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"Hell no, that's not the best." Some of the tension that had plagued Shane nonstop for weeks melted away. He almost felt whole again. It felt that good to be in Rory's arms and to hold Rory in his. Rory, who had so often been Shane's anchor when his emotions threatened to consume and carry him away. "Orlando is dead without you, Rory. And when I say dead, I mean deceased, defunct, expired, lifeless. And why the hell didn't you tell me New York is synonymous for the tenth, unexplored, frozen level of hell?"
"C'mon, Shane, you've only got a hoodie on, for crying out loud. Did you really expect to come up here and not be cold?"
"We're Florida boys, Ror. If memory serves me correctly, up until two weeks ago, you didn't even own a winter coat. I still don't because it makes no sense for me to buy one just for a two-night trip. And since you brought up the issue of expectations, let me share mine with you. What I expected was not to have to deal with the retraction of my nuts inside of my body, dude. They said to inform you they're staying put until my return flight lands at OIA. And I also didn't expect that without you, Orlando would really, truly—"
"Suck?" Rory dropped his arms and tried to step away.
Shane held tight, threading his fingers together at the small of Rory's back as he stepped forward with him. He pressed his face more firmly into Rory's neck, not caring that his black cosmetics were in danger of being wiped off by Rory's light gray scarf. "What? Suck? Nah, that's not what I was going to say. I was going to say I didn't expect that without you, Orlando would really, truly, er, um...reek! That's it! Reeks! The city absolutely reeks without you. Like horse shit. Or elephant shit. Or cat and dog shit. All mixed together."
"Did you really just say reeks?" Although Shane couldn't see Rory's face, he could still hear his amusement.
"You already know the O sucks without you, man. Sucks donkey balls. Giant donkey balls."
"Great, big, giant, hairy, sweaty donkey balls," Rory finished. "That's exactly how I feel about every place I've been so far with Taz. Wherever I go with him always feels right, like I'm living out a dream, because he's there with me, but, at the same time, it feels wrong, too, because you're not and we've always done everything together. Sounds corny, I know, but d'ya know what I mean, Shane?"
"Yeah, Ror, I do. That feeling of wrongness is definitely all throughout Orlando without you around." They both stopped speaking, both silently acknowledging the fact that things didn't have to be the way they were. Shane could've come along on Deviant Spawn's tour. He'd been asked to.
And not by Rory.
Rory knew about the invitation extended by Revelin. Damn near each and every one of Rory's family members—as well as half the people who lived in Rory's parents' neighborhood—knew about the invitation extended by Revelin.
The very public invitation extended by Revelin.
The very public invitation extended by Revelin that Shane had also very publicly rejected.
"Okay, 'nuff of this mushy stuff," Rory said after a few seconds. "Let go now so I can see you."
"Nuh-uh." Shane held tighter.
"Let go of me, Shane." Rory wedge his hands between their fused bodies, placing them flat on the center of Shane's chest. He tried to dislodge Shane with a push, but when that didn't work, he removed his hands and reached behind his back. Grasping Shane's wrists, he tugged ineffectually. "Sheesh, quit being a jackass, already, and let go. I want to see you."
"No, you don't," Shane muttered under his breath.
"What?" Rory asked.
"What?" Shane repeated, all innocence.
"Don't play stupid with me, Shane. What did you just say?"
"Wha-huh? Say? I didn't say anything, man. You're hearing stuff." Figuring he better shift the conversation in a different direction, Shane added, "And, shit, Rory, it really has been too long since the last time we saw each other. By the way, where's Taz at? Since you guys are damn near attached at the hip all the time now, thought for sure he'd be here with you."
"We are not attached at the hip...well, at least not all the time, but he is here. Last I saw, he was being mobbed by..." Rory stopped speaking, then suddenly went stiff in Shane's arms after another bid for his freedom resulted in failure. "Shane Matthew Wilkinson! Why, exactly, are you holding on to me so tightly? But, more importantly, why are you trying to distract me from the fact you're holding on to me so tightly?" Voice suspicious, he accused, "You're hiding something, aren't you?"
"Have no idea what you're talking about, pretty boy."
"What have I told you about calling me that? And you're not slick, Shane! I know that was nothing more than another one of your attempts to distract me!" Twisting and turning, Rory wiggled ferociously. He wedged his hands against Shane's chest a second time, pushing with all of his strength.
