Beat Of His Own Drums (Band Of Brothers Book 2)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Additional Acknowledgments:
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Other Books by Ann Lister
Follow Me
Author Bio
Sneak Peek: For All The Right Reasons
Copyright © 2017 by Ann Lister. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author and or publisher, and where permitted by law. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Ebooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away, as it is an infringement on the copyright of this book. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locations or other public venues is entirely coincidental.
This book is a product of Rock Gods, Inc.
Additional Acknowledgments:
Cover Art: Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design / www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk
Rock Gods, Inc. Spine Logo Design: Joanne Swinney at Joandisalovebooks
Cover Photographs: Paul Henry Serres
Cover Models: Jacob and Sam
Interior Formatting and Editing: Brenda Wright at Formatting Done Wright and Lisa Cullinan
Special thanks to Rebecca Thein for suggesting I use a character from one of my M/F titles to write a crossover story. I'd always wanted to revisit Simon Gallo from For All The Right Reasons and maybe explain him better to the readers. This novella gave me the perfect opportunity to shed some light on him, and now you all have the opportunity to get to know Simon as I do. I truly loved bringing Simon's world into focus, and I have a full-length story on him planned for release in early 2018!
Enjoy!
Dedication
To the readers who fell in love with the rock stars I created and
the music they make between the sheets . . .
This novella is for you.
Xx
Table of Contents
Additional Acknowledgments:
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Other Books by Ann Lister
Follow Me
Author Bio
Sneak Peek: For All The Right Reasons
Chapter One
“Simon Gallo?” The sound of a deep voice sliced through the silence in the room.
He spun around to face the man with the raspy timbre, and his eyes hit the wall of a broad chest. Then he saw the name tag with the official club logo on it, which was stuck to the man's shirt pocket, and knew the visitor was one of the guys he'd be interviewing for the drum tech job.
Their management company had lined up numerous potential techs for Simon to choose from today's interviews, and since Simon was committed to working with his band again, that meant he had to at least try and hire someone. It would be a very long day, and Simon wasn't overly optimistic he'd find someone he'd gel with on the same level as his old drum tech–the tech he'd compared all the others who had attempted to fill his shoes, but had failed. The same former tech Simon hadn't managed to forget and who still owned a very large piece of his heart.
Simon made no attempt to hide the visual inspection he gave to the man's solid form. How could he not? The man had obviously spent a lot of time in the gym so others could appreciate his labor. Muscles were meant to be looked at, like famous works of art, right?
“Yeah, that's me,” Simon eventually said. “Are you here to interview for the tech job?” His gaze drank in a set of gray-blue eyes and lush lips that he somehow expected to see on a woman, but the person staring back at him was definitely all man.
What is it with you and drum techs? One whiff and you lose your fucking mind every damn time, Simon scolded himself.
“I'm Garret Kingsley, and it looks like I'm your first interview of the day,” he said and stepped closer to Simon with a beefy hand stretched out for him to shake. “Friends call me King or G.”
“If you get the job–and that's a big if, I'm not calling you King,” Simon stated flatly and his expression was creased with annoyance. The interview hadn't even begun, and he was already irritated with this King person. He was even hesitant to shake the man's hand for fear the strength of his grip might crush the bones in his fingers, and as a drummer, he needed his fucking fingers for work.
“G or Gary works, too,” King added with an easy grin. “I answer to them all.”
“Well, no fucking way I'm calling anyone King, so G it is,” Simon said. He grasped the calloused hand before him and shook it firmly but pulled back quickly before he did something that might raise a red flag. Shit like grasping a hand even for a few seconds too long, or something as simple as holding eye contact for more than what might be considered the norm, had gotten him into trouble. Things like that had cost him his marriage, and the need to keep this piece of himself hidden had also isolated him from his brother, Ben.
Simon wouldn't dare complain about losing his sham of a marriage. Knocking up a Vegas stripper wasn't one of his prouder moments, but the beautiful baby girl that came from it was worth the brief train wreck of a marriage he had to endure. His daughter, Delena, was the one bright spot in his life, and it killed him that he couldn't see her nearly as often as he wanted to.
The little girl was four years old now–or was it five? Jesus, he was a shitty father. He'd been in and out of rehab for the last couple of years doing his best to get himself back on track. He had an enormous amount of hope that the reunion tour with his old band, Reckless, might help to get his head back into the game–maybe back to being present in his own life. For far too long, he felt like a bystander watching his life pass by from the sidelines. All that needed to change.
