Black Fox - 1. The Drummer Boy

"You've been great! Go home and take a shower. We are Black Fox." Cayden, our frontman, spoke his trademark line just like he did after every gig. We gathered at the front of the stage to bow to the audience. I threw my drumsticks at the cheering crowd and some lucky bastards got themselves a souvenir. I need to stop doing it; the good ones are bloody expensive. And it would cost me even more if I hit some poor bloke in the eye.

There weren't more than 200 people at the small venue in Birmingham, but they filled it nicely and it was fire, especially during the encore. When we played Roxanne, everyone went insane.

Eventually, we left the stage and made it to the obscure backstage, high-fiving and commenting on the dopest parts of the show. The spirits were high and we almost felt like rockstars. Almost, because there was water and coke instead of beer and booze in the cooler and Cayden's dad would be waiting for us just outside to take us safely home. At 15, I still managed to be the oldest one in the band. So the point was, we were all kids and our bedtime was approaching. Not overly badass, I know. We took off our sweaty t-shirts and cooled down by the open window. My dark-blond hair was wet.

It was a warm Friday evening, the end of June and the school was over. One of my favourite times of the year, without doubt.

"Gentlemen, this was ace," said Cayden, the vocalist, "one of the best gigs ever!"

"Dude, I swear to God, it's like every time is better than the last," I added, "but you're stealing all the attention, Cayden."

"Sure Owen, like if anyone would be paying attention to you." Michael, the bass player teased me, as usual.

"Look who's talking," I laughed, "no, but for real, it was a killer gig, gentlemen. Good job." I took a few sips of water and hopped on the large couch, trying to cool down. I grimaced as my wet back touched the cold material but got used to it quickly.

Life's been getting pretty interesting for us, I couldn't deny. Not even 4 months have passed since our little live Roxanne cover video went viral on YouTube, scoring over a million views to date. We've become pretty well-known in the UK almost overnight. Among the YouTube-watching kids at least.

Ever since, we started getting phone calls and emails from bookers and our schedule has become pretty tight during weekends. Well, it was actually Drew, Cayden's dad, who's been receiving the calls and emails, as he's come to be our tour manager, driver and the biggest fan. I'm sure it was something to do with the fact that we were playing some rock covers from the `60s through the `90s. Drew was a major guitar music lover and a vinyl record collector. I wasn't a huge fan of old-school rock myself and I lobbied to include more modern experimental stuff in our set.

"How much time do we have?" I asked Cayden, feeling light-headed from the adrenaline.

"My dad will be waiting for us in an hour, why?"

"Ugh, nothing, I'm just spent and want to marry the couch now."

"Marry the couch? You're gonna have to break it to your hand about the divorce somehow, mate. Good news, maybe you'll be sleeping on a couch every day after you move to the new house,"

Cayden smirked. Cayden was an Aussie boy whose family had moved to the UK five years earlier because of his dad's job. He was a cute blonde boy but also a wee bit of a rascal. I'm probably doing him a favour with a 'wee bit', mind you. People commenting on YouTube were saying he was adorable but they didn't know half of it. He was a damn good frontman, but acted like a spoiled brat whenever he stopped singing. Needless to say, I loved him like a brother, even if our love could be a little toxic at times.

"Nah, I hear I get to have a room all to myself. Supposedly, it has a bed, too, though I'm not sure about that part." Yeah, we were moving from our small place to a much bigger house in a nice Coventry neighbourhood early next week. Coventry was where we all lived. My parents claimed they have been saving ever since I was born, but our little hobby paid really well and they could expedite the purchase.

***

Some could ask, how come my parents bought a house with my money. Well, the money wasn't really mine, not until I turned 18 at least. But I have this little deal with my `rents that they can use the money to buy stuff for the family - like the house and other crap - and I get whatever I want, as long as it's related to my hobbies or diversions they approve. Also, a large chunk goes to my college fund.

So yeah. It was not perfect. As much as I didn't care for being famous, I wouldn't mind being rich. As for now, it was either that or mowing lawns and walking neighbours' dogs for peanuts for the next 3 years and then some. Luckily, my parents approved of all my hobbies, maybe except for weed, which I just bought with my allowance. And except for jacking off, which I don't need money or their approval for anyway.

Why would I spend my days beating my own meat when I was basically a coming up rockstar, you ask? Surely, there were hordes of hot girls waiting in line after every gig to get acquainted with my drumstick. I wish it would all be that easy.

First, we were 15 and Mike was only 14. I don't mean I was too young for having sex. All my boy parts were in working order and I usually got horny five to ten times a day, thanks for caring. But it's not like I could hit the party after a gig and get laid just like that. Instead, there was Drew waiting for us in his pickup and this is as far as picking up ever went for me.

Drew was cool and had an impressive mullet but he was 40-something and just not my type. I doubt I was his type either, for that matter. Josh, our lead guitarist, claimed he got laid last month and I was willing to believe him. He was a silent type, never one to brag or seek attention. Somehow, it made him mysterious and attractive.

