The Prince of Punk Rock Page 10

  Angel watched Tommy at the bar after tonight’s show, talking with Jessi. He ached for the smile that lit up Tommy’s face. He yearned for the glint in Tommy’s eyes that revealed desire and flirtation. He would settle for friendship, if only it were offered or accepted.

  Angel inched his way next to Tommy and hoped it didn’t send him scampering in the opposite direction, which it seemed to do lately. Jessi looked at him with compassion and empathy. She was caught in the middle, but her allegiance to Tommy was steadfast. He chatted quietly with her while Tommy’s uncomfortable silence indicated he had no interest in joining the conversation. “Come over for dinner tomorrow night.” Angel looked directly at Tommy. “I’ll make my Lechon Asado.” He hoped to smooth things over, and, hopefully, Tommy would let him explain, or at least listen to his side.

  Jessi accepted, practically before he finished the invitation, but Tommy cut her off.

  “No. It’s not a good idea. Thanks, anyway. But, no.”

  “I can’t stand this friction between us. Can’t we be friends again, my prince?”

  Tommy shook his head. “You’re my boss. I think it’s better if we keep it that way. For now, anyway. And I’m not your prince.”

  A dull ache in the center of his chest made Angel feel like his heart split in half. “You are my prince, whether you want the title or not, it’s yours.” Angel scrunched up his face. “And whatever gave you the idea that I’m your boss?”

  “It’s your band. You sign my paycheck.”

  “I may do all the leg work and handle the finances, but it’s your band too. And Damien and Jimmy’s. It’s our band. We make decisions about music together. You know that. Don’t try to alienate me. Don’t push me away. Please, mi amor, I miss you. Te necesito en mi vida. Necesito que me perdones. Mi corazón está roto.”

  Tommy winced and held his hand up. “Stop. Don’t. Please don’t speak to me in Spanish anymore. I can’t . . . just don’t. Please, Angel.”

  “Then I’ll say it in English. I need you in my life. I need you to forgive me. My heart is broken.”

  Tommy’s chest heaved with deep breaths and he pressed his lips together.

  “I’m nothing without you, my prince. Please, love me again.”

  Tears moistened Tommy’s ocean blue eyes. “Don’t do this, A. Please.”

  Even though it was a rejection, it was the first time Angel heard Tommy speak his name since their misunderstanding. Not just his name, but the affectionate “A” that was Tommy’s loving nickname for him. It was the first time he heard the pain of heartache in Tommy’s voice and saw the longing in his eyes. It meant Tommy still cared, and a glimmer of life beat back into Angel’s pulverized heart.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tommy needed a five minute break from practice. A break from standing only a few feet from Angel. It was draining trying to resist the need to reach out and touch him and exhausting trying to fight the urge to lean his shoulder into Angel’s while he played. There would be no more physical contact between the two of them. He needed to deny his heart and sever the connection. He stepped outside hoping the fresh air would sweep away his wistful thoughts and yearnings.

  Damien followed him. “You look like you could use a friend sometimes, Tommy. Someone to talk to.”

  Tommy remained silent.

  “Nothing you say is gonna shock me. I’m sure stories about my past are a lot more outrageous. Whatever’s going on, it isn’t as bad as you think.”

  He wondered if he looked as pathetic as Damien made him feel. He studied Damien’s wrinkled forehead and worried frown. Despite Damien’s hard exterior, he was kind and sensitive. The blood and guts tattooed over his body, the wire piercings and over-the-top mohawk were all a mask. It was a costume. Damien was probably just as afraid to let his guard down as Tommy was – afraid the world would ridicule the real person that hid under the exterior presented to the rest of the word.

  It would be easy to confide in Damien. Tommy opened his mouth, fully prepared to tell Damien that he was in love with Angel, and about their stupid argument, but his voice refused to leave the back of his throat. Disappointed, his shoulders slumped and he leaned his back against the cold hard concrete of the building.

