by Ann Lister
“Like what?”
“For instance . . . I knew before we got to that club I wouldn't be interested in the girls.”
“But you got a blowjob from one of them,” Dakota remarked.
“I did, but did you happen to see who I was looking at while she was going down on me?”
“I was trying not to pay too much attention to what you were doing,” Dakota admitted.
“Did you notice the bouncer working the VIP room?” Simon asked. “His name was Castro.”
“He was difficult to miss.”
“When we got there, he was hitting on me at the bar,” Simon explained. “He asked if I'd like to meet him in the manager's office, which apparently was empty.” Simon looked up at Dakota and waited for recognition to register in his warm eyes. “I was contemplating his . . . offer when Ben shoved that girl at me. Even after several minutes of her squirming on my lap, she couldn't get me hard–until I saw Castro standing by the door with his nonverbal invitation just hanging there. My dick turned to stone at the thought of his proposition, and the girl took that as her cue to get to work.”
“You like guys?” Dakota asked in shock. “But you're always with girls. I've seen all the babes you hook up with, Simon, and sometimes you do more than one girl at a time!”
“It's recently come to my attention that I'm . . . bisexual.” Simon exhaled loudly as if he'd released an enormous amount of stress with that one admission.
“And no one knows?”
“No, and I'm trusting you with that information until I decide I'm ready to talk to my brother,” Simon said. “Can I trust you with that secret?”
“Yeah, of course,” Dakota answered. “I'm trusting you with mine, so I guess it makes sense that I do the same for you.”
“You didn't technically reveal any secrets to me, Dakota.”
Their eyes met across the room, and Dakota smiled nervously before he sat in the chair across from the couch. “I guess, I thought I had,” he said and chuckled more for himself than Simon.
“I swear that you can trust me,” Simon said. “I just stuck my neck out about my life, and I'm willing to do the same for you. Call it a perk that comes with being my drum tech. We can be the keeper of each other's secrets.”
Dakota laughed at that comment. It was a deep, throaty sound that was genuine, and it relaxed them both. Once the laughter died down, Simon leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Do you fuck girls and guys or just guys?”
Dakota's face flushed with heat. “Jesus, what kind of question is that?”
Simon shrugged. “I thought it was a pretty logical question,” he replied. “Have you ever slept with a girl?”
“Of course!”
“But you didn't like it, did you?”
“Eh, it was rushed and . . . not all that interesting,” Dakota admitted.
“Then you probably prefer hooking up with guys,” Simon offered and he watched as more color flooded Dakota's cheeks. “Holy shit! You've never fucked a guy?”
“What the fuck, Simon! That's kind of a personal question, don't you think?”
Simon sat back on the couch. It felt good to have someone to talk to about this shit, and that's probably why he couldn't seem to stop talking. “I've fucked more girls than I can count, but no guys yet–just messed around enough to know I want to do more.”
“I've only been with one girl, back when I was in high school and I have no interest to do it again,” Dakota said. “I've fooled around with a few guys, too, but nothing more.”
“Wow, how did we both manage to make it into our early twenties and still be virgins?” Simon asked with a teasing tone.
“You being a virgin is hard to believe,” Dakota laughed.
“Just certain aspects of me are virginal,” Simon said with a chuckle. “Let's not over think this.”
“On that note, I think I'll go back to my own room to get a few hours of sleep before we make the ride back to Los Angeles.”
“Yeah, that's probably a good idea,” Simon agreed. He forgot Dakota would be on the band bus, which made riding on it with all the others suddenly tolerable and driving back to LA by himself unnecessary. “You've got a day off once we get back to LA before we have to set up for rehearsals in the studio. I'll need you to work with me there until we're set to record.”
“I'm ready to work when you are, boss.”
Simon opened the door of his room and Dakota stepped to the threshold. “Remember what we talked about with the secrets,” Simon reminded Dakota.
“Not a word to anyone.”
“Thank you, Dakota.”
“I'll see you tomorrow on the bus?”
“Yes, you will.”
Simon nodded and watched Dakota for a moment as he walked down the empty hallway before he closed the door. Jesus, he hoped he hadn't made a mistake by confiding in Dakota, but it had felt almost necessary to unburden himself, too. All he could do was hope Dakota was a man of his word. And now that they had shared their secrets with each other, Simon was also excited to get to know his drum tech a little better. He desperately needed a real friend who knew his whole self, and judging by the sexual chemistry buzzing between them, Simon wouldn't be opposed to getting to know Dakota on a sexual level, either. All in time, though. For now, Simon was happy to just have a new friend.
Chapter Six
Simon pulled into a parking lot beside the White Horse Recording Studio just outside of Los Angeles and found a place to park his SUV. Dakota was just arriving, too, so Simon walked over to the pick-up truck, and together they went into the building. They had a little over an hour to get Simon's drum kit set up the way he liked it, and Simon had a few new ideas he wanted to try out with padding the platform and behind the bass drum to see if that helped his sound quality. This first day at the studio they'd have a sound engineer at their disposal to help them get the most out of their instruments, and Simon wanted to take full advantage of that while he could. Maybe even learn something in the process, too.
