by Jet Mykles
Brent snorted. “So you’ve read the bios.”
“Is it true?”
“Oh, that part’s true. Luc didn’t want to learn, though. He used to hate it that I’d sit in my room all day or all night and not want to hang out. Wasn’t until we were fifteen before he figured out the girls really liked the guys in bands. Then he was begging me to teach him, and we had to get a band together. Not that he ever needed the help getting girls.” Brent shook his head, chuckling. “Lucky for him, he’s got a knack for it.”
Hell stole a glance at the sleeping redhead, who couldn’t hear them thanks to the ear buds plugged into the iPod nestled in his lap. He turned back to Brent, cocking his head. “Girls?”
“Don’t let recent events fool you,” Brent said, bending over the guitar again. “He’s firmly bisexual. He’s had a thing for pretty girls since I’ve known him. There’s really only one guy he’s ever been into.”
“Reese.”
“Yep.”
“But they have only been together a few months.”
Brent shook his head. “We knew Reese way back before we broke big.”
Hell fanned his fingers on the smooth surface of the table, sitting up in surprise. “Has it been a secret this whole time?”
Softly strumming a subconscious melody, Brent smiled. “No. Luc didn’t want to be gay back then, so he ran from Reese. Bad mojo. Years later, he changed his mind.” Brent nodded. “He had to work at getting Reese back, too.”
“But he has slept with other men, yes?”
Brent watched his pick drag over his strings. “Yeah. All substitutes.” He knew that firsthand.
“It’s the same for Johnnie?”
“I don’t really know if Johnnie’s always been like that, to be honest, but as long as I’ve known him he’s been just as much into guys as girls.” He snorted. “He’s the one that got the rest of us curious.”
“So you have slept with men?”
Brent’s hand started to shake, and his blood chilled as it dawned on him belatedly that he didn’t want to continue with this discussion. “Yeah.”
“And which do you prefer? Men or women?”
“Uh, I dunno.” He shrugged, keeping his face averted. “Depends on my mood at the time, I guess.” Oh, yeah, smooth. Why couldn’t some of Luc’s poise have rubbed off on him through the years?
“But you have slept with men?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you slept with Johnnie or Luc?”
“Y’know, I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore.” Brent grabbed the neck of the guitar and leaned forward to get out of his chair. Where he was going he had no idea, since the jet’s cabin wasn’t big enough to really avoid Hell, but he had to get away.
The cherub reached over and grabbed both hand and guitar, stopping him “I’m sorry. Please. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Brent settled back, but only on the edge of the chair. He stared at the blackness of the window opposite him as he tried really hard not to react to the warm fingers closed around his. “You didn’t offend me.”
“I have. And I am sorry. I’m just so very curious about you.”
Brent frowned. He had to look at Hell to figure out what the heck that meant. “Huh?”
Hell smiled widely. “I’ve told you, I am a huge fan.”
“Yeah, you told us that.”
“No. Well, yes, the band, but I’m mainly a fan of yours.”
Alarm bells clanged in Brent’s head, and he felt his eyes go wide. “Of mine?”
Hell nodded, still smiling. Slowly, he unclasped Brent’s hand, but he didn’t relinquish eye contact. He folded his arms calmly on the table between them. “Your licks are fucking incredible. I’ve never heard anything so incredible. I’ve been wanting to work with you for years.”
“You’re kidding.”
Hell shook his head. “No.”
Brent couldn’t take his eyes off Hell’s gorgeous little face, reluctantly drinking in the quiet adoration he saw there. The cherub was a fan of his? That was a switch. “Uh, thanks.”
Hell chuckled. “I’ve embarrassed you.”
“Yeah, sorta.”
“I’m sorry for that. But I must thank you. I’ve had marvelous time working with you.”
Brent smiled. “Me, too. Us, too,” he hastened to add, waving his free hand toward their sleeping cohorts. “We were kind of worried before you came that the album wouldn’t come out right. But you’ve added a lot to it. Stuff that we couldn’t have done without you. That’s why we asked you to join the band. You’re amazing.”