  “Look, I know it’s about Angel. Whatever’s going on with you two, you need to straighten it out. Pronto. We got a band here. A damn good one. And it’s shit without either one of you. Plus, you’re making each other sick. Kiss and make the fuck up already.”

  Angel needed to discuss some issues with the band after practice, and the diner was the only neutral ground Tommy agreed to. Tommy hadn’t set foot in Angel’s apartment since the fight and he refused to go there, even though Damien and Jimmy would be accompanying them. Even when Angel purposely kept Jessi working later than usual hoping to lure Tommy to come by looking for her, he never showed up. Each rejection further enunciated the growing distance between them.

  Angel missed Tommy. Music was their primary connection. It brought them together and everything they did centered on the harmony it created. Now, with Tommy’s aloof detachment, music lost its draw. Singing became an effort. Motivation was nonexistent. He wanted his prince back.

  Angel followed Tommy closely as they entered the diner and slid into the booth next him. Their knees bumped together every once in a while, occasionally on purpose. Angel waited until everyone was done eating and the dishes were cleared before he got down to business. “I want to ask you guys a question, and don’t be afraid to answer honestly. Do you feel like I dictate the direction of the band? Do you feel like you have ownership, or do I make you feel like you’re musicians for hire?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean you were a dictator. I was just . . . upset.”

  “Well, you brought up a point and it stuck in my head. You wouldn’t have said it if there wasn’t some truth in it.”

  Damien and Jimmy shot uneasy glances at each other, seemingly enlightened about the source of the friction between him and Tommy.

  “How do you guys feel?” Angel asked them.

  “I’m cool,” Damien said. “I trust your decisions. You’ve managed the band from day one and you’ve never steered us wrong.”

  “I take care of the beats,” Jimmy said. “Damien plucks the hell out of the bass and Tommy makes magic on his guitar, but you run the show.”

  “I don’t run the show.”

  “Of course you do,” Tommy said, “but, I don’t mean that in a bad way. Without Angel Garcia, there is no Immortal Angel. You’re the reason this band’s so successful. You’re smart. You run the band like a business. And you’re more talented than anyone I know.”

  They locked eyes and shared a brief intense exchange of emotion for the first time since their fight. Angel swallowed the knot in his throat. “You’re just as important, my prince. You’re an integral part of this band. So are Damien and Jimmy. It’s the collaboration and the collective talent that makes Immortal Angel the top punk rock band on the underground music scene.” He looked at Damien and Jimmy. “You’re like brothers to me.” He reached for Tommy’s hand, but stopped himself. “And you know how I feel about you, mi amor. You mean more to me with each day that goes by.”

  Everyone looked uncomfortable and Tommy looked paralyzed, but Angel’s heart was broken and his love for Tommy couldn’t be contained. He needed to hold it together, though, before he said too much and scared Tommy even further away. He fiddled with his napkin and tried to concentrate on the reason he asked everyone to the diner. “I’ve been thinking about something,” he said slowly. “I think it would be a good promotional opportunity if we made a music video.”

  “That’s alotta dough,” Damien said. “It’s a great idea, but the band can’t afford to make a quality video. And a shit video ain’t worth shit.”

  “I’m going to finance it myself. Out of my own money. It’s a thank you for all the hard work you guys put into the band.”

  “Me and Jessi got some m
oney saved. We’ll help out. You shouldn’t have to pay for it yourself, A.”

  “No. I want to do it. For us.” Angel’s real motivation for making the video was to bring Tommy close again. They would be forced to interact with one another and to create chemistry again. He needed to recapture the spark they shared. He needed to win Tommy’s heart back.

  The waitress came with the check and dropped the black rectangular vinyl case on the table. Tommy reached for it. “Let us get the bill. It’s the least we can do.”

  “No.” Angel went for the check and his hand landed on top of Tommy’s. It settled there, and their hands relaxed. They both stared at their two hands, touching, both longing for more physical contact. Angel’s fingers cradled Tommy’s hand, and he slowly looked up at him. “It’s OK, my prince. I got this, too.”

