasn’t great. It was from far away and it was fuzzy.
 
He couldn’t see much, especially since the
entire band was head banging out of control.
 
Their hair flew in every direction.
 
He was surprised no one had an aneurism.

He found
the name of the band and clicked on their website.
 
They were a local
Brooklyn
band.
 
It wasn’t unusual that they never
crossed paths, even though they traveled in the same circle.
 
The indie music scene was profuse with
diversity.
 
He read the band bio and
searched for the lead guitar player.
 
Still no photo, but the guitar player had an impressive background. He
had BA in music.
 
That meant he was intelligent,
serious about his skill.

Now for
the final piece to the puzzle.
 
Let’s see
what this mystery man looks like.
 
Angel
wasn’t interested in two dimensional photos.
 
He wanted to see the guitar player, live and in action.
 
He went straight to the band videos.
 
He clicked on the first one and the video
opened up to the full width of his computer screen, but the camera was focused
on the lead singer.

The
camera went to the guitar player’s fingers.
 
He changed chords with lightning speed.
 
A blur of black fingernails ran up and down the neck of the guitar.
 
Angel’s nose was practically pressed to the
computer screen as he waited for the camera to pan out.
  
At the end of the lengthy guitar solo, the
guitar player was finally revealed to him.

Angel
slowly sat back in his chair.
 
Fuck.
Me.
 
His jaw hung open as he watched the
guitar player pounce on the floor, slide on his knees and tear up the
guitar.
 
He was a rock star.
 
Angel wouldn’t change a thing about him.
 
Even his name sounded like a rock star – Tommy
Blade.
 
He was perfect. Magnificent.
Gorgeous.

Angel’s
hand went to his crotch, and he slowly unzipped his jeans.

Chapter Five

Jessi
burst through the front door, bubbling with excitement.
 
“The lead singer from Immortal Angel called
me today.
 
He wants you to play for him.”

Tommy
wasn’t very familiar with the band.
 
He
heard one or two of their songs on the local indie radio station.
 
The singer had a powerful voice and an
impressive octave range, but Tommy didn’t really like the stuff the band played.
 
He preferred to play harder music, and wasn’t
very interested in the offer.
 
“I’m
already in a band.”

“I know,
but this is a paying gig, Tommy.
 
Immortal Angel isn’t a bar band.
 
They play venues.
 
They open for
well-known signed bands.
 
They have four
steady shows a week.
 
Angel Garcia seems
serious about the future of his band.
 
He
says they’re being scouted.
 
And he wants
you.
 
He made no qualms about that.
 
Do you know who he is?”

“Not
really.
 
I have no idea what he looks
like, or his band.
 
It doesn’t sound like
the right fit for me.
 
I play hardcore
rock.”
 
He was vested in Psychobabble and
he had no interest in changing the genre of the music he loved to play.

“Well,
let’s take a look.” Jessi pointed to his laptop sitting at the head of the table.
 
“I only recognize the name, that’s it.”

Tommy
opened an internet video, and Angel Garcia jumped through the computer screen
and stared him in the face.

Oh.
 
My.
 
God.

Angel
Garcia was sex personified.
 
He had
straight jet black hair that barely touched his shoulders and a gorgeous olive
complexion.
 
Two beautiful onyx eyes
smoldered through thick dark lashes.
 
He
danced and strutted around the stage in tight black leather pants.
 
His bare chest, covered in heavy metal chains
and black and gray tattoos, peeked through a cropped, studded leather
motorcycle jacket.
 
He thrust his hips at
the audience and humped the microphone stand.

Tommy was
lost in the video.
 
He realized he better
close his mouth before saliva overflowed onto the keyboard and fried his
laptop, ending the glorious performance in front of him.
 
He glanced up at Jessi.
 
She looked off to the side and listened
intently to the lyrics.
 
Tommy was pulled
back to the computer screen.
 
He didn’t
want to miss one second of Angel Garcia.

“It’s really
good.”
 
Jessi bobbed her head to the
music.
 
“It’s got a great beat, and his
voice is clear and crisp.
 
Beautiful.”

Tommy
couldn’t reply or look in her direction.
 
He was mesmerized.

She
leaned over his shoulder to look at the screen and a small gasp of breath
escaped her.

“Tommy,”
she put her hand on his arm, “you can’t mess around with this guy.
 
I don’t care how hot he is, you can’t screw
this up.”

He knew
she was right, but he had no idea how he was suppose to concentrate or control
his desire, around a man as gorgeous as Angel Garcia.

They were
15 minutes early, and Angel Garcia was already waiting for them when they got
to the studio.

“Tommy
Blade.”
 
Angel’s bright smile lit up his
face.
 
“I’ve been counting the seconds
until we met.”

Angel
wasn’t wearing the flashy wardrobe he wore on stage.
 
He retained the heavy silver jewelry, but
wore modest attire consisting of jeans, a graphic tee and black leather
boots.
 
The charismatic personality that
projected through the computer screen was twice as strong in person.

Angel
shook Tommy’s hand, and held it longer than necessary.
 
They locked eyes and it was like a
match to gasoline.  The sexual energy exploded in the air around them, and
they were caught in a fireball.

Tommy had
to remind himself to breathe, and to speak.
 
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, too.”
 
He patted the guitar case that housed his
precious Les Paul.
 
“I’m ready to play.”

“Good.
 
It’s really just a formality.
 
I watched every video anybody ever posted of
you.”
 
Angel’s smile widened.
 
“Twice.
 
If you can play my music like that, we have a long relationship ahead of
us.”

Angel
turned to Jessi.
 
It looked like he just
realized she was in the room.
 
He touched
her arm and extended his hand.
 
“I’m
sorry.
 
I was so excited to meet Tommy,
that I forgot my manners.
 
You must be
Jessi.”

“Yes, I’m
Tommy’s manager.”

She
always made Tommy proud.
 
She was a
complete professional when it came to business.
 
She made it a point to introduce herself as his manager, and not his
wife.
 
She said that people didn’t need
to know they were married. It compromised her position as his manager.
 
People wouldn’t take her seriously.

Angel
took a moment to look at her.
 
She always
screamed rock and roll, with her deep pink hair, tattooed shoulders, black
studded clothing and five inch heels.
 
“I
hope this isn’t inappropriate, but I love your hair and your boots, your whole
outfit.
 
You’re fabulous.”

“Thank
you.
 
You’re pretty fabulous yourself.”

“Thanks.
 
Now that we’ve determined that we all look
fabulous, let’s get business out of the way so that when the rest of my band
gets here, we can have some fun.”