Hell blushed, ducking his head. How amazingly cute is that?! “Thank you.”
Now he felt awkward. He had no idea what to say to the cherub and couldn’t for the life of him tear his eyes away from the full, pouting curve of Hell’s lower lip.
Hell looked up and caught him staring. That perfect pink mouth fell open slightly, providing Brent a peek at straight white teeth and the point of a tongue just visible between them. The tongue further captivated him by extending out to wet that full, bottom lip. Gold flashed in the corner of Brent’s eye as Hell’s hand reached toward him. “Brent --”
Before the touch could land, Brent snapped back to himself. Hastily, he backed away as far as the chair would let him. “Y’know, I think I will get some shut-eye.”
He stood, managing to get his eyes to meet Hell’s. He smiled, hoping he didn’t look as panicked as he felt. Heavy lids half hid violet irises as Hell studied him, frowning slightly.
Then, like a veil lifting, the cherub smiled and the frown evaporated. “Perhaps you’re right.” He stood. The top of his head just barely cleared the height of Brent’s shoulder. “We should get some sleep.”
Brent nodded and turned to place his guitar on his chair. He really had to get away from Hell, if only for a few minutes. As casually as he could, he walked down the short walkway, past Darien spread on the couch and between the seats at the back in which Johnnie and Luc reclined.
When he was in the relative safety of the lavatory, he finally took a big, shuddering breath. Stifling a groan, he reached down to press the erection Hell’s talk had sprouted in his pants. That just proved that his reaction to Hell was already out of hand. Now the cherub had to spring the whole “I’m a big fan” routine on him? Now?! When they were on the way to New York to announce that Heaven Sent had a new member. This was not the time to find this out! He wasn’t sure he could handle it. He was so not good with the whole fan worship thing. Never had been. A few disastrous episodes with early groupies of Heaven Sent had shown him that they were never as sincere as they seemed and more often than not just wanted any member of the band, not really him. When given the chance at either Johnnie or Luc, they always left Brent. No, the whole fan and publicity thing was Johnnie and Luc’s forte. They did it well enough that he rarely had to bother. But Hell’s fan confession rattled him like none before. Hell was different. He was now a coworker. He was a fellow musician. And he was a fan of Brent’s?
Brent stared at himself in the wide, clear mirror. After all, there was nothing special about him. He was okay, not ugly or anything, but he wasn’t insanely gorgeous like his band mates. His hair was shiny black and curly, but it wasn’t Luc’s striking auburn. It was chin length and not Johnnie’s waist length. He was tall and had a metabolism that kept him on the very skinny side, especially since he tended to forget to eat and ate lightly when he did. His eyes were almost black, but they weren’t that smoky sable like Luc’s, and they certainly weren’t striking gemstones like Johnnie’s emerald or Darien’s dark puppy dog eyes. Or Hell’s amethyst.
He groaned, leaning heavily on the edge of the sink. Hell. Beautiful Hell. Kewpie doll cute, but Brent knew him well enough now to know there probably wasn’t an innocent bone in his body. From what he’d told them of himself, he was a world traveler at the age of fifteen and a professional musician playing paid gigs by the time he was twenty-one. The album with Heaven Sent was his first tr
ue recording, but he was no stranger to being up on stage.
What the heck was someone like that a fan of his for?! No one wanted Brent. Not really. From the father who’d left their family when he was very young, through high school in Luc’s shadow, and even to superstardom as a member of Heaven Sent, Brent had had it proven to him time and time again that the real Brent was fatally flawed and no one truly wanted him. At least not as a long-time lover. Hell wouldn’t be any different.
Unable to come to any conclusions, he used the facility, taking his time, giving his heart a chance to slow down to normal and letting his blood cool. Nothing to do for it now. He’d just have to deal. Maybe he could keep his distance from Hell for a while He’d be willing to bet as soon as the Heaven Sent glamour and publicity settled on Hell’s shoulders, he’d forget all about Brent. After all, with his looks, he’d have his own army of fans in no time.
When he opened the door, the cherub was there to set his blood boiling again with a wide smile. But Hell said nothing, just waited until Brent left the room to go in himself.