The couple of brief phone conversations he'd had in recent months with his brother were promising and seemed to be slowly healing their rift, and at the same time, it was also lifting his spirits. They still had a lot of work to do to repair the animosity they both harbored, but it was a start. Ben seemed genuinely excited for them to work together again and even sounded open to trying to rebuild their brotherly relationship.
They'd never had a typical sibling relationship, and Simon knew what his part had been in perpetuating that. There was also the other nagging difference between the two brothers–the secret that Simon had never had the balls to reveal. Instead of being honest, he felt forced to bury a huge piece of himself deep enough so as not to give himself away. Hiding like that kept Simon treating his brother like shit in the hopes it would keep h
im at a safe distance. If he didn't allow Ben to get too close, he couldn't smear the same stain on his brother as he felt he wore on himself.
Growing up, it was Ben who excelled at everything. Whatever he touched turned to gold–or so it seemed. When they were younger, Simon had done his best to compete with that, but after a while he'd given up. He'd learned early on that he'd have to settle for being “good enough.” He'd spent far too many years trying to get his brother's attention and exhausted himself, both physically and emotionally, in the process.
Shitty life decisions and behaviors never failed to earn negative attention from Ben. As an older and wiser man, Simon understood his brother's adverse reactions back then were justified. Being a more mature man now, Simon also had no problem admitting that it could all be boiled down to the big green-eyed monster: jealousy.
Ben was always the shiny penny, while Simon was the tarnished, beat up coin people haphazardly kicked along the sidewalk. Ben was a problem solver and Simon created them. That was their relationship until Ben grew tired of cleaning up Simon's messes.
What he lacked in moral compass, he more than made up for with humor and a good-natured personality. He was the class clown in school, and the prankster with the band. Anyone looking for the party could just follow Simon and he'd take you–if he wasn't already there. His fun-loving sense of humor is what made him shine, and he used it to survive his darkest days. He might never be as polished as his brother–always making the right decisions, but he'd learned in recent years it was okay to just be himself. Simon Gallo was all right. Yes, he fucked up from time to time; lord knows he wasn't perfect. So what? There was nothing wrong with that. It was his flaws that made him human, and the mistakes he'd made along the way were what made him the man he was today.
Healed. Whole.
For the first time in his life, Simon liked the man he saw staring back at him in the mirror, and he was excited to introduce that man to his brother. It felt like a pretty great place to start this next chapter of his life. With a renewed spirit, a better sense of his self-worth, and his head on straight from sobriety, Simon was ready to face anything–including his brother.
The new shows they had lined up with their band meant he and Ben would soon be spending a lot of time together. He hoped they'd have a chance to clear the air, clean the slate, and begin that fresh start they had often talked about but never got around to doing. Time marched on and the brothers had taken different routes along the way. A lot of miles of hard road had separated them, but even on the worst of days, Simon had always loved his brother, and he knew deep down Ben loved him back.
The water that had passed under the proverbial bridge was behind them. He wanted his brother to be part of his life again, but he also wanted to live his true life. Doing that meant he'd have to tell Ben the truth about everything–going back to the beginning of when things had started to change for Simon.
He'd thought long and hard over the years about when he'd first noticed his desires, puberty he supposed, but beyond a stolen kiss with a childhood friend, he couldn't remember anything specific. Until his band started to play club gigs. Backstage at those early shows was a party in and of itself. The booze and debauchery was unlimited and always readily available.
That's when Simon had experienced his first taste of the forbidden: the salacious treat he'd never fully allowed himself to have until that very moment. Hiding together in a cramped storage room, Simon finally gave himself permission to let go and truly feel. In some very real ways, he considered that to be the day he was reborn. He came to life in the arms of a stranger–a man he didn't know and would likely never see again after that night, but nonetheless, his true self was set free.
Chapter Two
The early days of Reckless . . .
The guy wearing a vintage Led Zeppelin t-shirt and soulful sea-green eyes circled Simon again and his back straightened. They'd been playing a teasing game of cat and mouse that had every nerve cell in his body buzzing with excitement. He'd felt the same thrill before, but it had always been from afar and never reciprocated. This guy, with the tangled mop of satiny black hair and flirty swagger, was obviously interested, and Simon wasn't sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he was so excited his skin felt hyper-sensitive. On the other hand, he almost felt too nervous to act on this attraction–yet again.
That's what this was, right? Attraction? Hunger? A burning need? He could word it anyway he wanted, but it all came down to the fact he was lusting after this guy and fantasizing about doing all sorts of filthy things to him–things his brother probably wouldn't approve of or understand.