As was typical for a studio setup, they had a separate, smaller room for Simon and his drums. It was more of a sound booth within a sound booth to better control the acoustics of his rhythms. Simon had worked in this kind of situation before and liked being able to have his own space and hear the distinct beats of his drums so clearly coming through the playback. The room had a panel of special tempered glass for Simon to see the guys in the band or anyone directing him from the engineers room, but he would otherwise be inside this booth by himself.
Dakota didn't waste any time with small talk and got to work setting up the stands to set the drums on and running the necessary cables for sound. The booth being as small as it was, Simon stepped back and simply watched Dakota moving with purpose as he did his job. He was a little in awe of Dakota for being as good as he was and had to remind himself that the kid wasn't even old enough to legally drink in a bar.
Simon smiled at that, but there was something else he couldn't ignore about Dakota and that was how fucking sexy he was when he moved. How had he missed the subtle flex of muscle shifting beneath the fabric of his shirt and jeans? His long fingers worked efficiently at each task, and Simon stood in place mesmerized by his confident movements. A look of total concentration creased his brow, and Simon was captivated by that, too. His dirty mind kept drifting to what Dakota's face might look like when he was aroused or ready to blow a load. Simon felt his cock stir in his jeans and rubbed his face. He needed to get his head back into his job before Dakota noticed what was going on with him. How creeped-out would Dakota be to see that Simon was standing there ogling him while he worked and getting hard from the show.
Dakota had the drum kit set up in about half an hour and was starting to tune each one when he realized Simon was staring at him. He was seated at the stool behind the drums he'd arranged according to Simon's specifications and appeared to be more musician than tech sitting in this spot. He set down a pair of sticks on top of the snare drum and pulled the heads
et off his ears and left them to hang around his neck, then his eyes connected with Simon's.
“Am I doing something wrong?” Dakota asked.
Simon shook his head and pushed off the wall he was leaning against. “You look really comfortable sitting there,” he said. “Did you ever play in a band?”
Dakota shrugged. “I messed around a bit when I was in junior high, but nothing hardcore,” he answered. “I'm not crazy about the performing aspect of being a musician. Working behind-the-scenes is a much better fit for me.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Simon agreed. “In the beginning, I felt like puking before every show. It's becoming second nature now.”
“Wait until you start filling huge stadiums,” Dakota joked.
Simon fell silent as he thought about that. “It's hard to imagine that ever being a reality.”
“It's a lot closer to reality than you think,” Dakota replied. “Once this new album releases, your lives are all going to change.”
A commotion by the door drew Simon's attention away from Dakota's sincere eyes: eyes that he was beginning to get lost in every time they landed on him and held for just a moment too long. Jesus, he hoped the newly realized attraction he had for Dakota wasn't going to become a problem; after all, they worked together. Between recording the new album and the kick-off of their first big tour, Simon couldn't afford to lose the best drum technician he'd had in the business.
Simon stepped out of the drum booth to greet the rest of the guys in his band who were just arriving. From then on, it was all work with little down time for Simon to even consider a conversation with Dakota. Even still, his tech remained at the studio to make any adjustments the sound engineers asked for. Dakota had such a good ear for the sound he knew Simon wanted, sometimes making the changes before the engineers had even suggested it, and each time, Dakota had been spot on.
The first two days of recording were gruelingly long, to the point where everyone was starting to get on each other's nerves and were itching for a much needed break. At the end of the third day, Ben told them to take the weekend off and come back well-rested and ready to rock on Monday. Before they all scattered, Ben pulled Simon aside and suggested he use his down time to work on the new material until he knew the rhythms forwards and backwards.
“Those fuck-ups weren't all mine,” Simon argued with Ben.
“Did I say they were?” Ben shot back. “We could all stand to do some practice by ourselves, and I expect everyone to do that during their time off.”
“But you singled me out,” Simon added.
“Because the others have already left,” Ben replied. “Don't make this into something it's not, okay? Just go home and practice the last three songs we were working on here. Have Dak arrange a duplicate kit setup at your place so everything is as close to being like the studio as possible.”
Simon watched his brother leave the room, then he went back into the drum booth to wipe down his skins. Dakota was already doing the task of cleaning up, which left Simon standing there with nothing to do but simply watch.
“What's up?” Dakota asked after he set the stool behind the bass drum, then wiped down the seat of it with the cloth he had used for the other pieces of the set.
“We have two days off, and Ben just bitched at me to spend them practicing,” Simon grumbled.
“I thought that's what I heard him say,” Dakota said. He finished with the room by collecting several sets of sticks and put them into a canvas bag. “I can build you a copy of this set at your place. That's no problem.”
“That means you'd be working on your time off,” Simon added.
“So what? Work is work, and I'd rather stay busy,” Dakota said. “That's all I'm saying.”
“Yeah? You really wouldn't mind coming over to help me?”
Dakota stood up and adjusted the ball cap on his head with one hand. He carried the bag of drumsticks in his other and walked beside Simon as they left the studio. “What time do you want me?”
“I guess whenever you can get there tomorrow,” Simon answered. “I'll text you the address.”
“Sounds good,” Dakota said and handed Simon the canvas bag. “I'll bring breakfast.”