Admonishing himself for his reaction, Brent took himself to one of the cushy chairs and sank in. He sat for a moment, eyes closed, muttering to himself.
He jumped when a hand nudged his shoulder. Twisting his neck, he saw Luc’s chin propped on the back of the chair. “What?”
Luc grinned. “He likes you.”
Brent scowled at him. “What are you, a twelve-year-old girl?”
Unrepentant, Luc’s grin turned wolfish. “This isn’t about me. He likes you.”
“He likes the music.”
Johnnie’s voice came from across the aisle. “He likes more than that.”
Brent leaned sideways in his chair and turned halfway to see the singer. Johnnie’s ear buds were still in, but obviously the iPod was not on. His green eyes were slitted, and his grin matched Luc’s.
A glance at Darien showed his eyes were cracked open too, with a third version of the grin.
Terrific. Brent rolled his eyes. “Jesus, you’re all twelve-year-old girls.”
Darien giggled, just proving his point.
Johnnie shrugged, closing his eyes and calmly folding his hands over his belly, his thumbs trailing over the tail of the braid that coiled there. “He wants you. Bad.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Luc declared, chin still propped on the back of Brent’s seat. He brought his arms up to hug the headrest.
Brent sat sideways, one knee up against the back of his seat. Nervously, he eyed the closed lavatory door behind Luc. He was pretty sure Hell couldn’t hear anything. He hadn’t been able to hear when he was in there, but then again no one had been talking. At least, he didn’t think so. He glared at his best friend’s grinning face. “You’ve talked to him about it?”
“No. But it’s obvious.”
Brent snorted. “You don’t know anything.”
“Hell and Brent, sittin’ in a tree ...” Darien sang softly.
“Oh, fuck you, asshole.”
The three of them erupted in laughter.
“But seriously, though,” Johnnie murmured once the laughing had died down. His eyes opened fully and focused on Brent. “Is this going to be a problem?”
Brent stared back. “Why would it be a problem? It’ll pass.”
Luc grunted. “Be honest, man. You want him, too.”
Fuck! Brent flicked a look back toward the lavatory. His gaze came back to land on Luc, his mouth open, but the denial he had ready died on his lips. Luc’s dark eyes saw the truth. They always did. “Fuck,” he grumbled, glancing at the other two to see that they knew it, too. “Okay, fine. Yes. He’s fucking adorable. Don’t tell me none of you thought about it.”
“I didn’t,” Darien muttered.
They all ignored him.
Johnnie leaned forward, plucking the ear buds from his ears as he braced elbows on knees. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t sleep with him.” His glance at Luc, then back at Brent, spoke volumes. Johnnie and Darien were among the select few who knew he’d slept with Luc. “But you need to be careful if you do. We’ve got a good thing going with Hell, and I’d hate to lose him.”
Brent drew in a breath, seeing the uncommon seriousness in Johnnie’s gaze. He glanced at Darien, who was now watching somberly, then at Luc, whose gaze was sympathetic but equally serious. Brent let out the breath and nodded. “Yeah. I know. Don’t worry. I don’t plan on sleeping with him.”
“That’s not what I said.”
Brent waved at Johnnie, his eyes averted as he sat frontward in his seat. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll handle it. I’m good.”
He busied himself pulling out his own iPod from the bag he had stashed beside the seat. When he sat up, he felt Luc’s hand reach out to squeeze his shoulder. He nodded without looking back, and the hand slid away. He heard Luc’s seat sigh as the bass player sat back.
When Hell finally emerged from the lavatory, Brent was lying back in the recliner seat, eyes closed in feigned sleep.
Chapter Three
The limousine couldn’t muffle all of the sounds of the screaming fans that crowded the street. Brent sat back in the buttery leather seat, gazing through the double protection of tinted windows and opaque sunglasses at the girls who wiggled past the bodyguards and police to pound the sides of the long white car.
What do they think? That we’ll just see them and jump out into their waiting embrace? Don’t they know they’re downright scary from this angle?
