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They were always late but this time was cutting it too close. Plus, this was a bigger venue than they’ve ever played before. Normally he would have played captain, shoving everyone and their equipment into his van. They might not be early—but they would all be there with at least enough time for a hasty set-up. Unfortunately he had a commission the same day in the area and couldn’t make it back down to them in time.
“This seat taken?”
“What?” he said, pulled out of his thoughts, “oh, uh—no.”
The stranger took a seat next to him. He wore black from head to toe, a large coat hiding his frame. Such a pretty man. ‘Death’ was etched onto his fingers.
I wonder how many more tattoos he has...
“What can I get for ya?”
“Gin and Tonic.”
“Open or Closed? Mind you we have a show in a half hour so it’s last call unless yer stayin’. Cover’s fifteen if ya plan tuh’ stay.”
“Open,” he says flatly, flashing his wristband.
“Name for the tab?”
“Law.”
“Aye,” she acknowledges, disappearing to make his drink.
They were a small band, so he still wasn’t used to people coming to see their shows. Especially when the face wasn’t familiar—they mostly played local dive bars and out of garages. Did he just come on the premise of a local show or...did he actually know who they were? Curiosity got the best of him.
“Here for the band?”
“Yeah, I found them recently and loved their stuff. Plus, the front-man is fuckin’ hot. They’re pretty small still though, so I was surprised to see them up this way. You?”
He almost choked on his drink.
“Oi!” the bartender called out to him before he could respond, “Are yer boys here yet or what?”
“They’re on their way!” he hoped, if they weren’t they were certainly losing this venue.
This time, it was the raven-haired stranger who choked, sputtering gin across the bar. He tried to collect himself, using the opportunity to wipe his mouth as an excuse to hide his reddening face. Something that did not go unnoticed by the lead singer.
Fuck, how did I not realize it was him?
“They better be. Yer not even set up yet and yer on stage in a half hour—”
“They’ll be here—,” the sound of his protests were cut off by the unmistakable sounds of his band members clumsily coming through the front door with all their gear.
“Guys! I told you! Back doors! Back doors!” He got up to go control the situation, but took a sudden step backward,“Wait for me after the show.” With that the tall, muscular, red-haired man before him took off—barking at his crew about being late and wrestling with their equipment.
Law liked their music, he really did, but he never got the chance to enjoy it live over the sound of his heart beating.