by Thia Finn
I spun around and headed for the door. “No, Britton. I’m not getting ahead, I’m getting out. Find another photographer. I’m not interested in shooting your band.”
“Oh, I suppose because you're old, and we’re young, you think you can make decisions for us?”
I looked at him as I opened the door. “Your age has nothing to do with this. It’s your attitude. I’d never work with someone as cocky as you. And for the record… I don’t take suggestions for shots from bands, they take direction from me. You might not want to lead with a comment like that with the next sucker you find.”
He stuck his gun finger back out and made the same clicking noise. “We’ll keep that in mind, but I think you’ll change your mind and do the job. For now, go hang out with your old men. They’re has-beens anyway.”
Laughter escaped my lips before I could get out the door fast enough. “Little shit’s gotta lot to learn,” I said to myself as I walked to the building’s exit door.
I scrolled through my emails standing outside JFK in New York City waiting on my Uber. The trunk popped open scaring me enough to pull my attention up in time to see the driver running around to load my suitcase.
“You keeping the backpack?”
“Oh yeah, sure.” I looked up again and acknowledged he’d spoken to me. Staring at my phone in this big city was probably a bad plan. I needed to be more aware of what was going on around me.
A new car smell hit me when I climbed into the back seat. It didn’t look new, but it had that fragrance associated with one. “Madison Square Gardens, please.”
“Right. It’s on my phone.”
“Sorry, right. I forget it’s not a cab.” I looked up at the front dash to see if any identification might be displayed. Some cities required it. Apparently, New York City wasn’t one of them.
“Going to see something good there?” The driver made some idle conversation as we began the traffic-laden route.
“Yes, I’m going to catch Steel’s concert tonight.”
“Getting there kinda’ early, aren’t you?”
Divulging that expensive camera equipment rode in my bags never seemed like a good plan, so I never said what I did. “Oh, uh… yeah. I’m meeting a friend there to go to dinner first.” He nodded his head accepting the information. I knew they were instructed to make conversation for better ratings, so I played along with his list of impersonal questions about the city until we arrived at the enormous venue.
“Thank you.” His tip slid from my fingers to his.
He smiled since people usually included tips on the app. “You bet. Enjoy your show tonight. Steel’s one of my favorite bands. I’ve seen a couple of their shows before.”
“Good to know.” My rolling bag waited for my attention with the handle extended, so I grabbed it and started toward the guard sitting on a stool at the gate. He kept random people from going where the buses parked in the back of the venue.
“Yeah?” He looked me up and down.
“I’m G’Anna Lucian. I have an appointment with the two bands performing tonight.”
“Right. I need some ID and to hear from the band. They didn’t leave me any instructions for someone coming in.” He took my driver’s license and pass from me.
“Okay, I’ll call them.”
RYDER
Sitting around backstage always bored me to tears. Now we were going back out on tour, I quickly realized my feelings hadn’t changed.
One of the roadies walked through the green room where we waited. “Zeke, can you get me my Gibson? I feel like writing a little music.”
“Sure thing. I’m headed back out there in a sec.” He made a pass by the food provided by the caterers snagging a couple of sandwiches.
Joel finally sat up on the opposite couch where he’d slept for over an hour. “You’re gonna write? Dude, it’s been a long time.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been carrying around some music in my head for a while now. I’m ready to put it down on paper. Care to join me?”
“Hell yeah, I’ll join. You know I fucking love writing new tunes.”
The door opened with Zeke walking through carrying two acoustic guitars. The instruments’ age and abuse made them stick out like sore thumbs. We always used these to write the first versions of our songs.
Zeke handed them over. “I figured if Ryder were writing, you’d be joining him. So I brought yours, too.”
“Thanks, Zeke-man. You know us too well.” The two bumped fists.
“I should after all the years I’ve been traveling with y’all.”
“Shut up, fucker. You make me feel old.”
“Then guess how old I feel when y’all bring the next generation on tour with us? Feels like I’ve lived a thousand lives in twenty years.”
“I damn sure do, too. You should be one of ‘em’s dad. That’ll really make you feel ancient,” I added.
“Both of you shut up. I’m not old.” Joel strummed across the strings. “I’m seasoned. Just think of all we know now that we didn’t know at their age.”
“Yeah, and it’s up to us to show them what not to be so stupid about. I expect you not to act like the douchebag you were when we were their age, please.”
Zeke shook his head laughing on the way back out. “Yeah, I’m gonna hold my breath on that one.” The door slammed behind him.
“So, new music. Let’s hear what you got.”
I began playing the opening riff I’d been tossing around in my head. I knew Joel would love it. He always enjoyed beginning with this type of intro. Made for a perfect start to a show. Play a riff that the audience recognized, and it would send them into a frenzy before the lights illuminated the band.
I played through the intro, the first verse, and down to the chorus before stopping. I turned to Joel. “Well, what do you think?”
“What do I think? I think I fucking love it. It’s our next top ten. That’s what I think. Why you been holding off on letting anyone hear it?” He began picking out the rhythm on his guitar. “Let’s hear the rest.”