In an attempt to keep his secrets hidden, and to stave off the confrontation with Rory as long as possible, Shane used his slightly bigger size to keep tenuous hold. But when Rory went slack, the cessation of movement shocked Shane so much he loosened his grip, fearing he'd caused harm to his friend. He only realized he'd been fooled when Rory pushed him away with a forceful shove.
"Hiya, Ror!" Shane chirruped, the left side of his face turned away. He'd had to snap his head into position so quick he'd almost given himself whiplash.
"Heya, jackass," Rory trilled, circling Shane. His chocolate browns were fixed on Shane's profile. "What's up? Anything new or interesting you want to tell me about? For example, how 'bout you go ahead and share whatever it is you're trying so damn hard to keep hidden from me."
Shane turned in place, in sync with his friend. He kept pace, left side of his face always just out of Rory's view, even when Rory tried to trick him by slowing down followed by a sudden increase in speed. "Hidden? I'm not trying to hide anything from you. Nope, not at all. Whatever gave you that crazy idea?" They completed one full circuit and started in on a second. "Gosh, Rory, I really have missed you, dude. Like crazy. You have no idea how—"
All further efforts to derail Rory's inspection were crushed when a sliding door a few feet away opened. A loud combination of screaming shouts and stampeding feet rolled out the airport onto the artificially brightened platform. Shocked by the commotion, Shane stopped moving so he could see what the excitement was all about. He watched as Broderick "Taz" Phelps swaggered out the door's opening followed by Nietz, his behemoth personal bodyguard. They were trailed by a huge throng of tittering fans.
"Oh. My. God."
Uh-oh. Shane's attention flew back to Rory. He immediately knew his secrets weren't quite so secret anymore. "You like? Fits my image, huh?"
"Do I like? Fits your image? Are you kidding me?" Arms cocked at the elbows, Rory planted his fists on his hips. "No, I don't like! And what image were you going for, Shane? I'm depressed, kill me now? 'Cause if that's what you were aiming for, you nailed it, buddy!"
"And that's why I tried to keep the piercings hidden from you, Rory, because I knew you would read too much into them."
"Not with another person, I wouldn't. But with you, yes, I do. You, I know. Jesus, it was bad enough when you told me about the lip piercings, but why weren't they enough, Shane? Why the hell did you feel the need to go and do all that to the left side of your face?"
"Technically, I didn't—"
"We are so not playing word games right now."
Shane opened his mouth wide to voice another protest.
"Shane, please tell me that is not yet another piercing I am seeing in your tongue!"
Closing his mouth, Shane looked around frantically for something he could use to divert Rory's attention. Over Rory's shoulder, he honed in on the trio. They were right on Nietz's heel, star struck expressions in place. Shane blurted through lips held stiffly in place, "Straight girls, Ror, three o'clock. Eyeing your bisexual fiancé lustfully."
"Considering what he was doing to me just a few hours ago, I'm going to go ahead and put it out there that Taz isn't bisexual anymore," Rory countered, not missing a beat. "He's extremely gay."
Eric walked a few feet behind his friends, his gaze fastened to the back of Taz's head, his face reflecting a strong, naked hunger. His beautiful, brandy hued orbs flicked forward, completing the path to Taz's end destination, and landed on Rory.
Then moved on over to Shane. When he saw Shane, the blond's eyebrows drew together, his forehead knitting in a confused frown.
Shane knew the exact moment Eric worked out in his head why Shane had looked so familiar to him. As recognition dawned, Eric's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"In that case," Shane said, "maybe you should be more worried about the cute twink—"
"Quit trying to sidetrack me! And tell me—"
Taz finally reached them. He wrapped a hand around one of Rory's arms and spun Rory towards him. Bowing his head, he slanted his lips over Rory's, cutting Rory off mid-shrieking question. Shane couldn't help but stare at the two as intently as the group of people crushed around them, who watched and captured the zealous presentation with a variety of devices capable of both taking pictures and recording videos.
The kiss was no chaste peck on the lips between two lovers reuniting after a very brief separation. Regardless that Taz's long, unbound, platinum locks fell forward to mostly shield the two from prying eyes, it was clear the kiss was just barely fit for public viewing. It was driven by Taz and all the sensual singer's desire and love for his intended were evident as he buried his fingers in Rory's longish brown hair and consumed Rory's lips voraciously.
