Between a Rock and a Hard Place (21 page)

When Tommy played the last note, Jessi threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.  Tommy slung his guitar to the back and pulled her into his arms.  He placed a deep kiss on her mouth and pressed his body into hers.

Jimmy’s steady beat on the drum highlighted the mounting sexual energy that transpired between Tommy and Jessi.  Angel sauntered over, pushed Tommy’s hair aside and kissed the back of his neck.  The cheers and shouts from the crowd were a jolt of adrenaline. Tommy turned and kissed him while Jessi watched.  When their lips parted, Angel grabbed Jessi by the chin and gave her a powerful kiss.

Damien’s voice was in Angel’s ear.  “You three better fuckin’ cool it.”

The lusty display was unintentional and spontaneous and probably more than the crowd expected, but they roared with appreciation.  It was the perfect transition into their next hit,
Sex and Greed
.

The semi-erotic encounter with Tommy and Jessi, plus the high temperature of the overhead lights, left Angel overheated.  Leather was proving to be too suffocating and restrictive for his vigorous stage performances. His tank top stuck to his chest from perspiration.  He pulled it over his head, twirled it in the air and let it sail into the audience.  Fans jumped to catch it, but one lucky girl, sitting on her boyfriend’s shoulders, snatched it up.

When he sang the last lyric of
Sex and Greed
, he ran to the side of the stage.  Jessi held the cropped leather jacket out for him.  He snaked his arms through the sleeves and admired Jessi latest creation.  The silhouette was similar to most of his leather jackets, but the sleeves were tapered to the elbow.  At the point, black marabou feathers fluffed down to his wrist.  It was dramatic and luxurious.  As he moved, the feathers swayed in the subtle breeze and caught the light.

He strutted out to the front of the stage and grabbed the microphone.  He paused to look at the crowd and they cheered back at him.  He held his arms slightly away from his body and shook them so the black marabou danced under the lights.  A feather dislodged from the sleeve and floated up into the air, carried away by the fog of the smoke machine.  He turned with his back to the audience to reveal the large British flag, embellished with the finest Swarovski crystals, displayed shoulder to shoulder across the back of the jacket.  The crystals sparkled like diamonds and cast a prism on the screaming audience who shouted with pride and approval at the tribute to their country.

The last song of the night was a reprise of the Sex Pistols’
Anarchy in the U.K.
  It was a fitting accolade to a band that boosted the punk rock movement in the city where they began.

Someone yelled “Circle pit!” and the center of the floor opened up.  Twenty some-odd people danced furiously in a wild circle of arms and legs flying in all directions as they purposely pushed and fell into each other.  Angel was worried someone would get hurt, but it was impossible to tame the rebellious crowd.

At the end of the song, Tommy, Damien and Jimmy joined Angel at the front of the stage.  They thanked the fans by throwing Immortal Angel T-shirts into the crowd.  Tommy and Damien threw guitar picks and Jimmy threw a signed drum skin.  It glided a quarter of the way across the vast arena like an oversized Frisbee.  It flew past fans as they jumped in the air to intercept it, until a guy catapulted into the air and finally caught it.

The four of them stood there for a few moments listening to 20,000 strangers in a country 3,500 miles away scream their names.  It was a feeling that defied words.  They clasped hands, raised their arms above their heads, and bowed in unison to the audience.

Angel ran off stage still riding high on adrenaline.  Jessi was clapping and smiling as she waited for them.  “That was one of the best shows you played.  The sound system was phenomenal. The light tech was spot on.  He hit every single one of your cues and your voice was perfect.”

It was nice to hear Jessi’s praise after the show, but Angel knew that tomorrow she would get back to him with a point-by-point assessment.  Her judgment and critique were priceless.

Angel played with the feathers on his jacket. “You did a beautiful job on this piece.  The crystals on the back are stunning and these feathers make the whole jacket.  This needs to be in your store.  You can make a lot of money from something like this.”

Jessi straightened the collar and ran her hand down the sleeve.  “It’s a couture piece.  All of the garments that I make for you are one of a kind.  I wish Tommy loved my designs as much as you do, Angel.”

“I love all your designs!”  Tommy exclaimed.  “But spikes and rhinestones aren’t me.  You can make me a nice Immortal Angel T-shirt and I’m happy.”

Angel huffed.  “You’re missing out on wearing these fabulous unique designs.”

“Maybe, but I’m not boiling under the lights the way you are.”  Tommy snapped the front of his shirt between his thumb and forefinger and gave Angel a lively smile.  “My T-shirts are nice and cool.”

He had a point. Angel wasn’t able to wear the heavy leather jackets for long under the sweltering heat of the stage, but they made a grand statement.  It was a small price to pay.

Over Tommy’s shoulder, Angel spotted Angus approaching from the corridor that led to the stage.  His commanding footsteps, and the way his jaw was set to the side, made Angel tense.  He still couldn’t see through the hard edge of the new tour manager’s exterior persona.

