Okay, I bet you're wondering what part of the story I could possibly feature that would make you want to read one of CJames' stories. We all know what he's famous for... cliffhangers. Would I be so evil as to share one of those dastardly plot devices here? 😈

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Finishing up the third run-through of a new song, Brandon was concentrating on his singing, standing in place, not doing any stage work, and still had his shirt on. Jon and Eric had shed theirs upon arriving, but Chase hadn’t even bothered to bring a shirt along, which Brandon didn’t mind one little bit. All four guys were having a blast and finally hitting their stride on the new material. They were just about to begin another song when Jon’s phone rang. Answering it, he listened for a few moments before ending the call, turning to tell his band mates, “That was Helen. She just got word that Lump is up front and heading back here. Helen will be here in a few minutes, but Lump’s going to be here first. Helen said he’s steamed, and may already suspect, but probably doesn’t know for sure yet that he’s out.”

Chase grinned wickedly, “Remember, I get to tell him. Hey, I’ve got an idea; why don’t we play ‘Believe’?” Turning towards Brandon, Chase asked, “Why don’t you do some of your stage work; I want Lump to see just how much better off we are without him.” Chase hesitated, and then added shyly, “And could you take your shirt off? I want to really yank his chain.”

Brandon grinned, pulling off his shirt before tossing it to join Eric and Jon’s, giving Chase a quick flex and a wink before Chase hit the drum lead in for ‘Believe’. Brandon got into the stage work and the song, even though he was a bit nervous about the upcoming encounter.  

Halfway through the song, the rear auditorium doors slammed open, and Lump stormed in, charging right up to the front of the stage, his face red. He stood there, steaming, while the four guys finished up ‘Believe’. As soon as they were done, he yelled “What the fuck is going on here?”

Chase got up and headed for the front of the stage, stopping at the edge, looking down at the former singer, “Hey, hi Lump. Just some rehearsing for the Phoenix concert. Oh, and in case nobody told you, we needed somebody to help us rehearse when you didn’t show up.” Chase paused, watching Lump relax a little before pulling the rug out from under him, “So, we asked one of the roadies to fill in, and guess what, he was so much better than you we decided you were out and he was in.” Chase grinned wickedly. “I just wanted to be the one to tell you, Lump, you’re out, gone, goodbye, and his–tor–y.”

Brandon and the three brothers watched as Lump seethed for a few seconds, and then stormed up the side stairs to face Chase nose to nose, “You fucking assholes! If you think I’m going to let you get away with this, you are out of your minds!” Lump turned to glare at Brandon, who was stunned. He’d seen pictures of Lump, and seen him on stage, but had never met him, never looked into his glazed eyes. What he saw in those eyes now reminded him more than anything of a feral creature; just anger, not thought. Lump hissed, “So, roadie, you wanted to take my place, did you? You can fuck off, and kiss your roadie job goodbye too.”

Moving to confront Lump, Jon moved up close to his side, his fists clenched, “It’s you that’s going to fuck off, you piece of shit. He’s in; you’re out, so get lost.”

Lump turned to face Jon, “Oh yeah? Did you bother to tell the roadie about your little fudge-packer drummer boy?” With a satisfied look on his face, Lump turned to Brandon to watch for a reaction, and Brandon fought to suppress a laugh.

Eric chimed in, “Yeah, first thing we asked him was if he was cool with Chase. Turns out he is; not everybody is an ass like you, after all.”

Sneering back, swaying slightly on his feet, Lump replied, “So the new guy is cool with it, huh? Let’s find out just how cool the fans are with it. I think it’s time for a press conference about Chase’s perversions.”

Lump faced Chase, toe to toe, while Eric and Jon crowded Lump from the left. Puffing out his chest, Brandon stepped forward to take a position on Lump’s right, marveling at what a short fight the fool was getting himself into. 

No one had noticed Helen enter the auditorium, but she was standing only a few feet away when her voice startled them all, “Lump, you idiot, that’s called blackmail, and that thing in Brandon’s hand is called a microphone. This is, after all, a recording studio. Do you really want to go to jail? If I were you I’d leave right now, and hope like hell we let it drop.”

Lump growled and then spat, “You can all go to hell. Either I’m back in or Chase is out, and I mean out. I don’t even have to do it myself.”

 

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