These were not new questions in his head. In fact, they were the same ones that occurred to him each time he was in such a situation. But being safe in the limousine was far preferable to the times when they actually had to wade through the crowd.
He shivered and turned back to face forward. Best not to think of it.
Across from him sat a much better sight anyway. The little man with the cherubic face and the purple hair was a welcome pastime for the eyes, and Brent took full advantage of the fact that his eyes couldn’t be seen and looked his fill. He’d been worried that things would be odd this morning. They hadn’t gotten much of a chance to talk after landing in the wee hours of the morning, nor on the way to the hotel. Well, that wasn’t fair. Brent had actually avoided being near enough for Hell to speak to. He hoped he hadn’t been too obvious. He’d managed to stay in his room until Gretchen, Heaven Sent’s manager, had summoned him to a band meeting in the afternoon, and there hadn’t been a chance to talk since then.
Hell didn’t seem bothered. He sat across from Brent, bemused by the mayhem outside of the car. His hair shone in the muted sunlight, and the single braid was draped over his shoulder with the rhinestone-banded tail curled in the lap of his pristine white slacks. He had smiled and greeted Brent very normally during the afternoon hubbub and hadn’t done anything weird or “fan-ish” like trying to always stay by Brent’s side. Not that he had ever done that.
Gretchen leaned forward from her seat between Brent and Luc. “Hell.”
Pastel bangs fell partially into his pale face as he turned from the window. He raised a slim, beringed hand to casually brush them aside. “Yes?”
“Are you ready for this?”
Hell smiled, and Brent had to suppress a sigh. He’d developed an unwitting obsession with the cherub’s mouth. “I am,” Hell assured her.
“You do realize that most of the questions are going to be directed at you. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather sit this one out and let us handle the announcement?”
His smile broadened. “I will have to get used to it sooner or later You have schooled me on what to say. I’ll be fine.”
“They are definitely going to ask you about the gay thing.”
He didn’t seem at all worried. “So you have said.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Luc said, reaching over to slide a reassuring hand over her back. “Hell’ll be fine. He’s a natural at this.”
Gretchen nodded, but stayed leaning forward, her elbows propped on the
knees she kept primly pressed together. She didn’t look convinced. “Hell, if you feel at all uncomfortable, just let Luc or Johnnie do the talking for you, okay?”
Brent rolled his eyes but said nothing. Luc and Johnnie were, after all, the natural choices. They loved press conferences.
Brent, on the other hand, wanted a cigarette. “Are they going to let us smoke in there?”
“Can’t you give your lungs a rest for an hour?”
“I’ve been without a cigarette for an hour,” he pointed out. “Not to mention close to twelve hours yesterday on the plane.”
“Didn’t you make up for that this afternoon?’ she growled.
“Not nearly.”
“Don’t play on my last nerve, Brent,” she warned, sitting up and smoothing back her immaculately curled red hair. “We need to get through this press conference.”
“I don’t see what you’re worried about. Word’s already leaked that we’ve got a new member in the band.”
“I know.” She was clearly still pissed about it. “And that’s what worries me. If we’d kept it quiet, they wouldn’t have questions all ready to fire at Hell.”
Brent shrugged. What was done was done.
Hell leaned forward to put a hand on one of Gretchen’s knees. The leather of his long white coat whispered softly as he moved. “It will be fine.”
She stared into his violet eyes. “I’m glad you’re calm.”
He grinned again. “I could not be happier. We are about to announce that I have become a full member of my favorite band. What could spoil that?”
Brent glanced at Luc over Gretchen’s back, and they exchanged a chuckle. The keyboardist had proven a natural fit in the band, musically speaking. All indications showed that he’d be a good fit publicity speaking, as well. Nothing seemed to faze him.
Gretchen reached out to smooth a hand over Hell’s cheek. “I hope you feel the same way after this conference.”
The thump and squeal of rabid fans died away, and the lighting dimmed as the limousine finally entered the underground parking structure. On one hand Brent was relieved to escape the throng, but on the other he was scared because they were closer to the press conference. Actually, it was more a paparazzi event. Even worse.