They all slowly turned toward Angus and they quieted.  Marissa was a few steps behind him, walking briskly to keep up with his pace.  Angel could read her easily.  The deep breaths and small quirk in the corner of her mouth indicated she was hiding her annoyance, attempting to act calm and appear undisturbed.

Angus regarded them with a scowl.  “You put on quite the show tonight.  What in bloody hell was that?” He waited for an answer, but no one dared to reply.

Angel knew immediately that Angus wasn’t referring to the band’s performance, but to the kiss he shared with Tommy and Jessi.  His cheeks flushed, because he should have known that a rigid businessman like Angus wouldn’t stand for overtly sexual behavior or homoerotic antics on stage. It was a stupid mistake that tarnished the band’s integrity and left a bad first impression on a big wig at the label.

“Ron told me to keep an eye on you,” Angus said, “but I didn’t expect this blatant disregard for appropriate behavior.  What the hell were you thinking?”

Ron?  Angel never heard anyone address Mr. Abelman by his first name before.  Even Marissa, who worked closely with the man for over a decade, never referred to him in such a casual manner.

“Well?”  Angus darted his eyes between Tommy and Angel.  “Don’t you hooligans have anything to say for yourselves?”

Maybe their behavior wasn’t exactly fit for a bubble gum audience, but Immortal Angel’s fans were hell-bent punk rockers, not impressionable young girls.  Angel took a deep breath before answering, fully prepared to stand by his actions.  “I didn’t think there was a double standard here in Europe.  Our audience isn’t made up of a bunch of prudes or pearl-clutchers.  Punk rock is about freedom of expression.”

Angus’ stiff shoulders and curled upper lip showed his blatant disapproval.  “Falcon Records does not tolerate rude behavior.  Unless you want your promising career cut short, you’d better behave on this tour, because I won’t put up with any of your shenanigans.”

While Angus was talking, Marissa was texting.  Her dark eyes burned into Angel as she periodically looked up at him.  Angel’s hand hovered over his cell phone in his pocket as he waited for it to buzz.  He turned it off as soon as he felt the hint of a vibration.

“Now get to your hotel rooms.”  Angus shooed them away with his hand.  “Off you go.  You have an album to write.  I suggest you start collaborating.”  He stomped down the corridor, away from the stage and left them standing with Marissa.

She was livid.  She glared at Angel, her nostrils flared and she drew in a deep breath, but she walked away without saying a word.

Angel took his cell phone from the pocket and read Marissa’s message. 
2 strikes in 3 days.  At this rate, your tour will be over within the month!

Chapter Nineteen

The insistent ringing in his ears grated inside Tommy’s head.  He recognized it as Angel’s cell phone, but Angel was making no attempt to answer it.  He nudged Angel’s shoulder and pulled the pillow over his head to stifle the noise.

Angel mumbled into the phone and had a short conversation that Tommy wished took place somewhere else.  After last night’s show, they took to the streets of London and visited the bars at Piccadilly.  Too many pints of ale left his throat dry and his brain foggy.  All he wanted to do was go back to sleep, but Angel lifted the pillow from his head.

Daylight sliced through the room like a laser beam.  Tommy cringed, rolled over and pulled the covers up to shield his eyes.

Angel rocked his shoulder.  “Wake up, mi amor.  We start working on our new album today.”

He was entirely too cheerful.  “Don’t you have a headache or anything?  Why are you so happy this early in the morning?”

“Because we get to spend the day together, doing what we love most.”

Jessi stirred and smacked her lip together a few times.  “What’s going on today?”

“Don’t worry, you can go back to sleep,” Angel said.  “Tommy and I have to get to the studio.”

Jessi was waiting for them when they got back to the hotel after a full day in the studio.  Tommy took note of their luggage, packed and sitting next to the door.  “Are we leaving already?” he asked.

“We leave for Manchester at six a.m.  Don’t you remember?  Angus wanted us to leave tonight, but I told him it was impossible.  You all need to get a decent night’s sleep before tomorrow’s show.”

Tommy rubbed his temples.  He didn’t have the schedule memorized.  Marissa made sure everyone was where they needed to be and Jessi kept track of everything.  “I thought we’d have another day off after we just busted our asses in the studio.”

“That’s what I tried to tell Angus.  He booked studio time all over Europe.  I had a long talk with him today.  He really expects this album to be finished by the time the tour is over and he told Mr. Abelman that you’ll be ready to record it in New York when we get home.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Angel protested.  “We can’t work at that pace without sacrificing quality.”

“I tried, Angel, but he wouldn’t budge.  This guy’s tough.”

It made Tommy uncomfortable. Someone needed to convince Angus that they needed more time or that his demands were unrealistic.  Angel might have a shot with Mr. Abelman directly, but Tommy suspected that either the orders were coming down from Mr. Abelman, or that Angus was trying to make a name for himself at Falcon Records as being ruthless and demanding.  Either way, the tour now seemed like it was going to be all work.