Purple Method

by Victoria Milne

  “Tony! What are you doing here?”

  “Hey. Do you want to grab a beer?”

  Rick gaped at him. Didn’t the guy hate him? “Why?” Rick shook his head. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude…. It’s just. Well. The impression you gave me yesterday was that—”

  “One beer? Please?”

  Rick sighed, curiosity getting the better of him. “Sure. Why not. But I’ll be having soda. I’ve got a competition this weekend.”

  “That’s fine.” Tony smiled. “Torrens Bar?”

  “Give me a sec to lock up.”

  TONY CHOSE a booth that was tucked away toward the back, near the pool table. Rock music played in the background, and the bar was mostly empty, although it was starting to fill up.

  “So, what’s this all about?” Rick asked after they’d sat in silence for what felt like ages.

  Taking a gulp of his beer and then sighing, Tony said, “I know you think I’m some kind of asshole for the way I behaved yesterday. Just know that it’s nothing personal.”

  “Okay,” Rick said slowly. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Tony looked up with a defiant expression. “But I wasn’t kidding when I told you to stay away from Max.”

  “It’s up to him who he spends time with. He’s not a kid—”

  “You’re not getting it.” Tony growled with frustration. “Stay the fuck away from him. Why is that so hard?”

  “Maybe I don’t want to stay away from him. You can’t stop me.”

  “Rick, don’t do this. Please.” Were there tears in Tony’s eyes?

  Rick frowned. “What is this all about? Why is this so important to you?” Did Tony seriously think Rick would be such a bad influence on Max? Had he even seen Max’s social media? This didn’t make any sense.

  Tony swiped at his cell phone. Then he slid it across the table to Rick. Warily, Rick picked it up. On the screen was a news article about Vanquished Villains. He recognized the name of the band from the posters plastered over the walls of the Torrens Bar, advertising their gig at the club the following week. Its members looked like they’d stepped out of a horror movie.

  “Read it,” Tony said.

  As Rick scanned the article, Tony’s behavior suddenly made sense. Vanquished Villains’ bassist had taken an overdose after coming out. He’d been twenty-seven. Apparently he’d gone into a deep depression after negative press coverage about his sexuality. Rick lowered the cell phone and passed it back to Tony.

  “That’s the third this year,” Tony said. “There was a suicide and another overdose. They weren’t in the media as a result of their sexuality, but I’ve spoken to the bands and know for a fact that they were. This can’t happen to Max. I can’t lose him.” The fear in Tony’s eyes shocked Rick.

  “You know?”

  Tony nodded. “Not for sure until the party, but I’ve suspected for a while.”

  “You need to tell him that you know.”

  “It’s better this way. I don’t understand it, but I wouldn’t have a problem with it—it’s everyone else….” Tony covered his face with his hands, bringing them to rest over his mouth. “It’s my job to protect him, and he’s not strong enough for this shit.” Tony threw his cell phone across the table. “It’s not safe for him. You need to help me protect him. If he ended up like that”—he pointed at his cell phone—“it would be your fault for not putting a stop to whatever it is that’s going on between you.”

  “Do you realize what you’re asking?” Rick was aghast.

  “It’s the only way.”

  Rick shook his head. “By forcing him to suppress this, you’re only making it worse.”

  “What else can I do?” There really were tears in Tony’s eyes now.

  “We can protect him from the media. You, me, your friends—”

  “But what if we can’t?” Tony whispered. “Don’t let this happen, Rick, please. I’m begging you.” He glanced around, downed the rest of his beer, stood, and walked out.

  Rick swirled his soda around the glass, barely seeing it. Why did his heart feel so heavy? He’d never before felt the intense connection he had with Max. And until now he’d liked it that way. It had made it easy to focus on his career—

  “You okay?” Angelo asked, his easy smile infectious despite Rick’s heavy mood. “Do you want to come sit at the bar? We can chat while I’m working. Unless you’d rather stay here on your own?”