"Missed you," Taz said, tenor guttural, when he broke contact several seconds later. "Thought I told you to wait for me."
"And I thought I told you if you want something to order around, a lapdog is the way to go," Rory mumbled through swollen lips.
White blond eyebrows canted, a suggestive smile formed on Taz's tanned face. "Why in the world would I want to own a hairy little mongrel when I've spent so much time and effort training a hairless little Rory on how to keep me happy for hours on end?"
Rory's pale skin turned a very becoming shade of pink. "Broderick!"
A throaty, seductive female voice declared from the mob Nietz was pushing back, "Train me, Taz. I'm more than happy to be his replacement."
"Back off, sweetheart," Rory hissed even as Taz gave the busty bombshell an appreciative once over. "He's mine."
"I'm definitely his," Taz concurred. He leaned in close to Rory and said, "And as for your idea, lovely, you're cuter than a lapdog, easier to take care of and much more satisfying to play with."
The outrageous rocker may have been using the opportunity to entertain the surrounding, giggling crowd, but Shane could see the heat in his dark rimmed, silver eyes as he spoke the words. There was no doubt in Shane's mind Taz derived lots of pleasure "playing" with Rory. Lots.
Shane's heart ached in longing. If things had gone differently, if his insecurities hadn't caused him to totally spazz out, he could've had a similar fairy tale romance with Revelin.
But now Revelin hated him. With good reason.
Unless Shane could make him understand.
"Remind me to show you later exactly how much more, Rory," Taz said. He brushed his lips against Rory's mouth, which hung open in embarrassed shock, slung an arm around Rory's shoulders then straightened. He turned his attention to Shane and, after a thorough perusal, nodded. "Hey, witch boy, very cool piercings."
Setting his melancholic thoughts aside, Shane grinned as Rory's mouth snapped shut with an audible click. Not only had Taz publicly flustered Rory's cool in a manner Shane would never be able to emulate, he'd also hand delivered to Shane a very useful platform to use against Rory in the argument he knew would be forthcoming.
"See?" Shane said, smug. "Taz likes them."
"Get out of my sight, get out of my house, get out of my life!"
December 24, 2010
"Let go of me," I leaned over to hiss in Rory's ear.
His response was instantaneous. "No."
I couldn't believe Rory! I knew he'd just seen Deviant Spawn's delicious guitarist wink at me! I knew he could see the intense come-hither look those cobalt blues were giving to me from the other side of the dressing room!
But leave it to my ever collected best friend to destroy my fantasy. He refused to relinquish his hold on my wrist because he knew if he did, the force of my bouncing body would levitate me right off this ugly ass jacquard couch and right into a full-on, rabid fan attack of Revelin.
But, shit, wasn't that what I was supposed to do? Last time I checked, losing your mind over being in the same room and breathing the same air as your idol was acceptable behavior in the land of fandom.
And when that idol winks at you, well, a rabid fan attack was only to be expected.
Despite my denial to Rory's application of the word to me just minutes before, I knew I was exactly what he claimed I was. Where Revelin St. James was concerned, I, Shane Matthew Wilkinson, was a self-admitted fangirl. And sooo star struck it wasn't even funny.
Hell, I'd even come to tonight's concert dressed just like the man. Over my long-sleeved black mesh shirt, I wore a replica of the black leather vest Revelin always performed in that I'd ordered long ago off the band's website. And for the past year I'd been styling my short, black, spiked hair so it was blue at the tips just like Revelin's black, chin length locks were.
Rory knew I lusted after Revelin as much as he himself lusted after Taz, Deviant Spawn's lead singer. So that's why I couldn't believe my best friend really had the nerve to be reasonable right now! Didn't he know, if the positions were reversed, I'd never let a trite issue like, gag!, sensibleness get in the way of his fun?
"But I really, really want to go talk to Revelin," I said, hearing the whiny quality of my voice. But I didn't care. I'd whine, beg, grovel and do everything I could to make a pest out of myself if it would make Rory turn me loose. "Come on, Ror. Let go, man. Pretty please. I swear I'll make it worth your while later."