  Tommy’s blue eyes peeked through the strands of his hair like the sky peeking through the clouds on a stormy day. They shined at Angel for a few seconds before the corners of Tommy’s mouth curled just the tiniest bit, into the sweetest little smile.

  Jessi chewed a dark red fingernail as she waited for Tommy to come home. Since he and Angel were at odds with one another, she’d been on edge and her manicure paid the price. She tried to play peacemaker. She empathized with the both of them, and wanted them to make up, but a little voice inside of her said that maybe it was better this way. With Angel out of the way, romantically, they could go back to the causal one night stands that fulfilled and stabilized their marriage. She frowned and mentally berated herself for being selfish. Tommy hadn’t smiled in weeks. He was miserable without Angel. That meant she was miserable.

  Angel was a mess. He stumbled through performances. If they didn’t work out their differences, Immortal Angel was doomed – and quite possibly her marriage, as well. How long could Tommy go on pining for Angel before it took its toll?

  Jessi leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Angel Garcia was the monkey wrench life threw at her. He was her damnation. And her salvation. He was their ticket to fame and the missing puzzle piece to Tommy’s jagged heart. She knew their lives would be turned upside down the moment they met and it’s been a roller coaster of a ride ever since.

  Tommy’s key in the door made her sit up straight. “How’d it go between you two tonight?”

  He closed the door behind him and quietly sat down next to her. “A little better.”

  “Did you talk to him?”

  “I talk to Angel all the time.”

  “I mean, talk. About stuff other than the band.”

  “I want to. I miss Angel, but I can’t get the image of him and that guy out of my head. When I think about it, I get sick, and I can’t think about anything else.”

  “Either you let Angel in or let him go.” She put her leg underneath her so she could turn to face him. “I can’t keep watching you so unhappy, baby.”

  “I don’t want to let Angel go, but . . . that guy.”

  “So what? So he slept with some guy. What do you expect him to do? He’s a rock star. He gets propositioned all the time. He could take home a different guy every night if he wanted to. But I haven’t seen him. Have you?”

  Tommy slowly shook his head.

  “He has needs too, you know. He’s only human. And he’s hurting. He’s trying so hard, but you keep your distance. He’s trying to make amends, when technically, he didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t make the poor guy grovel. Forgive him already.”

  “I know. It’s just hard. I feel like he cheated on me.”

  “He didn’t cheat on you.”

  Tommy was silent for a long time. His eyes didn’t look at her, they looked through her. “I’m torn. I love you, Jessi. Nothing will ever change how much I love you, but . . . I love Angel too. And I feel like a piece of shit for caring so much about him.”

  Tommy’s confession and deep feelings for Angel hit her in the gut like a ten ton truck. Her chest caved in and cut off her breath. She screamed and cried on the inside, but on the outside, she somehow managed to remain composed and unfazed. She wore a mask of understanding and compassion and straightened her back, even though her spine was as fragile as a wilted tulip in a gusty wind. She pulled Tommy to her shoulder and stroked his hair with a loving touch. “I know, baby. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be OK.” When she looked down at him, a single tear streaked his cheek.

  Tommy sniffled and wiped his nose. “I wish he didn’t sleep with that guy. I can’t get it out of my head.”

  Tommy’s sadness infiltrated her heart. There was no longer any room for her own pain. The need to comfort him far outweighed any fears she held inside. She knew Tommy loved her, and she loved him enough to give him the freedom to find himself. To deny Tommy would hinder his spirit. She knew he was bisexual when she married him, but she also always questioned if his bisexuality was a stepping stone to his true identity. She would never deny his needs. She needed to be confident and trust that their love was strong enough to survive. She pressed her cheek against the top of his head and put her lips to his silky hair. “You have to move past it, baby. Stop thinking about it.”

  “But even if I could, then what? One night stands, remember? That was our arrangement. That was our agreement. I can’t have a relationship with Angel. It’ll change our whole life.”

  She exhaled. “Tommy, our whole life changed the day we met Angel. He won you over with his smile and good looks, and he won me over with his talent and charm. There’s no turning back now. We have to move forward.”