  With a sigh, Rick shuffled out of the booth. “Yeah, that’d be good.” He stared at his soda. “Could I get a beer instead?”

  “Sure. Come on over.”

  Two beers later, Rick was more relaxed and was actually beginning to enjoy his evening. Angelo was good company and a good distraction, and to his surprise they laughed a lot. After his third beer, his inhibitions were falling away, and Angelo’s flirting was starting to appeal. After his fourth, Rick found he was flirting back.

  Maybe this was the best way to get over his feelings for Max. If he hooked up with Angelo, then maybe he wouldn’t want Max so much. It had been a while since he’d hooked up with anyone, after all. Tony was right. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to Max and he was to blame. But it would be ridiculous of him to turn down offers of sex for the rest of his life in the hope that one day Max’s situation would change.

  “You’ve stolen my spot, and there’re no other stools left.” Rick jumped at Angelo’s warm breath ghosting along his neck, then leaned back until he was resting against him.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

  “Not anymore. Emily’s closing up for me tonight.” Angelo dropped his arms over Rick’s shoulders. “You smell good.” He pressed his lips to Rick’s neck, and Rick groaned.

  Rick grasped Angelo’s arm and pulled him around until they were facing each other. It was nice to have that kind of easy flirtatious contact from someone who wanted him. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I was told you were discreet.”

  “Hmm, I guess they weren’t looking so closely.” Angelo whispered, “You’re still in my spot.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I think a blowjob ought to do it. What do you reckon?”

  “I reckon you’re trying to take advantage of me while I’m drunk.”

  “Would that be so terrible?” Angelo waggled his eyebrows.

  Rick was seriously tempted. Perhaps it would help take his mind off Max, help him to move on. Angelo was watching him with hooded eyes. Surely he wasn’t expecting him to drop to his knees in the crowded bar. The thought of it made his cock stiffen.

  Angelo gyrated against him, and Rick groaned. “What if I say no?”

  “You won’t.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” Angelo nipped at Rick’s neck, making him shiver.

  “What if I don’t like you like that?”

  Rick felt Angelo’s lips smile against his neck as Angelo pressed their cocks together. Angelo was as turned on as he was. “I think we need to take this someplace quieter, don’t you?”

  Stroking his fingers along Angelo’s jaw, Rick sighed, giving in to the desire building in his groin. “Where did you have in mind?”

  “Follow me.” Angelo unpeeled himself from Rick and made his way toward the door beside the bar, swiped his card to unlock it, and waved Rick through. The door slammed shut behind them.

  Angelo grabbed Rick’s hand, pulling him into a crushing kiss. Rick reached down and squeezed Angelo’s cock as he forced his tongue deeper into the man’s mouth, desperate for release as he thrust against him. But Angelo pushed him away, panting as they separated. “We do this here and the whole bar will see us if Emily comes through that door. We’ll go to my apartment.”

  That wasn’t what Rick had in mind. This was only supposed to be a quick one-time hookup. He frowned. “I’m not leaving the bar for this.”

  “You don’t have to.” Angelo started to walk down the long corridor, dodging crates of beer and o
ther supplies. “My apartment came with the job. I live right here—one of the perks of being in charge.”

  Several twists and turns later, Angelo stopped at another door, swiped his card, and led Rick up a narrow staircase into his apartment. It had a gothic feel to it, with black candleholders on the gray walls and a large unmade bed to his left with black sheets. To his right, opposite the bed, were a tiny kitchen area and a single door that Rick assumed must lead to the bathroom. Angelo walked over to the far wall and pulled back the floor-to-ceiling heavy velvet curtains. The empty Torrens Club was revealed below, and Rick took a step to the side, closer to the curtains.

  “Don’t worry. If anyone’s down there, they can’t see us.” Angelo tapped the window. “It’s one-way glass. Pretty cool, huh.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  Angelo moved in front of him and dropped to his knees. Refocusing on the man before him, the niggling doubt Rick had about going through with this dissipated as Angelo took him into his mouth.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Max

  THE DAY of the Vanquished Villains gig came around all too quickly, and on Thursday afternoon, Max found himself hauling equipment from the garage all the way to the ambulance. In the stifling heat, it felt as though he’d run a marathon by the time they were done.