Before I could say anything, the door opened. Chandler walked in followed by the hot little photographer friend of hers. Chandler told us she would be around for our gigs to take some pictures, but I didn’t realize she was shooting us in the U.S.
“Oh, hey, Ryder. Joel. This is my friend and the official photog for the tour, G’Anna Lucian.”
Both of us set aside our guitars and stood. Her small hand fit into mine like a glove, and I swore I felt an immediate connection between us. It must have been from knowing she was the first friend of my daughter’s for me to officially meet.
“Hello. It’s great to finally meet one of Chandler’s friends.” I pumped her hand longer than needed, but I couldn’t bring myself to let her go until Joel made a noise. I immediately pulled my hand back only for Joel to pick hers up and shake it briefly.
“Nice to meet you, G’Anna. Great name, by the way,” he added.
“It’s wonderful to meet you both.” She beamed a beautiful smile at us. She looked at Joel. “And thank you. My parents are from Italy, but I was born here.”
“Sweet, a full-blooded Italian woman. I bet you can cook like a dream. Do you speak Italian, too?” Joel openly flirted with this gorgeous woman as I stood back and watched it all unfold.
I didn’t flirt. I hardly carried on conversations with women. It’s not like I didn’t speak to women. We had some with our roadie team from time to time, especially with the sound people. I talked to them about what I wanted changed. I gave suggestions or requests, and they completed them. I spoke, they listened.
This was different. This was holding a polite conversation. I didn’t spend time doing much that would be considered polite. Thinking about it, I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I engaged in polite conversation with a female.
If I wanted a woman for the night, someone arranged it. We fucked. I slept. Someone escorted her out before morning. That’s the way I wanted it. I didn’t need to
find a connection with a woman after Laina. The soft sound of G’Anna’s voice brought me out of my thoughts.
“You’d be sadly disappointed if you tasted anything I attempted to cook, Italian or otherwise. I leave the cooking to my mother. But, I can cuss like a sailor in Italian. That’s about the extent of my foreign language.” Laughter broke out among the group at her admission.
“Sounds like I’ll have to make you mad so I can hear your best skills then,” Joel jokingly told our new acquaintance as I sat back and watched the banter between them. It easily flowed for them, and for the first time in forever, I felt jealous of Joel’s ability to strike up a conversation on the fly this way.
I hadn’t considered my lack of conversation with a beautiful woman. Thinking back, I couldn’t remember a single time I’d conversed with a female other than a relative in forever. Damn, I needed to do something about this. Here I stood with my daughter and her gorgeous friend with nothing to say, nothing of interest to add to the light flirting Joel engaged them with. God, I was fucking lame even to myself.
“So, Dad…” Chandler turned to me bringing me out of my head, “… I thought if G’Anna could arrange her schedule, she might travel with us for a few days here in the U.S. and shoot some action pictures to use on social media or maybe for later in a video. Would you be okay with that?”
“Sure, Chandler. Whatever you want is fine with me.” I moved around beside her and captured her shoulder pulling her into my side. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
G’Anna spoke up. “Wow. Chandler, it’s the perfect opportunity to go wild with that kind of answer. Can you sneak dear ol’ Dad’s credit card for the afternoon? We can do some serious damage.” The little minx looked at me and winked. How was I supposed to react to that? Did she look at me like an old man because Chandler was my daughter?
“She can have her own card to my account. I’ll set it up with a phone call.” I pulled my cell out of my back pocket.
“No. No. No.” Chandler pushed my hand down. “I don’t need anything, and besides, I have plenty of my own money.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never had the chance to let you have a free day of shopping on me.” I’d missed so much of Chandler’s growing up, I wanted to make up for lost time any way I could.
“Thank you.” She kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll keep that in mind when I’m ready to go. Today’s not the day, though. We’ve got too much to do.” She turned to G’Anna. “Besides, we’re going to be in Paris soon. We can do some serious damage over there.”
“Absolutely,” the photographer added in a fake French accent. “Let’s put a day off on the calendar, so we don’t miss out. Champs-Élysées here we come.”
The two air-kissed each cheek directly in front of me. A light fragrance of lavender caught my attention when G’Anna leaned into my daughter. My senses perked up and went straight down my body causing my dick to twitch. Dammit, I was too old to let one feminine fragrance cause my dick to act fourteen again. Maybe she was right to consider me an old man. Guess that ship had sailed for me with a woman like her.
G’ANNA
I stood in front of the stage and shot photos nonstop while Steel’s music drove the crowd wild. Every member performed as though it could be their last show and wanted it to be their best. They played to the audience’s roar of praise and singing the lyrics of the songs they knew so well. The connection the band shared with the audience caused goosebumps on my arms. Devotion of this nature could only be earned over time.
The pictures taken when Assured Distraction opened for Steel from the same spot proved the audience loved them. But, when the initial strum from Ryder’s guitar came across the speaker, the praise moved past love. Adoration better described the audience’s vibe. I watched the band create this passion in the fans bouncing around me until I was caught up in it as well.