  Angel was the one person who could steal Tommy away from her. He threatened her happiness. He could end her marriage. He could take away the only thing that mattered – the only person that she ever loved. She wanted to hate Angel for tearing her life apart. She wanted to despise him for causing Tommy grief. She wanted to loathe the sight of him, but she couldn’t. He was sweet and kind, good-natured and good-humored. He was generous and considerate. He made Tommy happy and he made her happy too. She could never hate Angel. She adored him.

  Tommy marveled at Jessi’s remarkable strength and reassurance. Their talk enabled him to let go of most of the resentment and frustration he held inside, but he still felt guilty for loving Angel. He resisted his feelings because he didn’t want to hurt Jessi, and he ended up hurting Angel. He didn’t know how to love them both. There was no balance. He was being pulled in opposite directions, yet his feet were standing still.

  Angel’s loverboy solved Tommy’s indecision. A relationship with Angel was out of the question, now. It still burned whenever he thought about Angel in bed with someone else, but he decided he needed to apologize to Angel for treating him unfairly. He had no reason to be unrelentlessly cold and standoffish when Angel was pleading for his friendship. He was too harsh. They had a couple of days off before they were scheduled to shoot the video, and after it was done, he would apologize to Angel.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Angel must have spent a small fortune on the music video. There was a producer, pyrotechnics, dancers and costume changes. Making a music video was one of the dreams Tommy and Angel shared, and he knew it was Angel’s way of trying to make amends.

  There were beautiful girls in bikinis and hot guys with oiled, chiseled bodies. The stage was alive with a delicious assortment of tits and ass, brawn and beefcake. And then there was Angel, with his tight leather pants and a bulge the size of Mount Olympus. It was a wonder the zipper didn’t explode and take out the camera lens. Angel’s ripped shirt exposed bits of bare skin and the hint of a deep pink nipple. Tommy’s pants were bursting with excitement and he was thankful to have his beloved Les Paul to hide behind.

  Hours of filming brought back the chemistry that disappeared between Tommy and Angel, which was probably Angel’s well conceived plan all along. They needed to interact with each other. At first it was forced and uncomfortable, but after a few takes their old sex-fueled antics returned. Angel kneeled at Tommy’s feet and pawed at his legs while he sang. They pranced around eac
h other and stood with their back pressed together, grinding into one another. The sparks between them were as vivid as the glittery fireballs that rained down on them from the fireworks that showered the stage.

  Six hours later, a kick-ass video for the band’s most popular song, Cyanide Sensation, was ready to make its debut to the world.

  Tonight was a big night. It was the premier of their new music video. It was Jessi’s idea to unveil it at The Quadrangle, instead of on the band’s website. She advertised its debut on every social media site available. It drew a crowd that packed The Quadrangle to the hilt. The band opened with Cyanide Sensation and as soon as they started to play, two large screens lit up the room, broadcasting the video to the masses. The screams and foot stomping that ensued almost overshadowed the sound system.

  Angel jumped on top of the amp directly in front of Tommy. He threw a few hip thrusts into the audience the turned his back to them. Tommy had been busy watching Angel’s ass swivel in the tight leather jeans that fit him like a second skin, until Angel turned around to face him. The swivels and hip thrusts continued, but now they were eye level and directed at Tommy’s face. It was impossible to break the invisible tie that held his eyes at Angel’s crotch. The outline of Angel’s clearly visible erection strained against the rigid leather, begging for freedom.

  They made eye contact and he gave Angel a naughty smile. As soon as Angel jumped down from the amp, Tommy stalked him with the end of the guitar all the way to the other side of the stage. The magic between them was back, and the crowd erupted into a thunderclap of howls.

  Angel’s voice was perfection. His high notes reached new decibels and his low notes were sexy and resounding. The band was tight. Jimmy banged the hell out of the drums, hard and fast. Damien’s bass growled and Tommy ripped the melody to pieces with his guitar. The energy in the room, both on and off the stage, escalated with each song. The Quadrangle was on fire.