  Max lifted his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. He couldn’t wait until they made it big and were able to pay people to lug all this around for them.

  “Are we heading over now, or stopping for a beer first?” Tony asked as Lee slammed the garage door closed. “Or waiting and having a beer when we get there?”

  Lee’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re joking.”

  “Lighten up, Lee. We’ve got hours yet.”

  “Yeah, and we’ve also got the sound check to do as well.”

  Max had finally had the courage to arrange it. Pete was even coming down to give them a hand.

  Tony waved his arm. “Count me out. I don’t need to practice.”

  “Tony, either we all do it, or it’s not worth doing,” Lee said. “And it’s not about practicing. It’s about making sure we sound the best we can. As a band.”

  “Turn the drums up loud, and then we’re guaranteed to sound perfect.”

  “Quit bickering,” Kyle said. “Don’t want Max here disappearing on us again.”

  “Fuck off. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Kyle’s pupils were larger than they should have been out there in the bright sunlight. He’d have to keep an eye on him. Despite Kyle taking pills every so often, he usually kept it together. He reckoned they helped him chill out and forget how shitty his life got sometimes. Max had never done anything stronger than weed, and that was all the chilled-out buzz he’d ever wanted.

  “Torrens Club first,” Lee said. “We’ll unload, get ourselves cleaned up, and then do the sound check. Pete’s meeting us there at four, and Villains isn’t due until five. But we have to be out of their way by then.”

  “Such a pile of shit that we don’t even get the dressing room,” Tony said as he clambered into the back of the ambulance.

  “Start taking this seriously and someday we will,” Lee said.

  IT DIDN’T take them long to unload at the Torrens Club. Max made sure he got to the showers in the dressing room first, as they only had use of it for a couple of hours, and then found a quiet corner of the club—upstairs in the balcony bar—to finish warming up his voice. He could see the stage through the glass windows, and when his bandmates convened at their usual table at the edge of the dance floor, he went down to join them.

  “Angelo ordered us takeout,” Tony said and grabbed a large slice of meat-covered pizza. He sat down, took out a Dr Pepper bottle, and sipped from it.

  Max went to his duffel, grabbed the tub of chicken salad he’d made, and sat down to eat.

  Tony peered over his shoulder at the contents. “It weirds me out when you do this.”

  “It’s chicken salad. It’s perfectly healthy.”

  “It’s weird. Why can’t you eat normally like the rest of us?” Tony shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, leaned back in his chair, and licked his lips. “What’s not to like about cheese, meat, and bread?”

  Max ignored Tony’s ribbing and was halfway through his lunch when the club doors swung open. Was it four already? He glanced at the clock above the bar, and when he looked back and saw who had arrived, he choked on a piece of chicken.

  Rick walked in, wearing dark aviator sunglasses and a black shirt, which had so few buttons done up that it did little to conceal his bare chest. The contrast with his short blond hair and tanned skin was unbelievably seductive. Max’s eyes watered, and he coughed as Lee patted him on the back.

  “Hey, Rick,” Angelo called out and left the bar area to greet him.

  “Hi, how’s it going?” Rick removed his glasses and hooked them on the front pocket of his jeans.

  Max watched in horror as Angelo gave Rick a hug. Okay, maybe he hadn’t contacted Rick yet, but it hadn’t been that long. Had he missed his chance before he’d even had an opportunity to make up his mind? Fuck.

  Rick gave the rest of them a wave. “Pete went to the store. He’ll be here in a minute.” Rick’s eyes rested on Max for a moment longer than on anyone else, but thankfully nobody seemed to notice. Maybe it wasn’t too late after all. Max took his cell out from one of his pockets, and his thumb hovered over Rick’s number, which he’d put in a few days ago but hadn’t yet dared to use.