The man disappeared in the crowded room again, and Simon's gaze bounced around at the mostly nameless faces to try and find the one who electrified him beyond belief. He looked at every hidden corner and behind the piles of stacked equipment; the guy was no where to be seen. Simon was beginning to think he'd left the party when he felt a wall of heat standing directly behind him.
“Feel like smoking a joint?” a smooth, male voice asked. A rush of warm, moist air floated across the side of Simon's neck and pebbled his skin.
Jesus, this was bad . . . and oh, so fucking good.
Simon glanced over his shoulder and met the heated gaze of the man with the turbulent green eyes he'd been hard for all night, and his knees went weak. He was standing so damn close–perhaps too close. Could he sense my arousal? My Fear? My desperate need for release? The man maintained eye contact with Simon and cocked his head as if he were waiting for an answer to his question. Simon had to remind himself of what that question was before he finally managed a nod.
The man pointed in the direction of the exit and started pushing his way through the gathered crowd to reach the other side of the room. Simon followed with his eyes glued to the man's broad back. Leaving alone with a stranger wasn't a smart move on his part for many reasons. It wasn't like he suspected he'd get jacked by the guy–at least not in the mugging kind of way where he'd lose his wallet by the end of the night. It was dangerous in the sense that someone might see Simon leave with this man, perhaps notice how turned on he was, and somehow know the secrets Simon was hiding. He wasn't ready to face this himself, so how could he explain it to someone else and expect them to understand?
Simon was at the open doorway when Ben stepped in front of him. “Where are you running off to?” his brother asked.
“I'd hardly call this snail-pace running,” Simon said and rolled his eyes. Once again, Ben was sounding annoyingly like a parent instead of an older sibling. “I'm going to smoke a bone, and I'll be right back.”
Ben nodded and his eyes darted to the man in the Zeppelin t-shirt. “Who's the dude?”
“Someone offering to get me high,” Simon countered without offering further detail. “And you know I'm not one to turn that down.”
“Whatever,” Ben answered in an admonishing tone. “Don't be gone long. We'll be heading out in an hour or so. If you're not back by then, you'll have to get yourself a ride back to the hotel.”
“I'm a big boy, Ben. I think I can handle finding my way to the hotel.”
The brothers held eye contact for another brief moment before Simon finally turned away and walked down the hallway beside his new friend. He thought about asking for the man's name, then changed his mind. Did it really matter if they knew each other's first names? They were going somewhere private to get stoned. After that, Simon was fairly certain there'd be something sexual happening between them. Neither of those things required positive ID, right? In fact, the less they knew about each other, the better.
Simon spotted a room on the left of the hallway with a partially opened door. He stopped and kicked it with the toe of his boot and waited for it to swing open. The storage space was illuminated by one dim light hanging from the ceiling and was overflowing with stuff for the club. The extra inventory was stacked everywhere; some of it sat in neat piles, while other boxes and containers were tipped on their sides. There were spare chairs
arranged on top of a couple of tables; cartons and boxes of everything from napkins to olives were also sitting in the cramped room.
Simon directed the guy inside and shut the door. His thumb found the lock in the center of the knob and compressed it. The action seemed to make a noise so loud it echoed around the space, although Simon knew that couldn't possibly be the case. He was just being stupid–and nervous. He leaned his back against the door and stared at the floor. Drawing in a few deep breaths did nothing to calm him. When he lifted his gaze, he watched the dark-haired guy spark the joint and take several long drags off the end. Once he was satisfied the joint was fully burning, the man stepped closer and handed it over to Simon.
Simon filled his lungs with the fragrant cannabis and held it in before releasing a long plume of smoke above his head, then he passed it back to the man. They did this several times in silence before the guy finally started to speak.
“You're the drummer, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, that's me,” Simon said. He used his hands to play an imaginary drum beat in the air and then grinned. He was already feeling the warm, relaxed effects of the dope. It also made him feel silly, like everything was a big joke, and that gave him an excuse to fall back on the one thing that got him through uncomfortable situations: humor. He was about to say something else funny to lighten the mood, then shut his mouth after his eyes collided with the man holding the smoldering joint.
The heat from sea-green eyes bore into Simon while the man snuffed out the tip of the joint against a nearby table top. Simon's heart began to pound under his ribs. The hungry expression on the man's face looked like that of a bull about to charge a matador with a steady gaze and flaring nostrils. The only thing missing was the stomp of the man's foot before he charged. But Simon wasn't waving a red cape, and he definitely wasn't resisting the charge–he was waiting for it.