It was just before two o'clock the next afternoon when Simon heard the knock on the door to his house. He looked through the glass side panel beside the door and saw Dakota standing on the top step holding a brown paper bag. The tips of his dark hair appeared to still be damp from a shower, his jawline unshaven, and he wore clothing that appeared to be pulled on without much thought given to the task at all.
The sight of him made Simon's heart beat faster. He ignored the reasons behind that and opened up the door for his drum tech to enter. “Glad you made it,” Simon said as Dakota stepped past him and into the living room. The house was a small, one bedroom, 1920's cottage-style home on a narrow lot in West Hollywood. His family knew the rental agent and that's the only reason he was able to make it happen. As soon as he saw the bonus room off the back of the house, which would be perfect for a drum room, Simon would have done just about anything short of murder to rent the place.
Simon watched Dakota's eyes bounce around the small rooms and waited for him to turn back to him. “Thanks for giving up your day off,” Simon said. He slid his sweaty palms into the front pockets of his worn jeans. Why the hell are you nervous?
“I told you already, I don't mind,” Dakota replied. “I would have been here a lot earlier, but I overslept by a few hours. Plus, I didn't want to risk waking you up.”
“That wouldn't have bothered me,” Simon stated. Total lie. I'd disembowel anyone who interrupted my sleep.
“Where are your drums?” Dakota asked as he glanced around the place again.
“There's a room off the back of the house,” Simon said and pointed towards the kitchen and the opening to a hallway off of it. “I had it all sound-proofed last year so I can play and not piss off the neighbors too much.”
“Never a good idea to get your neighbors on your bad side,” Dakota said as a joke, then handed Simon the bag. “I know it's technically after lunch, but I brought bagels and coffee. It's all inside the bag.”
“That was totally unnecessary, but I thank you,” Simon said. He led the way through the kitchen and down the hallway to the music room and stopped at the threshold to reach inside the bag. He removed a cup of coffee and passed the bag back to Dakota. “Mmmm, just the way I like it.”
“It's black,” Dakota added. “I didn't know how you liked it, so I had her toss the cream and sugar into the bag.”
“Not needed,” Simon said and moaned again. “This is perfect. The aroma alone is giving me a fucking hard-on.”
Dakota laughed at Simon's comment and moved into the music room. He had to step around several boxes of gear, piles of sheet music, a keyboard, two guitars stacked in cases, and too many drums and pieces of drums to count. Dakota looked at the challenge laid out before him and scratched his head. “Okay, first things first,” he instructed Simon. “We're gonna have to organize this room if we're going to use it for practical purposes. Let's move some of this stuff into that corner over there to give you more room to play back in this area of the room. Is that acceptable?”
“Sounds good,” Simon stated. “Let's do it.”
They worked side by side for several hours and barely stopped for breaks. It was dark outside when Simon's stomach began to growl with hunger. He offered to have some take-out food delivered for dinner, and Dakota readily agreed with the idea. Thirty minutes later, they were sitting on the steps of the back deck, eating Chinese food using forks directly from the cartons.
“I really appreciate you doing this,” Simon said and handed Dakota a bottle of beer.
“It's all part of the job,” Dakota shrugged it off. “We're almost done with the setup, and then you can practice tomorrow to your hearts content.”
“As you can tell, I don't use that room a lot for practice,” Simon explained. “It's why there was so much sh
it in there.”
“Where do you typically work?”
“Over at Ben's place. He's got a basement room with kick ass acoustics,” Simon answered.
They finished eating, and Simon went inside to grab his bag of weed from the kitchen counter. He returned to the deck sparking the end of an already rolled joint with a lighter. He inhaled two hits before he sat down beside Dakota, then passed the joint over to him.
They shared the joint in silence before Simon finally said, “You're really good at what you do.”
“It's like anything,” Dakota said. “With enough practice you can be good at it.”
“And knowledge,” Simon added. “You've kept yourself on top of the new techniques and trends the other drummers are using. That's important, too.”
Dakota took the joint Simon was offering again and sucked in a deep breath that hollowed out his cheeks. “I'm glad you're happy,” he said softly. “I like working with you.”
Simon couldn't help himself and bumped shoulders with Dakota. It was a flirty teenager move, but Simon was finding himself feeling a lot like a juvenile whenever Dakota was near him. “You make it seem less like work,” Simon mumbled. Shit, he sounded so lame right now.
Dakota started chuckling and Simon tensed. Did he think Simon sounded like a total jackass too? “What's so funny?” Simon asked.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
Dakota shook his head. “It's not important.”
“It is to me,” Simon said and grabbed Dakota by the back of the neck and his fingers squeezed the tight muscles. The move was sudden and Dakota flinched until their gazes met, and Simon could see the apprehension disappear from his eyes like a blanket of thick fog lifting from the water. His mind was consumed with thoughts of kissing Dakota, covering his mouth and making the sweet, wet connection he'd been craving for the last few days. He was desperate for a taste; one slow dip of his tongue inside, and he knew his head would explode with pleasure. Would a simple kiss be crossing that imaginary line to a point of totally fucking up their working relationship?