Secondly, I was a little timid when it came to relationships and creating emotional bonds. I was not shy at all with my mates but believe me, our feelings and emotional life didn't make the top 10 of our favourite subjects. We usually just talked about guy stuff or music. Entertaining fans wasn't my strong suit either; I didn't vibe with the rockstar image. And I wasn't not delusional, unlike some of my bandmates or Drew. We might have been popular for now but it was only because we were a bunch of cuties playing classics on real instruments. We were good at it, too, but there were a few dozen bands like us in every English town. We were a nuance. Once we grow up, the spell will be no more.

Lastly, I was gay as a picnic basket. Here, I said it. I was well past the "bi" phase when I would try to convince myself I liked girls just as much as I liked boys. I didn't. And I had a major problem with girls, too. I used to hang out with them when I was younger but then I realised that people might start thinking I'm a puff, so I needed to make more guy friends. Ironic, wasn't it? Now, I mostly talked to boys and did boy stuff. I enjoyed it but sometimes it felt like a part of me was missing.

But wait, did you just make me come out to you? I thought we were talking about my money and my career, you nosy little snooper. Alright, what's done is done, just don't spill the beans, pretty please. I like my life the way it is and have enough distractions to deal with. We're not on live television, are we?

Are we?

***

We went outside through the backdoor to get some fresh air and we immediately knew we weren't alone. A group of kids was waiting there already and attacked us on sight, mostly teen girls. There were maybe 25 of them but they made noise worth a hundred and I sighed. Fortunately, the drill was pretty much the same every night. Cayden was there to handle the crowd with Micheal as his wingman. Michael was running our social media and was the cutie-fox, so Josh and I could retreat silently and wait out the storm.

Now to think of it, if Black Fox were a classic boyband, Michael would be the cutie-fox, I would be the sporty-fox, Josh would be the emo-fox and Cayden... Cayden would be the Aussie-fox, that's what he'd be. He loved it when we called him `our Aussie boy'. Even if he'd always protest.

I was watching them talk and give out autographs when I saw a good looking boy in the crowd. He was with his friends but wasn't paying attention to my mates and seemed to be looking for something, standing on his tiptoes and looking around. To my surprise, he paused when he saw me and a wide smile appeared on his face. He shouldered his way through the rest and approached me, walking a little awkwardly. What a heartthrob!

"Hey," he said, seeming a little shy. "I was at your gig, it was awesome."

"Uhm, thanks mate, I appreciate it." Well, that was weird, why would he come to me of all people? I liked being away from all the attention. At least he wasn't a hysterical fangirl, so I told myself to enjoy the moment.

"Yeah, I liked it a lot! Um, I'm here with my friends but I was watching you, mostly." He paused for a moment waiting for my reaction. Suddenly, he opened his eyes wide, realising how ambiguously he sounded. "I mean, I was watching you play! Because, see, I play drums, too. I've been playing for almost four years and I really like your style."

"Nice! I'm Owen," I said, extending my hand.

"Oh, I'm Alex, sorry," he introduced himself and grabbed my hand. The light outside was dim but I was slowly realising he was one of the cutest boys I've ever seen. Alex had mid-length, dark hair, and a round, boyish face. He was a few inches shorter than me but his body seemed really toned even inside his brown, slim-fit hoodie. I was guessing he was my age or maybe a little younger, it was hard to say. The most remarkable were his giant, brown eyes that were looking up to me as if I was Dave Grohl in the flesh. I reminded myself to say something before it became awkward.

"So, you play in a band?"

"No, not really," he said, "but I used to jam with my brother. Mostly, I just play along to the songs I like."

"Cool, keep going. And join a band as soon as you can, that's how you make the best progress. There are tons of guitarists in every town but never enough drummers. You could be playing in three bands at the same time if you want."

"I don't know if I'm good enough," he said humbly.

"Probably you're not but it doesn't matter. Always try to play with musicians that are better than you. That's how you learn." Look at me get all talkative, giving free advice. It was hard to explain but I liked talking to that boy and it flattered me that I was his idol.

"Oh, thanks. I've never thought about it that way." Alex smiled, looking grateful.

"No problem mate, thanks for coming to see me. I mean, us."

"Yeah, that was amazing, I'll come again if you play nearby. Hey, do you mind if I take a picture?"

I didn't mind so he came closer, locked his arm around mine and made a few shots, grinning like a kid on a Christmas Eve. It felt nice, for sure.

He looked like he wanted to stay and talk to me but the conversation was wrapped up. He smiled at me again and retreated to his friends, looking energised and excited. Holy moly, I could get used to this kind of attention. Maybe I should make myself more available with fans if I want it to happen more often.

After about thirty minutes, the crowd dispersed and we saw Drew's pickup roll into the alley. Drew was hyped and high-fived us one by one, looking like a vintage Aussie rocker with his lush mullet and a jean jacket worn casually over a white wifebeater. The `80s were calling every day saying they wanted him back.

"Alright guys, that was the sickest show EVER! And when you played Roxanne the crowd went wild!"

He was making us super proud. Drew could really be likeable with his fanboy stance. He probably couldn't wait until we were 18 so he could have a proper pint with us, listen to

Cold Chisel and talk about kangaroos and our girl classmates. In that exact order.