I meant what I said, too. If Rory would grant me this one favor now, then later, when it was just the two of us in my one bedroom apartment drinking strawberry milkshakes from McDonalds and playing Batman: Arkham Asylum on the Xbox, I would do all the things to him I knew he found pleasurable. And after years of unimpeded exploration of my friend's lithe, soft body, I knew everything he liked.
How having his toes sucked drove him absolutely bat shit crazy. How hard he liked for me to fuck him. How fast he liked for me to go.
How long he liked for the fucking to last. But that was something he'd learned to compromise with me on. I didn't really have a choice in the matter so neither did he.
If I could just convince him to let go of me, I decided, I'd start off with some foreplay which would include the bathing of the crack of his milky white ass with my thick, pink, strawberry milkshake and the licking up of every single sticky drop. Then I'd use his shake to give the same messy treatment to his front side.
I was just about to tell Rory that, using as many nasty, dirty, descriptive, imaginative words I could possibly think of when he spoke again, dashing my hopes to death. And I mean death as in my single seater just lost power at twenty thousand feet. Or like I'd just come face-to-face with a starved mama bear searching for sustenance to feed her hungry young.
Or like I was Superman battling the most badass villain in all of comic book history, Doomsday. At least, he was the most badass in my opinion, because, come on, the guy killed Superman.
Really, he did.
"No way," Rory responded. "There is absolutely no way possible I would dare let you loose on him all hyped up as you are right now. You know my cousin hates that I have balls and she doesn't. Do you want her to have a valid reason to cut off mine?"
He had me with that one, I hated to admit. It was the ultimate reason for him not to let me at Revelin. A reason I couldn't argue with.
Rory's cousin, popular Orlando radio personality Jasmine "Jazzy" Banks, had arranged this meet and greet. I didn't know how she had managed to do it, as the band was known for shunning all gatherings of any type immediately following their performances, but I was sure glad she had. Free, front row tickets and this meeting after Deviant Spawn's Christmas Eve in Orlando concert, their very first concert in the US after touring Europe for over a year and a half, was her Christmas gift to us.
Which meant we had to be on our best behavior ever. Despite the fact that any insane behavior on me and Rory's part could no doubt be smoothed over by Jazzy, as she was friendly with the band, punishment meted by her for any infraction was sure to be fierce.
If Jazzy really wanted to, she could kick both me and Rory's asses at the same time. With a blindfold covering both of her eyes. And with both of her arms restrained behind her back. And both of her legs chained together. While sitting in a chair, no less.
Damn Jazzy, stupid ass butch lesbian.
Damn me and Rory, stupid ass weak fruitcakes.
Bottom lip poked out, I resigned myself to only being allowed to make googly eyes at Revelin from across the room. But then, miracle of all miracles, Rory's tight grip on my wrist vanished as he stood when Taz entered the room. Eyes glazed over, Rory walked away from the couch where I sat watching him in incredulity and it was on the tip of my tongue to quiz him about just what in the hell he thought he was getting ready to do.
But my spiteful question remained unasked. I refused to let Rory make a hypocrite out of me. No, siree, wasn't going to happen.
I was a cock lover. Not a cock blocker.
As Rory approached Taz, I hustled over to Revelin.
When I skidded to a halt in front of the chaise he lounged upon, Revelin smiled up at me. He rolled the toothpick hanging from one corner of his mouth to the other. "Took you long enough to make your way over here, pretty blue eyes."
"My friend wouldn't let me come over," I hurriedly apologized.
Oh, my god, I couldn't believe it! I was actually talking to Revelin! And he'd just called me pretty blue eyes!
This was so beast!
And mega sweet!
Heart thudding painful and loud, I continued in one breath, "Cause, believe me, if it had been up to me, I would've been over here looong before you even had a chance to sit down yourself. And, jeez, I can't believe I'm actually having a conversation with you! Do you have any idea who you are? You're Revelin St. James! And I'm, like, in love with you! Totally! Completely! Have been for six whole years. Ever since the first time I heard you playing the guitar when I was thirteen. That was the year Rory, my hater of a friend over there, gave me Deviant Spawn's first album for my b-day. And has anyone ever told you the way you play the guitar is crazy sensual? Because it is. Almost like you're making love through your notes." I paused to take a much needed deep gulp of air, then decided I should probably introduce myself, "By the way, I'm—"
"Loquacious," Revelin's scrumptious, deep voice interjected.