Ryder Steel brought out other feelings inside me, though. I had to face it. The man was freaking hot. His trimmed beard helped define a perfect face. I knew he’d worn his hair longer in the early days of Steel, but now he kept the sides shorn close, and the top did its own thing. The salt and pepper locks curled loosely and moved around to the beat going through Ryder’s body to the music he pulled from his guitar.
The denim-snapped shirt hugged his trim body in a custom fit that I knew he commissioned. Anyone who made the kind of money Steel did surely wore clothes made to their specifications, just like the torn jeans he always had on. Heavy black boots that tapped out the rhythm the music followed finished out his stage clothes.
Lifting my camera once again, I adjusted the settings to capture a natural pose on the lead singer and his guitar. As I snapped off a slew of him, I noticed he’d turned his head and was looking directly at me. I pulled the camera away from my face and met his gaze. A brief smile grazed his mouth, and he directed it at me while he continued singing about love and loss. We seemed to be stuck in time while the song played on, his lyrics coming from rote memory as we remained connected.
“He’s got a thing for you.” A nudge from the photographer standing next to me caused me to break my stare.
“What? No.” My head shook back and forth.
“He sang that entire song to you. Bitch, he’s hot. I’d do him in a heartbeat.” She gave me a knowing look before turning back to her viewfinder.
I watched her shoot for a minute trying to think of a comeback to her comment. It never happened, though. She was clearly mistaken. He only looked in my direction because he knew I was shooting pictures for later use. Ryder Steel wouldn’t give me a second thought. He barely spoke to me when I’d met him earlier today.
Raising my camera back to stage level, I took pictures of the rest of the band and their antics for the remainder of their set. Steel knew how to entertain their audience, and they did so for close to two full hours.
Shortly before the last song started, I made my way to the side of the stage. Chandler and KeeMac were watching in the wings, and she spotted me standing in front of two security guards blocking the way. A brief nod between us told me she knew I’d wait until the last note faded before trying to get back to them.
When the band made their way offstage following the second encore, Ryder spotted me and crooked his finger. I tapped the guard and pointed to Ryder who made the motion again. Both men stepped apart allowing me to go up the steps. Ryder didn’t wait for me, but when I got to the top, Joel grabbed my hand and led me offstage. The audience’s cheers made talking impossible. They begged for a third encore, but it wouldn’t happen.
“That was insane.” Chandler nodded her head in response. “I’ve been to lots of concerts but never have I felt like the audience, and the band connected the way they did tonight.”
“Yeah, one day, we’ll have fans like Steel does. Right, babe?” She wrapped her arm around KeeMac’s waist, and he leaned down and kissed her.
“You’re fucking right we will. I can feel it happening with each venue we play.”
“Keeton’s always the optimist about our success.” Chandler’s smile at him expressed the love they strongly shared.
We made our way back to a conference room backstage where a meet-and-greet, photos with the fans, and autographs had been staged. I lifted my camera and looked through the viewfinder at some possible shots with both bands and their fans. Having attended these occasionally, I knew what to expect, but the aggressiveness of the Steel fans shocked me.
From a vantage point behind Chandler, I watched women basically try to strip for Steel’s members to capture their attention. When a pair of double D’s almost unfolded on Ryder’s face, I let out a squeal causing him to look over at me. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders as he wrote his name across the bare flesh. I shook my head in disbelief.
“Is this what I can expect at all the venues?” I whispered in Chandler’s ear.
“Oh that? Yeah, they’re bold, aren’t they? Some skanky ones manage to get tickets no matter how hard the PR people try to keep it from happening.
”
KeeMac started laughing at her description of the woman who now turned to show off her signed boobs.
“Thank God there are no children in here,” I told the couple.
“Children aren’t allowed backstage, ever, after a show,” Chandler said aloud so the fans could hear it. I guess she wanted everyone to know behavior like that woman’s wouldn’t be tolerated with kids around.
“Good to know.” I slipped around behind the tables where Steel sat so I might capture other angles of their interaction with the fans. As I made my way behind Ryder, he glanced back at me and smiled.
“Did you enjoy the show?”
“You know it. Your fans are amazing.” I focused on the next woman leaning down to talk to Ryder.
“Yeah, they are, aren’t they?” He turned and asked the woman her name before signing the poster she laid in front of him. When she walked on down the line, he looked at me again. “Do you want to sit here with us? Uh… I mean, you can get another perspective from being in the middle of this madness.”
I didn’t have to be asked twice to sit between Ryder and Jason, their keyboard player. He was every bit as great to look at as Ryder, and I’d yet to speak to him directly.
I stuck my hand out. “Hello, G’Anna Lucian. We’ve not been introduced.”
He took my hand in both of his and shook it. “Very nice to meet you, G’Anna. How come Chandler’s been keeping you hidden from us?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.
I couldn’t help laughing out loud. “Uh… I don’t know.”
“Maybe it’s because she knew you’d be acting like a total dick to our photographer from the minute you met her,” Ryder said leaning over in front of me to address Jason. “Now play nice. She’s going to be with us in Europe most of the time.”
“Even better. Lots of romantic places to wine and dine a beautiful woman in Europe.” I tugged my hand from his and looked up at the next scantily clad female staring at the two men.
“I believe this lady wants an autograph, guys.”