The two scene technicians helped us get our gear and pack it onto the truck. Once we were all inside, Drew took a minute on his phone, searching for a song on Spotify and soon Roxanne, the original version was playing, accompanied by the engine's roar. He drove fast, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

It was only a 40-minute ride from Birmingham to Coventry. Drew first drove to Michael's house and then to mine. I said `bye' to everyone, took my stuff and went back home.

Thankfully, the drum sets were usually provided by the venue and I only carried my snare, drum sticks and two cymbals plus some accessories. We definitely were not rich and famous enough to have people carry all our shit for us. I didn't desire fame and money but this would be a welcome perk - not having to do all the heavy lifting.

***

I was home. It was already 10 pm and everyone seemed to be in their rooms - my older brother, younger sister and my parents. I helped myself to the kitchen to get a snack. My mum would normally come out of her bedroom to greet me but today I arrived quite late. Fortunately, my parents were not overprotective and as long as I didn't do stupid things, they usually left me to my own devices. I'm really grateful to them and to my older brother Wayne for teaching me some basic responsibility. By the time I turned 13, I figured out that it's in my best interest to be on my folks' good side. There was also Sarah and she was twelve. That's all I have to say about the spoiled brat.

I assembled a makeshift sandwich and went to my room. It was pretty late but there were two more things I was looking forward to today.

Munching, I opened my drawer and picked a small, handcrafted wooden lockbox I got for Christmas a few years back. Whose idea was it to give a present like this to a boy, I didn't know. I then retrieved a key that was always duct-taped to the underside of my desk. I sat on my gaming chair, spinning lazily and unlocked the box. A few cigarettes, long rolling papers (coming in different flavours and colours for your pleasure), a small, half-empty bottle of lube (yeah), condoms (got them for my birthday from Cayden, "in case some desperate girl takes pity on me"), two guitar picks, ceramic smoking pipe, three or four lighters (granted, at least one of them was empty). And weed.

I took out the lube, rolling papers, a cigarette, and the pot and started assembling a small joint. Today, I'd be smoking by myself and I only wanted to get a little high. I started smoking about a year ago and it quickly became my favourite poison. I wasn't smoking every day but it was a good way to relax after a busy day like this. I took the joint and silently went out of the house for a walk.

The neighbourhood was alright but nothing special. It had row houses on both sides of the street, about fifty years old. It was a Friday night so there were groups of people - mostly drunk - passing in every direction. I paid them no attention and headed toward the canal where I could get high unbothered. Smoking, I realised this was the last time I could do it here. Starting tomorrow morning, we'd be spending most of the time packing and preparing for the move. In two days, I would be in a whole new place, pretty far from the canal. I was going to have to find a new spot.

I was considering staying for a while but I heard a rustling noise on the other side of the canal. It's easy to freak out when you're stoned, so I decided to call it.

I felt blissfully relaxed and high as I walked back home. I gently turned the doorknob, careful not to wake anybody. I took off my shoes clumsily but fortunately did not make too much noise. Before I managed to get to the safety of my room, Wayne's door opened and he walked out, just in his boxer shorts, heading to the bathroom. He nodded at me and inspected me for a moment. I must've been obviously stoned because he grinned, made a smoking gesture and knowingly patted my back. He didn't say a word though and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me there standing. Wayne was 17, less than 2 years older than me. We got along fine.

Back in my room, I slowly got rid of my clothes except for my briefs. Once the path was clear, I went to the bathroom.

I loved being high and in the shower. Everyone loves a warm shower but when you're high, it's like every inch of your body is having an orgasm, that's what it is. And after a tough day like today, it felt even better.

Wrapped in the towel, I went back to my room, grasped the lube and laid down on my bed, naked and a little wet. A little impatiently, I generously squeezed the lube on my hand and started rubbing my uncut cock. I really liked it like this and it's become my ritual I've been practising for a few months now. Get high, shower, lube it and jack off. The lube kind of made it more like a massage and I totally loved it. Everyone was sound asleep so I could take my time. I had a laptop and a phone in my room but I rarely watched any porn. I was getting better feelings picturing sexy situations in my head.

I was happy entertaining myself with my top favourite fantasies when, suddenly, they got replaced with Alex, the young drummer boy. Damn, I forgot about him as soon as we got into the car earlier, but now he was back behind my eyelids and rewarded me with intense sensations in my groin. I started beating it faster and imagined Alex in a few rather obscene positions. Oh wow. His ass is surely tight. If I could only....

I wanted to enjoy myself a bit longer but that was it, it hit me. The orgasm was fantastic! I was too dazed and tired to clean the mess. Gosh, there was plenty.

Drifting off to sleep, I made up my mind. I was going to hit on him. I was going to make Alex idolise me in more ways than he does now. I couldn't stay a virgin for the rest of my life and boy, was he hot. The remaining unresolved issue was that the only thing I knew was his first name. He probably lived back in Birmingham and it was like 40 minutes by car and probably longer by bus. I knew I'd find a way but for now, I was getting sleepy. So. very. Sleepy...