Wicked Beat

The store manager paused before their folding table. “Are you two ready for this? There’s been a line through the mall all day. They started lining up outside the doors last night even though the temps are subzero.”

Sinners’ fans were awesome and more than a little crazy. Eric glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see their head of security, Mitch, watching in case some awesome fan got a little overexcited.

“Let them in,” Trey said. “Let’s hope they don’t kill us when they realize Master Sinclair isn’t here.”

“Or Sed,” Eric added.

“How did he get out of this?” Trey asked.

“Hell if I know.”

There was an ear-shattering cacophony of excited squeals overlaid with roars of masculine approval. The first of their fans hit the table with enough force to send CDs scattering.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” the first pair of girls in line screamed in unison. They looked like they spent all their parents’ money at Goth World.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Trey asked to the blonder of the two as he reached for one of the small posters they were signing for free.

“Trey Mills just called me sweetheart!” she sputtered at her girlfriend. “My name is H-H-Heather.”

“Where’s Master Sinclair?” the less blond girlfriend asked Eric.

“Something suddenly came up,” Eric told her.

“Yeah, his dick.” Trey sniggered.

The teens turned to stare at each other with wide eyes and then screamed in unison. “Oh my God! Just imagine Master Sinclair’s dick!”

Eric busted up laughing. Two signed posters, two signed CDs, four signed T-shirts, a signed hoodie, beanie hat, music score book, several exuberant hugs, a few exploring hands, and camera phone pictures later, Heather and Lauren had finally spent enough of their parents’ money to let the next person in line have a chance to interact with Eric and Trey.

“I’m Tony,” a young man in his late teens said. His hair was startlingly similar in style to Eric’s, right down to the blue lock of hair resting against his collarbone. Tony grabbed Eric’s hand to pump it up and down excitedly. “I couldn’t wait to meet Sinclair, but to get the chance to meet Eric f**kin’ Sticks? Amazing. I wish I would have brought my drumheads for you to sign.”

“You play drums?” Eric asked as he signed a poster for Tony.

He nodded and then shook his head slightly. “I try, but I’m not very good.”

“Keep practicing.”

“You’re my idol. The best drummer who ever lived. I f**kin’ worship you.”

Eric couldn’t help but smile. He really liked this kid. Eric reached into his inside vest pocket and pulled out a spare drumstick. He always carried a few. He signed it for Tony and handed it to him. “Take this, and when you don’t feel like practicing, my drumstick will be there to remind you not to slack off.”

Tony held the drumstick in his outstretched palms as if it were blessed by God and crafted from solid gold. Dumbfounded, he started to shuffle away.

“Don’t forget your poster,” Eric called after him.

The next person in line grabbed the poster and thrust it in Tony’s direction. After he claimed it from her, she leaned over the table to give Eric and Trey a spectacular view of her immense cle**age. She flopped both firm tits out of the neck of her tank top and said, “Sign my tits. I’m going to get your signatures permanently inked on them.”

Trey palmed one beautiful breast and rubbed his thumb over her nipple while he signed his name with sensually slow marks across her right breast. Eric did his best to sign the left one without touching her at all. Seeing bare tits reminded him of Rebekah. He wondered what she was doing at the moment.

It was hours before the line finally dwindled, and Eric and Trey got up to leave.

“I need a nap after all that excitement,” Trey said.

“I want to get something for Rebekah,” Eric said, glancing around the store for a suitable gift.

“Like what?”

“A bracelet maybe. She wears bracelets.”

Trey chuckled. “You’re in over your head, buddy.”

Eric scanned the row of cheap leather jewelry on the far wall. There was nothing there that he felt compelled to give her.

“Just give her a hug, and tell her she looks pretty,” Trey suggested.

Eric’s shoulders slumped. The need to buy her something was almost overwhelming, but he didn’t want to give her something that had no meaning behind it.

They left the store, Mitch keeping a watchful eye for potential confrontations. As they walked past a jewelry store, a necklace caught Eric’s eye. He stopped abruptly, and Trey slammed into his back.

Trey followed his line of vision to the display case. “Eric, don’t even think about it.”

“I have to get it. It’s perfect.”

“Butterflies?”

“It reminds me of things she keeps in her panties on occasion.” Eric dashed into the store.

Trey grabbed Eric’s arm before he could locate a salesperson. “Eric, it’s much too expensive. You’re going to make her feel uncomfortable. Like she owes you something.”

“The cost doesn’t matter. It reminds me of her. I need to get it.”

“Eric, this is a bad idea. Think about how it will make her feel if you drape forty thousand dollars worth of diamonds around her neck.”

“Beautiful?” That’s all he wanted for her. A constant reminder that he thought she was beautiful.

“She doesn’t need a necklace to feel beautiful.”

Eric took a steadying breath. Maybe Trey was right.

“Can I help you?” a saleslady asked, looking as if she thought he, Trey, and Mitch were about to rob the place.

“Maybe.”

***

Rebekah glanced up from her video monitor to find Marcus leaning against her soundboard with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Mind sharing that ‘Sever’ program with me?” He didn’t look at her when he asked. She was tempted to tell him no, but knew refusing would hurt Sinners and their fans, not Marcus.

“Do you have a thumb drive?” she asked.

He handed it to her and waited while she replaced her drive with his and saved her file to his device.

“You’ll probably want to turn up rhythm and bass for the playback,” she suggested. “Eric needs to hear it over the drums when he sings the chorus. He gets his cues fr—”