Backstage Pass

“Parents.”

Sed sighed. “Mine didn’t show up. Both of them had to work.” He leaned closer to her and grinned. “So al those squats I’ve been doing have real y been paying off, huh?”

“What?”

“Don’t tel me you didn’t check out my ass when I was in the shower. You’d be lying.”

She snorted with laughter. “Yeah, Sed. I can’t stop thinking about it. Thoughts of your perfect ass wil consume my every waking moment, interrupt my dreams and send me into an insatiable lust even Brian won’t be able to satisfy.”

“I could offer my assistance.” He ran his fingers over her lapel, his eyes trained on her neckline.

“Only if you want to lose some teeth,” she said, brandishing a fist at him.

He laughed. “You know it turns me on when you play hard to get.”

“Try impossible to get.” She patted his recently shaved cheek and headed toward the locker room exit, hoping Brian’s parents wouldn’t notice that she’d just spent twenty minutes in the locker room with their son and two other guys. She found Claire laughing hysterical y with Eric. Claire wiped tears from the corner of her eye and gave Eric a heartfelt squeeze.

“I’m going to adopt you one of these days.”

“If you adopt me, I can’t marry you,” he said, grinning ear to ear.

“Hey, wait until I’m dead before you start hitting on her,” Malcolm said, drawing his wife away from Eric and against his side. Claire started when she noticed Myrna standing at her elbow. “Oh, you’re back,” she said. “So, how did you meet my son?”

Myrna wondered if Brian had already told her. She knew better than to get caught in a lie, but if Brian had already lied about it, then he’d be the one who looked bad. She smiled, deciding to be as vague as possible.

“I met him in a hotel lounge. I was at a conference for work and he…” Why had the band been in the hotel that night instead of staying on the tour bus?

“…was staying in the hotel suite the concert venue provided free of charge,” Eric supplied. “Nothing better than a long bath after being on the road for a month.”

At Eric’s mention of the hotel bath, Myrna’s lungs stopped functioning.

Claire giggled.

“I hear you,” Malcolm said.

Myrna decided it would be better if she asked the questions. “So I assume the two of you have seen Sinners in concert before. They put on a fantastic live show, don’t they? The best.”

Eric beamed at Myrna’s compliment and shifted from Claire’s to Myrna’s side. Myrna hoped he didn’t start with the perpetual fondling. She glanced up at him and found him behaving himself for a change. Claire didn’t look too pleased to have lost Eric’s undivided attention. Trey obviously understood this woman quite wel . Myrna made a note to never look more attractive than Brian’s mother while in her presence.

“We’ve seen them quite a few times,” Malcolm said. “They sound a hel of a lot better than they did when they were making noise out in the garage as teenagers.”

Claire giggled again and patted her husband’s chest. “They were awful, weren’t they?”

“And now they’re one of the most popular and talented bands out there,” Myrna said, stil smiling. Eric touched the smal of Myrna’s back, as if trying to protect her from impending doom.

“Just because you’re popular doesn’t mean you’re talented,” Malcolm said, scowling. If Myrna had a cotton swab, she would have cleaned out her ears. He didn’t real y just say that, did he? Eric’s fingers gripped the back of her jacket. Was he trying to keep her from jumping Brian’s father and kicking the shit out of him? Probably a good move on Eric’s part.

“They just don’t make music like they used to,” Malcolm added.

“Thank God,” Myrna grumbled.

“I mean Sed doesn’t even sing,” Malcolm said. “He just screams and growls.”

Eric’s fingers gripped Myrna’s jacket even tighter.

“And Brian solos constantly,” Malcolm continued, the furrow in his brow deepening. “He wouldn’t know a good riff if it bit him in the ass.”

“Malcolm…” Claire said in warning, but she was grinning to herself in agreement.

“And why in the hel do you need three bass drums, Sticks?” Malcolm asked. “You only have two feet. And fourteen cymbals? I mean real y. What’s the point?”

“Different sounds,” Eric said quietly.

“You’re a f**kin’ drummer. Your job is to keep the beat, not make different sounds.”

“Eric is the best drummer in the business,” Myrna said, her blood pressure sky high. “Sed has a beautiful voice and Brian’s solos are amazing!”

“Yeah, wel , it sounds like a bunch of noise. It ain’t music.”

“What the hel do you know, you washed-up has-been?” Myrna sputtered. “Why don’t you step off your self-erected pedestal and offer your son some support? You don’t want him to succeed, do you? He thinks you want him to appreciate his success, but in reality, you didn’t want him to surpass you. Too late, O’Neil. He already has.”

“Did you just cal me a ‘has-been’?” Malcolm asked.

She doubted he’d heard anything else she’d said. The important stuff about his son had apparently bounced off his overly large ego. Frustrated to the limits of her tolerance, she shoved Eric away and spun on her heel. Sed, who was standing directly behind her, caught her by the shoulders to steady her. And beside Sed stood Trey and… Brian.

Shit!

From Brian’s stunned expression, she gathered he’d overheard her tirade.

“I’m sorry.” She ducked her head so she didn’t have to see his face. What was she thinking? Cal ing a rock legend—Brian’s father—a washed-up has-been. To his face. She wouldn’t take it back though. She’d meant every word. “We’l talk later, Brian. I’l go wait on the bus.” Maybe she could think of the right thing to say in the interim. She was at a complete loss at the moment.

“Why?” Brian asked.

“You heard what she cal ed me,” Malcolm bel owed.

“I also heard what you said.” Emotion made Brian’s voice waver, but Myrna stil couldn’t garner the courage to look at him. “If you don’t want to be here, you should leave.”