  “No problem,” Angelo said. “Why don’t you come see the new lighting I was telling you about? We’re testing it out tonight.”

  “Sure. I needed to talk to you about something anyway.”

  As they disappeared backstage, it was too much for Max to bear, and he sent the text: You didn’t tell me you were coming.

  He didn’t have to wait long for a reply: What? And ruin the surprise! It might’ve helped if you’d given me your number ;)

  Pete walked in and came over to them as Angelo and Rick reappeared. “Hi, gang,” Pete said. “Ready to go?”

  “Nearly.” Max put the lid on his empty tub and took a bite of his apple.

  “Don’t you eat pizza?” Rick asked Max, glancing at the pizza boxes and back to Max’s lunch.

  “He’s on one of his queer health kicks,” Kyle said and scrunched up his nose when Max waved the apple in his face.

  “Chicken salad and apples aren’t odd.”

  “That’s what I had for lunch,” Rick said and then grinned. “But I’ve got the excuse that I’m in training. Anyone want a drink?”

  “No beer until after the gig,” Tony said and took a swig from his Dr Pepper bottle. “Lee’s rules.”

  “I’ll have one,” Pete said. “Thanks, bud.”

  When they all declined his offer of alternative drinks, Max watched Rick walk to the bar, where Angelo served him. They were chatting as if they’d known each other for years. When had they become such good friends?

  “What time do you go onstage?” Pete asked.

  “About eight,” Lee said. “Villains are on at nine. They’re opening the club at ten thirty as normal.”

  “Guess we’d better get on with the sound check, then,” Pete said, thanked Rick for the beer, and headed over to the sound booth.

  Max gathered up his things and followed him.

  “How’s your voice today?” Pete asked.

  “Good. I even ate the right things.”

  “About time,” Pete said and chuckled. “Warmed up yet?”

  “Of course.”

  “Ah, yes, that’s right, always the professional.”

  “Hey, enough of the sarcasm. I do my best.”

  Pete gave him an affectionate nudge. “Yeah, you’re a good kid.”

  “Kid?”

  Pete’s voice was serious as they reached the sound booth. “Now, listen to me. I’m going to keep the volume high for your vocals, so don’t strain during the sound check. Sing however is comfortable, and I’ll a
djust the volume back here so you’re not struggling to be heard over the rest of the band during the gig. Okay?”

  “Yep, got it. Thanks, Pete. You’re not going to tell the others, are you?”

  “Of course not. I’ve got your back, don’t worry.”

  They completed the sound check without any hiccups and finished as Vanquished Villains arrived, acting like the rock stars they believed they were.

  Lee and Kyle behaved like star-struck idiots, following them around and offering to help them set up. Max thought they were an awesome band but would never admit it to their faces. After greeting them, he’d made himself scarce, going to sit with Tony, Pete, and Rick at the bar. With Lee otherwise occupied, Max ordered himself a beer.

  “Could Lee crawl any further up his ass?” Tony commented as they watched Lee follow the lead singer around the stage.

  A message flashed up on his phone from Zoe, and Max quickly checked it and replied. She and Lisa had gone to Vegas for a few days with some of their friends, and they’d been sharing pictures with him since they’d arrived earlier that day.

  Angelo served Max his drink and snickered. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was a loved-up groupie, not that his band was opening for them.”

  “He’s such an ass.” Tony snorted a laugh. “But I suppose he should make the most of it. It’s not like they’ll ever let us open for them again.”

  “Why’s that?” Rick asked.

  “Why? Because we’re going to blow them out of the water. We’re far better than they are. They won’t know what hit them.” Tony touched his glass of beer to Pete’s.

  “Are you keeping the same set list as last time?” Rick asked.

  “We like to mix it up a bit,” Max explained. “We’ve got so many songs to choose from that we always play a different combo. Besides, tonight we’re only playing for an hour.”

  “Are you going to play ‘Storm My Dreams’?” Rick asked. “That’s my favorite.”

  “Yes!” Max punched the air and looked pointedly at Tony.